Every Mother's Son (35 page)

‘It is,’ Harriet agreed. ‘What was it? Calypso Francesca Maria! I’m so glad that he chose our mother’s name for his daughter.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘Just as I did for you.’

‘I wish we could meet them,’ Maria said longingly. ‘Perhaps they’ll come, although I suppose it’d cost a lot of money, but it would be so nice to meet a cousin, especially an Italian one. Could I – do you think I could write to her? She’ll be able to understand English, won’t she?’

‘I expect so,’ her mother said. ‘Surely Leonard – Leo – will talk to her in English. I can’t believe it,’ she repeated. ‘My brother with an Italian daughter. Poor Leonard. To lose his wife in childbirth, that’s so very sad.’

‘No sadder than for you, Ma, when you lost Daniel’s father,’ Maria said sensibly. ‘Go on,’ she urged her. ‘Go and start a letter to him. There’ll be so much to say after so many years; about Daniel’s father, and our da, and he doesn’t know about any of us, except for what Daniel will have told him. It’ll take for ever to tell. And while you’re talking to Mrs Hart, I’ll start one to Calypso.’

Harriet sat thinking about her life as she tried to decide what she would say to her brother. That she was so pleased to know that he was alive and had a daughter Daniel said was beautiful, that would be easy, but how to explain her own life since coming to live out at the other end of the estuary in an attempt to escape from poverty and destitution? She rarely visited Hull, although she was often tempted to return to her home town to see if it was much changed, but there never seemed to be time; she was fully occupied with being a farmer’s wife and mother of six children.

How that will surprise him, she thought, although Daniel will have told him something of my life, as much as he knows anyway, but not all; none of our children knows everything about our lives, mine and Fletcher’s, and why should they? They have their own lives ahead of them, their own history to make.

She hadn’t written a single word when Maria brought in Mrs Hart. She hadn’t heard her horse and trap come into the yard or her knock on the kitchen door, for Melissa always preferred to use that door now, never the front one.

‘Harriet, I’m disturbing you,’ she said, seeing the writing paper, ink bottle, pen and blotting paper on the table.

‘No, ma’am, you’re not.’ Harriet rose and invited her to take a seat. ‘You’ll mebbe have heard some of our news? We didn’t receive a letter from Daniel until ’day of Ellen’s funeral, which he doesn’t know about, of course.’

Melissa shook her head. ‘I’m afraid the twins are not prolific letter writers, as Daniel appears to be, although Beatrice did say that there might soon be something to tell us about Daniel’s quest.’

‘Miss Beatrice wouldn’t want to say anything until we’d heard from Daniel first.’ Harriet sat opposite her. ‘That was very considerate of her, but I can tell you while we’re waiting for Fletcher to come in and Maria to mek ’tea. In fact, I was trying to write a letter when you arrived, but didn’t know where to start. You see, Daniel has found not only his grandfather, but also my brother, who I thought was lost.’ Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes, not for the first time since receiving the news. ‘And I’m – so happy,’ she gasped, before bursting into a fit of weeping.

By the time Fletcher had come in and swilled his hands and face and Maria had served a tray of tea and cake, Harriet had told Melissa everything she knew about Daniel’s grandfather, his uncle Leo – her brother Leonard – and his cousin Calypso.

‘Rosie is quite overcome,’ she said, wiping her eyes as tears started afresh, ‘and she is thrilled that Marco Orsini has accepted Daniel without question. Seemingly, he said that he knew Daniel was of their bloodline as soon as he saw him.’

‘How remarkable!’ Melissa exclaimed. ‘And so extraordinary that your brother should be related to him. It must be true when it is said that fact is stranger than fiction, for you couldn’t make up such a story.’

Fletcher came in as they were speaking, and she rose and offered her hand. ‘I’m sorry about your mother’s death, Mr Tuke,’ she said softly. ‘You must have taken it very hard, especially under the very sad circumstances.’

He nodded. ‘Aye, I did,’ he agreed. ‘Although I should’ve expected she wouldn’t go peaceably to her maker like most folks. She had to be awkward and troublesome right up to ’end.’

Melissa was taken aback. It was what they were all thinking about Ellen Tuke, but only her son had the wit and the strength to say it. She licked her lips. There didn’t seem to be any answer she could make.

‘It’s true,’ Harriet said. ‘She’d be mekking sure we didn’t forget her.’

