Harriet Grace

CHAPTER ONE

Harriet pulled the levers that shifted the red arm of the signal into the lower quadrant, clear position, telling the driver it was safe to proceed. She had already adjusted the points to send the engine on its way to Scarborough. Helping her grandfather from his seat, she guided him over to the waist-high levers. He placed a hand on one of them and turned sightless eyes on her.
“Have you done everything, love?”
She nodded. “Aye, Grandpa. All is well.”
They stood together, high up in the signal box with windows on three sides, waiting for the train to pass.
“We should tell the truth,” whispered her grandfather.
Harriet sighed. How many times had he said that? Countless times in the last six months. She saw the plume of smoke before she heard the engine and squeezing her grandfather’s arm, quickly took a seat at the back of the box where she couldn’t be seen. The engine wheezed past, pulling five carriages, filled with passengers heading for the coast. She watched as her grandfather raised his hand to the driver and fireman; her tears brimming over, knowing they would return the wave he couldn’t see. When the train had passed, she helped him back to his chair and completed the procedure by sending the bell code up the line to the next signal box, before taking a seat at the desk and entering the train’s details in the register.
Her grandfather rubbed a shaking hand over his face. “This isn’t right, Harriet. It’s not honest.”
“If the railway company knew you’d lost your sight, you’d lose your employment. And then what would you and Gran do?”
“It would be the workhouse for the pair of us,” he murmured. “But they’re sure to find out sooner or later. Hainsworth Crossing should be in the hands of someone who can operate it properly. It’s not suitable for a chit of a girl to be pulling levers and changing points.”
She grimaced. “I’ve been sitting in this box with you since I was a nipper and know your every move. So, that’s an end to it. And the later they find out the better.” But then she smiled. “Now you sit here and I’ll fetch us something to eat.” It would be thirty minutes before the Bridlington train passed and the points would be changed again. Plenty of time to get them dinner.
He turned his head towards her. “Don’t forget to trim the wicks for the oil lamps. And give your gran her medicine.”
She acknowledged with a nod, although he couldn’t see it. It would be hours before the sun set on this beautiful August day and she would need to sort out the lamps that illuminated the red and green lights. Walking across the lane to the small cottage she had to admit her grandfather’s cataracts were getting worse. His eyes were almost white as milk instead of the soft brown of healthier times.
She opened the door and shouted, “Gran, I’m back to make a pot of tea.”
Her grandmother turned to smile at her from her reclining position, her face showing signs of pain and fatigue. “Good lass and then I’ll help with dinner.” She attempted to pull herself to her feet from the ancient sofa that creaked despite her frail physique.
Harriet shook her head and raised her hand to stop her. “Nay, you stay where you are. There’s pork pie and eggs to be eaten. Won’t take me long to get it ready.” She glanced at her grandmother. “How’s the pain?”
“The laudanum helps, it does.”
“Good,” smiled Harriet, lifting the pork pie down from the shelf, filling the kettle with water and fetching a pan in which to boil the eggs.

