Paupers Graveyard by Gemma Mawdsley Read Free Book Online Page B

him,’ Timmy whispered to Elizabeth. ‘It’s best that the dog be gone when the children awake.’
    â€˜You’re a good boy, Timmy Walsh. I hope you know that.’
    â€˜And you’re a good woman, Lady Elizabeth Fitzwilliam,’ he replied with a grin. She smiled at his cheekiness and closed her eyes, wondering if there was anything worse than the fear of the unknown?

FIVE
    May 1845
    Lying fearfully in her bed in Maycroft, Elizabeth was pondering the same thought. Each day now held new terrors for her. During the week someone had tried several times to open her bedroom door. She had taken to locking it and the nursery door, since Charles had dismissed the nanny as a needless expense.
    At night she watched the door handle from her bed as it slowly, soundlessly, turned and held for a moment, until the unseen hand allowed it to fall back into place. Sometimes she crept to the door and listened to the heavy, unsteady breathing.
    In daylight Charles had gone no further than to leer at her and make crude suggestions, but she knew it was only a matter of time until things got out of hand. That morning she had found him in the nursery talking to Lucy, admiring her waist-length hair, while the child stood blushing. She looked delighted that her uncle was finally paying attention to her and unaware of how threatening his behaviour was. He smiled on seeing Elizabeth and remarked on how lovely Lucy was and quite the young woman. It had taken every ounce of her strength to give him a civil answer, before hurrying her daughter away from his wanton gaze.
    There was nothing else for it, she decided, but to go to her father and beg for his protection. After all, John had been generous to him when he was alive. Surely he could find it in his heart to give them shelter? Her eyes felt sore from unshed tears, but she knew that if she started to cry now, she would never stop.
    Charles was in better humour when she went down to breakfast. She had no idea of his plans to attend a card game that night, but just thanked God for whatever it was had cheered him. He had rigorously cut back on the number of staff. A house the size of Maycroft needed at least sixteen servants, but the new owner had decided they would manage on just two, so Elizabeth was now in sole charge of the children’s washing and ironing. Only Thomas and Annie, the cook, remained. At least her days passed much quicker now that she had also taken over the duties of governess. In Charles’ opinion, girls did not need a formal education, because the only skills required of them were in the ballroom and the bedroom.
    Elizabeth’s daughters were delighted that they were to visit their grandfather, as it was an excuse to get away from their books. They walked the two miles to his house.
    Her father’s farmyard was very busy, as heaps of tubers, the seed potatoes to be planted, filled cart after cart. She failed to recognise at least three of the casual labourers hired for the planting, but her father’s full-time men, Jim and Matt, saluted her and Mick called out to her as always, ‘Hello there, Miss Lizzy.’
    She smiled, the others had taken to calling her your ladyship, but she would always be Miss Lizzy to him.
    â€˜Hello, Mick.’
    She hitched up her skirts and ordered the girls to do the same. While they carefully picked their way across the yard to the house, she went over to Mick.
    â€˜How are you, Mick?’ She smiled into the familiar weather-beaten face.
    â€˜Sad times for you, Miss Lizzy.’ It was a statement, not a question.
    â€˜Yes, indeed, Mick, sad times.’
    â€˜Himself is inside, and there’s no telling as to his humour.’
    â€˜Thank you, I’ll go right in. Say a prayer for me.’
    â€˜Always, girl, always.’
    Mick watched as she walked towards the open door and was swallowed up by the darkness of the hallway. He knew she was there to ask for help, having seen it coming