‘We’ll not do that,’ Fletcher said philosophically. ‘That’s a fact.’ He took a gulp of tea, and putting down his cup said, ‘I understand from Harriet that Mr Hart isn’t well. I hope it’s not summat serious? So what can we do for you?’

He’s direct, I’ll say that for him, Melissa thought. And I like that in a man. He’ll call a spade a spade. He’s a man I could trust.

‘I’m sure it’s not serious,’ she said. ‘But he’s become very worried and anxious, and not only about this – this issue over your mother, which has upset him greatly—’

‘Well,’ Fletcher interrupted, ‘let’s get this out of ’way here and now. We’ve been skirting round it for years, nobody wanting to mention it but everybody knowing – at least, not everybody, but those of us it concerns. We’ve told Maria cos we’ve been worried about her, or Harriet has, and we’d hoped that you’ll tell or mebbe have already told your children?’ He heaved a breath. ‘Told them that I’m their half-brother.’

There it was, out in the open, and the three of them looked at each other and were relieved.

‘Who’d have thought,’ Fletcher continued, ‘that summat that happened all those years ago would have such repercussions –
could
have,’ he corrected himself. ‘But might not, now that we’re all aware of it.’

‘Fletcher,’ Melissa said. ‘I can call you Fletcher? Seeing as I’m – I’m,’ she smiled, ‘your stepmother!’

Harriet put her hand to her mouth. That was one aspect she hadn’t considered.

Fletcher gave a sudden grin. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘Nor I until recently.’ Melissa paused. ‘I haven’t told the children anything yet, but I will explain in time.’ She hesitated again, as if not sure how to continue. ‘As I said, Christopher is very troubled about the circumstances and feels that he has let everyone down, and it has made him quite distressed. But it’s not only that. He’s feeling that he can’t cope with running the estate alone; our bailiff has left before his contract is up – the poor man is very ill and can’t continue – and although Christopher has advertised for someone else there has been little response, and those who have responded he considers unsuitable.’

‘So you want me to ask around, find out if there’s anybody willing to tek on ’job?’ Fletcher queried.

‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m asking you to help us, if you will, by acting as a temporary bailiff, talking to the tenants, ascertaining what needs to be done and so on, which is what Thompson did. They won’t want to talk to me and neither do I want them to think there’s anything amiss, but we’re coming up to harvest time and although I’m quite sure you are very busy yourself, perhaps you could advise me on what should be done. It will only be until November,’ she pleaded. ‘We’ll surely be able to get a bailiff at the Hirings Fair.

‘I’m afraid that Charles will not want to come into the estate when he returns, but Stephen will be home for the holidays next week and he’s very keen to enrol at an agricultural college and then work on the estate. I’ve written to him to say that his father is not well and that I’m hoping he’ll be able to take on some of his duties. I know he’ll be pleased to help, but he’ll need guidance and I don’t think that his father is in any fit state to do that at the moment.’

Fletcher considered. It was true that the tenant farmers would be anxious if Mrs Hart started
interfering
in men’s matters, which was how they would see it, and besides, did she know anything about running a business, which was what farming was? She was a feisty kind of woman, intelligent, and probably well able to do it, but she was a lady and had never had her hands dirty – and that would be the first thing the farmers would think of. Now Harriet, he thought, they’d listen to her all right, for they’d realize she knew what she was talking about.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘We’ll do what we can to help out. It’ll not be easy with Daniel being away, but we allus get help with harvest in any case. First off I’ll speak to your foreman and mek sure he’s up to scratch, then when Stephen comes home I’ll go with him to visit ’tenants and tell them that he’s learning ’business. We’ll say that ’master’s temporarily under ’weather, that, erm, he’s picked up an infection but ’doctor doesn’t think it’s catching, but best stay away just in case. They need to be told to pay ’rent as usual and to keep everything in order, which is what ’bailiff would do. And mebbe ask them to keep a lookout for poachers, too, seeing as there’s no bailiff. But what about keeping ’books? Harriet does ours.’

‘Well, in that case, I’m sure that I can too. It’s only numbers, isn’t it?’

Fletcher and Harriet both laughed. ‘Yes, it is,’ Harriet said. ‘But it’s also buying and ordering and knowing where to get ’best deal at ’market. Who does that? Mebbe bailiff?’