Harriet Grace had always believed in two truths. That the world was how it was and she was part of it. The second truth was she loved Edward Hainsworth with all her heart and their love for each other was a promise, a hope for a future of blissful happiness.
She had known Edward all her life and the fact he was a fireman with the North Eastern Railway along with being a peer of the realm didn’t worry her one bit. And that was because he was a baron devoid of wealth and status. Had he been otherwise, society might have frowned on their union. When she had been twelve and Edward seventeen and away at Eton, Hainsworth Hall had been burned to the ground. His father, mother and sister had died in the fire, along with three of the household staff. Their eagerness to save the treasures of the Hall had cost the family dearly and now Hainsworth Hall was a blackened ruin. The devastating impact of the tragedy had affected the entire community and on the day of the funerals, everyone stopped work to stand by the roadside as the row of hearses snaked by. All were in agreement life would never be the same again, now the baron and his wife were gone and young Ned Hainsworth was bereft of family and wealth.
His parents had put money aside for his education at Eton, but unfortunately the death duties now owed to the government took all other monies. There was nothing left for Oxford, so while he finished his final year at Eton, he moved in with Harriet and her grandparents during the holidays. And when his schooldays were over, he became an apprentice at the railway works in York. By the time he reached twenty-three years old he had been promoted to fireman aboard a locomotive.
Harriet and her grandparents lived in a small cottage a few steps from Hainsworth Crossing, the signal box her grandfather had operated for over twenty years. A mile away was the small village of West Knapton and the town of Malton was only three miles further to the west. John Sedman’s signal box sent trains safely on to Scarborough and Bridlington in one direction and to York in the other and further north to Newcastle. He was a dedicated signalman and had been looking forward to retirement in eighteen months’ time on his seventieth birthday. It was he who had helped Ned to get employment with the North Eastern Railway, speaking proudly of how the company controlled the tracks in many parts of England. Ned was based in York, where a huge new station had been built with thirteen platforms, making York the focus for tourists who wanted to visit the many historic places in the ancient city.
When Harriet reached her eighteenth birthday Ned had asked her to marry him. She had often thought long and hard about when she and Ned had fallen in love and couldn’t quite pin down the actual moment. Perhaps it was when the fire happened, or the year he had lived with them in the small cottage? But it hadn’t mattered. The following year at the age of nineteen, she was to marry Ned and move to York. At the moment he rented a room at Mrs Poskitt’s boarding house, but he intended to lease a small house in the city so they would be comfortable as they started their married life.
Their dreams had been wonderful after so much heartache and she had been certain they would have a happy life together and besides, York wasn’t far from her grandparents and they could visit regularly. She would often hold up her hand so the tiny diamond in her engagement ring would sparkle. Ned couldn’t afford much and the sterling silver ring had embarrassed him. But Harriet had been delighted. It was a symbol of their love and that was more important than any flashy ring from the best jewellers in York.
But in the spring of 1885, three months before their wedding, two events happened that turned their plans on their heads. Her grandmother became ill and the doctor gave them the devastating news he couldn’t help her. And then Harriet noticed her grandfather was colliding into furniture and doorframes. When she queried it, he brushed it off as carelessness and refused to see the physician. But his advancing blindness left them in a dilemma. Her grandmother was too poorly to leave their cottage, so it was imperative he kept his employment.
Harriet knew her idea to take over control of the signal box was against regulations. Perhaps illegal. Women didn’t do that kind of work, but she was familiar with every part of the job and couldn’t see why she shouldn’t take charge for as long as it was needed. And so they had established a routine where her grandfather would look as though he was operating the signals, until such time when he could retire from the railway on the pension the company had established less than ten years before. Only eighteen months, thought Harriet, only a year and a half and her grandfather could say farewell to the signal box and live in York with Ned and herself.

“You can’t fool the railway! You’ll get yourself and your grandfather in a heap of trouble.” Ned couldn’t hide his incredulity.
They had been taking a walk on the estate and were now staring at the ruin of Hainsworth Hall, its sightless windows and broken structure now covered with ivy and nettles. The occasional poppy, cornflower and ox-eyed daisy struggled out of the greenery and crows had taken up residence, cawing loudly at the intrusion of the current owner.
Harriet smiled and pulling her handkerchief from her pocket, wiped away a smudge of soot from behind his ear. He always seemed to miss a bit when he washed after his shift. “I have no choice, Ned.” She looked into the blue-green eyes of the man she adored and reached up to place her arms round his neck, her fingers brushing the black hair. “Gran has only a matter of months. She has the right to die in the home she loves and not in the workhouse.”
He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “I know you mean well, my sweet. But how long do you think you’ll get away with it?”
“As long as necessary, but at the most only for eighteen months. Gran won’t…then Grandpa can…” She choked on her words.
Feeling her tremble, his hands moved down her back. “Why don’t we get married now. I’ve seen a small house I can rent and then your grandparents can move in with us?”
She shook her head. “Gran isn’t well enough to stand the move. And how could we provide for them? You’re still paying off death duties and your income is only a fireman’s wage.”
“I’m hoping to make driver within the next year or two. That would improve matters.” He thought for a moment. “I still have my mother’s jewellery. It was only saved from the fire because her maid tucked the box under her arm.” He smiled grimly. “What a pity she didn’t tuck Mother under her arm.”
She caressed his cheek, touched he would do that for her. “If you sold your mother’s jewellery you’d have nothing left of her.”
“Then I shall sell this land. Although there’s not much left to sell. Mostly what the ruin is sitting on and the gardens. The bulk of it was worked by tenants and I thought it better to sell to the farmers since they and their families had worked the land for generations.”
“And a lot of that money went to paying off death duties and other debts.” Harriet studied the ruin that was Hainsworth Hall. “But this was where you were born. Where you grew up.”
He released his embrace and joined her in surveying the devastation that was once his home. “Look at it, Harriet. A habitat for crows and wildflowers. Why not sell it and let someone else take it over?”
She gave him a quizzical glance and whispered, “You’d let go of three hundred years of history?”
“Perhaps I should make my own history,” he smiled. “I want to be with you, my sweet. I want to rear our children and have a contented life.” Taking her hand, he guided her over to a metal seat that was the sole remains of the garden, and made her sit. He turned his worried gaze on her. “However, we must do something about your grandfather. The situation can’t continue and despite what you say it would be extremely serious if the railway company found out what you were up to. You and your grandfather could even be risking prison if you’re caught. I don’t doubt your expertise, but I know how a train driver depends on the efficiency of the signalman and should anything go wrong it would be catastrophic.”
Harriet bit her lip and turned her gaze back to the ruin of Hainsworth Hall.

