Every Mother's Son (24 page)

‘But you were!’ Her voice rose in fury. ‘There wasn’t anyone else. I never went with anyone else!’

‘Tuke?’ he queried. ‘You married him before I married Jane, and you had a child straight away.’

‘That’s
why
I married him.’ She began to rain blows on his chest. ‘I was carrying
your
child! Cook – Mrs Marshall – said I’d have to leave ’manor, that I couldn’t stay on cos your parents were planning to marry you off, so I had to marry somebody and there was onny Tuke and I
hated
him; hated him for all of his life!’

Tears were streaming down her face. Tears of anger, he thought, not sorrow or regret, and he took hold of her thin bony wrists to hold her back.

‘You’re overwrought, Ellen,’ he said. ‘I think you’ve had some kind of brainstorm. You have been imagining this all these years and it’s built up so much that you think it’s true, and it’s not.’ He released her wrists and stood back. ‘I’ll ask the doctor to visit. He will no doubt give you a sedative to calm you, and I’ll send a message to your son and suggest that he calls.’

Ellen stared at him, rubbing her wrists where he had held her, and whispered, ‘You don’t believe me?’

Christopher shook his head and gave her a gentle smile. ‘No,’ he said. ‘If it was the night you say it happened, it wouldn’t have been possible, not in the condition I was in.’

‘But
I
remember,’ she said in a small, whiny voice. ‘I’d planned it. I took you down there beneath ’trees. I wanted to have your child and I knew you’d look after us.’ Her eyes narrowed to slits. ‘It was Nathaniel Tuke who spoiled it for us, allus being there, not giving us a chance to be together.’

‘We would never have been together,’ he told her. ‘Not ever, and especially not after I married Jane.’

‘Wouldn’t we?’ Her voice dropped to a mere croak. ‘Didn’t you – didn’t you love me? Did you not love me ’same as I allus loved you? And still do!’

He gave a small frown. How was this possible? He never thought of her. Hadn’t thought about her in years except as a former servant and tenant, and yet she was still hankering over those long-ago years when they were young, giving them a romance when there was none.

‘No, I didn’t,’ he said, as kindly as he could. ‘I didn’t know about love then; I was far too young. Not even with Jane. I learned about love when I married Melissa.’

He picked up his hat and made a resolve never to come here again. I’m too old for dealing with a situation such as this. I need a quiet life, not accusations. How could I ever hold my head up against such allegations?

‘Goodbye, Ellen.’ He trembled and suddenly felt ill, and desperately wanted to be at home with his wife. ‘Try to get some rest.’

He turned at the door and saw she was still staring after him. He touched his hat and left.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Fletcher and Maria had driven away from Brough in near silence, but once they had left the town Maria murmured, ‘I’m sorry if you thought I was rude to Granny Tuke, Da, but she was saying things about Ma that I didn’t like. Why does she say such things, and why do they never meet?’

Fletcher was silent for a moment, and then said, ‘It’s a long-standing issue from before you were born. It goes back to when Noah brought your ma home as his wife. And then, after his death, when we discovered that he wasn’t my brother after all and we could marry as we wanted to, your granny turned completely against her. She had other plans for me, she said, as if I was just a bairn and not a grown man capable of mekking my own decisions about my life.’

They trotted on for a while, neither of them speaking, Fletcher pondering whether he should tell Maria the truth about his mother’s irrational and perverse temperament. Should he describe the neurotic and stubborn behaviour that had caused such discord even when he was a boy? Was he never to be rid of the gnawing anxiety he felt whenever he visited her, which was so completely at odds with the happy home life he enjoyed with Harriet and his children?

‘So didn’t she want you to marry my mother?’ Maria asked eventually. ‘Was it because of Daniel? But why did she say that about Ma climbing up ’ladder?’ She frowned. ‘And why did she ask about Mr Hart? What’s he to do with us?’

‘Nothing to do wi’ Daniel,’ he said, ‘and mebbe I’ll ask your ma to tell you the rest. It’s a bit embarrassing for me to talk about.’

‘All right, Da, I’ll wait till we get home. But it’s worrying you, I can see. Will Ma tell me? I’m old enough to know about any problems that need to be shared.’

He smiled. ‘Of course you are. You’re my grown-up little girl.’ Then he grew serious and shook the reins to move the mare along more briskly. ‘But there’s just one thing; when we’ve explained matters, I don’t want you to discuss it wi’ the others, not yet, especially not Dolly. She’s a bit of a scatterbrain and I don’t want her getting any fancy ideas.’

