The Innkeeper's Daughter (9 page)

Nell made the tea but with bad grace, and then took Henry up from his crib, but the novelty of looking after the baby had worn off quite quickly and she made a great fuss about changing him; he bawled and yelled and wouldn’t settle with her until eventually Bella said, ‘Give him here, for goodness’ sake.’ She relaxed back into the easy chair, his head snuggled into her neck, and within minutes they were both asleep.

Nell slipped away out of the door, but Sarah sat watching Bella and the baby as they slept and slowly nodded her head. ‘I’m sorry, Bella,’ she murmured. ‘You’re young to tek on such responsibility, but it seems that ’bairn’s more yours than mine.’

When Jamie Lucan called in at the Woodman the week before, he had indeed tethered his mare in one of the stalls behind the inn. It was apparent that the stables were no longer used for their original purpose, but contained stacks of timber, presumably for the fire, and gardening tools, a hay rake, a hoe and a scythe, which were hanging on hooks on the walls. There were metal watering cans and a wooden wheelbarrow,
but
one stall was empty and it was here that he stabled Bonny whilst he went inside for refreshment.

It wasn’t that he was tired from his journey; on the contrary, he relished being out in the country after two weeks in the town. He always took his hat off and pushed it into his saddle bag so he could relish the wind in his face; he liked to feel the power of his mount beneath him and she, too, seemed to savour the wide open road after spending her days in the Hull stables and her evenings trotting round the Hull streets with an occasional canter in Dock Green, the open space near the Humber not far from Jamie’s lodging house.

No, he wasn’t in need of refreshment, but when he reached the inn he was halfway home and during the last half he kept his mount at an amble, rather than a canter, trying to make the journey longer than it actually was. He loved the countryside and his home, though the latter not as much since his mother’s death three years before. He looked forward to seeing his sisters, but his father and his brother diminished the pleasure of his fortnightly visit; his brother, Felix, venting his sarcasm on his academic ability, and his father constantly upbraiding him for wanting to continue with his studies rather than joining him and Felix in the running of the estate.

He was a mile from home and the salty smell of the sea on the breeze lifted his spirits. It was a clear night and the sky was full of bright stars. He had seen no one on the last part of the journey, even though it was not very late. He’d passed through the hamlets of Mappleton and Aldbrough and all was quiet but for the gentle susurration of the sea on the shore below the cliffs; on the road an occasional cottage burned a single lamp in a window whilst others were dark and shuttered, their inhabitants bedded down for the night.

As he breathed in the frosty night air, he thought of Bella, the girl in the inn, who said she had once been to the seaside. He’d wished he could have talked more to her, but one of her brothers, a sullen chap, he thought, with no conversation, seemed to be always watching her as if she might stray if he were not there to guide her. Or perhaps he thinks I mean
her
harm. It must be difficult since their father’s death; he must feel responsible for her. Working in an inn, even if it is a family business, is not suitable work for a vulnerable young woman.

When she brought the baby into the bar back in November, for a moment I thought it was hers and was filled with misgiving, worriedly and wrongly thinking that she’d been outraged or seduced. I did
not
think that she was wanton, for she seems modest, even though she’s open and friendly. I was relieved when she said that he was her brother and glad to be able to talk to her. She was interested to hear about my sisters too, but didn’t press for too much information as some might have done.

He passed through the gate leading to the Lucan land and manor house and sighed, his thoughts still on Bella. Frances or Mary wouldn’t have anything to say to her, of course; they wouldn’t speak to a village girl, though my mother would have done. They are being taught by example by Felix, who is the biggest toffee-nosed arrogant upstart ever.

Lamps were lit in the drawing room, and as he approached the house it looked warm and inviting. That was Mrs Greenwood’s doing, he thought. The housekeeper, who had been there for years, still kept up the same high standards as his mother would have expected of her.

He rode to the back of the house and stabled Bonny, removing her saddle and bridle and fastening a rug over her. Then he whistled up the wooden steps to where their stable lad, Bob Hopkins, slept.

‘Are you awake, Bob?’ he called, not too loudly for he knew the lad always went to bed early, being an early riser. There was no reply, so he felt his way round the dark stall and dipped his fingers in the water trough and felt the cold fresh water; he breathed in the scent of clean straw bedding and knew that Bob had prepared for Bonny’s homecoming.

