Daughters of England

by Philippa Carr

  “For not having children?” I asked. “I thought that was the main trouble between them.”

  “Mistress Galloway believes that if he had been a good husband to my lady, it would have been different.”

  “Perhaps if she had been a good wife to him, he would have been,” I defended him.

  Amy said: “Mayhap neither of them were what they should be. And to get to this pass! And there his lordship was, leading the sort of life lords live in London…following His Majesty the King, that is.” She stopped and hunched her shoulders.

  I smiled. “Everyone knows how it stands with the King,” I said.

  “Well,” said Amy, “it seems to be the way of the world. But Mistress Galloway does not like it and she says it is wrong, and so it seems does my lady. But it is a terrible thing that has happened to her, and it is a blessing, they say in the kitchens, that she has Mistress Galloway to look after her. Her ladyship has been good to Mistress Galloway, for they say it would go hard with her if she had no place to go, and then, of course, she has little Francine with her.”

  “Who is little Francine?” I wanted to know.

  “Oh, Mistress Kate, there is much you don’t know about this place. But I suppose it’s you just coming here, and you being on his side, and little Francine being on hers.”

  “I should like to hear about little Francine,” I said.

  “She’s Mistress Galloway’s granddaughter. She’s not been here long. It was good of Lady Rosslyn to let her come, but then I suppose she would, being fond of Mistress Galloway, and a relation too. Little Francine would be connected with Lady Rosslyn. So it is natural, like. So there she is, up in Lady Rosslyn’s part, with her grandmother, you see.”

  “And you say she came here recently?”

  “I don’t know quite when, Mistress Kate, being new-come myself. Her mother died, you see, and she was left an orphan. And her being what she is…”

  “What is she, Amy?”

  “Strange little thing. Not quite natural. They say it was due to her being dropped when she was a little one.”

  “Dropped?”

  “On her head. Some nursemaid, it was. She seemed all right at the time, but there is something about her…” Amy frowned and looked into the distance, puzzled.

  “What is it about her, Amy?”

  “I can’t rightly say. It is just that she is not quite like other folk, if you get my meaning.”

  “I don’t really, Amy. In what way is she so different from other folk?”

  “I cannot rightly say. It is just the way she looks at you and smiles to herself…and the way she looks about her, as though she can see something you can’t.”

  “Oh. It sounds rather uncomfortable.”

  “Yes,” said Amy thoughtfully. “You might say that. She goes about quiet, like, and suddenly you find she’s there, as though she’s come from nowhere and is seeing something you can’t see. It’s creepy, like.”

  “I understand.”

  “Her grandmother thinks the world of her. I’ve seen them together…it’s the way she looks at her.”

  I said: “I’ll watch for Francine.”

  I did not have long to wait.

  I had been a week at Rosslyn Manor but I had not seen my father since my arrival. I gathered that he was often away and that he spent a great deal of time in London. I guessed there was no need for him to stay in the country. James was the most efficient of managers and it certainly suited him to have no interference from the master so that he could do everything his way. I had long guessed that and Christobel had confirmed it.

  I believed my father was giving us a chance to settle in before he let us know what he had planned for us.

  Every day I rode over to Christobel’s house, so I was seeing almost as much of her as I had done in the past.

  One day I came back to Rosslyn Manor and, having left my horse in the stables, I made my way up to my room. As I mounted the spiral staircase, I had formed a habit of glancing over my shoulder. I had a feeling that I was being watched, as I often had when I was in the house alone. It was the vastness of the place, that air of brooding antiquity, the constant reminder of a long-past age.

  I went into my room and pulled up sharply. A young girl was sitting by the window.

  I said: “Hello. Who are you?”

  She looked at me with those strange eyes which Amy had spoken of, and I knew before she spoke that this was Francine, Mistress Galloway’s granddaughter.

  “She said: “I’m Francine. I was waiting for you.”

  “How do you do,” I said. “Did you want to see me about anything in particular?”

  “I wanted to see you. I’ve seen you before,” she said with a slow smile.

  “When I was asleep,” I said. “In this room, was it?”

  She gave me a strange look and lifted her shoulders in a mirthful gesture.

  “You were not asleep, were you?”

  “I did not awake until you had gone. Wasn’t it a strange time to come visiting?”

  “Oh, it was the best time really. I could see you without your seeing me.”

  “I should have thought that might be a disadvantage to me.”

  She made the same gesture.

  “I am glad you decided to come this time when I am awake,” I added.

  “Do you like it here?”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s not your home, is it?”

  “It is my father’s house, so therefore it seems my place might be here.”

  “They don’t think so.”

  “Who?”

  She waved her hand vaguely.

  What an odd creature. There was a hint of madness about her, and Amy was right. One felt this because there was something strange about her eyes.

  “I know you live in your grandmother’s apartments,” I said.

  She nodded.

  “I like to be here,” she said. “It frightens you.”

  “Does it?”

  “Not you?” she asked.

  “There is nothing to be afraid of, surely?” I said.

