Scandal at the Dower House (7 page)

By morning Catarina was exhausted. Joanna had wept or screamed the whole night, had clung to her hand with such force when the spasms gripped her that she felt they would never again be capable of holding anything firmly.

The midwife returned, examined Joanna, and told her, with considerable relish, that her previous patient had given birth to stillborn twins.

‘And she did not make nearly so much noise about it as you do, my girl!’

‘How dare you speak to me –
ow, ow, ow
! I’m splitting apart!’

‘Should have thought of that nine months ago. Here, bite on this leather strap, it’ll help.’

Joanna glared at her, panting. ‘It’s filthy! How many other women have bitten on it?
Ow
, give it to me!’

An hour later a tiny girl was born and Joanna subsided on to the pillows with a sigh of relief.

‘A good size, even though she came a few weeks early. She’ll do,’ the midwife said, wrapping the child in a sheet and placing her beside Joanna.

‘No! Take it away! I won’t have her!’

‘Let me hold her,’ Catarina said, and took the baby into her arms. She looked at the tiny face, red and puckered, the
pale-blue
eyes, the dark curly hair, the tiny fingers curling round her own and fell instantly in love. At that moment she determined
that her niece would not be given away, to finish up heaven knew where, with some unknown family, or given, when she was old enough, into some kind of service. The baby was of her blood: Catarina had never expected to have a child, married to Walter. Joanna might reject her, but the child could depend on her aunt.

Nicholas wrote to the Quinta das Fontes and received a reply saying Catarina and Joanna had left months ago to visit friends in Lisbon. He was tempted to forget it, assuming they would be home soon, but Staines kept appearing whenever he rode past the Dower House, asking if he had any news.

‘Dan’s wife says she had nothing to do with the attack on Ellen,’ he reported one day. ‘She was at home and there are neighbours who support her story. But if Annie’s convicted she’ll be hanged, or sent to that Botany Bay the other side of the world, and she’ll not see her family again.’

‘Do you believe her?’

Staines rubbed his forehead. ‘I believe the neighbours,’ he said at last. ‘And they can’t have got the day wrong, as he was helping us with that barn roof. I wish her ladyship was at home; she’d help.’

So Nicholas thought of Thomas Winterton, the fellow officer who, wounded when Oporto had been recaptured six years earlier, and unfit for more fighting, had married the daughter of the family who had looked after him, and settled to grow olive trees in the Douro valley. Perhaps he could ask more questions and find a trace of Catarina and her sister.

He admitted to himself he was concerned, and would have gone to Portugal in search of the girls if he had spoken the language, but he accepted he would be of little use without it.

All he had from the quinta was the family name of the friends they had been meeting in Lisbon and the hotel where they had stayed when their cousin Antonio escorted them there. They had said something about travelling further south, but Antonio had no notion where. Nicholas wrote to Thomas
begging for his help, either in searching himself, or employing someone to do so. Thomas promised to do his best, but said he held out little hope without more clues.

Nicholas told himself that Catarina’s return could make little difference to the accused woman. She had not been there; she could only give her a character testimonial, and there were others who could do that. But he was by now seriously worried for Catarina. She had, as far as he could discover,
corresponded
with no one in England since she had left. What had happened to her? He was missing her, thinking of her every day. He knew he loved her, wanted to see her, to hold her safe in his arms, to care for her for the rest of her life.

Jeremy, he knew, guessed something of this, but with rare tact his brother made no reference to it, pretending that the real reason for contacting Catarina was to help the suspected murderer.

‘If she did not do it, who did?’ Jeremy would ask, but no one in the village could supply a name. Ellen had, they discovered, been walking out with a young man from her own village before she came to work at the Dower House, but his friends vouched for him, saying he had been with them on the fateful night. They could discover no other liaisons, no one else with a motive.

Christmas came. Jeremy was by now able to ride around the estate, and Nicholas frequently rode over from Brooke Court. He visited London and his other houses occasionally, but remained away for no more than a few nights. Rationally he knew he would hear any news just as quickly in Gloucestershire, but in Somerset he felt closer to Catarina. He would wait there until they had news.

When Catarina told Joanna she intended to keep the baby herself, Joanna merely shrugged.

‘As long as I don’t have to have anything to do with her,’ she said.

She even refused to select a name, so Catarina called her
Maria, after their mother. She wanted to name her Brooke, but reluctantly accepted that if she did people would assume the child was her own, so she called her de Freitas, for her family.

