Fenella J. Miller Read online

  ‘Then let us repair to the country together. I believe that painter fellow, Constable, hails from around Dedham way. I have it in my mind to commission him to paint my estate.’ He had made this idea up as he walked; he already had dozens of portraits hanging on the walls of his home and had no need for any more, however prestigious the artist.

  He was not about to let his friend go down to Dedham on his own. Edward Fox seemed a harmless enough young man, foolish beyond belief, but harmless. Whatever happened he would not allow the young man’s family to be evicted; somehow he would find a way to extricate both men from their monetary problems without either being obliged to sacrifice their honour.

  Sometimes he wished he was like ordinary folk - a country squire, a local landowner running his estates - not someone whose ancestors could be traced back to William the Conqueror and whose ancestral home was the size of a barracks and had as much charm as an abattoir. He chuckled at his analogy, and his friend turned to look at him in surprise.

  ‘What do you find so amusing?’

  ‘I was thinking about Longshaw and how much I hate the place. As soon as my father has the grace to turn up his toes, I shall raze it to the ground and build something of a reasonable size which has every modern convenience.’

  ‘Is it the house you hate, or its occupant?’

  ‘Both, my friend, both.’

  Chapter Three

  It was almost dinnertime when Eliza headed back; she always changed after a day’s work. Whatever her feelings about frills and furbelows she would not dream of upsetting her mother by appearing in men’s attire in the dining room.

  She hurried upstairs, using the servant’s route as usual, and entered her own bedchamber via her dressing room. Jane, the maid she shared with her sister, was waiting for her.

  ‘I have laid out your royal blue silk, Miss Fox, it’s sometime since you wore that one.’

  ‘Thank you, Jane. It’s a matter of complete indifference what I wear, but I’m sure you’re correct, it probably is some time since you put out that particular evening dress. Is my bath ready? No matter if it’s cold, the dirt comes of whatever temperature you wash in.’

  She strode into her bedchamber pleased to see the hip bath standing in front of an apple-wood fire. It was steaming gently and smelt of rose petals. The screen placed around the bath was more than adequate to hide behind if someone should inadvertently enter the bedchamber whilst she was immersed. It was the work of moments to strip off her dirtied britches, bloodstained shirt and waistcoat. Her boots she had abandoned at the door, she knew better than to track stable dirt through the house. Mrs Green was an efficient and diligent housekeeper and didn’t look kindly on anyone adding to her work in such a way.

  ‘Has Miss Sarah gone downstairs yet, Jane?’

  ‘That she has, yes. She was so eager to tell madam about Polly, the new filly, there was no persuading her to wait until you were ready.’

  Eliza stepped easily into the deep bath, her long slender legs making the deep sides look shallow. With a sigh of pleasure she sank, ducking her head and rubbing her hair vigorously to remove the last vestiges of straw. She knew that some of the grander houses in the neighbourhood had already installed bathrooms and water closets. Such luxury! What she would give to have a bath in which she could stretch out fully and not be obliged to sit crouched, her knees almost under her chin.

  She smiled wryly. Edmund and Sarah were the image of Mama; they had her golden hair, pale blue eyes and slender frame. Edmund also had her ease and elegance of manner, something she wished she had.

  She was like her father and some strange quirk of fate had made her the tallest in the family, given her his startlingly blue eyes and streaky blonde hair. Eliza felt a lump in her throat as she thought about the one person who had understood, had always been on her side, and accepted her occasional lapses of what was considered to be acceptable behaviour for a young lady.

  He had been returning from one of his many trips abroad when his ship had gone down, taking all hands with it. Although it was now almost five years since the day he had perished she still felt a wrench of sadness every time she remembered.

  It was strange, but after five years she could no longer even recall the face of Dickon, the man she had loved so dearly. She remembered the agony she had felt when she’d received the letter. Coming so swiftly upon the death of her father, the double burden had almost been too much.

  She stood up abruptly, sending a wave of dirty water cascading over the edge of the bath. She laughed as it vanished through the cracks in the floor. Perhaps one day the ceiling in the parlour would explode, covering everyone with the remnants of her daily ablutions.

