‘But if you don’t know who owns it, do you know who’s paying for it?’
‘No. I don’t know nowt about it. The lawyer fellow sends me money as I present my accounts — and a good payer, he is, too. Prompt, he is. I’ve no complaints. I chose the best tiler and these tiles are worth a tidy sum. Hand-made of terra cotta, they are, and baked in a charcoal clamp. Local tiles, they are, last forever, I’m telling you and so they should at the price. But he can afford the best, this gentleman, whoever he is. And the floor — look at it.’ He waved an arm. ‘Three days it’s taken them and they’ve another day’s work afore they’re done. Earth floor’s no good, you see. Chestnut planking, it has to be, on wooden rafts, like upstairs. Much warmer, of course. And no need to straw it. They’re having one of the upstairs rooms panelled in oak!’
‘Panelled?’
‘Aye, linen fold. That’s going to look a treat. The old fellow that’s doing it is tied up at the moment, finishing a rede loft at the church. But he’ll be here before the month’s out.’
Melissa shook her head in amazement. ‘But why all the secrecy?’ she said. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘No more do I,’ he said, ‘but I’ve learnt to live with it. I get my money and that’s all I care about. He can be from Timbuctoo, for all I care, and black as the ace of spades! He pays and I work.’
Melissa looked round. ‘’Tis certainly going to look very different,’ she said. ‘Sad in a way, for I liked the old place. I only recall it as a young girl but I’ve heard tell of it in the old days.’
‘Aye. One of the Tuckers wed a Kendal, I believe.’
‘Aye. Joseph wed Elizabeth — a long time ago. And the windows? I see the shutters are all gone.’
‘Glass, as I’ve told you already, but upstairs he’s having oriel windows.’
‘Oriel?’
‘Aye — they project from the wall, so.’ He described it with his hands. ‘And inside a seat under the window.’
‘In the bed chambers?’
‘Ah, no. The largest bed chamber is to be a withdrawing room for entertaining or receiving visitors. Oh, ’twill be very grand, I can tell you. Did you see them pulling out the old wattle and daub? ’Tis to be filled in with bricks set in a pattern. Aye, ’twill set a few eyes popping when ’tis all done, I can tell you. Oy!’ he shouted. ‘Mind how you go with that barrow. You’re not ploughing a field, you know!’ He tutted. ‘Some of the youngsters! Not got the same dedication to the job as we had.’
Melissa said, ‘I won’t ask you to show me upstairs!’
‘Ah, the missing staircase! All wood, the new one’s going to be, and very grand with a pierced balustrade, whatever that may be. An old fellow’s coming from London ’specially to make it. Arriving any day now.’
They walked out again into the sunshine and Melissa remembered guiltily that Maggie was waiting for her. She made a hasty farewell and rode back to pass on the fascinating details to her friend and the two women rode back to Ladyford in a state of great excitement.
*
Minnie accepted the letter from the messenger because Hugo and Maria had ridden over to Maudesley, on hearing Melissa’s news, to see the transformation for themselves. Allan was resting and Ben and Ellie were busy — Ben in the garden and Ellie gathering in washing which lay drying in the orchard.
‘From where has it come?’ she had asked and been told only Appledore. But that was enough! She thought she recognized the handwriting as Martin’s but could not be certain for he wrote so rarely, much to Maria’s disappointment. It was not Felicity’s. Of that Minnie was convinced, for she had written frequently while old Ruth had been alive. The question was — if it was from Martin — did it concern Felicity?
Carefully Minnie eased up one of the corners and ‘hollowed’ it out so that she might read a word or two. She saw the words ‘ — without too much’ and beneath them ‘ — not to one but’ and again below that ‘and good spirits’. Did that mean what she thought it meant? It was very frustrating to hold the letter in her hand and know that it contained news of great import, or else why was he putting pen to paper. She took a knife from the box and separated the sheets further — ‘this fifteenth day of’ was quite distinct but not very illuminating. Cursing under her breath, she took the letter to the window and held it, hollowed, to the light, and peered closely at it. Was that a capital ‘F’ for Felicity or was it February? Hardly the latter, for it would soon be June. Turning the folded paper and squinting horribly, she made out the words ‘has asked for’ and before that it looked like a word beginning with capital ‘L’. Gently she prised the corners wider, but she put a little too much pressure and to her horror the seal parted and the letter fell open in her hands.
