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Yorkshire Lass

By J. Carol Nemeth

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Southampton, England
September 1918
Near the End of World War I


Chapter One

“Excuse me, Miss. Hello! Excuse me! Gotta get through.”
As she stood by the ship’s railing, a firm tap on Jessica Montgomery’s shoulder tugged her attention from the bustling port’s activity. “Excuse me, Miss, but I gotta get this luggage to the quay right away. I’d love to stop and watch the view with you, but there’ll be angry passengers if I don’t get this luggage moving.”
Turning, Jess realized she blocked a young porter struggling to push his loaded luggage dolly through the tide of moving passengers. “I’m terribly sorry.” She stepped closer to the rail. “My mind was elsewhere.”
“You’re an American! Welcome to England.” He smiled, tipping his cap. “It’s difficult to move about on this deck, but I must press on. Have a pleasant stay.”
“Thank you.” Jess turned to join the masses disembarking, her stomach fluttering excitedly. England! She’d only ever dreamed of coming here. Despite the circumstances she was excited to see Mother’s homeland.
After catching a taxi to the train station, Jess boarded the northbound train to Harrogate, settled into her seat and thought of her mother. They had planned to visit England, but Mother had become deathly ill, forcing Jess to quit teaching to care for her. After Mother’s death, Jess was at a loss and felt very alone. Father had died in a train crash during a business trip three years earlier, and she had no close relatives… in America.
After writing her grandmother in England to tell of Mother’s death, Jess received her letter expressing great sorrow and urging Jess to come to England. Jess had prayed for guidance. Was this an answer to prayer? Grandmother had written often through the years, and she’d visited when Jess was ten. They’d played games, gone for walks, and she’d taught Jess to bake her delicious scones while Jess listened to Grandmother’s childhood stories. Oh, the memories of that visit!
Grandmother’s invitation had spurred Jess to come. And here she was…in England. Mother had told her so much about this country that Jess felt she was coming home.
As the train rumbled along she leaned her head back, closing her eyes. Grandfather McDonald died before Jess was born, and with Mother in America, Grandmother had no one. Grandfather left a substantial estate, which Grandmother put to good use. At the beginning of the Great War, she opened an orphanage on her North Yorkshire farm, housing war orphans. With emotional wounds, they needed love and personal attention, which Grandmother had plenty to give. Devastated by the war, children were brought to her, where she loved them, helped them to accept their loses, and introduced them to her Heavenly Father.
Jess watched the landscape speeding by. What lay ahead? Until Grandmother’s letter arrived she’d planned to return to teaching. One thing was certain. She knew she needed to trust God to guide her steps.
Swirling steam hissed from the train’s brakes as Jess stepped onto the Harrogate station platform. Other passengers, mostly locals, headed home from work, purpose in their stride. Soon she was the only passenger left. She glanced at the watch pinned to her jacket. Four-thirty. Grandmother’s telegram said someone would meet her, but she saw no one. Perhaps he’d be here soon. Collecting her trunk, she pulled it to a nearby bench to wait.
At five o’clock, Jess decided no one was coming. She approached the information window where a gray mustached gentleman sat reading the evening paper. She noticed the bold headlines: “Homeless Man Found Dead in Knaresborough Alleyway”.
She shuddered at the headline. “Excuse me.”
Laying down the paper, the man shifted his glasses up onto his nose. “Can I help ya, Lass?”
“I thought someone was meeting my train, but apparently he’s been delayed. I’m going to Hope Orphanage, near Pateley Bridge. Do buses run there?”
“No, but the Nidd Valley Light Railway train departs tomorrow morning to Pateley Bridge. Have you considered a taxi?”
Before Jess could answer, a voice spoke from behind her. “Sorry for interruptin’, lass, but I couldn’t help hearin’ ya say ya need to get to Hope Orphanage.”
Turning, Jess found an older gentleman, possibly in his seventies. A tweed cap covered his silver hair; his dark green corduroy trousers tucked into his knee-hi boots. A tweed jacket topped his green sweater.
“That’s right.” She smiled at his deep Yorkshire accent.
“No need for ya to be waitin’ for the train or payin’ taxi fare when I’m headin’ out that way meself. I come into town to pick up farm supplies what’s come in on the train. If ya don’t mind waitin’ a bit, you’re welcome to ride along. I drive right past your Grandmum’s place. Me farm’s just past hers. By the way, me name’s George Higgins. Morag said you’d be comin’.” He extended a work worn but clean hand. Jess took it, only to have hers shaken vigorously. She glanced at the man behind the window, uncertainty in her eyes.
“Seems things have worked out nicely, Lass. George here’s a fine fellow. Don’t worry. He’ll get ya there right enough. I’ll vouch for him any day.”
“Thank ya much, Pete.” George bowed grandly. “Will do me utmost to see that Morag’s granddaughter arrives safely.” He turned to Jess. “I’ll fetch me things and we’ll be gettin’ ya home.” Tipping his cap, he walked down the platform to retrieve his packages.
“Still concerned, lass? Ya needn‘t be,” Pete reassured. “George is as fine a fellow as you’ll find.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Thank you for your help.”
“I didn’t do anything. It was George there. Enjoy your visit with your grandmother.”
