The Other Countess (32 page)

That gave them something to think about.

‘I don’t think she is a Catholic or a harlot,’ said the last brother, Zechariah. He had the kindest face of them all, his eyes sparkled with humour lacking in the others. ‘I think she’s just lost.’

‘Lost?’ scoffed Josiah.

‘Aye, a lost sheep.’ Zechariah held out his hand to her. ‘Come, Cousin, you’ve travelled far and must be tired.’

‘I am. Thank you.’

‘Say nothing around Father, be polite to Mother, and you’ll be all right, Cousin Eleanor.’

‘Ellie.’

He shook his head. ‘Best not admit to that. Mother is
already complaining that your name does not appear in the scriptures. You would do better not to give her more ammunition to use against you.’

‘Is this a battle then?’

‘Aye, a spiritual one that we fight each day. Any sign of weakness and the Devil will seize on it.’

‘And my name is a weakness?’

He paused at the threshold. ‘The lost sheep strayed through sin and wilfulness, Eleanor. The family will expect true contrition if you are to remain with us.’

So even Zechariah thought her a wretched creature, but was merely kinder than the rest.

‘And what sins have I committed, Cousin?’

‘You’ve been of the world and not held yourself apart as a true believer would, you cannot deny that.’

‘No, no, I don’t, but neither have I heard of such a teaching before.’

He smiled and patted her hand. ‘Then you have sinned in ignorance; there is hope for you. I’ll tell Father.’

Having mumbled an apology to her aunt and uncle for leaving so abruptly, Ellie was relieved that they did not press the matter. Hepzibah showed her to her room, saying that there would be no food for her that night so that she may fast and think on her sinfulness. Ellie closed the door to her chamber and put her small bag of necessaries on the narrow bed, grateful to be left alone. It was hard to know what was worse: her aunt’s swings of temper, her uncle’s blast of condemnation or Zechariah’s mild-mannered conviction that she numbered among those who had strayed from righteousness.

*

Ellie rose at dawn, hearing the family already about their business in the kitchen. A new day – perhaps she would be given a second chance? Brushing her hair and braiding it loosely, she went down the stairs to offer her help in preparing the morning meal. Her appearance in the kitchen was met with silence as the men looked up from their porridge. Her aunt took her arm and hurried her back to her room.

‘You never,’ her aunt said tersely, ‘show your face in company with your hair about your ears. Only the wicked flaunt their charms. Do you not possess a coif like a decent woman?’

Ellie bit back a response that the Queen herself made much of her splendid red hair. ‘No, Aunt. Only a velvet hat.’

‘Then I will lend you one of mine.’

With much tugging and muttering, Hepzibah hid every single strand of Ellie’s hair under an ugly linen coif.

‘Your dress is decent, but too fine for ordinary days. You may wear an old kirtle of mine.’

Ellie feared she would say that. Her aunt was a head taller than her and twice her girth. The kirtle would swamp her. But if it bought her peace, the price of looking foolish was worth paying.

‘Now you may go to the kitchen,’ her aunt said, nodding in approval at her transformed appearance.

After breakfast, the family met for prayers. Uncle Paul beseeched the Lord long and hard for the poor sinner who had been sent to them. Ellie pretended that it wasn’t her he was referring to; the God she worshipped was very different from his – loving, merciful and understanding. Her Jesus suffered the children to come to him and made friends with Mary and Martha.

‘Oh Lord, I wrestle with the Devil to win her soul for you.’ Uncle Paul held up his hands in mock battle with the air, face screwed up in concentration. ‘Help her to escape his wiles and return to the true path. May she renounce all female vanities, speak only of righteous things, and bewail her manifold sins.’ Uncle Paul was sweating now, the droplets running down his cheeks into his beard. His words were met with ‘Amens’ and noises of agreement from the rest of the family. If she hadn’t been so appalled, Ellie might have been impressed by their fervour. She closed her eyes, determined not to peek again, but suddenly, hands grasped her shoulders, making her squeak with alarm. Her uncle had grabbed her.

‘Yea, Lord, the demons within her have her soul in their grasp. They cry out, turning from the true light. I cast them out in the name of Jesus Christ, our saviour!’ He rocked her violently to and fro before pushing her from her knees to the floor by the hearth. ‘See, she has been emptied of all corruption! She faints before the light of God! Hallelujah!’

