Anna Jacobs (7 page)

Isabel rushed to push him out of the way and stand barring entrance to the back door, her chest heaving and her face pale but set. “Stay away from us! And Bessie is my maid. You don’t pay her wages, so it’s not for you to dismiss her.”

He debated shoving her out of the way, but that damned maid went to stand beside her and anyway, Frank would be able to trace his niece easily enough. He looked at Bessie again. His sister would be lost without the sturdy maid to do the housework, but he wouldn’t miss her impudent face about the village. “This is my cottage,” he snapped, “and I say who shall live here.” He pointed his forefinger at Bessie. “You may continue to call yourself my sister’s maid or anything else you like, but you are to be out of the village by nightfall. Don’t ever dare return to Newgarth or I’ll have you taken up for vagrancy.”

Left alone the two women looked at one another in consternation.

Bessie sobbed suddenly. “Oh, Miss Isabel, I’m so sorry. The words just jumped out of my mouth. I’ll go and apologise, beg him on my bended knees to change his mind.”

Isabel put her arm round Bessie’s shoulders and drew her across to sit by the table. “No, don’t. He’d enjoy watching you grovel, but he wouldn’t change his mind. He wants to hurt me, has been doing it since I was a child. I never did understand why he hated me so much. And now—heaven knows why, we cost him little enough and I sew for them—he still has to bully us.”

For a moment she sat in silence, and then said in a firmer voice than Bessie had heard her use for a long time, “We shouldn’t have stayed here when we found how he was going to treat us. It’s more than time for us to leave.”

“Us? Both of us?”

“Yes.”

“But where shall we go?” Bessie asked in shock.

“Where else but Marymoor?”

“We’ve no money to hire a conveyance. You know how little there is left now.”

“Then we’ll walk.” Isabel stood up and brushed down her skirt. “I can still walk as well as you.”

“I can’t ask you to do this. Let me go and find this Marymoor and you stay here in comfort. I’m sure they’ll send for you when I tell them how things stand.”

“No. We’ve been together for a long time now and we’re leaving together. He’s not going to separate us. No one is.”

It was she who comforted the weeping Bessie as they started packing, she who led the way out of the cottage carrying a bundle containing clothes and a few other necessities.

Chapter 4

The man who rode the scrawny old horse from Marymoor village to Sedge House, a tumble-down place on the edge of the moors, was an undersized and sour-smelling creature, but Seth’s eyes brightened at the sight of him. His master had been expecting someone for several days now, ever since Mr Elkin heard the welcome news that Ralph Jannvier was dying at last.

He took the fellow straight to his master and concealed a snort of laughter as the poor sap gaped and was at first speechless. For Seth’s master wore clothing more suited to a London dandy than a country gentleman and his bearing these days was distinctly haughty.

“Well, fellow?” Anthony Elkin demanded impatiently.

The man jerked and said hastily, “Mr Simley says to tell you the old man’s dead, sir.”

“Do you bring no note from Simley?”

“No, sir. There weren’t time to write none. He says you’d best get over there as quick as you can. There’s a woman moved in, some friend of Pascoe’s, and he’s afeared the two of ’em are plotting summat.”

“They can plot away. Ralph won’t have changed his will. He was the most stubborn old devil on this earth once he’d taken a decision. I’m his only legitimate heir.” Anthony narrowed his eyes as he thought on this, wondering if stealing the silver could have pushed the old fellow too far. No, surely not? He had left a letter apologising and promising to repay—as he had done. There were no other relatives left to inherit, but on reflection he’d been stupid. But when you’re desperate you don’t always think clearly.

He turned back to the man, who was still hovering with a hopeful expression on his face. “Here.” A coin changed hands. “You go back and tell Simley I’ll set off within the hour.”

While Seth ushered the messenger out, Elkin poured himself a glass of brandy and raised it to his image in the tarnished mirror hanging crookedly over the smoke-stained fireplace. “To the new master of Marymoor! And may I not spend another night in this hovel.” He drained the glass and tossed it into the hearth, laughing as it shattered.

