A Divided Inheritance (14 page)

‘They say he’d taken out a loan to fund it,’ Hugh said.

‘Really?’ Father’s voice sounded hollow. He swayed slightly on his feet.

‘He was hoping this would make up for the last loss. Now he’ll have to sell his house, like as not, and even that might not cover it.’ Hugh turned to Zachary.
‘Word’s out that his creditors are already circling.’

‘I can’t believe it. Four ships lost, you say.’ Father sat down, but almost missed the chair. Hugh rushed forward to assist him.

‘Poor beggars,’ Zachary said. ‘Could nobody help them?’

‘Elspet, leave us to talk,’ Father commanded.

‘I would rather stay.’

‘Men’s talk,’ Zachary agreed.

When she did not go, Hugh looked up at her, surprised. ‘I would do as your father asks, Elspet. These are tales and deeds unsuitable for a gentlewoman’s ears.’

‘Do not fret. I will send Martha to fetch you before Mr Bradstone departs,’ Father said.

‘Very well, excuse me, then, gentlemen.’ She curtseyed reluctantly. Hugh was only trying to protect her, for sure, but it was frustrating to be always on the wrong side of the door
when something occurred. She banged it shut more loudly than she had intended.

Martha heard it go, and came up from the kitchen, a question on her face. Elspet put her fingers to her lips, in a gesture of silence.

Martha grinned, putting her hand over her eyes to indicate she would see nothing and went quietly back below. Elspet crept back to the door and, holding on to the brass handle, put her ear up to
the crack.

The voices were somewhat muffled but she could hear them well enough. She heard that the sea stood higher than the masts, that Bainbridge’s master saw a light and thought it to be a
warning. But the gale beat the ships on to the rocks, and that only three hands survived, clinging to barrels of potash. The light had been a Judas-light, set by the wreckers to lure them there on
purpose. That when the sailors’ broken bodies were washed ashore they were given no burial but left to rot, whilst the wreckers filled their sheds with their pickings of tar and cudbear dye,
linen and linseed. Bainbridge had lost everything. The sea had claimed it all, and what the sea had not taken, the wreckers had. Bainbridge would likely finish in the debtor’s prison.

She leaned her back against the wall next to the door, lightheaded. This was not some unknown they were talking of, but a friend of Father’s. It had come too close to home, this wrecking.
It was the first time she had realized how precarious their business was. Everything lost, at the whim of the sea! She blew quietly through her mouth to calm herself.

‘What of Mistress Bainbridge? How does she fare?’ Father asked.

‘I don’t know. I could not gain admittance when I went to call,’ said Hugh.

‘She has sons to look to her, does she not?’ Zachary’s voice.

‘Yes, but they are not at home,’ came Father’s voice. ‘They are in France. Bainbridge’s whole stock gone . . . I can’t take it in. Poor Margery. I feel duty
bound to go tomorrow, to see if there’s anything I can do.’

For once Zachary said something sensible. ‘Leave it a few days. There were probably men on that ship Bainbridge knew and cared for.’

Elspet strained to catch her father’s voice. ‘I cannot bear to think of it. The Irish passage is the worst I know. Someone should go see if he has what he needs. And Margery
Bainbridge will be distraught. I’ll go tomorrow. What is Christian charity for, if it is not to stand by our friends in the Faith?’

There was an uncomfortable pause.

‘Without wishing to presume, Mr Leviston, Mr Deane is right. I really think it better to keep a distance,’ Hugh said. ‘We don’t want to be caught up in Bainbridge’s
bad debts.’

Another silence. She could imagine her father’s stubborn face. She wondered if he had turned his back on his guest.

The sound of footsteps moving in her direction on the wooden boards. She fled, sitting herself breathlessly before Father’s desk. She swept up the household accounts ledger and pretended
to study it. After what seemed an age, Martha arrived in a fluster.

‘Oh, there you are, mistress. I’ve been everywhere! Mr Bradstone is about to depart. They said to fetch you.’

‘Thank you, Martha.’

‘Excuse me, mistress, what’s to do?’