Maria was intrigued, and after they had finished their midday meal and she and her mother had cleared away, she broached the subject of her grandmother. ‘Da said you’d tell me ’reason why she’s so grumpy and doesn’t seem to like anybody.’

‘Come and sit down,’ Harriet said. ‘It’s a long, rather sad story. Granny Tuke is bitter and aggrieved and has been for as long as I’ve known her, because she’s disappointed that life hasn’t come up to her expectations.’

As she gazed at her daughter, she hoped that the thought of the prospects she might have had wouldn’t affect her in the same way. ‘Granny Tuke maintains that your father is Christopher Hart’s son.’

‘What!’ Maria exclaimed, and then laughed. ‘But that’s ridiculous! And she’s only just said?’ she asked incredulously.

‘Oh, no. She told your father years ago, before we were even married, but to our knowledge she’s never told Christopher Hart. And that’s why she thinks I’m not good enough for your father.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘I don’t know who she thinks he might have married, seeing as he was from ’wrong side of ’blanket, but she’s convinced that as ’eldest son he’s ’true heir to the Hart estate.’

Maria mulled over the information. ‘But … but if it’s true, then – then it means that Da is brother to Beatrice and Charles and – and all of ’Hart children.’

‘Yes, it does, or half-brother at least.’

‘Do you believe it, Ma?’

‘Well,’ Harriet’s voice dropped on a sigh. ‘As a matter of fact, yes, I do. It wouldn’t be ’first time that a gentleman has tekken advantage of a young maidservant, and I dare say it won’t be ’last, but I’m of a mind to think that she was willing. Your granny thinks that ’sun shines out of Christopher Hart’s head, allus has done, and she wouldn’t think that way if he’d – if he’d committed an outrage.’

She gently squeezed Maria’s hand. ‘And if she really loved him, I don’t suppose she would think that there might ever be repercussions for anybody else, if you understand what I mean, Maria?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Maria murmured. ‘I understand perfectly.’

‘What on earth has happened?’ Her husband’s face was white and strained as he came into Melissa’s sitting room. ‘My dear,’ she said. ‘Are you ill?’

Christopher dropped into a chair and closed his eyes. ‘No. Yes. I don’t feel well.’

Melissa rang the bell and asked for hot sweet tea immediately.

‘What is it?’ She knelt beside his chair. ‘Do you need the doctor? You’re so white.’ He was short of breath, as if he’d been running.

‘No. No, I’ve had a shock, that’s all. Quite knocked the wind out of my sails. I’ll be all right in a minute or two.’

The tea was brought and Melissa dismissed the maid and poured it herself, putting a spoonful of sugar into the cup. ‘Just take a sip or two and try to relax, and then tell me what’s happened.’

‘I can’t,’ he groaned. ‘I can’t. I – I don’t know what you’ll think – you’ll be horrified. I daren’t speak of such a thing. It’s too dreadful to contemplate.’

‘Has anyone died?’

‘No. No, no one has died, it’s just—’ He broke off. ‘I’m sorry, Melissa. I don’t know what to say … if it’s true … but how could it be?’

‘If no one has died, it’s not the end of the world,’ Melissa assured him. ‘Drink your tea – or would you like a small brandy?’

He nodded and muttered, ‘Please,’ and she got up and poured him a small glass, warming it between her hands. She watched him anxiously as he sipped it, and wondered fearfully what had disturbed him so much. He’d been out most of the morning; he’d told her that he was meeting a tenant farmer and then going on to see Ellen Tuke in response to her message. Ellen Tuke, she thought. What was the personal matter she had wanted to discuss?

He drained the brandy glass and put it down on a side table, then sat with his back bent, his head lowered and his hands clasped between his knees. ‘I can’t believe she could accuse me of such a thing,’ he mumbled. ‘How dare she? If it should get out – and what will the children think?’

Melissa watched him. He seemed to be talking to himself and not to require a response from her. ‘I’ve always done my best for her, seeing as she was in our employ, just as I did for Mrs Marshall.’

But Mrs Marshall was the cook in the kitchen for many years, from your mother’s and Jane’s time until we met and married, Melissa thought, whereas Ellen Tuke was a maid for only a short time before her marriage to Tuke. Yet Christopher had given her the tenancy of the old farm and then the cottage at Brough Haven. Melissa felt shaken and uneasy as she considered the possibility of her worst fears coming to light.