‘We will tell people she is a cousin’s child who has been orphaned, and I have adopted her.’

‘I really don’t care what name you give the brat.’

Joanna had swiftly recovered her health, though she was plumper than before, with a voluptuous bosom. By the new year she was fretting to become involved in Lisbon society.

‘It’s a great shame your friend Delphine had to go home,’ she said, more than once.

Catarina silently disagreed. She had been involved in so many uncomfortable lies since Joanna had been pregnant that she dreaded to have more to contend with. How could she account to Delphine for Joanna’s presence in Lisbon when she had not been visible before? If people came to know about the baby they would soon realize the truth.

Joanna wanted to explore Lisbon, so Catarina sent her out with Luisa. She remained in the apartment, partly because the baby was ailing and she was concerned, partly because she did not wish to be seen with Joanna by any of Delphine’s
acquaintances
.

Her precautions were, however, of no avail. The doctor had prescribed medicine for the baby and, when Catarina went out to fetch it from his dispensary, she met Joanna at the end of the street talking to an elderly Portuguese lady. The woman turned to Catarina and smiled.

‘Oh, you too! You are both so like your mother,’ she exclaimed. ‘She was one of my best friends when we were
children
. That’s why I spoke to your sister, to ask if you were related. I am giving a reception next week for some Brazilians who are about to go back home. I have also invited some of the English officers who have been administering the country. There will be some Portuguese friends there too, quite an
international
gathering. You must both come.’

There was no way to refuse without giving offence.

‘But if we meet any English we know, how do we explain your presence?’ Catarina demanded, when they were back in the apartment.

Joanna was unconcerned. ‘We’ll tell them I have just arrived in Lisbon after visiting friends.’

Catarina, who had considered herself honest before this imbroglio, thought she was turning into the most mendacious creature imaginable, she had told so many untruths in the past few months. The sooner they could leave Lisbon the better, but baby Maria was still frail, and they had been advised not to travel until the weather improved.

Joanna was thinking more of her first party. ‘How do you like this blue silk? I am going to have a gown made of it.’

‘I don’t think you should wear colours yet. It isn’t a year since Walter died.’

‘Don’t be so odiously correct, Cat! It’s been almost a year; it’s February now. I’m no longer pretending to be a widow. As it happens we didn’t have to tell people that, so if I want to wear colours, I will! I simply refuse to wear this unflattering black any more!’

Catarina gave way and was herself tempted into half mourning, a silver-grey shimmering silk, and privately admitted she was glad to be wearing something which suited her after so long. Little Maria could be safely left with Clarice, her wet nurse, who adored her and regarded her as her own. She had lost her own baby, and her husband, a sailor, had been lost at sea some months before. She said she wanted to go to England with them when they ventured to make the sea journey. That solved a big problem, and Catarina longed for the day when she would once more be in her own home.

The reception was a large one, with many Brazilian and Portuguese guests as well as English. Joanna, enjoying her first party for months, sparkled, and whenever Catarina saw her seemed to be surrounded by admiring men. Surely,
thought Catarina with an inward shudder, she had learned her lesson and would be careful not to make the same mistake again.

‘It’s quite a large delegation going to Brazil,’ one of the men Catarina talked to informed her. ‘There are many celebrations now the Prince Regent has given it the status of a Kingdom. It is only just, since so much of our wealth derives from there. Brazil, Portugal and the two Algarves will from now on be a United Kingdom of Portugal.’

It seemed rather remote to Catarina. She was on edge wondering what Joanna was doing. Joanna was fizzing with excitement as they drove back to their apartment afterwards.

‘Eduardo Gonçalves has invited me to drive with him tomorrow. He’s a Brazilian, incredibly handsome, and has a huge estate there. They found gold on it, and he is fabulously wealthy.’

‘Is that all you care about?’

‘Of course not; though he is so handsome and charming, having a great deal of wealth does add to a man’s
attractiveness
. But he is sailing for Brazil in a week’s time. There will be few opportunities for us to meet.’

Catarina was thankful. She wanted no further
complications
in their lives. Eduardo, when she met him, was suave but charming, and she looked forward to the day when he would be gone from Lisbon.

Nicholas went regularly to Marshington Grange, even though Jeremy was now fit enough to ride about the estate. His friend in Oporto could discover nothing of Catarina, and the anxiety made him short-tempered. What had become of her? Staines had no news of her return.

‘Annie has been convicted,’ the butler said, when Nicholas stopped to ask how they went on.

‘I thought she had an alibi.’

