‘None?’
I made a noise, and Pitman pushed me away, with enough force that I fell to my knees on the hard boards. Mr Grice seemed satisfied, but before I could get up he cuffed me a stinging blow on the ear with his boot.
I vowed to keep well out of his way, so the next day I busied myself in the kitchen helping Mistress Binch prepare the meals. In the afternoon I saw his horse was being saddled in the yard. Mistress Binch and I peered out from the kitchen window.
‘They’re going to inspect the corn mill, so I’m told.’
I breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Mind, I hope his servants are well-armed,’ Mistress Binch said. ‘No-one’s safe on the highway. We’ve had a spate of hold-ups. They’re calling him the Silent Highwayman in the village, because he never speaks, just points his pistol at you. The butcher was telling me he’s held up the Sheriff, and poor Lady Ann twice, not four miles from here on the London Road. About a month ago, it was.’
‘What happened?’
‘He just loomed out of the dark, made her hand over her jewellery and coin with a gun pointing at her chest. He wears a hat and a cloth over his face, dark gloves, brown boots. But he never speaks. They say he watches from the woods. Just the thought of those cold eyes watching makes me shiver.’
Brown boots. Just like the dirty ones I’d found in Thomas’s closet. Had Lady Katherine befriended an outlaw?
The possibility flared in my imagination, then I dismissed it. I was being fanciful. ‘Do you know what he stole from the Lady Ann?’
‘Her rings, a bag of florins. He even made her take off a brooch she was wearing.’
‘What kind of brooch?’
‘Give over with your questions.’ She flipped a cloth at me and it stung my cheek. ‘How should I know?’
Amethyst, said a little voice in my head, shaped like a thistle.
Mistress Binch prodded me with a floury finger to get my attention. ‘If you want to ask questions go and find out when Mr Grice is riding out. There’ll be nobody to cook for if he’s not in for supper,’ she said. ‘Take up these fresh scones, see if you can find out what’s going on.’
Mr Grice told me he would be out all day visiting a Captain Wentworth. On the way back I took out the letter from Kate to Ralph. Or Lady Katherine to Ralph. I wasn’t sure any more who she was. I turned it over in my hands, examined it with a troubled frown. Since Mistress Binch had told me about the Silent Highwayman, an awful thought was brewing, but I pushed it away. It surely couldn’t be my mistress. She was an enigma, a puzzle I couldn’t make out, there was no doubt about that. But highway robbery? No, she was too much the lady. I remembered then how she’d lugged stones on the common. If she could be Kate, she could be…
I shook my head to rid myself of the thought. Why couldn’t she just be satisfied with being a fine lady in this fine house? She had more than most people ever dreamed of; wealth, land, a position.
But deep down I knew the answer. There was no love in this house. And if I was her, I wouldn’t want her family.
*
‘I told you that they’d close up the house,’ Mistress Binch said, the next day. ‘I knew it. We’ll be next out of that door, you mark my words. Quick now, you’re to go upstairs, they’re waiting.’
The door of an upstairs bedchamber stood open. Grice was there directing his men, Rigg and Pitman, who were carrying out a delicate curved-fronted table. When I glanced through the window I could see a trundle cart, already stacked with the heavy items of furniture, including bedposts and carved linen chests.
The floor was littered with smaller items. Several wicker trunks and leather cases lay open on the dusty floorboards. Mr Grice pointed at these and at the rest of the things on the floor. It was obvious he wanted me to pack them up, so I began, kneeling in the dust to fold up the bed drapes.
Grice stooped awkwardly, leaning on his stick, so he could pocket a few silver items from the heaps on the floor and put others to one side. I was just pressing the drapes into a chest when I looked up to see Lady Katherine’s skirts swish in through the door.
‘What’s this?’ she said.
‘I am clearing this room,’ Grice said. ‘We no longer use it, so the contents will be sold.’
‘But this was my mother’s room.’ Lady Katherine looked aghast at the empty chamber.
‘Your mother is dead.’
