Master of His Fate: The gripping new Victorian epic from the author of A Woman of Substance. Barbara Taylor Bradford
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go with James to Camden,’ Esther murmured as she pushed back her chair.
Esther’s words brought Philip out of his reverie. He nodded and rose. ‘That’s a good thought, my dear. I’ll take James to my office for a few seconds to show him some of my books on wine whilst you deal with Cook.’
Fifteen minutes later, when James and his grandfather joined Esther in the service hall, Philip immediately insisted she take a hansom cab. ‘Those two big canvas bags look awfully heavy,’ he protested, as his wife made a move to leave with them, one in each hand.
‘It’s fine; they’re not that heavy,’ she answered, ‘and James can help me with the smaller ones over there.’
James immediately exclaimed, ‘I think they are all extremely heavy, Grans, and they’re overflowing. Grandpapa is right. We should take a hansom cab.’ He did not want a repetition of the experience he’d had with the wheelbarrow. It had frightened him a little. But, mostly, he longed to ride in one of the horse-drawn carriages. He had never been in one before.
Much to James’s relief, his grandfather won the argument. He had gone outside and found a cab almost at once. Now he and his grandmother were sitting in it, surrounded by even more bags. ‘Since we’re taking a hansom cab, I might as well add a few things for Maude,’ she had told his grandfather, who had merely smiled knowingly. He told her to give Maude his love and his hope that she would feel better soon.
James sat opposite his grandmother in the horse-drawn carriage, one arm protecting several of the canvas bags on the seat next to him. His grandmother was doing the same thing. He had no idea what was in the extra bags, although he was certain it was food because of the nice smells emanating from them. Apple pie, he decided, and maybe sausage rolls.
After a long silence, sitting with her eyes closed as if in deep thought, Esther opened her eyes and stared at James. ‘I’d like to ask you something,’ she said in a low voice.
‘You can ask me anything, Grans.’
‘Have you told your father about your dream to be the greatest merchant in the world? And your plan?’
James shook his head. ‘No, I haven’t. Only you and Grandpapa know.’
‘Don’t you think that perhaps you should tell your father your plan for the future? After all, he ought to know that you’ll be leaving the stalls in a couple of years.’
‘I might be with him longer than that,’ James explained. ‘I might be seventeen or eighteen. I have to gauge what Mr Malvern will say when I take my proposition to him.’
‘Oh, so you have a proposition for him, as well as a dream and a plan for yourself?’
‘I do, yes,’ James muttered, thinking that she had sounded odd. Sarcastic? That wasn’t like her. No, she wasn’t being critical. Just curious.
He said, ‘I have some ideas that might make the market hall better, just small things, but they would improve the Malvern in certain ways.’
‘Do you want to tell me about them?’ she asked, now smiling, more like herself.
He shook his head. ‘No. I haven’t quite worked them out properly.’
‘I understand,’ Esther said. ‘Keep thinking.’
The hansom came to a halt at the corner of the street where Matthew Falconer and his family lived, just off the main Hampstead Road in Camden.
The driver of the cab jumped down from his seat, opened the carriage door, and helped Esther to alight, with James following his grandmother. He and the driver pulled out canvas bags while Esther opened her purse to pay the driver. She did this once the bags were at the front door and thanked him. Small children watched curiously from across the street.
He tipped his cap, thanked her back, and thought to add, ‘Nice young ’un yer ’ave there, missus.’ He grinned and went back to the carriage, whistling away.
James was searching for the key when the front door suddenly opened. Rossi stood there smiling, with little Eddie peeping out from behind her. ‘James and Grandma! I’m so glad you’re here.’ She opened the door wider and helped them to carry the bags inside.
The house was tall and narrow and not very big, but it did accommodate the family comfortably, and they liked it. There was a cosy, homely feeling about the large kitchen, a room which was the centre of the household.
It had a big open fireplace and an oven with a range, and a wide window looking out into the back garden. A long oak table stood under the window and it was here they had their meals.
Once the canvas bags were safely on the table, Esther hugged and kissed Rossi and Eddie, and said to James, ‘I’m just going to pop upstairs to see your mother, and then I’ll be back to heat the raspberry vinegar medicine.’
James nodded. ‘I’ll unpack the bags, and Rossi will help me.’
‘I want to help, too,’ Eddie said, and James smiled at him and said he could.
Esther hurried into the front hall and mounted the stairs leading to the main bedroom floor. As she climbed, she could hear Maude coughing, and was quite alarmed when she went into the bedroom and saw her daughter-in-law’s face. It was ashen and there were dark rings under her eyes. Her light brown hair, always so glossy and carefully arranged, was rumpled and unruly.
‘I’m here, Maude,’ Esther said, walking over to the bed, anxiety on the edge of her voice. ‘Would you like some hot soup or just the raspberry vinegar?’
Her daughter-in-law could do no wrong in Esther’s eyes. She had proved to be an adoring wife and mother, and the whole family was devoted to her. To Esther, Maude was the calmest person she had ever known. Maude kept a loving and peaceful household; angry words were unheard of and food was always on the table. The house was clean as a whistle and the children well cared for. Her son was a lucky man. So were her grandchildren.
Pulling up a chair, sitting down next to the bed, Esther leaned closer and said in a low voice, ‘Are you awake, Maude? I’ve brought soup, and my concoction.’
‘Just drowsing; the raspberry vinegar would help,’ Maude whispered, her voice hoarse. ‘Is Jimmy with you?’
‘He’s downstairs with Rossi and Eddie. He came to get me earlier. We had a bite of lunch; then we came straight here. I’ve brought plenty of food, so you mustn’t worry about Matthew and the children being fed. They’ll be all right.’
Maude looked up at her, the sparkle in her dark brown eyes dulled by her illness. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘It’s not the bubonic plague, you know, merely a chill and a sore throat. I’ll be up and about in a few days.’
‘When you’re better, and not until then. I’ll be back in a few minutes, love.’ Esther hurried downstairs.
When she returned to the kitchen, she noticed that the bottle of raspberry vinegar and the jar of chicken soup were on the oak table. Everything else had been put away in the pantry.
‘Is Mother very ill?’ James asked, his worry obvious.
‘No, it’s just one of those bad chills, and she’s a bit chesty. But she’ll be fine. You can go up and see her if you want, or better still, you can take the drink up to her. It’ll only take a moment to boil.’
As she spoke, Esther crossed the room, picked up the bottle, and was back swiftly. Standing over a pan on the oven top, she stirred the raspberry vinegar. To this she added sugar and a large piece of butter, which James had brought to her from the pantry.
‘Is that all it is?’ James asked, sounding surprised, glancing at his grandmother. ‘Just those things boiled together?’
‘More or less,’ Esther nodded. ‘But I prepare the vinegar