  Jane handed her a large warm bath sheet and she dried herself vigorously before stepping into her various undergarments. Eliza refused point blank to wear a corset, wearing a chemise and petticoat was torture enough. Obediently she raised her arms and bent her knees to allow Jane to drop the evening gown over her head.

  The rustle of silk as it fell to the floor gave her no pleasure. Wearing a beautiful gown meant nothing to her, she had no interest in fashion. Her mother ordered her clothes from the local seamstress, all she did was specify the colour.

  She liked bright colours, quite unsuitable for an unmarried lady, but Mrs Fox was so relieved to have her oldest daughter dressed in anything other than britches and shirts, she allowed her to wear deep blues, emerald greens, damask rose and reds.

  Ten minutes after stepping out of the bath Eliza was ready to go downstairs. It was almost five o’clock, the dinner gong would be ringing at any moment. She did not wish to keep her mother waiting. During the day she did as she pleased, dressed as she liked, spent her time wading through mud, riding astride like a man, visiting their tenants; in the evening she became the dutiful daughter her mother wished her to be.

  They were eating the last mouthfuls of a delicious confection that Cook had prepared especially for Sarah when they heard the sound of a horse galloping down the drive.

  Sarah jumped to her feet and ran to the window, pressing her nose hard against the glass trying to see who was coming. ‘I think it’s Edmund. It looks very much like Edmund, Mama. What is he doing here and arriving in such a hurry?’

  Sarah ran out of the dining room and down into the servants’ quarters where she could escape into the yard. She was obviously determined to be waiting when her brother arrived.

  ‘Eliza, after her quickly. She has no sense when it comes to Edmond. She might well get in the way of his horse and be injured.’

  ‘I think you are underestimating both of them, Mama. Sarah might have limited abilities in many things but she understands animals and Edmund understands her.’ Eliza pushed back her chair, knowing it was useless to argue when her mother had made up her mind. ‘Are you quite are sure you wish me to go outside dressed in this gown? It is doubtful it will survive the experience.’

  ‘Now I have no idea what to do for the best. You have only three dinner gowns, you cannot afford to ruin one of them.’

  Eliza hid her smile behind her hand, but her grandmother was not so tactful. Her loud crackle of mirth echoed around the dining room. ‘Hannah you’re incorrigible. Either Sarah is in danger or she is not; whether Eliza ruins her gown should be immaterial’

  Mrs Fox blushed painfully. ‘It is all very well for you to make fun of me, Mama, but you do not have the responsibility of clothing my daughters respectably on a limited budget.’

  ‘I shall go down to the kitchen, Mama, and wait for Edmond there. I’m sure Jane is already downstairs and will have gone out with Sarah when she rushed past so precipitously a few moments ago.’

  ‘Of course! How silly of me, ‘ Mrs Fox hurried through the double doors into the drawing-room.

  Eliza squeezed her shoulder gently. ‘I’m sure we’re making too much of this. Edmund is a young man, he likes to ride vente a terre.’ She smiled. ‘I expect he was hurrying in the hope he would be in time for dinner.’

 
Downstairs Mrs Green was waiting, her face creased with anxiety. ‘Miss Sarah ran through a moment ago, Miss Fox, calling out that young Mr Fox had returned I hope it’s not bad news.’

  ‘My brother has certainly returned, Mrs Green, but whether it’s with bad news I have no idea. I can assure you that if there is anything that affects this household you shall be the first to know.’

  Eliza glanced sideways into the servants’ hall where she was relieved to see Jane was not among the girls sitting round the table. Two chambermaids, her mother’s French maid, Marie Baptiste, and her grandmother’s maid, Betty were there, all watching through the half-glazed wall to see what was happening.

