Nell (6 page)

Strangely enough, they had been less concerned with the fate of her prospective charge than with the distresses of the child’s father—despite the misgivings engendered by Mr Beresford’s mention of his using force to quiet his daughter. If his lordship’s suspicions of his daughter’s state of mind had any foundation, his lot was indeed tragic, and coming after the loss of his wife, which, if the intriguing words of Mr Beresford were anything to go by, had been a disaster of no common order.

But let her not begin mulling through all that again! Flinging back the bedcurtains, she thrust herself out of the stifling interior and went to pull back the shutters. Relief flooded her along with the sun. It looked to be a glorious day. Her spirits rose and she pulled out the basin
and ewer. She could have done with some warm water, but no matter.

Upon the thought came a knock at the door. Nell caught up her robe and shrugged it on. Outside the door she found a harassed-looking woman of middle years, bearing a large jug and dressed in bombazine covered by an apron, a mob cap framing plump features. Its frills rippled as she nodded, smiling.

‘I’ve brought you some hot water, my dear.’

‘How very kind!’ Nell said warmly. ‘You must be Mrs Whyte. Do come in.’

Taking the jug from the older woman, she went to place it on the dressing table. Turning, she saw that the housekeeper had bustled in, and now stood sniffing.

‘Still a trifle musty. Hasn’t been used for ever so long this room. I’ve kept it aired, but there’s little a body can do when everything in the house is as old as Queen Anne. Have you blankets enough, Miss Faraday? We’ve plenty of those at least, whatever else is scarce.’

Nell immediately expressed her satisfaction with her allotted quarters. ‘Indeed, I have nothing wanting, I believe, bar an impatience to meet with Miss Jarrow and begin upon my duties.’

A look of distress passed over Mrs Whyte’s plump features. ‘The poor little mite! Though she’s well enough this morning, Duggan tells me.’

Then the housekeeper clearly knew what had happened last night. Nell smiled. ‘Then the sooner I begin the better.’

‘We’ll hope it will be for the better.’ The woman fetched a sigh, and then shrugged away her clouded brow, smiling again. ‘But that’s for later. I’ll leave you to your toilet, ma’am. When you’re ready, knock on that wall and I’ll hear you, for my chamber is next door and
I’ve yet to make the bed. The gentlemen like to get off early, so I do their breakfast first.’

Consternation caught at Nell. She crossed quickly to the bedside cabinet, taking up the essential pocket watch that had been Mrs Duxford’s parting gift to her.

‘It is past ten! Heavens, I must have been more tired than I thought!’ She turned quickly to the housekeeper.

‘I do apologize for having inconvenienced you, Mrs Whyte.’

Moving to the door, the older woman tutted. ‘You haven’t at all. A body couldn’t blame you for sleeping a little longer on your first day. So much to take in—and not all of it pleasant, I’ll be bound!’

None of it pleasant, Nell might have said. Assuring the housekeeper that she would not dawdle, she closed the door behind her and began swiftly to strip off her night attire.

The ordinary domesticity of the kitchens did much to raise Nell’s mood. Refusing to increase Mrs Whyte’s burden, she had opted to accompany her and eat below stairs rather than await breakfast in solitary state in the dining parlour.

‘You must have quite enough to do, and why in the world should we stand upon ceremony? Lord Jarrow assured me that you are informal here, and I should much prefer to take breakfast in your company, Mrs Whyte.’

The housekeeper had been touchingly grateful. ‘Well, it would suit better, Miss Faraday, and that’s a fact. There’s no gainsaying it’s a toil, whether you come through the hall or use them horrid winding stairs in the turret. Can’t abide ’em myself, which is why I use the proper stairs, longer though it is. And Mr Keston, the dear, has gone in my stead with Grig to the farm, for
you can’t trust that noddy on his own. Bound to bring back the wrong joints, and let himself be swindled into the bargain! There’s no depending on Farmer Tuffley not to take advantage, for he’s as sly as they come, and when you’ve to watch every penny, you can’t be too careful.’