George hefted Jess’s trunk into his horse-drawn wagon alongside his packages then helped her onto the seat. Turning, she waved to Pete who returned her wave.
As George guided his wagon through Harrogate, Jess looked around the town, noting its Edwardian and Victorian architecture. They passed several large gardens where the early fall flowers bloomed profusely in shades of crimson, gold and amethyst.
“Your Grandmum’s sure happy you’re comin’.” George said. “She misses her daughter somethin’ fierce. She was a sweet, beautiful lass. All the young lads came a courtin’, but none caught her eye ‘til your dad come along. You look like her when she was your age.” George paused thoughtfully. “Don’t understand why Old Charlie didn’t come out to meet ya. He’s a do-it-all fellow on Morag’s farm. Somethin’ real important must’ve happened for him not to show up.”
“I hope nothing’s wrong. How much farther?”
Leaving the city, they traveled through the countryside past drystone rock walls, built decades ago, enclosing fields where sheep and cattle grazed contentedly. More stonewalls surrounded other fields and pastures, looking like a huge patchwork quilt pieced together and spread across the gentle slopes of the hills and valleys. The grass was the greenest Jess had ever seen. Patches of trees displayed early fall colors. Occasionally they passed a gritstone farmhouse built near the road, some so close they touched it. Aged green moss covered the slate roofs while ivy clung to the walls and attached barns.
“Not much further now. We’re almost to Pateley Bridge, and your Grandmum’s farm is t’other side.”
The village of Pateley Bridge draped down the side of a hill that ended by the Nidd River. Mr. Higgins explained that in the early 1800’s lead mining and textiles were the local industries, but the mines and most of the mills had long since closed, leaving the area to farming. The village’s High Street buildings would’ve looked dreary except for the scattering of flowers in window boxes and gardens. Arched alleyways between buildings hinted at the courtyards and dwellings hidden behind them. They passed The Old Bakehouse, its window filled with delicious breads and pastries, reminding Jess that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast on the ship that morning. Hopefully Grandmother would have something waiting for her.
The road from Harrogate was curvy and narrow, but the road to Grandmother’s was even more so, climbing higher than before. The Yorkshire Dales were known for ruggedly beautiful green hills, valleys and purple moors. Jess had never imagined the sheer wild beauty of the landscape spread before her as they reached the top. The western sky was bright with the evening sun shining from behind golden clouds, lighting the hilltops while the valleys lay in purple shadow. The drystone walls surrounding the pastures were topped by a golden reflection making the “quilt” appear to be stitched with golden threads. Farmhouses and cottages settled in for the evening; the chimney smoke indicating the chilly air.
Jess fell in love with the beautiful countryside where time seemed to stand still. Mother had told her about the many moods of the Dales and how the weather could change quickly, about the treacherous winds that often swept over the hills and into the valleys and of the rains that followed. Jess was glad the sun was shining, welcoming her to the Dales.
George turned the wagon down a dirt lane where a sign stood with bold letters: HOPE ORPHANAGE. A drystone wall lined each side of the lane, black-faced sheep grazing in pastures on either side. As they approached the farmhouse, butterflies danced excitedly in Jess’s stomach.
The two-story gritstone farmhouse with an attached barn was large compared to the ones on the road from Harrogate. Curtains in the windows of the barn indicated it had been converted into living space. The front of the house was covered with ivy, only the windows showing through. Moss covered the slate roof while a low stone wall enclosed the front garden where an open black iron gate beckoned visitors up the stone footpath to the front door. The neatly trimmed garden flaunted a colorful array of roses: pink, yellow, peach and crimson. Yellow and purple pansies grew by the borders while colorful trailing blooms crept over the wall waving a welcome to visitors.
Jess wondered how such beautiful flowers bloomed in the chilly fall air, but she knew the British took great pride in their gardens, keeping them blooming for months.
Halting the wagon by the front gate, George helped Jess down then unloaded her trunk. The front door opened and a white and liver English springer spaniel bounded down the path, running straight to Jess and jumping up on her. If a dog could smile, this one did, her tail wagging excitedly.
“Down, Jossie!” a voice called as Jess spotted Grandmother hurrying down the front path, leaving the door open in her excitement. Jess ran straight into her arms. Tears streamed down Grandmother’s cheeks as she held Jess back for a good look.
“My lands, luv, how you’ve changed! Where’s the little girl who helped me bake tarts?”
“Well, you haven’t changed a bit, Grandmother. You look just like you did when we baked those tarts. I haven’t tasted any as good since.”
“Then we’ll have to bake some.” She turned as George arrived with Jess’s trunk.
“What happened, George? Garth Samuels drove into Harrogate to fetch Jess. Charlie was supposed to go, but this afternoon the tractor fell on him while he worked on it and broke his collarbone, a couple of ribs, and his right arm. Garth came and patched him up. He’s one of our local doctors,” she explained to Jess. “Since Charlie couldn’t go, Garth volunteered to fetch you. We knew he wouldn’t make it in time to meet the train but hoped you’d still be waiting. But, you’re here, and that’s the important thing.”