  ‘Mrs Green, could you send the girls to clear the dining room? I’m afraid we didn’t eat the desserts. However, I’m sure they can be served again tomorrow. ‘

  Leaving the housekeeper to return to the small group of women around the table and bring them up to date with what news there was, Eliza continued her journey to the back door. It had been left open, allowing a chill wind to whistle along the corridor. She shivered and drew her cashmere wrap closer around her shoulders. Sarah had gone out in sandals and without a wrap of any sort. The flimsy muslin gown she was wearing would be no protection against the cold April evening.

  She was debating whether to gather up her skirt and attempt to cross the cobbles when she heard Edmund’s voice, and that off Fred Smith their coachman. Excellent! There was no need for her to venture outside. She waited anxiously in the minimum shelter of the overhanging porch-way wondering why her brother had arrived so precipitously.

  Eliza watched the archway leading to the stables and was soon rewarded by the sight of her brother hurrying towards the house. His caped riding coat was draped around his sister’s shoulders and he had his arm about her waist ready to lift her over puddles when necessary. She was staring at his mud streaked face, searching for a sign, when he raised his eyes. Her heart sunk at the look of desperation she saw there.

  Eliza knew without him saying any more what he had come to tell them. She had warned him time and time again to stay out of the gambling hells; that being a man about town did not mean he had to join in all the debauchery and gaming that took place. She knew her words of advice had fallen on deaf ears and like so many before him he had believed in his skill, and thought that nothing bad could happen to someone whose heart was pure and motives were good.

  ‘Welcome, Edmund.’ She raised her hand, warning him not to speak just then. ‘Your news can wait. I believe that I have guessed why you’re here; there is no need for anyone else to know at this point.’

  He understood the reference to his sister. ‘Denver is following behind with my trappings, but I’m famished, I haven’t eaten since I don’t know when. Have you finished dinner?’

  Eliza, in spite of her fears, smiled. ‘Yes, I’m afraid you’re too late. However, I’m certain Mrs Turner will find you something substantial. There was plenty left.’

  She spoke to Jane, who was hovering behind. ‘Jane, go in and ask Cook to send up a tray immediately’

  ‘Liza, Edmund’s coat is lovely and warm and he lifted me over the muck so I haven’t spoilt my dress hardly at all.’

  ‘Good girl. Now, run along upstairs with Jane, and tell Grandmamma and Mama that Edmund is going to change his clothes and eat before he joins them in the drawing-room. Can you remember all that?’

  Sarah smiled happily. ‘I can do that. I can remember everything and tell Mama about Edmund.’

  She watched her sister skip back along the corridor and, as always seeing a beautiful young woman behaving like a child sent shivers of apprehension through her. Her sister was so vulnerable; she wished she had been born plain, and then a lack of intelligence would not have mattered as no one would have given her a second glance.

  However, already there were several young men in the vicinity who believed they were enamoured of her sister and professed themselves unbothered by her disability. One of them, the squire’s son, Edward Masters, had told her it was part of Sarah’s charm.

  Pushing such thoughts aside, she turned to her brother. ‘I shall come up to your chambers with you. You can tell me exactly why you have arrived like this once we are private.’

  * * * *

  Eliza paced her brother’s sitting room, anxiously waiting for him to re-emerge from his bedchamber in clean clothes. How long did it take, for heaven’s sake, to wash one’s face and change one’s outer garments? She heard the communicating door opening slowly and turned, clenching her fists, waiting to hear just how bad things were.

  ‘Eliza, I’m afraid it is far worse than even you could possibly imagine.’ She watched him closely and saw the glitter of tears in his eyes. ‘I’ve lost everything. No, please don’t interrupt me. I don’t just mean my inheritance, I mean everything. The estate, this house, the farms, your dowry. It’s all gone.’

  Eliza felt her dinner threaten to return and clenched her teeth until her stomach settled.

  She collapsed into a convenient chair; ashen faced and stared at her brother. ‘Edmund, it cannot be? Tell me, not everything? Are we destitute? What about the smaller estate, Hockley House, surely that’s not gone as well?’

