Prue Phillipson - Hordens of Horden Hall (27 page)

Again wounded men were the first to be carried off, then came some walking wounded. She scanned the officers she could see on deck but none were Daniel. She was just about to turn away, thinking of the beating she would get if the dinner were not on the table, when she saw a flaxen head emerge from below decks.

It was he.

She knew him instantly and her throat contracted so she could hardly breathe. As he came up slowly she saw he had his hat in his hand and was holding out the other to the man she guessed must be the captain. They shook hands and the captain gestured to a seaman who came running up with a crutch which Daniel tucked under his right arm. Then he put on his hat and limped to the gangway.

He is hurt, she thought. He has suffered pain. That sweet boy is now a man.

She noticed several coaches drawn up in the roadway behind her. She dodged round the straw bales as Daniel passed and she watched him climb with some difficulty into one of them followed by two other officers who seemed fit and healthy. Presumably many would be laid off while their ship was refitting. She studied his profile and thought he looked drawn and exhausted. He certainly winced with pain as he climbed in. The coach drew away.

“Where will they be going?” she asked the driver of the next one.

“London, of course, mistress.”

She ran back to the Harrisons’ house. Why did I leave London? she asked herself. I am not Patience. I could go back. I could see if Grandfather and Grandmother are in their house in the Strand. She let herself in, thankful that her mistress had not yet returned, but aware that she had barely half an hour to make dinner.

Oh father, she thought, you kept my lustful thoughts at bay. What am I to do without you? That man there has forgotten my existence. He is nothing in my life. Oh yes, Daniel Horden’s parents might be happy to wed their son to me for Grandfather’s wealth and my grandparents would encourage it to keep their business within the family but I could never be forced upon an unwilling man. She couldn’t banish from her mind the vehemence with which he had said, “The idea of being in love with Eunice is preposterous.”

Let him remain a man whom she might – if God willed it –see occasionally at a distance. But was it God’s will? She had walked far to put herself in a place where chance might throw him in her way and it had been some months before chance had obliged. Eunice had done wrong as usual and Patience, trying to perform her daily tasks dutifully, would suffer for it.

She had to make up the fire before she could boil the piece of beef in its cloth that had been selected for dinner. She half filled the brass cauldron and swung it round over the flames, dropping in the beef before the water had boiled and adding plenty of salt and pepper. There were still ten minutes before the Harrisons would be back so she threw in carelessly chopped turnip and onions, in her haste forgetting to place them in their net so they could be easily extracted. There was no time to make one of the complicated sauces Mrs Harrison favoured but she put some flour in a pan and spooning out some of the broth she thickened it and added a sprinkling of herbs from the jars on the larder shelf. She was still stirring this over the fire to stop it from going lumpy when she heard Mr Harrison come in.

“What, your mistress is from home?” he exclaimed looking about him.

“She went shopping, sir.”

Eunice knew her face was red and moist from the heat, her hair had escaped from its pins and hung damply over her forehead.

He was wiping his own brow from the noon heat outside and didn’t stay in the kitchen but walked through to the adjoining room where they always dined.

“The table is not set,” she heard him shout.

Standing the pan on the hearth she scurried in and began laying the cloth and napkins and a knife each when she heard Mrs Harrison come in. She went first into the front parlour presumably to lay down her purchases but then came straight on to the kitchen where she must have tested the beef with a skewer because she screeched out. “The meat is not cooked. What have you been doing, girl?”

Patience walked meekly back into the kitchen and answered truthfully, “I went out to see the ships come in and was late back.”

“You will be whipped,” Harrison said, following her, “and this time you have deserved it. The house is never to be left empty.”

He looked quite pale with anxiety and ran out and up the stairs right to the attics. He must hide his savings up there, Eunice thought. I should have thought of a good excuse but Patience is more truthful than I.

Mrs Harrison was standing in the middle of the kitchen with a bunch of rope ends in her hand. “You wicked, disobedient girl!” She began to lay about Eunice’s head and shoulders with all the strength of her arm. “I thought I had found a good girl at last but you are as bad as the rest of them.”

Eunice ducked and weaved to stop the ropes from stinging her face.

“Please, Mrs Harrison. I am truly sorry. Pray stop hitting me. The beef will be cooked soon and there are vegetables boiled with it. But I will leave at once.”

She slipped under her arm and made for the back door.

Mrs Harrison lowered the ropes. “What? Now!” She looked down at her own hands and brushed from their smooth plump backs bits of hairy rope.

Mr Harrison clattered downstairs again his face relieved and his colour returning. “All is well, my dear.”

“She speaks of leaving us, Bill. I haven’t told her to go. I don’t want her to go. See my beautiful hands and I have brought the silks I have chosen for the dress and petticoat to show you.”

“You will be the loveliest lady in Woolwich,” he said. “And if you don’t beat Patience again she will stay.”

Eunice was standing with her hand on the door latch.

“But she must never leave the house unguarded again,” he added hastily.

Mrs Harrison hung up the rope ends. She frowned at Eunice. “They will stay there as a warning.” She stalked out of the room. “Come and look at these silks,” she told her husband.

So I am to stay, Eunice thought, and when I go errands I can have a quick look to see how his ship is coming on for he will surely come back to it when it is ready for sea. She found a clean rag and wiped her neck where she could feel blood trickling down. If her dress was marked she would have to change it and try to sponge out the stain. She only had one other, plain grey like this, and two shifts. Would her small wages ever enable her to buy more clothing?

She prodded the beef. It was nearly done.

