Anna Jacobs (9 page)

“I must admit, I don’t trust him. Or them.”

“Shows you’ve got good sense. Some folk are fooled by that gentlemanly exterior, but Elkin would do anything for money. I wouldn’t put murder past him, even.”

“How can you speak so surely? He is, after all, a gentleman.”

“Hah! Gentleman or not, I’ve seen him act viciously time and again. While I remember—don’t go out walking with him on your own, or linger anywhere with him where there aren’t folk within call. Just to be safe.”

“If you say so. I don’t enjoy his company anyway.” Deborah slid down in the bed and averted her eyes from Matthew’s body as he finished undressing. Even in the dim light of one candle she could see he had a well-muscled frame. She wished they’d met in some other way, that there had been time to get to know one another properly, instead of being pitched into such a fraught situation.

As he blew out the candle and slid into the bed she wondered if he was going to claim his rights as a husband, but he simply sighed and yawned. Within seconds he was asleep and she didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry. He was exhausted, poor man, but was he really so indifferent to her?

She hoped not because she was not, she found, at all indifferent to him. He was good looking enough to turn any woman’s head. And she was his wife, after all.

Chapter 5

In the morning Deborah woke to find that Matthew had already risen. Unsure of the time and not wanting to seem lazy, she got up immediately, but couldn’t resist going to stare out of the window before she dressed. The slopes that led up to the moors were chequered by neatly-kept fields, dotted with white where sheep grazed, and edged by dry stone walls. Above them the duller greenish brown of the moors swept away into the distance, unfettered by walls or any other sorts of limitations.

She studied the sky, but to her relief the sun had only just risen. As she listened, she heard a few birds greet the dawn, sounding sleepy still as they chirped and cooed softly in the trees near the house.

Below her Matthew came into sight and she paused to watch him striding away from the house. He was wearing a pair of stout leather breeches and a sleeveless jerkin over his shirt and looked completely at home. He smiled up at the sky before disappearing in the direction of some barns and outbuildings. She hoped to feel at home here one day, she thought wistfully. She’d ask him to show her round properly as soon as the Elkins had left, which couldn’t happen too soon for her. And one day she would like to walk across those moors. Perhaps Matthew would take her.

She clicked her tongue in annoyance at herself. And perhaps she should stop daydreaming and get dressed!

There was a knock on the door and Merry came in, carrying a ewer of hot water. “I brought up your water now because Mr Matthew said you were stirring and Mrs Simley will be up soon, then it’ll be hard for me to get away. I hope that’s all right.”

“Of course it is.”

The maid looked at Deborah shyly. “I wanted to wish you well of your marriage, Mrs Pascoe, if you don’t mind me taking the liberty. Mr Matthew’s a fine man, an’ he allus treats folk decent.”

“Thank you.” As Merry turned to leave, Deborah asked quickly, “Wait! Have the Simleys said anything further about your leaving?”

Merry’s smile vanished and she nodded. “She said this morning I could stay on to help with the funeral, then I’d have to go. Said they wanted a maid as is more willing.” Tears welled in her eyes as she blurted out, “But they couldn’t find anyone as’d work harder than I do. You ask Mr Pascoe.”

“They can do nothing until after the will is read,” Deborah reminded her.

Merry sniffed and wiped the tears away with the back of one hand. “I’d not have stayed here this long if I didn’t want to be near my family. Them two aren’t the easiest folk to work for. She leaves everything she can to me, she’s that lazy. Oh, I’m talking too freely!” She clapped one hand to her mouth and looked at Deborah anxiously. “You won’t tell them what I said?”

“I won’t reveal a word. Now, what usually happens about breakfast?”

“They allus served it at nine o’clock in the parlour when the old master was alive. I get Mr Matthew a piece of bread and cheese when he wakes, then he comes back later for a proper meal. He used to eat breakfast with the old master. The two of ’em never said much, but they looked right comfortable together.”

“Then I’ll do the same, so perhaps you could bring me something to eat now—anything will do. I’m used to starting early as well and I want to sort out our clothes and things.” She looked round. “I wonder what the time is exactly? Is there a clock anywhere? We definitely need one in here.” Setting the bedroom in order would help her avoid contact with anyone else until Matthew returned, but though she didn’t want to be late for breakfast, neither did she want to go down too early and face Elkin alone.

