Marrying the Mistress (18 page)

All the same, what if it was true?

T
hose short dark February days, the cold, then the floods, seemed at the time more like a breeding ground for low spirits than the onset of spring when the first spears of snowdrops would normally have appeared, and birds building nests. In many respects I had much to be thankful for after a disastrous start, with my future set to become more secure than it had ever been, Jamie's problems alleviated and my family about to be relocated, albeit not a solution guaranteed to gladden them. In my do-gooding mode, it had hardly occurred to me that they might have other ideas when alternatives were so few, so I consoled myself with thoughts of their pleasure at the efforts I had made for them.

Jamie was ecstatic at the thought of having his own dear Nana Damzell, Greg and Finch to stay with us at last. His excited chatter and impractical suggestions made us smile; if it turned cold again, he said, his uncles could sleep with him and Goody in her large bed. But I did as Winterson suggested and allowed him to help,
fearing that it would surely take me weeks to find anything as a result. And while the little fellow ran errands from kitchen to attic, I could not dismiss the absurdity of Medworth's errand and the plight of poor Veronique and what, if anything, I ought to say to Winterson about it.

As one problem was resolved, another had come to take its place, all set to strike at my most vulnerable parts. Knowing what I did of Winterson, how would I ever be sure? Was this what I would have to get used to, as the price of my uncontrollable love for him? The idea made me turn cold and sick, even while I smiled at Jamie's excitement. But just as disconcerting was Medworth's unusual officiousness and his alarming lapse of ethics that could hardly bode well for the future, especially when I had always regarded him as a firm ally. What a good thing I had never confided in him about my relationship with his brothers.

From a clear cold sky the light had begun to fade as we stood near the front windows to watch for signs of returning travellers. Behind us, last-minute adjustments were being made to the dinner table where places had been laid for eight people, candles and lamps lit, posies of ivy and hellebore arranged. Servants had been briefed, logs stacked in the hearth and jugs of ale brought up from the cellar, and wine too. My mother was fond of the sweet sauternes that Pierre obtained for her.

Jamie gave a yelp and wriggled like a worm off the window-seat, pulling the cushions with him. ‘Uncaburl! Uncaburl!' His cries of welcome faded as he headed towards the hall. Through the gloom, I could make out
no accompanying carts or carriage, so assumed he must have ridden on ahead to prepare us for their approach. I held a hand to my shawl-covered bodice to still the fluttering beneath, as the loud crack of the door-knocker was cut short, then the high yelp echoed by the deeper one followed by Jamie's chattery briefing. The limpet-like cling of his embrace as Winterson tried to rid himself of hat and gloves brought a laughing protest. ‘Hold on, young man. I didn't come here to be smothered.' Trying to catch my eye round the little head, Winterson held him on one arm as he came to me, unexpectedly bending for a kiss to both cheeks.

His skin was fresh and cold, and I could smell the sweet scent of the moors upon it. ‘Welcome, my lord,' I said. ‘We've been awaiting you.'

‘So I see,' he whispered, greeting me with eyes that held mine fractionally longer than etiquette required of a man, soothing the fears that had dogged me since Medworth's visit. ‘Jamie,' he said, turning to the excited child, ‘be still. Your mama and I must talk before I go home.'

I knew then, by the seriousness of his expression, that my plans for my family's immediate future had fallen through and that the reason for his lone visit was because they were not on their way here, as we had expected. Conflicting emotions passed through me as we went from the hall into the well-prepared dining room, and thankfulness that he was not about to leave me alone to deal with Jamie's inevitable disappointment.

Perhaps sensing the unwelcome news, Mrs Goode poured a glass of brandy and placed it beside his elbow
as he sat Jamie upon his knee and cuddled him, a Jamie who had suddenly become astonishingly composed.

‘What is it?' I said. ‘A change of plan? Things have worsened? Is it my mother?'

‘According to your brothers,' Winterson said, ‘your mother is in better health than she's been for some time. But you warned me about her fighting spirit. She's quite a lady, isn't she? And, no, things have not worsened.'

Anticipating, I felt the dead weight of failure. ‘She wouldn't budge, then. Tch! So stubborn. I might have known it.'

‘Wait. Don't jump to conclusions. I spent most of my time there talking with her and your brothers, and the rest of it in the boat looking round the buildings and the parts they've been farming.'

‘And the devastation, too?'

‘More at what they've achieved than what's been spoiled. Yes, there's still plenty of water coming over the foss, but less than before. The water levels have actually begun to drop. We got the boat across to the house, but I could see that they had no intention of moving, and, to be honest, Miss Follet, I believe they've made the right decision.'

‘But didn't you tell them you'd decided to reclaim the land and demolish the buildings?'

‘I didn't see the point. I took my bailiff and steward along with me to meet your brothers, and we could all see that it makes more sense to leave the Follethorpes there to farm it. We were very impressed by what we saw. They've done extremely well, considering the lack of help over the years and the unfavourable conditions they've lived in.'

‘They had Pierre to help them. What happened?'

‘He left after a…a difference of opinion.'

‘Tell me the truth. He and my brothers always had a difference of opinion. What was so special about this one?'

Tenderly, he cradled Jamie's head against his chest, sliding his hand across the hair so like his own. Jamie's fist was already moving up towards his mouth, thumb first, his eyelids heavy with sleep. ‘You,' said Winterson, very quietly. ‘It was after Monsieur Follet had seen us together near the coffee house. Remember?'

How could I forget the look on Pierre's face? ‘Yes,' I said.

‘Well, he went back home and voiced some rather harsh comments.'

‘Yes, I can imagine.'

