Chapter Seventeen

Jennet fingered the various materials that were laid out for sale on the market stall, assessing their quality.

‘Is tha buyin’ or just determined to rub a hole in it afore I can sell it?’ demanded the stall-holder. ‘That’s the best quality cotton tha’ll get anywhere.’

Jennet tended to agree. She’d been to every stall and there was nothing better, but she was reluctant to ask the price in case it was more than she had in her purse.

‘Tha’ll not get better,’ the stall-holder told her. ‘It’s local made with best quality thread.’

‘I’ll take two yards,’ said Jennet and watched as the man measured the cloth twice with his long stick and then cut it, allowing it to rip in a straight line before folding it up and handing it to her.

‘Twelve shillings.’

Jennet handed over most of the contents of her purse, glad that she had a penny or two left to buy a couple of sticks of toffee from Old Jem at the top of Church Street. She exchanged a few words with him about the weather and the cholera, both agreeing that it was cooler and the worst was over. Then she walked home with Peggy and Bessie sucking on their treats. Peggy was still pale and although she’d asked to go back to school, Jennet had kept her off for another day. She wanted to be sure that all risk of illness had gone before she allowed her to mix with the other girls again, but as she watched her walking ahead with her little sister, playing a counting game as the laden wagons rolled past, she was thankful that it hadn’t been cholera after all. Titus had been right and the milk had settled Peggy’s stomach. By the time she woke the next morning she’d been demanding porridge.

‘I’ve just seen Horrocks, that chap who’s butler to the Feildens, comin’ out of Starkie’s pawn shop,’ Titus told her when he came in for his dinner.

‘Dost tha think he were pawnin’ summat?’ asked Jennet, putting the plates on the table.

‘I don’t know. It seemed odd. I wouldn’t have thought the Feildens are so badly off that they’ve been reduced to sellin’ the silver.’

‘Happen he were sellin’ summat of his own.’

‘Happen so. He’s not the usual sort tha sees comin’ out of there though. I could scarce believe my eyes.’

‘What were tha doin’ down Shorrock Fold anyway?’ asked Jennet. ‘I though tha were late in for thy dinner.’

‘I went to ask about Mary.’

‘What? Our Hannah’s friend? Why?’

‘She were in a bad way last night. They went to fetch Dr Barlow.’

‘Dr Barlow? She’s not had a child, has she?’ asked Jennet, trying to picture Mary the last time she’d seen her. She hadn’t looked like she’d been expecting.

‘I think she’d tried to do away with one,’ said Titus.

‘And is she all right now?’

‘Aye. Mrs Hall said she’s not too bad.’

Jennet wondered if it was Titus’s conscience that had prompted his concern. She’d worried about Mary ever since Titus had said she couldn’t lodge with them, and more so when he’d told her she was working at the Star. She hadn’t argued with him about it. That would have done no good, but the unfairness of it had stayed with her. It was true that Mary’s parents had treated them badly – her more than Titus. When she’d lost her job at the mill she’d been left with no income to feed herself and Peggy. But that wasn’t Mary’s fault. She and Hannah had been such firm friends throughout it all and she thought, not for the first time, what a tragedy it was they hadn’t been able to stay on at Woodfold Hall.