‘That was only for the first part of the evening. Apparently
they went to bed early, tired like I was, and Dan slipped out, thinking Annie asleep. But she followed him. She was seen by old Simeon, who was out poaching. He let it out when he was drunk.’

‘So she’ll be executed?’

Staines shook his head. ‘No. The sentence has been commuted to transportation. Dan’s beside himself. Mr Lewis has threatened to turn him out of his cottage, since he does little work. He’s incapable most of the time. I don’t know where he finds the money for so much ale.’

Nicholas rode on, having asked Staines to inform him the moment he heard when his mistress was coming home. He had other problems more urgent to think about.

Jeremy was encountering considerable opposition to his proposals. The villagers welcomed the drainage scheme, for it would give them work, and some of them expected to benefit when he had more sheep. But life was harder for them than it had been for several years, and some of them blamed him.

‘As if I could do anything about the high duties on malt and barley which leads to more smuggling of brandy and other spirits!’ he complained to Nicholas, as they sat over dinner. ‘Or the size of the tithe and the poor rate!’

‘There will be proposals before Parliament soon,’ Nicholas said. ‘I hear some of them relate to imposing more duties to protect our own agriculture, and alleviating the poor rate.’

‘Then I hope you will go and tell them how badly the people are suffering. Yet they won’t see that the changes I am suggesting will help!’

Joanna went riding or driving several times with Eduardo. There was always a groom accompanying them and
sometimes
other friends of the Brazilian. Catarina relaxed, more concerned over the health of the baby. She scarcely listened to Joanna’s chatter, merely thankful that her sister had recovered her high spirits and was no longer querulous and dissatisfied.

She did listen when Joanna told her Eduardo’s ship was to sail that Saturday, relieved he would be out of her reach. Joanna was rather quieter than usual, and Catarina assumed she was dreading the parting. On Friday night, when they went to bed, Joanna hugged her tightly.

‘I do realize how good you have been to me, Cat! Thank you.’

Catarina hugged her back. Perhaps Joanna was growing up.

On Saturday morning Joanna was gone, and the note she had pinned to her pillow announced she was leaving with Eduardo and would be married to him aboard his ship. 

Chapter Six

W
ITHOUT WAITING FOR
Luisa, Catarina ran from the house and hurried down to the quay, her emotions
overwhelming
her. She had little hopes of finding the ship, it would have sailed early, but she had to try.

As, ignoring the shocked glances of the inhabitants, she picked up her skirts and ran, the memory of her mother’s frequent stories of the earthquake flitted through her mind.

Many people, Mama had been told, had gone down to the river Tagus in the hope of escaping the horrors of the falling city. Some had boarded boats, but these had been overturned and swept away by the enormous wave which then flooded much of the lower town. Those on the Quay de Pedra, newly built of marble, had drowned when the quay itself had collapsed and fallen into the raging river.

Catarina looked round anxiously, searching for one ship amongst the many moored in the broad river. It was impossible. Then she saw a man who, in his smart uniform, looked like some official.

‘The ship, for Brazil, has it gone?’ she panted.

He looked disapprovingly at her. ‘What do you want with it?’

‘My sister, she’s on it. Has it sailed?’

‘Sister? Or sweetheart who’s left you?’ he sneered. ‘It’s gone,
hours since. Why don’t you try to swim after it? Might catch it this side of the Atlantic.’

Chortling at his wit he turned away.

Catarina, accepting the truth, turned and walked slowly back to the apartment. Would Joanna never learn? She somehow doubted that Eduardo would marry her. Men did not fall in love with such rapidity and, since he came from an important family, it was likely there were plans for his marriage which did not include a foolish girl from England.

She breathed deeply. There was nothing she could do about it. She could scarcely chase after Joanna even if another ship were available. Her first emotion had been distress, then anger at Joanna’s folly. Then a feeling of desolation had swept over her. She felt abandoned. Joanna was the only one of her family left. She did not think of her Uncle Ivor as family, since he had scarcely behaved like it. She had nothing in common with him, or his wife, and certainly not with Matthew. She doubted she would ever see Joanna again. Now she was truly on her own.

Then the anger returned. She had rescued her sister from her folly once before. This time Joanna was out of reach of her help and would have to make the best of it. She would be
fortunate
not to end up in one of Rio’s bordellos. But being Joanna, Catarina thought wryly, she would almost certainly find someone foolish enough to help.