‘Some ships have been lost in a storm, that’s all.’

‘Is it bad news? It’s not the master’s ships, is it?’ Her worried eyes looked into Elspet’s.

‘No. Not ours. One of Father’s acquaintances.’ She was wary of telling Martha too much because the news would spread like wildfire in the servants’ quarters below.
Sometimes it was as though the servants were her children, and that she must protect them somehow from the burden of what she knew. She did not like this sensation; it made her feel sly that she
could not simply confide in Martha. But Father always said that they must guard their business and keep it out of the servants’ ears and eyes, so she stayed dumb.

Martha bobbed and went, and she hurried to the chamber where Hugh was preparing to depart, ready armed, with his cloak fastened on to his shoulders.

‘Mistress Leviston. I know it is not a proper time to ask this of you – but I would be delighted if you would accompany me on a carriage ride tomorrow afternoon. Would you believe
it, my servant had an accident in the old gig – a loose wheel overturned it. So before I trust myself to the long North Road home, I have had to purchase a new carriage. What do you
say?’

She hesitated a moment, because she knew Father would be grieving for his friend’s calamity. But Hugh pressed on.

‘One of my friends, Mr James, has invited us to dine afterwards with himself and his wife Amelia. Please say yes.’

‘That would be delightful.’ She smiled up at him. She did not dare look at Zachary, who was watching the exchange with close attention.

‘It is chilly, though, for the time of year, so wrap up well. Tell your maidservant to wear her winter cloak.’

‘Never fear, I will.’

‘I will call for you at one, then.’

She looked to her Father for his permission, but he was hovering, a far-away look in his eyes, as if he was not really taking anything in.

Hugh turned to him. ‘Pray do not get involved in Bainbridge’s business. Wait a few days to see how circumstances fall out.’

Father shook his head non-committally.

Hugh sighed, obviously realizing that it was a losing battle, and said, ‘Well, then, I look forward to welcoming you all to Yorkshire soon. Zachary, there is fine hunting and riding there,
and a good many birds to shoot an arrow at.’

‘It sounds fine, but I’m afraid my plans for France have advanced. I will have set sail by then. I leave tomorrow on the early tide.’

‘What a shame. Till tomorrow, then, Mistress Leviston,’ Hugh said and took her hand, pressing it to his cool lips. ‘Keep your Father home,’ he whispered. ‘And Mr
Deane, I wish you safe travels and a speedy return.’

Zachary barely bowed.

Well before dawn, Zachary heard Uncle Leviston barking instructions and servants crashing about with the luggage. He had packed the trunk he had come with himself, but Uncle
Leviston had supplied him with a good deal more baggage. Last night he crammed a leather case so full of books and papers that it took two men to lift it even as far as the corner of the room. How
on earth, he thought, he would be able to shift that leviathan with just a servant boy to help him, he had no idea.

After he had broken his fast as usual, he found his uncle in the hall, coughing and looking grey, but fussing over a further oilskin-lined trunk filled with rolled maps. He was stuffing it with
papers about workers and lacemakers in Normandy, the place where Zachary was bound first.

‘Pull harder,’ his uncle told the servant hauling on the leather straps.

Cousin Elspet looked on as Uncle handed him a new cloak, and a purse full of coinage. Leviston had hired a coach to take them to the docks where his ship awaited them. The dogs barked and pulled
at their leads on the doorstep as the carriage arrived. Elspet took control and handed them to Martha, who stood to attention with the rest of the servants. They waved briefly as he departed, in
rain and wind that gusted sideways and blew into their faces.

When Zachary looked back at the doorway, the servants and dogs were gone and the door was shut against the weather. He would miss Jakes’s lively eyes and wagging tail, and Diver’s
affectionate licks. Apart from his uncle, the dogs were the only ones who ever gave him a proper welcome. Cousin Elspet always looked disapproving, as though he smelt bad, and the servants
whispered about him behind closed doors, but shut their beaks as soon as he entered the room.