Following in her wake as she led the way, Nell had found these artless disclosures intensely aggravating to her burning curiosity. It was with difficulty that she prevented herself from pelting the housekeeper with questions. While the elder lady prepared, she seated herself out of the way to wait, smoothing the petticoats of her working gown of dyed calico—one of several that she had fashioned in the modest style befitting her station, with sleeves to the wrist and a wrapover bodice made high to the neck. This one was of dull bronze, but its cut, Nell flattered herself, was yet fashionable, the waist riding below her bosom.

Her discretion was rewarded once Mrs Whyte had supplied her with a generous meal. Carving several slices from a fine ham, she had thrown them to warm on to a griddle placed across the great range that spread heat throughout the kitchen quarters. Apologising for the lack of eggs—a supply of which were to be fetched today from the farm—the housekeeper instead produced newly made oatcakes, which had come off the griddle that very morning.

‘And there’s a seed cake I made only yesterday, which will come up fresh again. I’ve only to warm it on the griddle with the ham.’

Nell had accepted the offer with grace, although she was by no means as hungry as the meal warranted. For no consideration would she risk offending the housekeeper, whose friendliness and good will were doing a great deal to reconcile her to the difficult future she
faced. When she at last sat down—in an adjacent room that evidently served as a pantry for Mrs Whyte and the butler—Nell was gratified that the housekeeper chose to join her and partake of a cup of coffee from the pot she had made.

‘I’ve much to do, but it’ll keep, and we can enjoy a little cose.’

‘That will be most agreeable,’ said Nell warmly.

The mob cap rippled as the housekeeper nodded with vehemence. ‘Nothing more uncomfortable than to come among strangers, that’s what I say. And worse, to find yourself in a place such as this, where you couldn’t be blamed if you was to tease yourself with thoughts of ghosts and such.’

Nell laughed. ‘Very true. It is certainly intimidating, but I hope I am not such a ninny as to suppose that it is truly haunted.’

A little to her surprise, Mrs Whyte appeared to be more troubled than amused. The plumpness in her countenance became creased and her mild eyes took on a look of distress. Nell laid down her fork.

‘Why, what is it, Mrs Whyte?’

The woman’s voice was tense. ‘It isn’t ghosts, Miss Faraday. But I won’t say as there wouldn’t be naught to frighten you. An unhappy household is this, and if you ask me, there’s those as would keep it so.’

Those? Who in the world could she mean? At a loss for an answer, Nell hesitated a moment too long. It might be a cue. On the other hand, it ill behoved the governess to be indulging her curiosity in a gossip with the housekeeper. But perhaps it had been a slip of the tongue, after all, for Mrs Whyte’s manner changed as she nodded towards Nell’s plate.

‘Don’t let it go cold, Miss Faraday.’

Resuming her meal, Nell sought for an innocuous way to re-introduce a discussion of the household. She might with propriety ask about her charge—without touching upon the hateful fears expressed by her employer. Digging into the butter, she carefully kept her tone light as she coated a second oatcake.

‘Is Henrietta a pretty child?’

Mrs Whyte’s face softened visibly. ‘She’s a little beauty. Was so, from the cradle.’ A reminiscent look crept into her eyes. ‘
Hair as black as a raven, and eyes like a velvet night.
That’s what his lordship said, first time he saw her. Grew up as near a mirror image of the mistress as makes no odds. Though I’d swear her eyes are darker than her ladyship’s.’

Into Nell’s mind leaped a memory. That picture she had seen. The question was impulsive, out before she could think twice.

‘Is that a portrait of Lady Jarrow in the parlour? If Henrietta resembles her so very much, she must indeed be beautiful.’

‘Yes, poor soul.’

Was that for Henrietta, or her mother? Nell’s thirst for knowledge got the better of her. ‘How did she die, Mrs Whyte?’

Clouds gathered in the woman’s face. ‘Terrible it was. I’m not saying it wasn’t a mercy, considering everything, but the manner of it was hideous. My poor mistress was murdered.’

D
espite the warmth exuding from the kitchen next door, a sensation of clammy cold swept through Nell’s veins. How could Lady Jarrow’s death have been a mercy? And a murder! A vision of Lord Jarrow’s haunted countenance, suffering etched into its hollows, swam into her mind. Her heart went out to him.