‘But –’
‘She no longer needs it. It has been left to rot for five years, when someone could have use of it. All the goods deserve a second life. Your step-father’s orders.’
‘But what about her clothes, her jewellery? Where are they? She would have wanted me to have those, I’m sure.’ Lady Katherine bent to look through one of the chests.
‘Stop,’ Mr Grice said, pointing at her with his stick. ‘You are too late. They have already been sold.’
‘You sold them?’ A hand flew to her mouth, her eyes welled with tears.
‘Sir Simon insisted.’
Rigg brushed past and picked up another trunk. ‘Wait,’ my mistress called. Rigg ignored her so she had to step to the side. She appealed to Mr Grice. ‘I know nothing of all this. Surely my husband would have written to tell me. Where are these orders you say you have? Show me the letter.’
‘I have not kept it. Why would I? I’m not some woman that hoards all her letters as keepsakes.’
His rudeness made my mistress gasp. ‘Now just a minute –’
‘Write to Sir Simon yourself. Ask him if you don’t believe me.’
My mistress backed away, her tears replaced by determination. ‘I will. Believe me, I will. And I will make sure every last item of my mother’s is returned to its proper place.’
‘If you can find them.’ Grice smiled, his lips pressed together. ‘They go to auction tomorrow –’ He caught sight of me, my eyes fixed intently on his face. He gestured angrily with his stick, pointed at the door. ‘You, get out.’
I could not pretend not to understand so I dropped the nightdress I was folding and scurried away.
*
That night Mr Grice positioned Pitman like a guard outside Lady Katherine’s door. He seemed to need little sleep, for when my mistress sent me to get a cup of milk in the middle of the night, he was already on his feet when I pulled open the door.
‘Return to bed,’ he said, looming over me, ‘Mr Grice’s orders. Lady Katherine can have her milk in the morning.’
I placed the candle back on the side table, and shook my head at my mistress.
‘Pitman won’t let me go down.’
‘So I am to be a prisoner now in my own home,’ she said. ‘Well they can’t hold me, no matter how they try.’
‘It’s not right,’ I said. ‘You are mistress here, not him.’
I could have said more but I held my tongue. Mr Grice was up to something. I was sure he had been lying when he said that selling everything was Sir Simon’s idea. His words did not match his face, and I knew well enough there had been no letters for Mr Grice from Sir Simon. Only letters for Lady Katherine in Thomas’s handwriting. And those, I was forbidden to deliver.
But if I told her now I’d stopped her letters, she’d be furious and so would Mr Grice, and I’d be thrown out of the Manor quicker than lightning. So I kept my mouth firmly shut.
*
The next day Grice had his servants wrap up the remaining paintings in the hall. Draughts seemed to blow through the corridors, the house grew forlorn and empty.
At least it meant I could be what I was supposed to be – a servant. Lady Katherine was crotchety and short with me, so I was glad to be with Mistress Binch, digging the vegetables, jugging the hare, milking, scrubbing out pots. The kitchen at least was a place of normality and Mistress Binch seemed glad of my help. She stopped shouting at me and her shoulders relaxed.
At mid-day Grice complimented Mistress Binch on the hare stew and she was less surly for the rest of the afternoon.
‘Now that’s a proper gentleman,’ she
said. ‘One that knows good food when he sees it.’
I grunted. Some gentleman. I had broached him about my wages only that morning and he had dismissed me with a slap and said I’d have them by the end of the week. But his promises were like chaff. He’d promised last week and the week before, and still my pockets were empty.
No sooner were the plates cleared than Mistress Binch got me busy again pressing cheese and making pastry for a tart for the evening meal. She was happy only when she was cooking, I realised. As long as we were making something edible, and as long as I kept chopping and peeling, things would go smoothly.
‘You love cooking, don’t you?’ I said.
She looked at me as though I was foolish.
‘Of course. I’m a cook, aren’t I?’ She slapped the pastry down on the table and pummelled it flat. ‘But I’m starved of good ingredients here. I need a bigger house to cook for. I want to work for Lady Ann. She keeps a good table and there are thirteen servants at her house. I’m wasted here; at least Grice knows good fare when he sees it. Lady Katherine couldn’t care whether what I serve her is a boiled egg or a pheasant banquet.’