She considered her own plans. As soon as the baby was well enough, and Maria seemed to be recovering, they would go home to England. Clarice had been sworn to secrecy over Maria’s parentage and vowed she would not reveal it. She knew the situation, and that for it to be known Joanna had borne a child out of wedlock would be ruinous for her
reputation
. Catarina hoped she could trust her, but she was paying the girl well. As yet she spoke no English, and she had said it would reflect on her own reputation if it were known she was nursemaid to a bastard. Catarina had winced, but she knew the girl spoke the truth.

She would write to Mr Sinclair and ask when a suitable ship would be calling at Lisbon or Oporto. It would be better to embark from Lisbon if at all possible, to avoid the land journey to Oporto, which would be difficult with the baby. Also, there she ran the risk of meeting some of her family. While one part of her said she owed Joanna nothing more, another shrank from revealing her sister’s disgrace. If Joanna ever returned from this mad Brazilian escapade Catarina could not be responsible for preventing her readmittance to Society.

Nicholas, on his way to the Grange, was driving past the Bear inn when he saw Mr Lewis going inside. He wanted a word with the man, so he stopped the curricle and walked into the taproom. Mr Lewis had seated himself at one of the small tables and spread some papers and a box in front of him. A line of men formed, and Nicholas realized the farmer must be paying wages to his labourers. He would have to wait, so he ordered some ale and sat down at the far side of the room beside a window overlooking the road.

A few minutes later, a short stocky man came in, blinking as he became accustomed to the dim light. Several more young men crowded in after him. He looked round cautiously and then pointed his finger at one of the men in Mr Lewis’s line.

‘You’m the one I want! It were your doin’s my Ellen got killed! A good girl, she were, till you bedazzled her!’

Nicholas deduced that this was the murdered woman’s former lover, come to exact vengeance.

The newcomer strode across to the line of men and yanked one of them, Dan, towards him. Before any of the others could grasp what was happening, the stocky man was dragging his victim outside, while his friends, blocking the doorway, made sure none of the locals could easily follow.

Dan’s protests could be heard, but were soon drowned out by the tumult erupting inside the taproom. However much Dan’s activities had been condemned by the village, these farm
hands were not going to see one of their own attacked by foreigners from ten miles away.

The fight was vicious, but when the locals resorted to banging pewter tankards on the heads of the intruders, the latter were thrust outside and the villagers poured out after them. The fight continued, but outside the invaders had the advantage, as there were more of them. Dan was suffering, and Nicholas, observing what was happening through the window where he sat, concluded that Ellen’s lover had considerable science. He must have had experience in the boxing ring.

Soon a thoroughly defeated Dan was being tossed almost contemptuously into the duckpond and, with a cheer, the invaders disengaged and marched away.

Mr Lewis went and stood in the doorway, glowering.

‘I’ll finish paying you ruffians tomorrow. As for you, Dan,’ he went on, surveying the bedraggled, weed-draped figure who had been pulled from the pond by his friends, ‘this is the end. I’ve warned you several times of late. You’ve not worked well these past months. I’ve tried to make allowances, but I’ll do so no more, if you bring such a rabble here. You can get out of the cottage by tomorrow.’

There were protests from Dan’s friends when they realized they would be unable to buy ale until the following day, but they clearly held Mr Lewis in awe and, though they grumbled, they gradually drifted away.

Mr Lewis turned back into the taproom and began to collect his papers. He glanced at Nicholas and shrugged.

‘You may think me hard,’ he said, almost apologetically, ‘but I haven’t had a decent day’s work out of him since it happened. And it was his own fault. If he hadn’t been chasing that Ellen from the Dower House, poor Annie wouldn’t have done what she did.’

‘What will he do? Has he family?’

‘No, he’s a foreigner, from Devon. If I was him I’d want to go back there. The men might have fought for him today, but that
was local pride. They blame him, and he doesn’t have a pleasant time of it here. Annie was born here, see. Some of them think what she did was justified.’

‘We spoke for her, but it didn’t influence the judge. Mr Lewis, I wanted to have a word with you about the drainage scheme. I’ll order some ale and we can talk about it here.’

It was March before Catarina arrived back at the Dower House. She had hired a post chaise in Bristol, refusing to accept Mr Sinclair’s invitation to spend a few days with his family to recover from the voyage, which had been rougher than usual at that time of year.

‘I need to get home to the Dower House as soon as possible; I’ve been away far too long,’ she said.

They had been fortunate in being able to start at daybreak. Having docked late at night, Catarina had decided it was easier for them all to remain on board until morning, rather than move to an inn for just one night.