‘Heavens, what a tragedy!’

Mrs Whyte nodded. ‘That it was. And all for the curse of a miserable footpad!’

Nell jumped. ‘What did you say?’

‘Shot her in cold blood!’ pursued the housekeeper, a note in her voice that gave echo of the shock she must originally have experienced. ‘Folk say it was that wretch Lord Nobody, but there’s none to witness it. All that’s known is there were a tussle with a masked rider and his gun went off. But he must have meant to kill her. Who’d cock a gun on an unarmed female?’

The instant image of the highwayman Nell had seen was fading in her mind, overlaid instead with the dread features of Papa. So pale, but for the red ooze that seeped steadily past his sightless eyes and ran in a rivulet down his cheek. Pale, and deathly still, until the weight of his
lifeless body had toppled him, and he slumped sideways, a heap upon the cushioned seat, ungainly and unmoving.

Unaware that she sat as she had done then, as if petrified, unable to speak or move as the terror bubbled up, Nell was only conscious of a resurgence of that same sensation of faintness that had attacked her at the sight.

She became aware of a voice of concern in her immediate vicinity. ‘Oh, dearie me, how pale you look! Miss Faraday!
Miss Faraday!
’

With an effort, Nell pulled herself out of the memory. She blinked upon the plump face peering into hers. She summoned a response. ‘I am all right.’

‘You don’t look it,’ said Mrs Whyte frankly. ‘Wait. I’ll fetch you a glass of water.’

She was gone only a moment, but the sensations were fading with the memory, and Nell was able to take the proffered glass into her own hand. The housekeeper fretted as she sipped.

‘I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m that sorry, my dear. I’d no call to shock you so deeply. Only I never thought how it might appear to a stranger. I’ve become used to it, I suppose, like the rest.’

Nell laid down the glass with fingers that shook slightly, and managed to smile. ‘It makes no matter. You do not know—’

She broke off, unwilling to shatter her self-imposed silence. Let the woman think her a poor creature. She could bear that better than the inevitable expressions of sympathy—which she had never been able to endure. But she must make some amends.

‘Pray do not blame yourself, Mrs Whyte. I am glad you told me. It explains a good deal, and I had rather know than make a slip and distress anyone through ignorance.’

The housekeeper conceded that she had a point, but she was greatly discomposed and not only insisted upon Nell remaining quietly in the kitchen until she should feel fully recovered, but went off to prepare some tea. A luxury in this household, Nell had no doubt, but she refrained from protest. Truth to tell, she was much in need of a cup of the sustaining beverage.

The tea did indeed revive her, and she was able to reassure the housekeeper, who was inclined to blame herself.

‘I am not prone to fainting, Mrs Whyte. I suspect it has been rather an accumulation of surprises. There have been several—shall we say unexpected?—aspects to this post that were only to be learned on arrival.’

The housekeeper set her mob cap aflutter. ‘I don’t doubt it for a moment. The wonder is that you’re still here, Miss Faraday.’

Nell thought so too, but it was scarcely politic to say so. ‘I hope I have a little more gumption than to run away, however difficult the situation may be.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t blame you,’ declared the housekeeper stoutly. ‘No more than I blamed young Liza, hoity-toity madam though she was.’

Upon enquiry, Mrs Whyte explained that Liza had been the last kitchen maid who had left a few weeks back. ‘We’ve not yet replaced her, but then kitchen maids are so hard to come by these days.’

Nell was glad of the change of subject. ‘How in the world do you manage?’

‘Grig does most of the heavy work. Only he’s got so little up top that it has me fair rattled sometimes. I’d rather cope with a sour-faced kitchen maid any day!’

The inconsequent chatter did much to bring Nell back to her usual composure. At length she set down her cup.
‘I am sure I have wasted enough of your time, Mrs Whyte.’

‘Don’t think of it, ma’am. Count upon me at any time, Miss Faraday. There’s no denying you’ve an ordeal ahead of you. I will do all I can to support you through it.’

Nell reached out to press her hand. ‘That is kind. I could wish Lord Jarrow had been as forthcoming.’

‘That’s ever the master’s way.’ Mrs Whyte sighed.