‘Are you speaking of Mrs Tuke? Has she accused you of some misdemeanour?’

He looked up at her, running his fingers over his face, and nodded. ‘I can’t speak of it, Melissa. I need to think of what to do.’

‘Two heads are better than one,’ she said softly. ‘And if she has made an accusation against you, then I need to know, so that I am prepared if we have to do battle.’

‘You know that I would never do anything to hurt you,’ he said imploringly. ‘I’d rather die than do that, but this – this …’ He cast a glance around the room. ‘What she’s saying goes back to when we were very young, and … I can’t remember. And surely I would? I was so naive, so immature, surely I would remember?’

I have to say it, Melissa decided. He can’t, dare not, so I must be strong. ‘Has she accused you of fathering her son?’

‘Yes,’ he gasped. ‘That’s what she’s saying. Nearly fifty years on and that is what she’s saying. The woman is off her head!’

‘Have you never thought that her son bears a striking resemblance to you?’ Melissa asked quietly.

‘What? No, never! Why would I think such a thing? He’s tall and fair, but so are many men. Why should she blame me?’ He was furiously indignant. ‘She said it happened on the evening of my coming of age party, and that she had planned it! Someone had given me ale and I wasn’t used to strong liquor and I was drunk; I was so ill that I barely remember the next day either.’

‘So in effect she seduced you, Christopher, if she said that she’d planned it.’ Melissa looked at his face and saw that he was sunk in misery and shame. ‘What did you say to her?’

‘I told her that it wasn’t me, because … surely, Melissa, I would remember if it were my first time?’ He reached out to hold her hand. ‘I was quite incompetent when I married Jane,’ he confided, and she turned her head away, not wanting to know.

I should speak to Harriet, she thought. We have always known that there was something but have never spoken of it; perhaps now we should, especially as we have our children to protect. She recalled the twins’ sixteenth birthday party, when Stephen and Maria Tuke seemed to be getting along so well. Such a sweet girl, and she looked so much like the twins.

What an unholy entanglement! It will be up to us mothers to sort it out, for the men will be incapable of doing so. Christopher is so shocked that he can’t think straight, and Fletcher Tuke will be too embarrassed to speak of it, although I feel sure that his mother will have told him. And that, she thought, might be the saving grace, for he hasn’t confronted Christopher, which must mean he wants nothing from him.

But there was still the enigma of Ellen Tuke, who had thrown down the challenge. Why has she waited for so long before confronting Christopher? Does she feel that time is running out? What does she expect from him? Some declaration of love, perhaps? An acknowledgement that he still thinks of her? It’s so very sad. Poor disillusioned woman.

From her doorway, Ellen had watched Christopher walk away, his head bent and his shoulders stooped, and she felt a pang of remorse. Have I upset him, made him unhappy? I didn’t intend that, although,
yes
, I wanted revenge. Revenge for his rejection of me when for all those years I thought that one day he’d value me, that he’d accept Fletcher as his own. But he doesn’t believe me! It’s as if there’d been nothing between us.

She brought a chair to the door and sat staring at the waters and thinking of the past, of her time at the manor when she was a young maid, and of marrying Nathaniel, and telling him that Fletcher was his. Ha! He believed me at first and was thrilled that he’d sired a son, but then he began to suspect that I’d lied. Fletcher grew to be ’image of Christopher, anybody with half an eye could see that, and that’s why he brought Noah home, to get his own back at me. And I was so angry. I didn’t want him. She thought of Noah’s own son, Daniel. You’re not my blood, I told him; you’re nowt to do wi’ me. Mebbe I shouldn’t have said that. Mebbe that was cruel and uncalled for, poor bairn, and now he’s gone to far-off lands in search of his own forebears. Though I doubt he’ll find ’em.

A wind began to blow and the sky darkened. The Haven waters became choppy and rushed against the narrow bank and she considered, as she often did, that one day if there was a very high tide the water would spill over into her cottage. She got up from the chair and without thinking, began to walk along the path, something she rarely did unless she had an errand in Brough.

She shivered. It was colder than she had thought and she hadn’t brought a shawl but she walked on, thinking of what she had done and what she might do. Will Christopher tell his wife ’news I’ve given him about our boy? What will she mek of it?