“How is Mrs Sedman?” asked Eloise, placing her cup on the occasional table. Her hand went to her fair hair in a coquettish manner.
Ned sighed. “Not good, I’m afraid. Her condition worsens each day.”
“That is so sad. Poor Harriet. Losing her father when a babe and then her mother with consumption when she was only six years old. And now her grandmother is seriously ill. How does she bear it I wonder.”
He licked dry lips knowing she wasn’t asking a question; just showing false sympathy to impress him. He smiled over the rim of his cup and said, “Yes, her life has been one of sorrow. But she’s the kind of girl to count her blessings. As we all should, Ellie.”
Eloise Rathmell bristled at the nickname of Ellie. At twenty-two she was a young lady now and had long ago told her family to stop calling her by that name.
“Well, I think she deserves a medal.”
She studied the handsome young man sitting opposite her. He might be as poor as a church mouse and a railway fireman, but he was still a baron, which suited her fine. And a baroness was too good a title for a simple girl with a grandfather whose occupation was a signalman. Now her papa was a wealthy and well-respected merchant. If she could get Ned to give up this idiotic idea of working on the railway and work for her father, then one day he could inherit everything. If he became her husband.
Eloise took an inward sigh. Their families had been lifelong friends and after the baron and baroness had lost their lives in that dreadful fire, Ned still liked to visit Mr and Mrs Rathmell and Eloise was glad of it. Why he had decided to spend the school holidays in that tiny signalman’s cottage she would never understand. They had offered him a decent room here in their sumptuous home in Malton. How on earth could a cramped cottage compare with a six-bedroom house in its own grounds?
If they married they could live in London and enjoy the privileges of aristocracy. Ned could even sit in the House of Lords. But why couldn’t he see what a catch she was! It was so frustrating.
There was something else bothering her. Harriet Grace was evasive when they met outside the haberdashery shop in Malton the week before. Questioning her about her grandparents and especially her grandfather’s work in the signal box, had brought a strange light in Harriet’s eyes. Eloise knew the girl was hiding something and her nature was such she must discover what it was. In a week or so she would pay a visit to the Sedmans. Just to take tea of course and take some calves foot jelly for poor Mrs Sedman. She was doing her duty as a good friend of the family and no one could fault her for that.
CHAPTER TWO

It was back breaking work, there was no doubt about that. Ned threw a shovelful of coal into the hungry mouth of the furnace and then wiped his face on a dirty cloth, smearing a streak of coal dust across his cheek.
As an apprentice he had done all manner of jobs from running errands, sweeping and cleaning the yard and making mugs of tea for the engineers. Then he had become a firelighter; another dirty job of clearing the ash away, lighting the fire under the boiler and filling the boiler with water. But everything about the railway was grime and hard work. Except for those who worked in the offices; booted and suited, with neat ties and immaculate collars.
Bob Addy smiled at his fireman remembering the ten years when his entire working life had been the coal tender, the shovel and the ferocious heat from the firebox that boiled the water to create the steam that drove the engine.
“Young lad’s work, is that,” he smiled.
Ned grinned back. “Couldn’t expect an old bloke like you to do this job now.” He leaned his head out of the open window of the cab to cool his perspiring body.
Bob shook his head, not taking offence. He and Ned had been driver and fireman for the last year and had made a good team. The lad had potential. He would definitely earn his stripes as a driver and no doubt go on to become a supervisor and a manager in time.
They were making good time, hurtling along at thirty miles an hour. Bob knew they could go much faster, but there were quite a few small stations between York and Scarborough and his hand never left the regulator that controlled the pressure of steam to the cylinders. It was a stop start line and often quite exhausting. In ten minutes they would be passing Hainsworth Crossing.