Uncle Leviston had been kind enough, but there was no pang of regret at leaving, for it had never felt like home; he was too wary of being caught out. It had made him tense. He had always tried
to change the subject when his uncle asked him about his previous life. No, he had not felt at home there. In fact, he had never thought of anywhere as home, he realized, not since his mother had
died when he was only twelve.

He sat opposite Leviston, travelling backwards with Elspet beside him; she was pressed against the door as if to put a great distance between them. The servant boy travelled outside with the
driver.

‘What a day!’ Leviston said.

They were all soaked just from the journey from house to carriage. The hem of Elspet’s dress was sodden, and her cloak dark on the shoulders. Leviston’s hat dripped into his lap, for
it was too windy to wear it. The news about the wreckings off the north coast hung over them like a pall. Today did not seem a good day to take passage.

Zachary put his misgivings aside. The odds were on his side, with ships lost so recently. And today he was off to France, where the weather would surely be better. And, what was more, he had
heard that there was a craze for duelling over there, and he could not wait to try his hand.

Naturally, he hadn’t told his uncle this. Best if he knew as little as possible about his real intentions – no sane man could follow the exhaustive itinerary Leviston had planned.
His uncle was to join him next spring in Rome. The daft old fool, he could not resist it – the chance to preach and lecture him in the joys of Latin and the Holy Roman Empire. But Uncle said
he did not want to travel home again in the winter months. And who could blame him?

Zachary slammed down the leather blind as a squall of rain hit him in the face. Elspet brushed the wet from her skirt as if he was personally responsible for the weather.

Actually, he rubbed along with Leviston quite well. He’d got used to him. Leviston did not try to father him too much; he did not seem to know how. His idea of affection was to give him
the benefit of his learning, and that was quite stimulating. He’d found out things from Leviston he knew little of before – philosophy, rhetoric, history. He looked at Leviston and
smiled. The old man patted him on the knee in return. No, Leviston liked an audience, and Zachary had been more than happy to supply one in return for a soft life.

When they reached the docks, an army of men were there to greet them and soon made short work of the luggage.

Leviston filled his ears with last-minute advice. ‘Don’t forget to call on M’sieur Corneille, and give him that sample I showed you.’

‘I won’t.’

‘And you have the second map, the one that shows the—’

‘Yes, yes. It’s all here.’ He patted his satchel.

Leviston clapped him on the shoulder, and then in an awkward lunge reached out to clasp him to his chest. ‘Go safe, my son,’ he whispered.

‘Goodbye, Uncle,’ he said. ‘See you next spring.’

Over his shoulder he saw Elspet looking on with distaste, as if she had swallowed something bitter, before she turned away to feign interest in the stevedores hauling bales of wool on to the
pulleys.

‘Say goodbye to your cousin,’ Leviston said to her. He had still not brought himself to tell her that he was his father, much to Zachary’s relief. To be cousin to Elspet
Leviston was hard enough, let alone her brother. Especially when the whole damn thing sat on a lie.

‘Goodbye, Cousin Zachary,’ she said stiffly. ‘I hope you will have a safe and speedy crossing.’

Yes
, he thought.
You cannot wait to have me gone.
But he nodded and said, ‘Give my regards to Mr Bradstone.’ It was hard to keep the sting of mockery from his
voice.

‘Write,’ said Uncle Leviston. ‘Tell me everything.’ His voice was almost a croak.

‘I will,’ Zachary called as he walked to the stairs. Once aboard he stood on the deck to watch the men loading up the boat with crates of English pottery, cloth and ale. How much
lighter the ship would be on its return, loaded only with lace and lavender from Brittany.

Leviston’s cloak flapped in the wind, his white knuckles gripped his hat. His upturned face searched for Zachary in the crowd of those at the rails. Zachary dutifully brought out a
kerchief to wave. There were many others on the quayside too, the wives of the officers and crew, all flapping their kerchiefs. Only Elspet was looking down, holding tight to her lace cap with one
hand, keeping her hood up over her hair with the other. She stood stoically on the quay like an island. At last they departed. Elspet did not even look up, but turned sharply and headed towards the
row of carriages.