‘He’s had a lot to put up with, that I will say. But it’s probably best he don’t tell you it all. You’ll find out soon enough.’

Nell felt again the irritation this comment had created in her before. ‘Yes, that is what his lordship says, but I prefer to confront problems head on.’

The older woman clicked her tongue. ‘I can’t think that’s best. You’re a deal too young to be taking the troubles of this house on your shoulders, and that’s a fact.’

‘Pray don’t say so. You sound just like his lordship. I am a good deal more resilient than either of you suppose.’

But the housekeeper remained unconvinced. ‘Why, look at how you almost fainted clean away but a moment ago!’

Nell frowned. ‘That was different. I assure you I will not in general be found to be such a poor creature.’ She rose resolutely. ‘Perhaps it is time I faced the future and met Henrietta. Will you tell me how to find the schoolroom?’

Looking about, Nell could only be glad no one had thought to inform her that the schoolroom was set into the top of one of the towers. It could only have added
to the matters upon which she had brooded last night. As it was, she came upon it with no expectations and found it surprisingly pleasing, apart from the approach, which necessarily took her up a horrid stone stair in one of the towers. She had entered with misgiving through a studded doorway in the curved corner nearest the parlour, feeling relieved that Mrs Whyte had opted to lead her in person.

It would not have been so bad if the inner wall had not been broken in places, with gaps through which one was able to glimpse the blackness of the hollow within. A dank odour pervaded, and the atmosphere was chilly. Chinks that had once been windows had been bricked in, and oil lamps set instead into the recesses. The result produced in Nell a sensation of stifling, and she was glad to come out upon a round room flooded with brightness.

The turret had been roofed, and windows set into each of its wall spaces. An outer door led to a walkway about the castle battlements. A splendid view was to be had from the windows at the outside edge, and every advantage of the sun’s rays could be felt. Nell thought the heat might prove overwhelming in summer. She had said as much to Mrs Whyte, but that lady had sensibly suggested that the inner windows might then be opened. Urging Nell to make herself at home, she had departed in search of Miss Jarrow.

There was a large desk for the governess’s use, in the drawers of which Nell found all the books and implements she might require. In the school desk provided for the child, there were a slate and chalks, a variety of counters and games, and a small wooden doll with hair painted yellow. There could be no doubt that Henrietta had introduced those items she considered essential to her well-being. A little attention that gave Nell her first
ray of hope. The child could not be as abnormal as she had been led to believe.

A clatter of feet upon the stairs below signalled the arrival of her charge. It was followed almost immediately by the banging of the door against the wall, and the tempestuous entrance into the room of the Honourable Henrietta Jarrow. She was accompanied, but Nell’s attention held at first upon the little girl.

She was as lovely as report had made her. Under a cluster of rolling curls of darkest hue, two black eyes appraised Nell in a wide stare. The rosebud of a mouth was pert, the plump cheeks flushed, and a pointed chin gave promise of a determined will. Her figure was rounded, and she was dressed most unsuitably in an old-fashioned waisted gown of blue taffeta, with a wide sash, and a profusion of braid and ribbon.

Before Nell could open her mouth to greet the child, she was forestalled. The woman who had come in with Henrietta put a hand to the girl’s back and pushed her forward, her voice a blend of scolding and persuasion.

‘Well, here we are, miss, all ready for lessons. Make your curtsy, Miss Hetty. We’re in a good mood this morning, I’m happy to say, though it’s odds on that won’t last. We’re ready to do Papa’s bidding, aren’t we, Miss Hetty? Time and past we had some sense knocked into our head and no mistake!’

Nell was already bristling, but she fought down the hot words that choked her. She fixed the creature with a steady eye and spoke repressively. ‘You must be Duggan. How do you do?’

Her tone was without effect. The nurse continued in the same fashion.

‘Joyce Duggan, miss. And I’m well enough, though that’s a wonder after the dance I was led last night. A
right paddy we were in, weren’t we, Miss Hetty? As I hear it, our new governess won’t put up with none of our nonsense. Isn’t that right, miss?’