“I know where there is one!” Merry left and came back with a handsome clock, which she set on the mantelpiece, saying cheerfully, “This was the old master’s but he isn’t going to need it any more, is he?”

When the maid had left Deborah went through the drawers and the clothes press, noting that Matthew’s things were neatly kept and were of good quality, but not of fancy materials. She smiled even to think of him in flowered brocade such as Elkin had been wearing yesterday. As she was putting away the few things she’d brought with her, she couldn’t help wishing she had better clothes in which to do credit to her new husband—and to make him think well of her.

Just before she went downstairs, Deborah did the best she could with her appearance, combing back her hair and pulling it into as flat a bun as she could manage under the small cap of fine lawn. But strands would keep escaping—they always did—and she could do little about the crumpled appearance of her skirts. She had no hoops to wear beneath her simple, back-lacing gown, whose full skirts sat limply over the two petticoats she’d been able to fit into the saddlebag. Her uncle had forbidden her or her mother to try to ape the fashions of their “betters”, by which he meant her cousin and aunt, so she didn’t even own a hooped petticoat. Not that she had minded that until now because such skirts would have constrained her movements too much when she was working round the house.

But it would have been comforting not to look so dowdy and old-fashioned now. She sighed as she twisted and turned in front of the small mirror on the chest of drawers. Still, she had brought along her best handkerchief, of fine muslin with a narrow lace edging, and she thought it looked well with the ends crossed and tucked into her bosom.

With a shrug at her own vanity, she left the bedchamber and walked briskly down the stairs.

To her dismay she found only Elkin waiting for her in the parlour, as immaculately dressed as ever, this time in a suit of grey brocade with embroidery down the front edges. The skirts of his coat were stiffened and he had wide cuffs, buttoned back and reaching nearly to his elbows. His wig today was a toupee with three horizontal roll curls on each side, tied back with a grey silk ribbon. But somehow its elegance only emphasised the narrowness of his face and the harsh lines of dissipation engraved on it. Or perhaps these were so engrained he always looked like that.

And for all his fine clothes he looked like a bird of prey, ready to pounce on an unsuspecting victim and seize what he wanted. She knew she couldn’t trust him, knew it deep down in her bones.

When he offered both a bow and a smile, she felt instantly suspicious after the scornful way he’d treated her the previous day.

“A beautiful morning, is it not?” He waved one hand towards the window.

She noticed that his eyes were on her, however, studying, assessing. “Indeed.” She inclined her head, wishing Matthew were here.

“Perhaps we could take a turn on the terrace until they serve breakfast?” He offered her his arm.

She hesitated, but could think of no polite way of refusing so allowed him to lead her outside via the front door.

“I must apologise for my ill-mannered behaviour towards you yesterday, cousin,” he said abruptly.

Oh? So she was a “cousin” now, was she?

“I’m afraid Matthew Pascoe always rubs me the wrong way. No doubt you see a gentler side to him, but he has been no friend to me and my mother.”

She stopped walking. “I shall not discuss my husband with you. Nor shall I listen to calumny about him.”

Elkin breathed deeply and shot her an annoyed look, which was wiped off his face almost as soon as it appeared. As they continued walking he found another topic. “You don’t have the Jannvier looks.” He stopped to study her features openly.

“Do I not?” She was itching to pull away from him, hated to be so close.

“No. But that is, perhaps, an advantage for a woman.” He touched one finger to his beaky nose with a rueful smile.

“Matthew has the Jannvier looks, too,” she said, thinking how much better-looking her husband was than this man, and wondering why, for he was not nearly as finely dressed.

“I am not myself convinced of his parentage,” Elkin said, “though that is irrelevant now.” He gestured up at the house. “I love Marymoor. It’s been in the family ever since it was built. I know it’s rather old-fashioned, but I’ve always wished . . . ” He let his voice trail away and gave a soulful sigh, then went on, “There’s a roof walk, you know, built in the Great Queen’s time. They don’t make them nowadays, more’s the pity, for it’s a fine way to take the air. Look, you can see where it leads out. There.” His finger traced out a line across the edge of the roof. “On fine days it gives one a splendid view of the moors. I always love going up there.”