‘There you are, Bonny, supper’s waiting for you.’ He stroked the mare’s neck as she reached for the hay rack. ‘You’ll be all right until the morning.’

He heard a thud from the loft and realized that he had after all wakened Bob.

‘That you, Master Jamie?’ Bob’s voice croaked at him as he came with his lopsided gait down the steps. ‘Sorry, I meant to stay awake till you got home, but I nodded off.’

‘I’m a bit late,’ Jamie said. ‘Got held up. Go back to bed, but put Bonny out to grass in the morning, will you, and then later I’ll take her down to the sands for some exercise.’

‘Aye, she’ll be ready for that after being cooped up in ’stables.’

‘Oh, I take her out every evening,’ Jamie was quick to say, ‘but it’s not the same as having a gallop.’ He paused. ‘Is everything all right? No difficulties?’

Bob shook his head. ‘No, not really. You’ll be glad to be home, I expect? Finished now for Christmas.’

‘Yes,’ Jamie said slowly. ‘Of course.’

He knew his brother was always scathing of Bob, who could never do anything right for him despite being a most conscientious worker. His job in particular was to look after the home horses: Mr Lucan’s, Felix’s, Jamie’s when he was at home and the ponies belonging to Frances and Mary. He was also expected to help with the care of the farm horses, or hosses, as he called them, under the firm eyes of the foreman and waggoner, as well as checking that the hooves and shoes of the working horses were kept in good condition, calling in the farrier when required and keeping clean and polished the snaffles, bridles, collars, saddles and riding boots belonging to the Lucan family.

He didn’t work with the other horse lads out in the fields as he was very lame, having been born with a club foot, and the reason that he had a job here at all was because his mother was the Lucans’ cook and Mrs Lucan had sympathetically insisted that her husband should employ him as soon as he reached fourteen. That was ten years ago and he was now regarded as a fixture at Lucan Grange.

‘I’ll be off then,’ Jamie said reluctantly, picking up his bag, which contained Christmas presents he had bought for his sisters, brother and father. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Aye, you will,’ Bob said. ‘Have a good night, sir.’

Jamie walked slowly round to the front door. Mrs Greenwood would have supper ready for him no matter what time he arrived, even if the rest of the family had eaten. A tray would be waiting, with beef and bread and hot soup if he wanted it. But he felt no joy at returning home, even though it was Christmas. The heart had gone out of the celebration since his mother was no longer here. It seemed to him that his father became more dour with every passing year and his brother sharper and more disapproving.

His sisters would be pleased to see him, he thought; they would smile and hug him, which they never did with Felix, and demand to know what was happening in Hull and – whispering – whether he had been to any concerts or melodramas. They understood that this was a most decadent thing to do, an opinion impressed upon them by Felix. To attend such places was immoral and degenerate and for Jamie to have admitted that he had done such a thing, not once but three times, had raised him up several notches in their estimation, much higher than he might have expected and to a level that would have surprised him had he realized.

The front door was unlocked, and as he opened it and stepped inside the wide hall Mrs Greenwood appeared at the top of the kitchen stairs.

‘Good evening, Master Jamie. I thought I heard you arrive.’

Though the housekeeper behaved impeccably, never stepping out of her position within the domestic arrangement, Jamie knew her to be very warm-hearted. This had become apparent after Mrs Lucan had died and she had comforted him and told him that it was all right for a young man of fifteen to cry over his mother’s death, that he might prefer to do it in private, but not to think any less of himself for doing so.

‘We aren’t human if we’ve no emotion,’ she had said softly, ‘so don’t be ashamed of tears.’

And so in the privacy of his bedroom he had wept copiously and when in public or in the company of his father and brother was able to contain himself as was expected of him.

‘How are you, Mrs Greenwood?’ he said now. ‘Busy in the run-up to Christmas?’

‘Yes.’ She smiled. ‘Your father has succumbed to your sisters’ appeal that we might decorate ’house this year. They want your help with gathering ivy and holly – there’re lots of berries this year. Sign of a hard winter to come, so they say, and they’ve asked for pine logs to burn on ’fires so that ’house smells nice. I think Mrs Hopkins’s been telling them what she used to do when she was a child.’