“And very well she might be, too, I might add,” piped in George. He’d talked the whole ride out from Harrogate, was silent while Grandmother greeted Jess but was ready to go again. “I heard yer granddaughter askin’ Pete at the station how to get here. I step up and says I’m headin’ out this way meself and would be happy to give her a ride. Pete vouched for me.”
“Mr. Higgins has been very kind, Grandmother. He’s told me a lot about Harrogate and the Dales.” She smiled covertly at Grandmother.
“I’m sure he did,” Grandmother nodded. This was lost on George who carried the trunk into the house, talking to whoever was inclined to listen.
“Come inside, luv.” Grandmother linked her arm through Jess’s.
The front door opened into a large living room, the lower half of the walls oak paneled, the upper half cream painted plaster. Thick, aged oak beams crossed the ceiling while a large stone fireplace stood at the far end of the room, a huge oaken mantel above holding brass candlesticks and gilt picture frames. An overstuffed couch and armchairs and antique side tables surrounded a blue and cream woven rug. Blue curtains framed the windows while watercolor paintings, mostly of the English countryside, graced the walls. Jossie, the spaniel, curled up by the fire, keeping an eye on things.
“Have a seat, luv. I’ll call the children.” Grandmother turned to George who stood by the door, twisting his cap in his hands. “Won’t you stay for tea, George? I’ve the kettle on.”
“Thank ya, Miz Morag, but me missuz will be waitin’ me tea.” He turned to Jess. “It were a real pleasure to meet ya, Miz Jess. If there’s anythin’ I can do for ya whilst you’re here, just give a shout.”
“Thank you for driving me out, Mr. Higgins, and for telling me about the Dales. It was fascinating.”
After George left, Jess sat in an overstuffed chair. Realizing how tired she felt and how comfortable the chair was, she doubted she’d be getting up soon, but as the children filed in, she sat up, forgetting her fatigue.
Grandmother introduced the eleven children, each by name and age. “Jess, this is Claire, who is sixteen. Jason is fifteen. Paul and Paula, our twins, are eleven. Neil is nine. Kevin and Geoffrey are both eight. Jeannie is six. Tommy is five. Billy and Katie are both three.” The children stood straight, a couple giggling when introduced. Little Katie approached Jess.
“Will you be staying wif us, Miss Jess? You’re pretty.” She reached up, touching Jess’s cheek.
“For a while, Katie.” Jess lifted the child onto her lap. She looked smaller than her three years and weighed nothing. Jess turned to smile at Grandmother over the child’s blond head but instead looked straight into a pair of unfamiliar gray eyes. For a moment, she couldn’t look away. The smile in the gray eyes brought a flush to her cheeks, causing instant annoyance with herself.
“Garth! I didn’t hear you come in.” Grandmother saw the young man standing in the doorway. “Have you been there long?”
Reluctantly pulling his gaze from Jess, he turned to Grandmother. “Not long. Gwen let me in the back. I didn’t want to interrupt your introductions.” He smiled as the children gathering around him, the little ones pulling at his jacket. Picking up Billy, he reached over and rumpled Neil’s hair. Clearly the children adored him.
“Let me introduce my granddaughter, Jessica Montgomery. Jess, this is Dr. Garth Samuels, the man who tried to meet your train.”
Jess stood as Garth put Billy down and extended his hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, Miss Montgomery. Your grandmother speaks of you often. She’s really looked forward to your visit.”
The deep tones of his voice struck a chord somewhere inside of Jess. Accepting his outstretched hand, hers was swallowed by his large one. Tall with broad shoulders, Jess had to look up to meet his smiling gray eyes. Set in a ruggedly handsome face, they seemed to penetrate right into her soul, making her self-conscious.
To her dismay the direct look from his penetrating eyes made her cheeks burn. Never self-conscious with other young men, what made this one so different?
“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Samuels. I’m sorry for the inconvenience I caused you.” Jess gently but pointedly pulled her hand from his. “I’m sorry you made a wasted trip.”
“Not at all. Pete said George gave you a ride, so I came straight back. I knew you were in good hands.”
He ran a quick hand through his dark hair, only to have it fall forward again. Jess had an unexplainable desire to reach up and push it back. How ridiculous! she thought.
“I must add my thanks to Jess’s,” said Grandmother. “Both for going to the station and for treating Charlie. He was still sleeping when I checked on him.”
“The medicine I gave him will help him sleep, but ensure he stays in bed for a few days. He has some pretty bad breaks. He can’t do anything for a while.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll see he gets plenty of rest. Now, how about some tea? I’m sure Jess is hungry after her long journey. Won’t you stay, Garth?”
Grandmother’s inviting smile contrasted with Jess’s fixed one. For some reason he’d made a bad start with her and didn’t understand why.
“Thanks, Mrs. McDonald. There’s nothing I’d rather do than enjoy Gwen’s wonderful cooking, but I must go. I’ve some house calls to make before heading home, but I’ll check on Charlie first.” Garth turned to Jess. “I hope you enjoy your stay, Miss Montgomery. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.” The look in his eyes carried a promise.
Jess sighed deeply as the doctor left. She had a funny feeling he just might be right.

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