*
I had brought out Lady Katherine’s letter to Ralph so often I knew it by heart – the elegant single word of my brother’s name, the raised blob of red sealing wax with just a thumb print and no proper seal. Of course she couldn’t use her fleur-de-lis seal or he’d know Kate was Lady Katherine straight away.
But it was dangerous to keep the letter. I knew the Fanshawes would have my brother hanged if they knew he had dared to be so familiar with the Lady Katherine.
When I went up to the common and put the letter into Ralph’s hands, he looked at it in amazement. ‘From Kate?’ he said. ‘She can write?’ But his face shone from the inside.
I vaguely hoped she had put something in the letter to give herself away, so I could rid myself of this ridiculous pretence. She could not blame me, then, could she? I watched as Ralph unfolded the square and screwed up his eyes to read.
‘Tell her, “yes”,’ he said.
‘Yes to what?’
‘I’ll meet her under the broad oak as she asks.’
‘But she –’ I stopped. I could not tell him that Grice had now put her practically under lock and key. ‘She won’t come,’ I said.
‘Of course she will, or why would she ask? I wish you wouldn’t be like this about her.’
‘Ralph, she’s just leading you a dance, playing with you, she’s not…’ He folded his arms, his face closed against me. It was hopeless.
‘I’ll tell her,’ I said, ‘but I’m right. You’ll see.’ And I galloped away before they could miss me at the house.
*
That night I told my mistress I’d delivered her letter.
‘What did he say?’ Lady Katherine’s eyes were eager.
‘He said yes. But you can’t go,’ I said, ‘Mr Grice’s men will be outside.’
‘I know,’ she said, ‘but never fear, they can’t hold me here.’
‘Please don’t,’ I said. ‘Think of the risk. Your step-father would kill Ralph if he knew.’
‘He’s away. He’ll never know, not unless you tell him.’
‘And there’s your husband –’
‘Yes, I’ve written to Thomas, to tell him about Grice selling off my mother’s furniture. Maybe he can dissuade Sir Simon. But I’m not sure if my letter will get there in time for him to do anything about it. The mail seems so uncertain – I’ve had no letters for weeks.’
I reddened and turned away. When I turned back she was twisting her nightgown in her hands.
‘And anyway, I’m not sure any more that I want Thomas to come home.’
I poured water into the ewer with a hollow pain in my chest. I knew precisely where the letter to her husband was, and that it would never get there because I’d given it to Grice myself. To cover my awkwardness I asked, ‘What will happen when your husband gets back?’
She ignored my question. ‘Since you came, everything has changed. You brought some magic with you. It gives me a strange feeling, as if the ground is shaking under my feet. I don’t know who I am any more. All I know for certain is that I like the way Ralph looks at me, as if I’m a person worth seeing. I see something in his eyes, something I can’t escape. And he’s handsome isn’t he?’
I made a face. To me he was just my brother with his too-big boots and foolish crazes. ‘When are you meeting?’ I said.
She hesitated, and looked at me as if weighing me up. ‘Tuesday,’ she said.
A few days away yet.
‘I think I’ll undress now,’ she said. She went to the window and stood a moment, before drawing the drapes against the waning light. It was unlike Lady Katherine to be weary, she was always full of barely-compressed energy.
I lay down on the floor by her bed, but could not sleep. Too many things raced around my mind. But the housework had taken its toll and after much tossing and turning, I fell into a deep slumber.
*
When I woke it was dark, but the white linen of Lady Katherine’s bed shone out. She was not in her bed. I sat up and peered round the room. When I pulled open the drapes the moon gleamed in at the window and it was almost bright as day. Yet there was still no sign of Lady Katherine. I went to the door and opened it a crack but the servant was still there, his bulk sprawled on a chair across the doorway. So she hadn’t gone that way.