‘Holy St Katherine! They’ll slaughter me!’
She was now faced with a dilemma. If she stopped to read the letter there might not be time to repair the damage — if there was a way to make good the seal. If not, she must concoct a convincing story that would explain how it came to be opened.
The temptation was too great and she unfolded the letter and began to read. She was not a fluent reader, having been taught late in life, but she could manage most of the words. Certainly enough to understand the content to her own satisfaction. Felicity had given birth to twin boys! Someone called Lucas had offered to wed her. Martin had gone to visit her, so she was obviously no longer living at Romney House. The reason for that, Minnie concluded, was equally obvious. They were Martin’s children. She refolded the letter clumsily, her fingers trembling with excitement. And Martin would be arriving within a few days of the letter. Phew! Minnie rolled her eyes expressively. Heron was in for a shock — unless they all knew already. Yet she was sure she would have overheard a chance remark here or there. No, there was a shock coming, she was certain of it. But now what was she to do about the seal. She would have to reheat it and press it down again — and quickly. She would have a lot of explaining to do if she was caught. Thrusting the poker into the fire, she tapped a foot anxiously while she waited for it. Then carefully she touched the seal. To her immense relief it softened but not enough. Back went the poker into the fire and this time she allowed a little longer for it to heat up. This time she was lucky and the sealing wax melted. She dare not let it bubble or the impression of Martin’s ring would warp and there was no way to put that right. With a quick movement, she pressed a forefinger on to the seal, closed her eyes and prayed.
From outside she heard the distant clatter of hoofbeats and knew that Hugo and Maria had reached the stable. The letter was closed! Thankfully she ran through into the Hall and laid the letter on the table then hurried back to the kitchen. She was dismayed to smell burning wax and snatched up a cloth and fanned it frantically in the air to disperse the smell. I never will again, she vowed, if only they don’t notice. Never again, as God is my witness. She tossed the cloth down as Ellie came in with the washing and dumped it on the table. The girl wrinkled her nose.
‘Is something burning?’
‘No, nothing.’
‘I can smell something. ’Tis like — ’
‘Get on and fold these clothes,’ snapped Minnie, ‘and don’t waste time on imaginings.’
‘’Tis no imagining, I tell you. I can — ’
‘Ellie!’
The girl looked at her mother and muttered something uncomplimentary under her breath.
‘I heard that,’ said Minnie untruthfully. As casually as she could, she opened all the doors and windows. Ellie watched her thoughtfully but said nothing. She was trying to identify the smell. At last she knew. It was sealing wax — which meant a letter! In a flash of inspiration she threw down the towel she was folding and raced into the Hall. A glance at the letter confirmed her suspicions and she flew back to the kitchen as Hugo and Maria entered by the front door.
‘The letter!’ whispered Ellie. ‘You opened it! You did, I know it. Tell me what was in it.’
Minnie cursed — the girl was too sharp by far for her own goo
d. But she was longing to pass on her ill-gotten news. Swearing Ellie to utter secrecy, she whispered the contents of the letter and was pleased to see that the revelation made the impact it deserved.
‘Twin boys!’ Ellie gasped. ‘And will we never see them? Do you think Felicity will — ’
‘Ssh! They’re coming.’
Hugo came into the kitchen followed by Maria. They were full of the news about Maudesley and had obviously not been into the Hall. Minnie fetched a drink of lemon barley for them and mentally urged them to go into the Hall and find the letter. But they sat talking to Minnie and Ellie and finally it was Allan who found it. He came downstairs after his rest and brought the letter with him.
‘This was on the Hall table,’ he said.
‘A letter?’ said Hugo. ‘Why, Minnie, when did it come? And why did you not tell us?’ He broke the seal as he spoke and his eyes were on the letter or he would have seen the guilty expression on Minnie’s face as she mumbled an apology, pretending she had forgotten it. She dared not look at him as his eyes raced along the lines.
‘From Martin?’ asked Maria.