‘Hallelujah!’ echoed his sons and wife.

Ellie got back to her knees, spitting out the mouthful of ash that she had picked up from the floor.

‘Child, praise the Lord for your deliverance!’ her uncle cried.

Ellie wanted only to be delivered from this madness. Doubtless they were sincere in their prayers, but they had left her far behind with their theatrics, spoiling any chance she might have had to say her own genuine words to God. But they were waiting for her to speak. She gathered herself and bowed her head.

‘
Padre, perdónanos nuestros pecados.
’ Father, forgive us our trespasses.

‘She’s gibbering again!’ Aunt Hepzibah exclaimed. ‘You must beat the Devil from her, Husband. She truly is possessed!’

Ellie raised weary eyes to her family. ‘No, mistress, it’s not nonsense. I repeat the Lord’s Prayer in Spanish as my mother taught me. I pray often in her tongue as it was the first I learnt and comes most naturally to me.’

‘But Spanish is a Catholic language! Pray in good plain English like a decent Christian girl.’

The objection was ridiculous – as if the Lord’s Prayer could be sullied by being in another tongue!

‘Very well.’ Ellie repeated the prayer in English, hoping this would satisfy them.

‘I think you’d best beat her to be sure,’ said Josiah maliciously. ‘There is something very wrong about her.’

‘She’s too bold – she tempts a man with her smiles and her hair,’ added Titus, pointing to the lock that had fallen from beneath her coif as a result of her being thrown to the floor by her uncle.

‘You didn’t spare the rod with us,’ Aaron argued. ‘And look how we turned out.’

Uncle Paul rocked on the balls of his feet, eyeing the birch cane that hung by the back door. ‘I will think on’t. My brother escaped chastisement, being the eldest and favourite of our parents, and so went on to steal from the family; mayhap his daughter is going the same way.’

Ellie did not feel so much like a lost sheep now but a fox cub among a pack of hungry hounds. ‘My father did not steal.’

‘Are you accusing me of lying?’ howled her uncle.

There was no safe answer to be given to that question.

‘He mortgaged the land from under my nose – I’m still
paying his debt. We lost our house in Gloucester thanks to him. He died without male heirs so it should have come to me and then Josiah; instead, some merchant bought it from him and has turned it into a shop!’

What could she say? She knew her father had been reckless, but it was not quite the same as stealing, surely?

‘We offer you charity, opening our house to you, and you repay us by accusing us of falsehood and muttering Catholic curses under your breath!’

‘They aren’t curses.’

‘Go to your room. Read and ponder the scriptures for the morning, in particular the Gospel of Luke, chapter eleven, the six woes. If you pass my testing at noon, then you may escape the rod. Fail and you will be beaten to break your stubborn spirit.’ He handed her the family Bible. ‘Mark not a page; this book is worth more than your life. Many brave men died to bring you the scriptures in English for our instruction and salvation.’

‘I thought to help my aunt with the household tasks.’

Her uncle stabbed his finger at the leather-bound book. ‘Your task is here. There is no work more important than that of a sinner’s salvation.’

On his return from Greenwich, Will couldn’t bring himself to announce the betrothal had been broken off. When his mother asked, he had merely muttered something about problems with the settlement. Will knew how much they all relied on him to save the family finances, so he was too embarrassed to admit he had lost the lady because she’d caught him hankering after another. What would his family say when he added to his failings by admitting he was contemplating marrying a girl
without a penny to her name? James for one might never forgive him. Having received confirmation from the Tower Warder that Ellie had been taken in by her uncle, Will decided to give Ellie a chance to try life with her uncle before going after her – it was only fair to both families. Then he would go and just check on her. If she seemed happy with her relatives, he would return home, announce the alliance with Lady Jane was over and find a new rich bride to court as his family would expect.

Waiting to see the harvest underway on his estate, it was late August by the time Will was free. He didn’t tell anyone what he was about and took only Turville with him when he left for Gloucestershire. In his opinion, the less people knew about the mess he had made of his love life the better; he certainly didn’t want the whole household speculating about it in his absence: there was enough talk already.