The small parlour was as shabby as the rest of the house, its furnishings threadbare and none too clean. The place was all he had left now, hardly more than a cottage, not worthy of an Elkin. But Marymoor, ah, that house was a proper gentleman’s residence, well suited to his new station in life. With it behind him, he would be able to find a rich wife. He grinned, a mere baring of the teeth. He had started to mend his fortune already, with his man’s help, but was tired of that game and the risks involved.

Seth returned at that moment. “He’s gone.”

“We’ll follow as soon as we can get ready.”

“Is the old lady to come too?”

“She must. For all her faults my mother is a lady of good family and will command the respect of the neighbours over there.”

He went upstairs to tell her the news, taking the steps two at a time, his whole body filled with exultation. He flung open the door of her chamber without knocking to find her still a-bed, with her maid in attendance and fussing over her. Both women squeaked in shock at his sudden appearance.

“The old devil’s dead at last!” he announced.

Mrs Elkin’s expression brightened and she sat up quickly. “Did the lawyer send for you?”

“I’m not waiting for the lawyer. I have my own ways of finding out what’s going on over there. We need to set off immediately. That clod Pascoe is in charge at the moment and I’m not letting him steal any of my inheritance. He’s been living off the fat of the land at Marymoor for long enough now. As soon as the funeral’s over, he’s out.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t—”

“We can be sure of nothing where he’s concerned, except that he’s my enemy. Tell your woman to pack. We leave in an hour, sooner if we can.”

Harriet looked at her son in dismay. “But Anthony, I’m not well enough for a journey. I’ve not left my bed for a sennight!”

He glared at her. “If you’re not ready to leave when I say, I’ll carry you out to the carriage myself, dressed or not! I need you there,” he gave her a sneering smile, “to mourn with me.”

With a whimper she fell back and when he’d gone, looked at her maid, tears in her eyes. “We must do as he says, Denise.”

“But you’re not well.”

“Maybe I shall be better away from this dampness.” She cast a resigned look round the shabby bedroom, where she spent most of her time now.

 The maid’s mouth set tight in disapproval. In her opinion the only thing that would help her mistress was to get away from her son. He’d brought them to this penury by gambling away what was left of his inheritance, and Denise set the ruin of Mrs Elkin’s health squarely at his door. He might have started to mend his fortunes lately, though how he had managed that they couldn’t work out, because he’d never been a lucky gambler, but he’d done little to make his mother’s life more comfortable with the new money. All of it had been spent on his own clothes and who knew what other depraved pleasures? For he went away regularly, and always with an eager look on his face.

When she thought of how the old carriage would jolt her mistress’s poor aching bones on the rough road across the moors, Denise could have wept. And where would she be if her mistress died? In dire trouble, that was sure, because she hadn’t been paid her wages for many a month and a reference from him would be worth nothing—less than nothing, given his reputation.

But they set off in just over the hour he had specified, knowing better than to upset him.

* * * *

When Deborah went out of the bedroom, she found Jem still lounging in the corridor outside. “Matthew’s going to get some sleep,” she told him.

“Aye. Needs it, too.”

She lowered her voice. “He suggested you could send a message to my mother and arrange for her to join me—us—here.” She liked the straight way he looked at her, the alertness in his bearing. Like master, like man, she thought.

“He said he was going to wait to bring them here.”

“My mother is in a difficult situation herself. My uncle, Mr Lawrence, is very callous in the way he treats her.”

Jem pursed his lips but made no further protests. “Well, if Matthew says do it, you’d better write a letter to your mother and I’ll send young George across to fetch her. He can ride there and I’ll give him the money to hire a carriage to bring her back.” He grinned at her. “No need for an old lady to gallop across the countryside like you did.”

“We didn’t exactly gallop,” she murmured.

“’Twas a hard ride, though. Matt said you did well.” Not many women would have managed that. His new mistress had courage, that was sure. “I think he’ll manage all right. He has a bit of sense between his ears, George does, though he’s never left the district before. Is there somewhere he can hire a carriage in this Newgarth place?”

She nodded. “From the inn, the Bird in Hand. It’s not a large village, but it’s on a fairly busy post road.”

“And is there a carter who can bring your goods and chattels over?”

“Yes. Bessie will know about that. Our maid is very practical.” She couldn’t help a wry smile as she added, “And of an independent turn of mind, too.”

“You write your letter, then, and I’ll go and instruct George on what’s needed.”