‘Aye — come into the Hall and you shall read it for yourself.’
With an effort he kept his voice normal and Minnie watched him go with relief. Now he had broken open the letter he would not suspect anything. She was safe.
‘Allan,’ said Hugo. ‘Come with us, will you?’
Allan followed them out and Minnie and Ellie exchanged conspiratorial glances. Ellie winked and Minnie grinned sheepishly. It had all been too close for comfort.
On an impulse, she went to the larder where she kept a pitcher of orange wine behind the flour sack. She poured them each a generous mugful.
‘A toast!’ They raised their mugs. ‘To two little Kendal boys,’ said Minnie wistfully. ‘God bless them wherever they may be.’
*
Martin arrived three days later in a defiant mood. He was prepared for a cool reception, and that is what he received. Maria was distressed by the knowledge that now there were two illegitimate Kendals instead of one. Hugo was incensed by his son’s irresponsibility and the air of jubilation which he hardly bothered to hide. Martin was shocked to learn that Allan was back, but there was no meeting between the two brothers until the evening, for Allan had taken himself off to the deserted mine as soon as Martin arrived. At supper Allan spoke and ate very little and excused himself early and went up to his bed chamber. When Martin went up several hours later, Allan feigned sleep and there was no chance of conversation.
Next morning when Martin woke he saw that Allan’s bed was empty and cursed roundly.
‘I’m damned if he’ll avoid me any longer!’ he muttered and leapt out of bed. He splashed cold water over his face and dressed as quickly as he could then ran down to the stables. As he had guessed, Allan was there saddling his horse. He did not turn his head when Martin appeared and leaned nonchalantly on the lower half of the stable door. Allan continued to arrange the saddle until Martin coughed exaggeratedly.
‘Am I invisible?’ he asked lightly.
Allan ignored the remark.
‘Are you suddenly deaf?’ Martin persisted. ‘Your prolonged stay in London seems to have done you no good.’
Allan paused and glanced at him. ‘I’ve nothing to say to you,’ he said, ‘that you’d wish to hear.’
‘Nothing to say to your own brother? No exploits to recount? No news to impart of the wicked city? You surprise me, Allan, and disappoint me. I thought you had gone to make your fortune and save the house of Heron from ignominy. It seems I misjudged you.’
Allan reached for the harness and slipped the bridle over the horse’s head. As he fussed with the adjustment, his face was set but his ragged breathing betrayed his feelings.
‘And the fair Eloise has departed,’ Martin continued. ‘What an unkind cut. Though some say, who can blame the girl? You did desert her.’
Allan looked at him briefly, but with a look of pure hatred. Martin registered it with satisfaction. He knew Allan did not want to rise to the bait but he also knew that he would.
‘Still, doubtless ’tis all for the best. She was not the woman for you.’
‘And she was for you?’
‘I think so. I know what it takes to please a woman like Eloise. She needs attention, to be appreciated and flattered. She needs laughter and excitement. You two were like chalk and cheese, if I may say so without offence.’
Martin smiled, letting the malice show in his eyes. ‘Everything you say offends me,’ said Allan his voice rising. ‘Your presence here offends me. The expression on your face offends me.’
‘Oh come now. Such harsh words! What has happened to brotherly love? I expected you to seize my hand and congratulate me and all you … ’
‘Congratulate you? On what?’ Allan gave up the pretence of adjusting the bridle and turned at last to face his tormentor. ‘Tell me something decent, courageous or honest that you have done and — ’
‘Honest? You talk of honesty and decency? ’Twas not I that was flung into the Marshalsea and begged and cheated a way home. ’Twas not I that abandoned a wife — ’
He broke off suddenly, realizing he had laid himself wide open.
‘You treat women well then, do you, Martin?’