‘They’ve been downstairs?’

Mrs Greenwood nodded. ‘They were asked if they’d like to stir ’Christmas pudding a couple of weeks back and were very excited about it. They asked their father if they could have some thripenny bits to drop in it. Dear me,’ she exclaimed. ‘Here am I blethering on and you must be wanting your supper. There’s cold ham and beef and pork pie, and Cook has opened a jar of her walnut pickle that will go nicely with it. Apple pie?’

‘Oh, that’s plenty, Mrs Greenwood, thank you. Just lay a tray for me. Is Father still up? Or my brother?’

‘Gone to bed, both of them, but there’s still a warm fire in ’sitting room. Shall I bring ’tray in there? And a drink? You must be parched after your long ride home.’

‘A small glass of Mrs Hopkins’s ale, please,’ he said. ‘And then I too will go to bed. No need to wait up for me; I’ll damp down the fire and turn down the lamps before I go up.’

‘Will you, Master Jamie?’ Mrs Greenwood raised her eyebrows.

‘Yes.’ He smiled. ‘I do know how. I do it every night in my lodgings.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘I don’t have to worry about you then.’

‘No,’ he replied. ‘Nobody does.’

CHAPTER TEN

‘GOOD MORNING, FATHER.’

Jamie came down to breakfast in his riding breeches and old tweed jacket. There was an aroma of roasted coffee beans in the breakfast room and on the sideboard were several lidded dishes containing bacon, kidneys and smoked fish. On the table was fresh bread and glass dishes with butter, marmalade and honey. He helped himself to coffee and sat down at the table opposite his father.

‘James.’ Roger Lucan nodded, barely looking up from his plate.

‘How are you, Father?’

‘All right,’ he muttered. ‘You were late home last night.’

‘Ten o’clock. Not so late. We, erm, the fellows, you know, were chatting, being the end of term, before leaving to come home.’

His father grunted. ‘I suppose you don’t have time to chat during term!’

‘Actually, no, we don’t, not often anyway. And I generally go out and exercise Bonny after study.’

‘Hmm. How long now before you finish?’

Jamie swallowed. He knew what this was leading up to. ‘July,’ he said, ‘and that reminds me.’ He fished in his pocket. ‘There’s a letter here from Mr Sollitt.’

His father reached across the table to take it. ‘I trust he’s
not
still going on about you going to university. I told him no last term.’

Jamie put down his cup. His appetite, which was usually hearty, had deserted him. ‘I’d like to go, Father. If it’s the money, Sollitt said—’

‘It is not the money,’ his father roared. ‘And don’t let Sollitt imply that it is.’

‘He didn’t.’ Jamie tried to be patient. ‘But there’s a possibility that I could win an exhibition—’

‘I’m not interested in what you could or could not win, your place is here running this estate with your brother.’

‘I don’t want to, Father. I want to go to King’s and study medicine.’

His father rose from the table. ‘I won’t discuss it now and you’re ruining my breakfast.’

Jamie sat a little longer after his father had left the room and then got up and lifted the lids of the dishes on the sideboard. Such a lot of food, he thought, and half of it will go for pigswill. He forked up two bacon rashers and some kidneys and a slice of toast and sat down to eat.

I won’t give in, he determined. Just because Father followed his father into farming, there’s no reason why I should; it would be different if I were the only son, but Felix wants to be a landowner and I do not. He crunched aggressively on a crisp rasher. And I won’t.

Jamie didn’t think that his brother was as keen on farming as he was on basking in the prestige and standing in the community that being a landowner could bring. He knew that Felix expected their workers to doff their caps to him and to be addressed as
Master Felix
as was right and proper, whereas Jamie was embarrassed by it, particularly because as a child he had played in the meadows or on the sands with several of the tenant farmers’ sons who were now themselves employed by his father.

I’m out of step, I know, he thought. I want the best of both worlds. I want to be part of the community, yet I don’t want to be poor and beholden to people like my family. My mother
always
told us, Felix and me, that we were no better than anyone else, just more fortunate, and that we should always remember that. It was surprising, he thought, that his mother, who was born into a much grander Yorkshire family than his father’s and was considered to have married beneath her, had always emphasized that it was purely an accident of birth that put them where they were.