Tangled Threads by Margaret Dickinson Page B

love. For all her weathervane moods, her mother had been
right about that too.
    Eveleen turned to leave, feeling physically sick. She glanced back at him, just once, still hoping for a sign that he had some concern, some feeling for her.
    A few feet away Ted stood holding Stephen’s mount. He could do nothing to help her, Eveleen knew, but the look on the young man’s face told her that at this moment Ted would like to
throttle the young master.
    As for Stephen, he stood in the middle of the yard, idly slapping his riding crop against his boot just watching her go, his face expressionless. He made no move towards her, gave her no words
of farewell in what he must realize would be their final parting.
    A sob rose in her throat but she held it in check until she had passed through the gate and into the field.
    Then she began to run and run as if she couldn’t put distance between them fast enough. ‘I hate you, Stephen Dunsmore. One day, I’ll have my revenge on you.’
    Those who could take time from work on the estate attended Walter Hardcastle’s funeral.
    ‘They’d all have come if they could have,’ Bill Morton told Eveleen. ‘But you know what Jackson’s like.’ He had nodded across to where Josiah Jackson was
standing. ‘He’d dock their pay if they missed a couple of hours to attend. He’s only here because he has to represent the Dunsmore family. But him and ya dad never got on. I think
Jackson was jealous of your dad because Walter always got on well with Mr Dunsmore. Him and ya dad went back a long way to when Mr Ernest worked as hard as any of the men he employed.’
    Eveleen’s mind was working fast. How stupid she had been. It was Mr Ernest, Stephen’s father, she should have gone to see. Maybe he would have been kinder, more understanding. But at
Bill’s next words, her hopes faded. ‘But that was a long time ago. Before he got rich and moved up in the world.’ He sighed. ‘He seems to have forgotten now how they
started.’ Then he added resentfully, ‘And all those who helped him do it. And now with all this Parliament business.’ He put his arm about Eveleen’s shoulders.
‘Ne’er mind, lass. Least we can sleep in our beds at night with a clear conscience, eh?’
    ‘Not for much longer, Bill,’ Eveleen said quietly. ‘If what my mother says is right, we’ll be out on our ears now the funeral’s over.’
    To this Bill could say nothing.
    Josiah Jackson knocked at the door of their house the following morning.
    ‘I’ve come to see your mother.’
    ‘She’s not well enough to see anyone,’ Eveleen informed him and, making no attempt to invite him inside, stood in the doorway with her arms folded. ‘You’ll have to
deal with me.’
    The man gave a grunt of disapproval but said, ‘Very well then.’ He held out a long, brown envelope. ‘This is your formal notice to vacate these premises by the end of the
month. There are lodgings to be had with other estate workers if you and your brother want to continue working here, but there’s no place for your mother. We do not require her services any
longer.’
    Eveleen snatched the envelope from his bony fingers. ‘And where do you suggest my mother goes? The workhouse?’
    ‘If your father did not have the foresight to put a little aside, then I’m afraid she has no alternative.’
    ‘On the measly wages the Dunsmores pay?’
    Josiah wagged his forefinger at her. ‘You watch your tongue, my girl, or you’ll find yourself in the workhouse alongside her.’
    ‘That’d be better than working for the Dunsmores.’ The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Appalled at her own rash stupidity, Eveleen waited, holding her
breath, for the axe to fall. The blow was not many seconds in coming.
    ‘If that’s how you feel, then you’d better all go there. You’re dismissed, Miss Hardcastle.’ The man smiled maliciously. ‘You and your brother. All of you.
And you can be out of this house by the end