  ‘Everything. I lost it all to Lord Wydale. His friend, Mr Reed, warned me not to become involved with him, but I ignored his advice. ‘

  He sank into a similar chair and dropping his head in his hands. She had no sympathy. He was a young man, he could join the army go to the Americas; it was not he who would have to endure the bleak prospect that faced the women in his family. She waited for him to recover, too angry to speak.

  He raised his head. ‘It could have been far worse. We have three months; it would have been three days, but Mr Reed persuaded him to allow us at least that much time to try and come about.’

  He watched her, his expression eager, reminding her of the many times she had pulled him out of scrapes in the past. He had come home to her believing that she would be able to find a solution, after all she had always managed it before.

  Chapter Four

  Eliza felt despair overwhelm her. It was as if the news had sent her spinning back to the time she was facing the double disaster of the death of her beloved father and her fiancé. They had nothing left if Hockley House had gone as well. She gazed, unseeing, at her brother unable to offer him the comfort and reassurance he craved. She watched him drop his head again in despair. Even a man full-grown needed support and someone to guide him through the perils of being a landowner in an uncaring society.

  Watching her brother’s shaking shoulders, seeing him unmanned, made her realize that the fate of the family rested upon those shoulders unless she pulled herself together, and tried to give him some comfort. If she was unable to offer even a semblance of a resolution, her brother might do something foolish. She had heard recently that the eldest son of a baron in the next county had blown his brains out on finding himself in a similar situation.

  She blinked away the tears of self-pity and straightened. They had three months; maybe a miracle would happen and they could find the money to repay this massive debt. She stood up, intending walk across and offer her brother the comfort he needed, but stopped. Something her father had told her when he gave his permission her to become engaged to Dickon, something he had said that had seemed odd at the

  time, but now made absolute sense.

  Papa had said that whatever happened she would never be destitute. If she was widowed, left alone in a foreign country, all she had to do was contact the family lawyers in Colchester and they would provide her with what she needed. When she had asked him to explain exactly what he meant, he had smiled and kissed her on the brow. She recalled his words exactly.

  ‘My darling girl I have invested half your dowry in a scheme that you might disapprove of. However, it will be a lucrative one; if ever you are in desperate need put your principles aside and be grateful the funds are there.’

  She had pressed him to explain, but he had ref
used. ‘I pray that you will never need to access these monies; then they will stay until you are in a position to be able to give them to charity. Forget about this now and enjoy the moment; you have all your life ahead of you. It does my old heart good to see you so happy.’

  Three weeks later her father had left and she had never seen him again. Until this moment she had forgotten all about his cryptic comments. Eliza had no idea how much money there might be in this mysterious fund, or what he had invested in that he believed she would not like, but at the moment any money would be a godsend.

  ‘Edmund, it’s just possible that there are funds in my name that this scoundrel cannot touch. I have no idea how much it might be, but Papa said if ever I needed them there would be enough to keep me comfortable.’

  Edmund sat up rubbing his eyes. ‘Why have you never mentioned this before, Liza?

  Where is this money? How can it be in your name, you were younger than I am now when Papa drowned.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter how, Edmund, but how much. Wash your face and pull yourself together. On no account must we give the slightest intimation to mother and grandmother that a disaster is about to strike. Is that clear?’

  Edmund stood up, his colour returning. ‘I understand exactly. We must protect them until we’re certain how matters stand.’ Unexpectedly he smiled, looking more like the younger brother she adored.

  ‘What shall I tell them downstairs? How shall I explain my arriving in such a pelter?’

  ‘That’s easy, Edmund. We shall tell them a little of the truth. Tell them that you have lost a good deal of money and have no funds left to spend gallivanting around town. We must say that you are on a repairing lease until the next quarter. Make sure that Denver supports your story when he arrives.’

  The young man nodded, obviously convinced that things would be all right. Eliza did not have the heart to tell him that her father had never expected the money to buy back the estate; it had been intended to support her, and any children she might have produced from her union. She was certain there would not be enough money to pay off her brother’s debts, but she was not about to tell him that. Time enough when she knew exactly how much there was. She would contact the lawyers first thing in the morning.