‘I suppose so,’ Melissa said slowly. She had taken so much for granted. It was time for change.

*

Stephen came home midweek. After receiving his mother’s letter he asked permission to leave early; when it was given he packed his belongings and caught the first train, and rather than asking for someone to pick him up from the railway station he walked home from Brough and rang the front doorbell.

He grinned at the maid who opened the door. ‘Hello, Milly. Is Mama at home?’

He dumped his bag on the landing and knocked on the door of his mother’s sitting room, which was where Milly had said she was, and looked in. His mother was sitting on the floor surrounded by files and ledgers and piles of paper. She looked up, startled, and then, lifting the hem of her skirt, scrambled to her feet.

‘Oh, a miracle!’ Overjoyed to see him, she put her arms about him. ‘Just when I was wishing the week away until you came. Were you given time off? How did you get here? Is George with you?’

‘Yes, train and walked, and no,’ he said. ‘I told George he was to stay on until the end of term and he was happy to do so. I also told him to make his own way home. Seeing as he’s so very clever it shouldn’t be too difficult!’

Melissa gazed at her second son. He seemed to have grown up so suddenly, able to take control of his life. She thought of the task in front of her, that of telling him about Fletcher Tuke, and was fairly certain that he could cope with the news.

‘How is Father? he asked. ‘He’s not seriously ill, is he?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘But he’s very tired, and – and, well, he’s had rather an upsetting time lately, and it’s set him back. He – he needs to rest until he comes to terms with what has happened.’

She saw the query in his expression. ‘I’ll ring for tea,’ she said softly, ‘and tell you all about it.’

CHAPTER FORTY

‘We must think of the best way to get you to Roma,’ Marco said. ‘It is a three-hundred-mile journey. Too far, I think, on horseback unless you stay in Italy all ze summer.’

‘I can’t do that, sir,’ Daniel said. ‘I should be thinking of returning to England. I’ll miss this year’s harvest, and I already feel that I’m not pulling my weight.’

‘But surely,’ Leo chipped in, ‘your parents knew you wouldn’t be home in time for harvest? They hadn’t given you a date for your return?’

‘No,’ Daniel admitted. ‘They didn’t. It’s me, I suppose. Feeling guilty.’

‘Knowing your parents as we do,’ Beatrice said, ‘they’d want you to make the most of your time here. They’ll manage the harvest perfectly well without you, Daniel, even though they’ll miss you.’

‘If you are going to Roma, then you must go
now
,’ Marco said firmly. ‘Already it is too ’ot. Especially for Miss Beatrice.’

‘And me too,’ Charles interrupted. ‘But I don’t want to miss it.’

‘All right!’ Marco said decidedly. ‘This is what you will do!’ He shook his forefinger for emphasis. ‘I will buy your ’orses from you. I know someone who will let them graze, and you will use ze money for the train.’

Daniel glanced at Beatrice and Charles, who were both nodding. He smiled. It made sense, he knew; he was so used to a working life, to being a component part of a team, a cog in a wheel, that it was difficult for him to think otherwise; but, he considered, he had done what he had set out to do: his family would expect him to enjoy the rest of his time here and absorb his Italian heritage. He knew now just who he was and where he had come from.

Marco had some distant relatives living in Rome and he would write to them immediately. ‘
Pronto
,
pronto
,’ he said, adding that he would give Daniel an address and a letter of introduction. ‘You will stay with them,’ he said. ‘And they will show you ’ospitality.’

Calypso wanted to go with them, but Leo refused and Marco agreed with him. ‘It will not seem right,’ he said, ‘for an Italian
signorina
to travel without her parent.’

She’d pouted and argued, but both men were steadfast in their refusal.

‘I’m so sorry, Calypso,’ Daniel told her later. ‘When you come to England you’ll have more freedom.’

‘She might not,’ Beatrice disagreed. ‘Not all young Englishwomen do.’

Daniel thought of his sisters, who had more freedom than Beatrice yet were not as independent as she was. It depended on their upbringing, and it seemed that although Leo had been brought up in a poor English family he had risen above it and was treating his daughter as a genteel Italian girl.

Their plan now was to catch an early morning local train from Genoa’s Porta Principe railway station to La Spezia along the coast from Cinque Terre, then change trains to travel to Rome. They would arrive very late in the evening and find lodgings for the night before making their way to Marco’s relatives the following day.