  She looked at me with interest.

  She said: “They don’t want you to be here.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Her, and my grandmother.”

  “Her?”

  She nodded and pointed in the same direction she had before. I knew she was referring to Lady Rosslyn.

  “No,” she repeated, “they don’t want you here, nor him.”

  I guessed the “him” referred to was Luke.

  I thought: They would not tell her this. She must listen to their conversations. But then Lady Rosslyn could not speak. Her grandmother must talk to her. Perhaps she talked to Lady Rosslyn and the child listened. Lady Rosslyn could nod and so on, as often happened with people who had lost their voices.

  In any case, this was a very strange child, and one to be wary of.

  She went closer to the window, then turned and beckoned to me.

  “Look out there.”

  She was pointing towards what looked like a pile of bricks just beyond the stables.

  “It was a fire,” she said. “Last year.”

  “Did you see it?”

  She nodded. “The fire was making a roaring sound, as though it was angry…and you could feel the heat from it. The sky was red. It was a real fire. Fire kills you if you’re in it. Some people can’t get out of it. They want to but they can’t. There were red flames and yellow flames…and it makes pictures, and you can watch them. They change and change. I saw it. You can smell it.”

  “So you saw this fire, did you?”

  She nodded. “They left it all alone…after that. It was part of the stables. They were leading the horses out and they were very frightened. It was the biggest fire in the world, and it was all burned out. All that had been there wasn’t there any more. That is what happens when there is a fire. Then the fire goes out and what’s left is just like bones left on your platter when you’ve eaten your meat.”<
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  “It must have been very frightening.”

  She looked at me in astonishment.

  “Frightening?” she said blankly. “It was the biggest, best fire in the world.”

  She rose suddenly and walked to the door.

  “Goodbye,” she said.

  “Francine,” I replied, “if you come to see me again, come when I am here, will you? Knock at the door and ask if you may come in. And please do not come at night when I am asleep.”

  She looked at me with that far-off, vacant smile, hunched her shoulders and went out.

  A Question of Marriage

  MY FATHER RETURNED TO Rosslyn Manor.

  After some little time he sent for me. I went to the room which was called his small sitting room and he smiled at me and asked me to sit down.

  “Well, you are accustomed to the place a little now,” he said.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “And you are finding it comfortable?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “A little more congenial than it appeared at first?”

  “It is such a large house to become acquainted with when one is unaccustomed to such surroundings.”

  “Do I detect a hankering after the Dower House or Maggie’s neat little place in London?”

  “My friends were there.”

  “And here?” He shrugged his shoulders. “But grieve not. You are going to London, and of course there you will be able to visit the admirable Maggie.”

  “Oh, that is wonderful.”

  “You will not have a lot of time with her. I have plans for you. Kate, I am going to show you London, and London you. You will be presented as my daughter and Luke as my son. Why not? It is the truth, is it not? You will see a different way of life.”

  “I have always known that there are many different ways of life. I did see a little of that in the theater, for instance.”

  “You will see more with me. Now, you will need clothes, both you and Luke. Those we shall find in London itself. No seamstress here would be adequate to provide what you will need.”

  “How long shall we stay?” I asked.

  “A month or so. It depends. Don’t be afraid. I shall be there to guide you.”

  “Where do we live while we are there? In your lodgings?”

  He shook his head. “My lodgings were just an apartment for convenience. I have a house there in Chelsea. It is a pleasant old place with a garden which runs down to the river. It is within easy distance of Whitehall.”

  “When do we leave?”

  “The day after tomorrow. You don’t need to bring much. You will acquire everything you need in London. Your maid will see to that.”

  “Amy? She will not have any idea.”

  He looked puzzled. He clearly did not know Amy.

  “She looks after me here,” I said.

  He laughed. “No, no. A country girl would be no use. There will be someone at the London house. No need for you to fret about that. It will all be attended to by Mistress Baxter.”

  “Mistress Baxter? Who is she?”

  “She is in charge of the household there. A very efficient woman. She will know what will be required. Tell me, does the prospect please you?”

  “It is always exciting to experience something entirely new,” I said.

  He surprised me in a rare affectionate gesture, when he took my hand in his and kissed me on the brow.

  “Kate,” he said, “I’m glad you are mine.”

  When I told Christobel that I was going to London her eyes sparkled.

  “So you are to venture into the wicked world outside Somerset. Your father is doing the right thing at last and acknowledging you and Luke. Well, one might say it is time he did. I dare say he has grand plans for you both.”

  “What do you mean about plans?”

  “Plans for girls of your age usually mean one thing. Mayhap he has someone in view. Some country squire. Some knight or baron, perhaps. You could hardly expect a dukedom, but I don’t see why it should not be a man with prospects who has not yet attained the height of his ambition. But with the help of my lord as his father-in-law…”

  “Oh, stop it. I shall refuse to marry any of them.”

  She looked at me a little wistfully.

  “I wonder,” she said. “Pressure may be great. Your father clearly has something in mind.”