‘Your brothers were not aware. They'd never seen me until today. Now they can understand it, but when your cousin began to…'

‘To throw insults about?'

‘Yes, they told him he'd better leave. So he did. There and then. I don't know anything about their relationship, but neither of your brothers seems too concerned about his departure. Except for one thing.'

‘You mean the loss of what he used to bring from Brid?'

‘Worse. Prepare yourself for bad news. He took the savings with him.'

‘Oh, no! All? Everything?' My sounds of despair widened Jamie's eyes for a second until his lids drooped again.

‘Every penny. The lot.'

My sigh was deep and genuinely painful, for this I felt to be partly my fault. But whatever he thought of me, how
could
he have done that to my mother for whom he professed to care and to be grateful for those years of safety? ‘Where has he gone? How are they managing? What does Mama have to say about his treachery?'

‘I believe your mother is secretly relieved to have an end to the wrangling and bad feeling, Miss Follet. And I must say that young Finch makes an impressive head of the Follethorpe house. We saw very much eye to eye, your brothers and I. As to the loss of funds, well, none of them is too pleased about that because it was a considerable amount they'd put aside for renovations and living costs. They told me how you'd helped them financially at great personal cost to yourself. They're very proud of you, you know. That's why they refused to tolerate your cousin's criticisms.'

‘Family loyalties. It works both ways,' I said.

‘But they don't know where Monsieur Follet has gone. They've had other things to think about since he went. We rescued your phaeton, by the way, and delivered the supplies to your mother. She sends her thanks.'

‘Thank you. But what happens now?' I said, trying to understand the implications of all this. ‘Did you mean it when you said they should be left there to farm the land, just as they have been doing?'

‘Not just as they have been doing. The place needs money spending on it, and a lot of extra hands to make it profitable.'

‘But now they haven't
got
the money.
Or
the extra hands.
Have
they?'

‘Shh!' he whispered, looking down at the sleeping bundle on his lap. Adjusting his position, he held Jamie closer to touch the cool forehead with his lips. For some moments, the conversation was suspended, then Mrs Goode caught my eye.

‘Shall I take him up, ma'am?'

‘No,' Winterson said, looking up at me with a smile. ‘Wait a while. He's tired out. You allowed him to help you, then?'

‘Practically non-stop. We're the exhausted ones.'

His smile broadened. ‘Well, there's a lot to be done at Foss Beck. The men and I are going back there on Friday to take a longer look at what there is and what we may be able to do with it. By that time the water levels will have gone down further and we'll be able to see more. The house needs a lot of attention, and there'll be some of the other houses I can put tenants into, to help on the farm. If we start straight away, we could have it up and running by early summer.'

‘I think,' I said, ‘you should allow Mrs Goode to take Jamie up.' Without questioning, he passed the sleeping little body over to his nurse. ‘I'll be up shortly,' I told her.

‘Yes, ma'am. Goodnight, my lord.'

Winterson closed the door behind them and returned to his chair, anticipating me as I took a breath to begin my interrogation about these far-fetched plans of his. To silence me, he took my hands into his. ‘Everything has changed, sweetheart,' he said, gently. ‘I can see how you've slaved all day to prepare for them, but you had not allowed for their preferences, had you? You might have realised your mother would refuse to leave.'

‘It's my father,' I said, gulping as the tears began to
prickle. ‘She's said it before, but I really didn't think she'd be quite so obstinate. Besides, if you were to go ahead and demolish—'

‘But I'm not, lass. I shall not demolish the place. They know that.'

‘Did they tell you what happened, years ago, at Bridlington?'

‘Of course. I didn't say that I already knew, naturally, but that business about being arrested for an offence your father committed all those years ago is utter nonsense. The law doesn't work that way. They've been badly misinformed.'

‘What…misinformed…about…?'

‘About having to stay hidden for fear of arrest. They're not in any danger. Never have been. If a wanted man dies, sweetheart, that's the end of the matter. Whoever told them otherwise is completely wrong. Or bluffing.'

‘It was Pierre who insisted they must stay hidden.'

‘Then it's just as well he's gone, even if he did take the money too.'

‘Maybe he thought he was the one who'd earned it. And if he was not too familiar with English law, he might have assumed…'

‘Rubbish!' he laughed softly, kissing my knuckles. ‘French law is no different on that point. I intend to make some enquiries about your cousin.'

‘Then there's something else you ought to know, Burl,' I said, feeling the warm imprint of his lips on my skin, such a simple tender gesture worth more to me than twenty springtimes.

A smile spread into his eyes and crinkled their
corners like fine tissue. ‘You're calling me Burl,' he

said. ‘Say it again.'

‘Burl. Sounds like pearl.'

‘Sounds like angel voices to me. Go on.'

‘Flirt. I was saying there's something…'

‘Something I ought to know. He wanted to marry you. I know that.'

‘No, about the shop. When the floods started. We had a visit.' I told him how the Customs and Excise Men had searched but found nothing, while his expression grew more and more concerned.

‘Do you happen to know why they singled you out?'

‘One of them mentioned my advertisement in the window. The one you saw. I thought that was what had aroused their suspicions, but I wondered just now if Pierre might have wanted to alert them after he'd seen us in town. But he wouldn't. He was never vindictive.'

‘Vindictive enough to steal the family savings. I shall find out what I can. I know the Customs Controller. He'll tell me why you were investigated and who the men were.'

‘You believe someone might have tipped them off?'

‘Oh, not necessarily. Leave it to me.'

It was something he enjoyed saying, these days. Leave it to me. So I did. ‘You said my family need stay in hiding no longer,' I said.