“Is it as easy as that?” she marvelled aloud, not being accustomed to having things done for her.

Jem shrugged. “Seems straightforward enough to me. How long will it take your mother to pack, do you think?”

“Give her one day’s notice and she’ll be ready the next. We’re used to moving.” Had done it secretly in the middle of the night many a time to avoid her father’s creditors.

“Well, then, I’ll see young George is ready to leave as soon as your letter is finished. Your mother could be here in two or three days’ time.”

As Jem vanished down the narrow back stairs, Deborah turned towards the broader front staircase, finding herself strangely reluctant to face the other servants while her position here was so anomalous. But she couldn’t go back into the bedroom and disturb Matthew.

There was no sign of anyone in the hall, so she went into the small parlour she’d used the night before. There was no fire lit, though it was a damp, chilly day, with rain threatening. She shivered involuntarily and looked for a bell pull, then smiled at her own folly. Marymoor was not her uncle Lawrence’s well-appointed house, but an old place and wouldn’t have such modern conveniences as bell pulls. She found a handbell on the mantelpiece and rang it loudly.

No one came to answer her summons, so after a while she rang again, feeling irritation begin to rise at this slovenly service.

Once Matthew had made her position as mistress of Marymoor known, she would make sure the servants knew their jobs better than this, she thought angrily as the minutes passed and still no one came. The death of a master was no excuse for neglecting one’s duties.

Leaving the room, she turned towards the back of the hall where she presumed the domestic quarters would lie. As she opened the door she found herself in a short passage that led to a large kitchen, with the servants’ stairs to her left. Simley and an older woman (presumably his wife) were standing by the kitchen window speaking earnestly while they sipped at pots of ale. Dishes lay unwashed on the table, where two rabbits lay waiting to be skinned. The wooden surface was in need of a good scrubbing.

The Simleys turned at her entrance and to her amazement Mr Simley set down his pot and went outside without acknowledging her presence.

The housekeeper stared at her with a hostile expression on her face, then sighed and asked, “Did you want something, miss? You should have rung and waited for someone to come. I’m Mrs Simley, the housekeeper.” And, her expression said, this was her territory and she didn’t want strangers invading it.

Deborah drew herself up and stared right back at the woman. “I did ring. Twice. I’d like some breakfast and a fire lighting in the parlour. As no one answered my bell, I wondered if something was wrong and came to investigate.”

“It’s Merry who attends to the bells. The girl’s a lazy piece if ever I saw one. If you’ll return to the parlour,” Mrs Simley hesitated for a few seconds before adding, “miss, I’ll see that she comes and lights your fire. I’ll send some food through in a few minutes. You’ll understand that things are a bit—upset-like today. With the master dying and all. Mrs Gurrey’s laying him out and she does a beautiful job.”

Even though she was ravenous, Deborah decided not to take issue with the woman, but thought it a poor excuse. “Thank you. I’d appreciate some food.”

“We’re waiting for the new master to arrive, you see,” Mrs Simley said as she turned to go. “We’ve no one to tell us what to do till he comes.”

Deborah stared at her in surprise. “But surely Mr Pascoe is in charge and—”

“He was the bailiff, in a manner of speaking. For the old master. But he won’t inherit because he was born on the wrong side of the blanket, so if you came here expecting any profit, I’m afraid he’s misled you. It’s Mr Elkin as is proper family and will inherit the estate.”

Mindful of Matthew’s warning, Deborah bit off a sharp response and went back to the parlour.

Shortly afterwards a young maid came through carrying a shovel filled with burning embers and soon had a fire going. “There,” she said cheerfully. “Sorry I weren’t around when you rang, miss. I was up helping Mrs Gurrey. It burns well, this fire. Soon have the place warm. Proper chilly today, isn’t it? Wouldn’t think it was summer.”

Well, at least one person wasn’t hostile, Deborah thought. “What’s your name?”

“Merry, miss. I’ll just go and fetch you something to eat now, shall I?”

“Please. Anything will do.”

But all the girl brought was some rather stale bread and cheese, with a wrinkled apple cut in four quarters. Poor fare to set before a guest, but Deborah ate it hungrily. It would hold her until Matthew woke and took charge.