Nell pointedly did not answer. She was taking an immediate dislike to the woman, and not because her manner was wholly lacking the deference due to the governess, who was her senior in station. It was the patronising attitude she adopted towards the child, coupling herself with her nurseling as if she spoke for her. Making a mental vow to treat the little girl with respect, Nell watched her thrust the silent Henrietta into the chair of her small desk.

The nurse was quite young—four or five and twenty perhaps?—and well looking in a blowsy sort of way. Although she wore the correct attire of a long linen frock of dark stuff over a black taminy petticoat, the ensemble was surprisingly fashionable, its waistline high. She wore no apron, and her cap was all over lace. She was decidedly above herself. Nell gathered her forces.

‘Thank you for bringing her, Duggan. I will not keep you, for I am sure you have a great deal to do.’

‘True enough.’ The nurse gave her a significant look.

‘Only the master thought you might have need of me this first morning.’

The meaning of this was plain. Nell longed to send the woman to the rightabout, for she was sure she would make no headway with Henrietta in her presence. But it would be impolitic to dismiss her without first discussing the matter with Lord Jarrow. She temporised.

‘Very well, but be so good as to seat yourself in the background while Henrietta and I become acquainted.’

She glanced at the child as she spoke, and found her still staring, her expression unchanged. It occurred to Nell that she had not reacted in the least to anything the
nurse had said to her. Nor did she turn as Duggan took up a position behind her in a recess supplied by one of the battlemented windows. Was it possible that the wide stare was not, as she had thought, a critical examination? The girl’s eyes were unblinking, her gaze fixed. A faint stirring of apprehension awoke in Nell’s veins. Were there thoughts revolving behind those lustrous eyes? Or were both mind and stare quite vacant?

With deliberation, Nell smiled at her. ‘Hello, Hetty.’

The child’s gaze did not waver. But her mouth opened, and a deep little voice came out. ‘Why have you gold hair? Are you a princess?’

A laugh was surprised out of Nell. ‘A princess! No, indeed. Have you never seen anyone with gold hair before?’

Hetty shook her head, her eyes fixed upon Nell’s face.

‘Well, I assure you, it is quite common. I am not a princess, Hetty, but a governess.’

‘I am six,’ announced the girl.

It was a
non sequitur
, but Nell took it up at once. ‘Yes, so I understand. You are quite grown up, are you not?’

‘Papa give me a doll.’

‘For your birthday?’

The child remained silent. Was she incapable of playing her part in a conversation? Nell tried again, using one of the tricks she had been taught at the Seminary to introduce the alphabet. There were several, but this one fitted the occasion.

‘Do you know that your name starts with the same letter as mine?’ Not a flicker of interest! ‘Your name is Henrietta and mine is Helen. So you see, both our names begin with the letter H.’

No response. She would have to try another tack. Hark
back to something the child could identify with. ‘Do you like fairy stories? With princesses in them?’

A solemn nod, then a return to the old theme. ‘Princess have gold hair.’

‘Like mine? Yes, they often do. But I am not a princess, Hetty. Do you know what a governess is?’

To her relief, the child’s answer was fully appropriate. ‘Guv’ness come teach me. Papa said.’

Come, this was more encouraging. ‘And did your papa tell you what I am going to teach you?’

The smile was so sudden that Nell was startled. It lit the chubby features, and the eyes were all alive! ‘Reading, writing and ’rithmetic.’

She had chanted the words, a litany learned by heart. But Nell warmed to the change. Her pulse beat a little faster at this evidence that there was after all some hope. The child was intense, but she was not wholly buried in a world of her own.

Restless, Nell left the schoolroom for the roof and wandered along the battlements. The day was fine enough, the sun warming and the fresh air welcome. For a while, she looked out upon the vast acreage of the forest. The sense of isolation was strong, and she recalled the words of the old retainer, Detling: ‘Nothing to be seen but forest nigh on mile an’ mile.’ Indeed, Nell felt as if she lived in a world that was all forest. And within it, there was little but frustration. She turned to walk again.

She had scarcely made headway in the brief time that had been granted to her with Henrietta. All she had accomplished was a smattering of exchanges—hardly conversation!—in which she had herself talked much and learned little.