The door to the adjoining room was locked, and the key was gone. I searched her dressing chamber before spotting the obvious. Lady Katherine’s silks and satins were still on the trunk by the bed, and her nightdress was on the coverlet.
How had she sneaked past Mr Grice’s man without her clothes? I rushed to the window and looked out. There was no way down, there was only a drop to the ground that made me dizzy. I squinted into the darkness.
It was a full moon. A dark shadow against the trees was given away by the blaze of the horse. The way the man rode was familiar – the set of his shoulders, his upright posture. I remembered the dropped glove, the brooch, her husband’s wet cloak.
It wasn’t a man at all. It was my mistress.
Where was she going? How had she got out? If she didn’t come back before morning, I’d be left trying to explain to Mr Grice what had become of her. I wrapped myself in the coverlet and sat up on her bed, something I would never have dared to do when I first came to the Manor. I faced the door, watching for her return.
*
I did not intend to sleep, but I must have dozed a little. When the door swung open the light from the hall jerked me awake. It was Mistress Binch, with a tray of warmed ale for my mistress. She took one look and shouted at me to get off the bed and get down to the kitchen. I grasped from her gesticulations that she assumed Lady Katherine was in the dressing room, and I’d better tell her to hurry and get dressed. Mr Grice awaited her at breakfast.
When Mistress Binch had gone I raced across the hall and up the servants’ stairs, my arms tight across my chest, terrified I’d be caught in just my chemise. In my room I threw on my skirt and bodice and ran to the kitchen. It would be my fault when my mistress’s absence was discovered, and I feared what Mr Grice would do. By the time I arrived breathlessly in the kitchen the porridge had already been served and Mistress Binch was scrambling eggs.
‘Sorry,’ I said, still tucking my hair into my new coif.
She thrust the covered dish into my hands, eying me with disapproval. ‘Quick, before it goes cold.’
I grabbed the handles and went up.
Lady Katherine was sitting at the table, her face pink and flushed, but dressed like a lady should be, not even out of breath. I stopped dead, unable to believe it. I put down the dish and saw her unfold a napkin on her knee.
Mr Grice helped himself, noticing nothing amiss. ‘The salt, Chaplin.’ He mimed shaking the salt cellar over his food.
I did not register what he meant because I was too busy watching my mistress.
‘I said,
the salt.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘God preserve us from idiot servants.’
Lady Katherine stifled a smile.
13. A Hiding Place
Later, after I’d aired Lady Katherine’s bed, I made another search of the room. I prowled round the edges of the chamber but could see no other way out. She could not have walked through the wall like a ghost, could she? I paced back and forth in annoyance, until I realised one floorboard was shorter and more springy than the rest. I pressed on it with my boot again and it shifted. Squatting, I prised it up with my fingers and felt underneath. I touched something rough. A hessian bag.
I pulled it out and loosened the drawstring. My breath almost stopped. Inside the light caught the glint of gold coins and the sparkle of jewellery. The weight of it alone told me there was probably enough here to buy six strips of land.
My heart made a double beat. I’d have to tell someone. I glanced over my shoulder before I emptied out the contents into my apron. There was the thistle brooch belonging to Lady Ann, from the night Sir Simon got out the birch. I’d recognise that anywhere. And another necklace with stones that could be diamonds. Only I’d never seen a diamond, so I couldn’t be sure they weren’t just glass. They were stolen, I knew. But if I told someone, would they believe me? They might think I’d stolen them myself. I knew enough of the world to know it was always the servant’s fault.
I wondered if I could tell Jacob; after all his father was the constable. But if they believed me, what then? What would happen to Lady Katherine? I could not bear the thought of her being locked up. Her life was hard enough.
I could keep it. If these were real diamonds there would be enough for me to leave here, more than enough to buy a plot of land for Mother. But I dare not. It was too large a risk. Lady Katherine would know it was me and I’d be punished. Stealing from your employer was a hanging offence. And if you did something bad, I knew well enough the punishment would come quick and sure, like it had five years before. The Devil would blow on it with his bellows and the evil would come back tenfold.
Shadow on the Highway Page 11