Clarice, to her relief, had proved to be a good sailor, and when Catarina herself had to retire to her bunk, she had been thankful the girl could take charge of Maria. The child had thrown off her illness and was growing fast. Making up for being born early, Clarice said with a laugh.

The coach journey was, Catarina thought, almost as wet as the sea voyage. It rained incessantly, and from the drenched look of the countryside and the pools of water in low-lying fields, it seemed to have been raining for weeks.

It was dark before they arrived, but the house was ablaze with lights. She had written to tell Staines of her return, but had not been able to predict which day. He had clearly been prepared for her whenever she came and, when they
clambered
stiffly from the chaise and went into the house, Catarina blessed his efficiency as she almost collapsed, Maria in her arms, into a chair before a roaring fire of sweet-scented apple logs.

‘Welcome home, my lady. I’ve sent the post boys round to the stables, and to get some food.’

He studiously avoided looking at the baby, who was smiling up at him. She was not, like some babies, shy of strangers, and occasionally Catarina felt a twinge of apprehension in case she turned out to be like her mother.

‘This little one is Maria de Freitas,’ Catarina said, ‘and this is Clarice, her nurse. She is the child of a cousin, who died when she was born and, as her father had been killed in a hunting accident, the poor thing was orphaned. Her father’s mother was English,’ she added, thinking that this was the only partly truthful thing she was saying, ‘so I have taken her in. We can turn the main guest room and dressing room into a nursery, since the Dower House is not supplied with one.’

‘No, my lady. I will see to it at once.’

‘Is there a fire there?’

‘Yes. We expected Miss Joanna to be with you.’

Catarina had decided it was too difficult to explain in a letter. Besides, she had in some way felt that if she were present when people were told of Joanna’s marriage, there would be less speculation. She took a deep breath.

‘While we were staying in Lisbon Joanna met a Brazilian gentleman; she has married him and gone with him to Brazil. It will probably be some years before we see her again.’

If ever, she added to herself. Unless this romance is also a disaster and Joanna runs back to me.

Staines was imperturbable. ‘Would Miss Clarice care to bring the little one upstairs? I will see that she has all she needs. Perhaps you, my lady, would prefer to have supper on a tray here in the library, in front of the fire? It is warmer here than in the dining parlour.’

‘That would be perfect. But not a big meal. I’m sure Cook will know exactly what I need.’

‘Yes, my lady,’ Staines said, and turned away. He seemed
about to say something else, but shook his head slightly, then indicated to Clarice to follow him.

Catarina relaxed. She was home, Staines was in charge and she could trust him to do all that was necessary. She wanted to know what was happening at the Grange, but that could wait until tomorrow, until she had slept in her own bed once more and recovered from the journey.

Perhaps it was being back at Marshington, Catarina thought, that induced dreams of Lord Brooke. She blushed as she recalled some of the images which had invaded her sleep. She could still remember everything about him; he had seemed so real, as though he had been in the room with her.

This was strange. She had thought little about him while she had been away, but she had been preoccupied with so much else during the past few months. She had not dreamed of Walter once.

Before descending the stairs for breakfast, she went to see how Clarice was settling in and whether Maria was content. She found her housemaid Liza, who had just brought up a tray for Clarice’s breakfast, cooing over the baby.

‘Oh, my lady, she’s beautiful! She’s got such lovely big eyes, a sort of hazel colour. Were they blue when she was born? They say they turn darker. Rosa will be so envious of this lovely hair. It’s so dark and thick and curly. Her own little one has only a few strands of fair hair.’

‘Rosa has a baby already?’

Her maid had been married just before they left for Portugal.

Liza giggled. ‘A honeymoon baby! I told Rosa it was as well it didn’t come a couple of months early. My lady, your
breakfast
will be ready in a few minutes. Would you like a tray, or will you come down?’

‘I’ll come down, thank you.’

She must find a new maid to take Rosa’s place as soon as
possible, so that Liza did not have that work to do as well as her own. She’d write to the Bristol Registry offices today.

Clarice said she was being well looked after, had all she needed, but although she was learning some English from Catarina, she found it impossible to understand what Liza said.

Catarina laughed. ‘She has a local accent. I’m afraid you’ll find most of the people round here speak in the same way. But you will soon begin to understand. You have a quick ear, and have already learned much.’

She went downstairs into the dining room, where Staines brought her coffee, and helped her to ham and boiled eggs and sausages.