The serial: For Love and Money Day 18

Jane and Joe have been married in a simple ceremony. Daniel Braithwaite has been informed by telegram . . .

The unexpected telegram temporarily immobilised the Braithwaite family. Daniel stared disbelievingly into space. Helen, half swooning, groped for the chaise longue and had to be given a dose of sal-volatile by Maud. When the initial shock wore, off Daniel had his horse saddled and galloped like a mad man over to Lil’s.

His idea was to reach Jane before the marriage was consummated, believing he had the power to have it annulled.

Lil had changed from her wedding outfit and was back in her pinny and clogs.

The guests had departed and a feeling of anticlimax assailed her as she began to clear up.

When she heard the loud banging on the door, she knew it would be Daniel Braithwaite.

She had been expecting him. Well, he would get no information out of her. She opened the door. “Where is she?” Daniel pushed past Lil and ran up the stairs to the living quarters.

Lil let him search. She was amused to watch him look under the beds and even in the wardrobes.

“They’re not here,” said Lil calmly. “They’ve gone away on honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon?” The very word drove him wild. “Where?”

For a moment, Lil thought he was about to shake the information out of her.

“Great big bully”

Let him lay a finger on her and she would kick his shins with her clogs. She wasn’t afraid of Daniel Braithwaite. “Where?” he repeated, his eyes blazing at her. Lil stood up to him. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re nothing but a great big bully? Well, I’m telling you nowt.”

Daniel was taken aback. A bully? Was he really a bully?

“You shouldn’t have let them do this,” said Daniel. “I hold you responsible. You encouraged them.”

Lil folded her arms across her chest. “I did no such thing!”

Daniel’s anger suddenly spent, he dropped into a chair. He felt exhausted and his heart was beating erratically.

It began to frighten him. He’d heard of colleagues fit and well one minute – dead the next.

Lil began to worry about Daniel. His skin had taken on a yellowish tinge and a sweat had broken out on his forehead.

She did the only thing she knew to allay her fears. She shouted at them.

“You want to watch out! You’ll be giving yourself a seizure if you carry on like that! It’s not good for you at your age. Sit there and I’ll get you a cup o’tea.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” snapped Daniel. “I only want to know where Jane is. Where they’ve gone.” “I can’t tell you. Jane asked me not to.” “Jane asked you not to tell me?” repeated Daniel in disbelief. “That’s right,” came Lil’s reply. Daniel slumped further into the chair, head down. “You needn’t worry” added Lil. “Our Joe’s doing well for ‘imself. ‘E’s not just a nobody now. Did I tell you he’s opened a biscuit factory?” Daniel looked up. “Aye, that lad o’ mine will go from strength to strength. Takes after me, ‘e does. Well, you can see for yourself how I’ve got on.”

Tornado of abuse

Defeated, Daniel rose from his chair and left without another word.

Daniel had just returned, a sad dejected man, from his visit to Lil’s, only to be confronted by an irate William flinging a tornado of abuse at him, accusing him of the worst possible deceit.

Daniel did not defend himself. What he had done with Violet was despicable. All the things William accused him of were true.

“You are a disgusting hypocrite,” shouted William, “and the only reason I am not telling Mother of your inexcusable behaviour is because I do not wish to hurt her.”

“Thank you, William.” Daniel humbled and drained of emotion, sat down.

William, stunned by this show of gratitude, paused in his tirade to glance at his father.

William noticed his father’s hunched shoulders, while his skin had taken on an old, crepey look.

“Are you all right Father?” William asked. “Is there something wrong? Is it Mother?”

“Jane has run off and married Joe,” explained Daniel.

“Joe Armitage, the head groom I discharged a few years ago.” “Oh, him,” came William’s reply. Unnerved by the sudden eruption of William in her life, Violet answered the bell to Mr Simpson, thinking how dismal her work was.

She didn’t like the cheerlessness of Bradley Hall, or Mr Simpson’s constant depression. It rubbed off on to all the staff.

Her ambition to marry a wealthy man had turned sour at the idea of the wealthy man being Mr Simpson.

But the moment was drawing near when he was either going to make an improper suggestion to her, or ask her to marry him. All the signs were there but she didn’t want either. Which was laughable when at one time, it had been her only aim in life to marry her rather rich employer.

Seeing William had unsettled her.

Love and romance

Something in her had changed. She wanted love and romance.

She couldn’t face a future with David Simpson. His mind was scarred as well as his face.

Bellingham had intuitively picked up on her employer’s desire for Violet and consequently she gave Violet a hard time. She accused her of flaunting herself.

“Mr Simpson is a confirmed bachelor,” she frequently reminded Violet.

Violet couldn’t help retaliating with: “That’s just as well. Who would want to marry him?”

When the bell rang, Bellingham had taken to answering it herself, even though she was the housekeeper and it was Violet’s job.

However, what she heard from David Simpson when she arrived was: “Oh, it’s you, Bellingham. Let Violet answer the bell, please. Send her up with my tea.”

On this particular occasion, Bellingham stormed down. “Mr Simpson wants his tea, Wilkinson – and listen to me, girl,” she grabbed Violet by her arm, nipping it viciously, “Don’t go making eyes at him!”

“As if I would!” Violet pulled her arm free. “I shall have a bruise there in the morning.”

“Good!” Bellingham smiled maliciously.

(More on Monday.)

Freda McDonnell