Will had not been alone with his old servant since the man’s marriage to Nell Rivers. The long miles gave a natural opportunity for the subject to come up, but Turville spoke nothing of his new wife, seeming rather relieved to have the freedom to travel with his master.

‘I trust you left your wife well?’ asked Will.

‘Well enough,’ Turville allowed, then gave him a flicker of a smile. ‘She’s with child.’

‘So soon? Congratulations!’

‘Aye, I’ll be a father. The prospect fair terrifies me.’

‘You’ve been like a father to me and my brothers all these years, Turville – you have plenty of experience.’

Turville was touched by Will’s assertion. ‘Thank you, sir. You’re fine boys, all of you, though I shouldn’t call you boys now.’

‘And your wife likes it at Lacey Hall? I imagine it is quite a change for her, after serving the Lady Jane.’

‘She is … content,’ Turville managed, his cool tone betraying a deep chasm of doubt over which he tiptoed each day. ‘When you marry her old mistress and things look up for the estate, I think then she’ll be truly happy.’

‘Ah.’ Will pondered taking Turville into his confidence. He’d find out sooner or later. ‘There’s been a change in that particular plan. Lady Jane decided we wouldn’t suit after all. The betrothal is not going ahead.’

‘What!’ Turville looked quite dumbfounded. ‘But the dowry – the estate!’ Will gave him a glance that effectively dried up his protests. There was only so much leeway he could allow even an old and trusted servant. ‘Of course, my lord. My Nell will be sorry to hear this, but we’ll manage.’

They rode into the village of Snowslip late on Saturday, finding poor accommodation in the local inn. The place seemed very quiet for a fine summer’s evening – no one playing bowls on the green or sharing a patch of sunlight on the bench by the well. The men gathered in the taproom below spoke in sober tones, limiting themselves to only one tankard of indifferent ale. Will tucked in to his lamb pie, expecting any moment someone to call for news, or ask their business, but to his surprise they kept themselves to themselves, showing no interest in the finely dressed gentleman and servant who had arrived at the hostelry.

‘Very odd,’ he muttered to Turville.

‘Aye, unnatural,’ agreed the steward.

‘Landlord!’ called Will, summoning their host. ‘Tell me,
what’s happening? The village is very quiet. Is there a fair nearby?’

The innkeeper, a small fellow with neat square hands and cropped silver hair, darted out from behind the bar. ‘No, sir, ’tis always thus. Can I get you anything else? We retire early before the Sabbath in these parts.’

Will ignored the hint. ‘So where are the youngsters, the boys and girls?’ He’d hoped for a glimpse of Ellie before he turned in for the night.

‘At home, where they should be. We are a private people, sir, not given to drunkenness or debauchery as others are. Our choice, as the elect of God, is to live apart from the world, saving your presence, sir.’

Will guessed he had just been consigned to the Devil. ‘Does everyone in Snowslip live in seclusion?’

The host’s eyes flickered to the other men in the taproom. They had fallen silent and made no attempt to hide the fact that they were listening.

‘We are peaceful and loyal men, sir,’ the host said warily. ‘We pay our taxes, attend church as we should.’

Will frowned and pushed his chair back. ‘I never thought otherwise. I was merely wondering if all in your community followed your practices.’

The innkeeper wrung out the cloth he was holding. ‘Aye, we’re all part of the reformed church in this village, thanks be to God and Her Majesty.’

‘I seek a gentleman called Paul Hutton – is he one of you?’

Beside him, Turville took a sharp breath at the name.

The man’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Aye, that he is – an elder of our community. What have you to do with him?’

Will gave an easy smile. ‘That’s between him and me, is it not? Thank you for your information. I wonder, would you have a boy available to take me to his house on the morrow?’

‘No need of that. He’ll be at matins.’ The host gestured to the stumpy-towered church on the far side of the green. ‘You can find him there yourself.’

Turville waited until they their reached their room on the first floor before letting out his barrage of questions.

‘Hutton! What’s he to us? The old fool died in the Thames they said – why are you seeking others of that name?’

‘Turville,’ Will said, his tone reproving.

‘Sorry, my lord, but I can’t believe … no, surely you have not …’ Turville was putting the pieces together for himself. ‘Is this about the Spanish chit?’

‘Lady Eleanor,’ corrected Will. ‘And yes, this is about her.’