  “You mean marriage. Well, in view of his own disastrous experience, I should have thought he would have been a little cautious on that matter.”

  “People always think their arrangements will succeed when those of others fail.”

  I did not wish to discuss the matter any further, and I told her about my encounter with Francine.

  “So the strange little granddaughter turned out to be the nocturnal visitor,” she was saying when Kirkwell came in.

  “I was passing and saw your horse outside.”

  “Kate has news,” said Christobel. “She is going to London.”

  “Oh, no,” said Kirk under his breath.

  “It is just for a visit…a month or so, my father said.”

  Kirkwell looked very downcast. I knew what he was thinking. His thoughts would be similar to those of Christobel. My father’s interest in me was aroused because I was growing up, and parents such as he was were very devoted to their families and always had in mind the thought of the upcoming generations. Although, as some had said, I was only a bastard offspring. I was still a member of the Rosslyn family, and to be considered.

  I wanted to go to Kirkwell and comfort him. I remembered the occasion when he had told me—or at least hinted—that he loved me. I also remembered how anxious I had been when he had had to hide in the Devil’s Tower.

  I loved Kirkwell. I would always feel a tenderness for him, but I felt so inexperienced, and was not sure that the feeling I had for him was that on which to build the foundations of a good marriage.

  Kirkwell’s obvious unhappiness cast a gloom over the excitement which the prospect of a visit to London had inspired in me.

  When I returned to the house I found Luke in a state of ecstasy.

  “This is part of it,” he said to me. “Our father is acknowledging us. You know what that means. He will introduce us into the right society. There will be a grand marriage for both of us. Oh, Kate, life is wonderful.”

  The London house was built in attractive red-brick Tudor style and the garden was a delight. The river lapped at its edge and I enjoyed watching the boats going up and down the river, which was invariably crowded with craft of all kinds—from the most elaborate to the very humble. It made me feel that London life was passing along before my eyes.

  Mistress Baxter took charge of me, much as Mistress Longton had at the Dower House. She was a tall woman, with an air of immense authority, and she commanded the house as a general might an army. All the servants jumped to attention when she gave her orders. She was, as my father had said, extremely efficient, rather formidable, but I liked her.

  She produced Marie, who was said to be half-French, and she was to be my maid. She would dress my hair as it should be dressed, advise me about my clothes, for Marie had what Mistress Baxter called “the touch.” It was the French blood in her, and although the French might so often be our enemies on the field of battle and were noted for their cunning ways, in the boudoir they were unsurpassable.

  During my first day there was a great bustle about seamstresses and the almost impossible task of turning a gauche young girl from the country into a young lady fit for the court. My hair made Marie sigh in desperation and she was convinced that only time and her own artistic hands could remedy the disaster.

  I did manage to get along to Maggie on that first day, because I knew that she would have been hurt if she learned that I had failed to call on her immediately on arriving back in London.

  I was received with the usual delight, and I could see that she was excited because, as she saw it, my father was going to “do the right thing” by me.


  I told her about the London house, Mistress Baxter and Marie, and all the bustle of preparations which were apparently so necessary.

  There were tears in her eyes as she said: “Your mother would have been so pleased. It was what she always wanted for you.”

  Then we talked of Christobel’s marriage with pleasure.

  “He seems such a good young man by all accounts, and a clever one too. She’ll be happy, the dear girl. We got fond of her, did we not, in spite of the sly way she came here.”

  Maggie shook with laughter, remembering.

  I could see that she was very pleased about everything. My father’s interest in his daughter was what she had been hoping for all this time. And that which excited Christobel delighted Maggie, and that which made Kirkwell apprehensive was about to happen.

  That London visit was significant.

  My father gave a banquet at his Chelsea house, and many of the noblest in the land were invited, among them the Duke of Buckingham. There were others whose names I had heard from time to time, and there were still others to whom I might not have paid great attention at the time but remembered afterwards—Sir Algernon Sidney, Lord Russell and the Earl of Essex.

  After the meal the guests sauntered into the garden. It was a pleasant June evening and I thought how beautiful it was, with the willows trailing into the water, and the music which floated out from the ballroom.

  I had never seen Luke in such a mood. This was clearly sheer happiness to him: to mingle with people who before had been but names to him, and to be accepted as one of them, was the materialization of his dreams, I was sure. I was beginning to understand Luke well; and while it gave me great pleasure to see him so contented, I felt a twinge of fear for him.

  I saw William, Lord Russell, talking to him very earnestly and later they were joined by Sir Algernon Sidney and when the Earl of Essex strolled by, Sir Algernon called to him, and for a while he chatted with them all.

  As for me, my father had presented me to many of the guests as his daughter.

  There was dancing in the ballroom, in which I was delighted to discover I could join. Christobel and I had practiced a few steps, but of course we were not skilled in the new ones which were being danced at court. I fell into them quite easily and, if I was a little clumsy at first, I was forgiven on account of my youth, or perhaps because I was the now-acknowledged daughter of an important man.