‘I did not say I — ’
‘How would you rate your treatment of Felicity?’ cried Allan. ‘To get her with child and then turn your back on her! Is that decent or honest? How can you live with your conscience, Martin? I’d truly like to know. Two sons, Martin, and — ’
‘Aye, two sons and I am barely sixteen! What have you to show for your twenty-four years? Nothing. No wife and no family. Oh, don’t remind me. You had a wife. I know. But she’s dead and gave you no heirs. Heirs, that’s what I have that you lack. And you envy me. Confess it, Allan. You are eaten up with jealousy and that is why you shun me. I have fathered two sons and you have none. You inherit Heron and ’tis worthless and I have Romney House and will be prosperous with my sheep. Oh, sneer at them if you will. ’Tis the fashion to do so. But when you are starving on your precious tin, I shall wax fat on my sheep. What, nothing to say? No answer to make? Because you have no answer. You know I speak the truth. You are Simon’s son. You are the eldest. You are the heir. Well, as far as I can see you are heir to nothing.’
Suddenly Allan stepped forward and seized Martin by the shoulders.
Martin winced in pain but the furious fingers bit deeper as they faced each other over the door.
‘What are you going to do about those two sons?’ Allan hissed. ‘They are yours. Your flesh and blood.’
‘They’ll be well provided for. Damn you, let go.’
Allan intensified his grip. ‘By whom? Provided for by whom? This fellow Lucas? What is he — a blacksmith?’
‘He’s a good man. He loves her.’
‘And does she love him?’
‘’Tis no concern of yours!’ With an effort, he jerked himself free and took a step backwards, out of reach of the cruel fingers. Allan turned to the horse, his shoulders heaving.
‘She could have rid herself of them if she’d wanted,’ cried Martin. ‘She wanted them. Now she’s got them. She didn’t tell me in time. ’Twas her intention to have a child. My child. She wanted my child because she loves me.’
‘And you don’t love her?’
‘She’s not suitable. Lucas will make her a good husband. He dotes on her and he’ll give her plenty more.’
‘And the boys will take his name?’
‘Aye. They’re not Kendals. They’re Carrs.’
‘They’re Kendals and you know it!’ Allan’s hand shot out and grasped Martin’s hair and jerked him back to the door. Allan’s control deserted him as he thrust his own face close to Martin’s.
‘Those boys are Kendals and you owe them your name, you miserable wretch! You know it. I can see it in your shifty eyes. You make me puke! Now get out of my sight before — ’ He could not finish. His fury and frust
ration welled up inside him and a blackness swam before his eyes. Taking another handful of hair, he began to force Martin’s head down so that his neck lay across the top edge of the door and the wood bit deeply and painfully into his neck. Martin struggled helplessly then, fearful that Allan would succeed in choking him, reached for the small knife he carried and brought it up to slash at Allan’s hands and wrists.
‘Aah!’ With a short cry of pain Allan released him, then in the same instant he brought up his foot and kicked open the door. It sent Martin backwards, stumbling and cursing, desperately trying to save his balance. He fell backwards over a mounting block and lay still, sprawled grotesquely across the cobbles. Allan fell onto his knees, exhausted and emotionally drained, his hands clasped against his bowed head. The half door creaked on its hinges and was still. Allan finally raised his head and looked across at his brother. He sighed deeply, pulled himself to his feet and crossed the yard to where Martin lay.
‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘You provoked me but — ’tis this damnable temper. Martin!’
The boy lay face down and Allan thought he was sulking as he had done when a child. Allan knelt and touched his shoulder gingerly, half expecting a sudden retaliation but Martin did not move.
‘I ask your forgiveness,’ said Allan formally and tugged at him to turn him over. He thought nervously that the boy had sustained a concussion but then he saw the knife. It was still held in Martin’s hand and was embedded in his chest up to the hilt. Dark red stained his jerkin and there was a similar stain on the cobbles. Allan’s mouth opened and his lips moved in a desperate prayer. ‘Please God, I haven’t killed him. I haven’t killed him. Oh no, dear God. Say I haven’t killed him.’ He touched Martin’s face and then his eyes. He picked up Martin’s free hand and patted it.
‘Martin! I beg you. Martin, open your eyes and tell me you are not dead. I do not want you dead. Only open your eyes, Martin, and I will love you. I swear it. I’ll love you as a brother, Martin. We’ll love each other. Oh dearest God, give him back to me, I pray you, and let me make amends.’
He was still kneeling beside the body when Jon came into the yard, his eyes bleary with sleep.
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