Just then Matthew appeared in the doorway and Deborah let go of Elkin’s arm thankfully to hurry across to her husband and kiss his cheek. “Thank goodness you’ve come,” she muttered in his ear.

He draped one arm possessively round her shoulders and they turned as one to face their companion. “You’re up early today, Elkin.”

“So are you, Pascoe.”

“I have an estate to run.”

“Not for much longer.”

The air fairly crackled with hostility, though Matthew’s face didn’t betray his feelings as openly as Elkin’s.

Deborah felt uneasy in spite of the beauty of the day, and leaned thankfully against her husband’s arm, drawing comfort from the strength of the muscular body next to hers.

“Quite the loving couple, are we not?” Elkin sneered. “Do you intend to stand there all day fondling one another like peasants or can we go and break our fast?”

So much for his politeness, Deborah thought. She wondered why he had even bothered to talk to her. Without a word she led the way inside to find a well-loaded table waiting for them and Mrs Simley herself standing in the doorway, beaming at Elkin.

The woman ignored the Pascoes but said ingratiatingly, “I think you’ll find all you need, sir.”

Elkin’s smile returned as he went to sit at the head of the table. “I’m sure everything will be fine, my dear Mrs Simley. You always look after me so well.”

Deborah glanced quickly at Matthew, who should be occupying that chair, but he shook his head and took a place beside her without a word of protest.

“Is your mother not joining us?”

“She usually takes breakfast in bed.”

The meal proceeded in silence, with Matthew eating as heartily as usual, Deborah picking at her food and Elkin making a leisurely meal.

The silence seemed to irritate him, however, and he said abruptly, “What arrangements have been made for the funeral?”

Matthew continued to cut up his ham. “Ralph made them himself before he died. Parson Norwood knows all the details.”

“The right people have no doubt been invited?”

“The people Ralph asked for have been invited. I’m no judge of who’s a right or wrong person.” Matthew’s voice was scornful and he took another mouthful of ham, as if the conversation were closed.

“I shall look into the arrangements myself, then,” Elkin declared. “We can’t have things done shabbily.”

Matthew looked up. “Ralph himself arranged the funeral and I don’t think you’ll find Norwood going against his dying wishes.”

“So you say.”

“So Ralph arranged.”

As both men scowled at one another, Deborah intervened. “Is your mother feeling any better this morning, Mr Elkin? Have you heard from her?”

“Sadly, her maid says she isn’t at all well and will keep to her bed until later, if you don’t mind.”

“I’m surprised you brought her here, if her health is so bad,” Matthew said, reaching out to cut himself another slice of bread.

“It was the right thing to do. She knows her duty. Do you always gulp your food like a hungry ploughman?”

“There’s nothing like hard work and honest living for giving you a good appetite.”

Deep breathing was his only answer from Elkin.

When Matthew had finished eating, he sat on, saying nothing. Deborah toyed with the few morsels left on her plate, hoping for a private word with her husband.

In the end Elkin pushed his plate aside and stood up. “Well, if you will excuse me, I’ll take a stroll down to the village. One would wish for a larger centre with a decent inn, but this is, after all, the wilds of Lancashire.”

“Thompson at The Woolpack knows his trade as well as any,” Matthew said mildly.

“I’m sure you would know more about that than I would. Though I dare say he does his best. Mrs Pascoe, your servant.”

When his footsteps had faded away into the distance, Matthew muttered, “Last time he visited, Elkin came here by stage coach, didn’t even have a riding horse of his own. Now he has a carriage and pair, and is dressed like a lord. Where did he get the money for all that, do you suppose?”

“Gambling, perhaps?” Deborah had seen similar changes in her own father from time to time, though he’d never dressed so elaborately.

“Perhaps. Though Elkin has never been a successful gambler before.”

“Are the two of you always so hostile to one another?”

Matthew leaned back and grinned at her. “We’re not usually this polite, actually. Your presence must be having a calming effect on us. We came to blows once, but Ralph stopped it before we could do one another any real harm. Elkin strips better than you’d think, for all his damned finicky ways—though he prefers to let his man settle problems for him if he can.” His smile vanished. “I’m sorry he brought Seth Bailey with him. The fellow’s too free with his fists and usually manages to cause trouble in the village.”