Daniel received his mother’s letter with mixed feelings, joy that he would see her and his father soon, fear of what they would make him do. He had seen such horrible injuries on other men that his own seemed negligible. It was never going to be enough to justify him quitting the navy. But the image of Henry’s head rolling across the deck would not leave him.

He had endured a painful morning with Lord and Lady Branford trying to avoid giving them the details of his death. “Where was he hit? Did he suffer long?”

He could hardly speak of it without weeping himself but he could assure them his death was instantaneous and he was commended for his bravery.

Although Cousin Celia had been pleased to see him when he had first presented himself at their door he was aware of a change in the atmosphere of the house which was not due only to the master’s being bedridden. Before there had always been an air of unlimited wealth. There were more servants than work to keep them busy. Now there was a lady’s maid for Celia and two chambermaids, but only one footman to answer the door and run errands. In the kitchen there was certainly a cook and Daniel supposed two or three kitchen maids. There was still a coach and two horses and a groom but Celia went out very seldom. She spoke little to Daniel of their affairs but he suspected that she was concerned at the proposed visit of his father and mother. How long would they stay and would it be hard to keep up appearances before them?

Although she urged him to spend time with Clifford Daniel went into that room with great reluctance. The first time had been a shock. To see the intimidating merchant lying propped up on pillows unable to utter coherent sentences was a horrid embarrassment.

As soon as he entered the room he found Clifford’s eyes fixed on him and it was obvious that he was trying to rebuke him. His right fist came up and he seemed to be wagging a forefinger at him. Sounds came from his lips.

“Why ‘avy ‘ot ‘ave my ‘ip?”

When Daniel looked to Celia, who had accompanied him, for help in deciphering this, she said, “Don’t be alarmed that he looks angry. It is not with you.”

Clifford however was still gesturing fiercely at him and repeating the same sounds.

“I think he’s trying to ask you why the navy didn’t save his ships – from the Dutch you see. There was much merchandise aboard, some that came from the West Indies.”

Now Clifford was nodding and still directing angry looks at Daniel.

“Tell him about the battle. Tell him all the news you can. He’s hungry for information.”

So Daniel described everything that had happened since he had joined the navy apart from Henry’s death, but when he got up to go Clifford tried to grab him and hold him back.

It was the same every time he looked in on the invalid. Clifford always wanted more news even when nothing was happening but the fleets refitting and rearming.

“Will he get any better?” he asked Celia but she shook her head sadly.

“The doctor says it’s very unlikely. If he had been going to recover from the seizure it would have happened by now. I can’t tell you how wretched it makes me seeing him so helpless. He is always asking for Richard Corcoran to come and talk about the business. We left him in charge when we went into the country you know but when I send messengers it is only one of the under-managers who comes very reluctantly and can tell him little of the state of things. They are frightened to see him like this, that’s the truth of it. I suppose the war has disrupted everything and they know not where the merchant vessels are. I’m sure
I
don’t know so I just keep telling him it’ll all come right when the fighting stops and he mustn’t worry. Of course that just makes him more frantic than ever. I wonder when your dear parents will get here.”

To escape from this sad household Daniel, disobeying doctor’s orders, took short walks usually heading towards Whitehall so as not to pass the Branford’s mansion. But one day he thought he would walk into the City and look at the little house where William and Eunice had lived. He found it easily enough. The door was standing open and a young man was sitting at the old deal table which had been moved nearer the door for the light. He was stitching pieces of leather together with a fierce looking needle.

He looked up startled when Daniel appeared in the doorway.

“Oh sir. You are of the Horden family.” He jumped up and putting down his work, came round the table and bowed. “I remember seeing you call here, sir, in the old time before the plague.” He went on breathless with apologies. “Pray don’t think we are doing wrong in using this place. If ever anyone comes to claim it we will move out at once. If we had left it vagabonds would have broken in at night and slept here, taken it over no doubt. Many houses left empty by the plague have gone that way. Of course when we got back here my mother made me scrub it all out and burn the clothes and bedding on a bonfire. The preacher’s Bible is still here if you want it, sir.”

“No no, I came out of curiosity to look at the place. He was second cousin to my mother. I was at sea when the plague struck and didn’t hear till much later that both he and his daughter had perished. Please carry on with your work.”

The youth bowed again and ducked back to his place. When Daniel leant against the doorpost as if he wanted to say more the boy looked up again.

“It was never official, sir, that Mistress Eunice perished but I fear it was so. There was bodies carried by with names chalked on the shrouds but some was just ‘Boy child from Fetter Lane’ or ‘Old Woman from Milk Street’. No one could say who they was, sir.”

Daniel had a fearful picture of Eunice’s dainty body stuffed into a sack and dumped on a cart to be trundled to the nearest plague pit.

“What’s your name, lad?”

“Tom Fletcher, sir.”

“Tell me how it was, Tom. Her father died first? Is that right?”

The boy described exactly what he had seen that night.

“You think she went back to the house, fell ill and died there.”

Tom nodded. He had tears in his eyes.

“We carried on our business south of the river where my mother’s sister lives and the Baker moved away too and most of the lane did or died where they stayed. There weren’t people around to know if she came back.”

“I thank you, Tom.” Daniel held out a shilling to him but he shook his head.

“Preacher William was a good man. He taught me to read and write and she – she was always kind to me. I miss them.”

Daniel inclined his head. I do, he thought, not William much, but it is very grievous to come here and not see her little timid face and those deep searching eyes. There was so much hidden passion in that small body waiting to be released from the cage of her upbringing.

To hide his own tears he turned sharply away and unthinkingly put all his weight on his injured leg. A tearing pain shot through it and he couldn’t help an audible gasp. Feeling faint he hung over his stick for a moment to recover himself.