‘Her family might be rich, but they’re all monsters. I think she was lonely. She wanted a little companionship, to be with people like us, young people with ideals she believes in. And she loves Ralph. She hasn’t said so, but I know she does.’
He looked up at me, and his eyes caught mine. Suddenly I was aware of us alone here in the room, the closeness of him, where I could almost touch him. He held my gaze, leaned closer in. I could not tear my eyes from his. A spark flew between us.
All at once, looking at his lips seemed brazen, far too intimate.
‘And here was I thinking you’d come to see me,’ he said.
I burned hot, unsure how to reply. I stood up and made a fuss of tucking my neckerchief into my bodice and tidying my hair under its cap. ‘I’ll be going then, I’ll go and see if I can visit Ralph.’
‘Hey, you’re running away,’ he said, smiling, reaching out a hand to stay me.
‘I’m not,’ I said crossly, shooting backwards out of the door, ‘it’s just I’ve got things to do.’ But I felt all out of kilter, as if someone had knocked me over and I wasn’t quite steady on my feet. I hurried to mount my pony, but he held its bridle for me with a calm hand.
‘You’re a strange one,’ he said. ‘Though you’re very pretty, Abigail Chaplin, did you know that?’
But perhaps I misheard.
18. Ladybird, Ladybird
Lady Katherine did not send for me again that night. I felt bad about having to tell her Ralph had given up the Diggers. She weighed on my mind. I wanted to give her some good news, so I tried again to get into Grice’s room to fetch out his letters. Rigg almost caught me and I had to whip out a kerchief and pretend I was dusting. He made a lunge for me, but I dodged under his arm, out of his way.
I felt at a loss, unsure what to do with no mistress to see to, so when I had finished my chores I went to my own garret. I could not sleep for worrying about Ralph, stuck in that cell. And Jacob hadn’t seemed optimistic about sweet-talking his father to get him out.
Jacob. I hoped he did not think me too forward, arriving like that on his threshold. He’d understand that it was only for Ralph, wouldn’t he? I remembered the feeling of sitting opposite him at his table, and felt myself blush all over again. He was so tall, and he made me feel so shivery inside. Was this love? I didn’t know.
Did Lady Katherine feel like this about my brother? I was pondering this when all of a sudden the thought struck me. Lady Katherine’s hoard of coin. It would be enough to get Ralph out.
Five minutes later I had wheedled my way past Pitman and I was in my mistress’s chamber. She was already dressed in her nightclothes, her hair tumbling about her shoulders.
‘Ralph’s in gaol. I wanted to tell you, but couldn’t get near you without Grice or his men hearing.’
Her eyebrows shot up, her face fell. ‘Grice?’
‘Yes. He had him arrested for blacking the servant’s eye. They want five pounds to buy his freedom.’
‘In God’s name! Why did you not tell me before? Can nothing be done?’
‘My wages won’t cover that, even if Grice saw fit to pay me, which so far he never has.’ She began to speak but I swept on. ‘You’ve got to get Ralph out.’
‘Me? I can’t –’
‘You’ve got money, coins, I know you have,’ I blurted.
‘No, I have nothing. I wish I had.’
‘What about under there?’ I pointed at the loose floorboard.
‘You…?’ She put her hand to her forehead. ‘Wait. Let me think.’
But I would not wait, I got down on my knees and pulled at the loose board. ‘There’s enough –’ The board came away. I was staring at a black empty hole.
I looked up at her. ‘Where is it?’
‘I tried to tell you. I don’t have it. It’s gone. When it went missing, I thought you’d taken it.’
‘Me? Why would I?’ I was outraged.
‘Keep your voice down, they’ll hear you. It’s not so foolish. After all you’re the one that knows about it, are you not?’
‘Yes, but I’d never steal from you.’ I could barely blurt out the words. ‘I don’t know how you can think that.’ I turned away in a sulk, but then swung round to fire back, ‘You’re the one that’s a thief, not I.’
She crushed a handful of her skirt in her fist and screwed it tight. Her face showed she was thinking, weighing up what I had said. She sighed and let the bunched fabric drop. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘At first I just wanted to scare Lady Ann – get back what she had taken. But afterwards it was such a comfort knowing I had something put away, that I could do something. If I ever needed to run away, I mean. I didn’t know how much longer I could bear it; the beatings when Sir Simon and Thomas were home.’ Her green eyes looked candidly into mine. ‘It was after I’d dressed as a servant girl. I realised, if I could disguise myself as one thing, why not another?’
I gasped in protest. ‘That’s right, try to blame it on me.’
She managed a smile. ‘No, I’m not, I swear. And then my pouch was stolen, and I hadn’t the heart to do it again. Not after meeting the Diggers. I kept thinking of what Ralph and Jacob would think. They were so upright and honest, not like my husband and his stepfather.’
‘They’re swine. Not gentlemen, despite their titles,’ I said. ‘But even so, I couldn’t have done it, ridden out like that in the dark.’
She sat on the bed. ‘The first time I nearly turned back. But I was mad with anger too, at the way Lady Ann had just taken my belongings as if it was her right. The anger fired my courage. When I put my pistol through the coach window and saw the fear on Lady Ann’s face, I almost laughed. I’d been scared of the Fanshawes so often. Now the boot was on the other foot for a change. It made me bold. But I vowed to myself I’d never steal again, that I’d try to be Kate, the girl Ralph was so proud to know.’
I pulled at a thread that dangled from my apron. I was thinking. If it wasn’t me who took the pouch, it had to be someone else. I remembered the shifty expression on Rigg’s face, and how Pitman had bundled something away into his pocket.
‘I think it was Grice’s servants who stole it. I saw Rigg come out of your room, looking like he’d done something he shouldn’t.’
She sighed. ‘It’s all right. I believe you. I know it wasn’t you.’
‘I’m telling you, it was Rigg and Pitman,’ I insisted.
‘It makes no difference. It’s gone now anyway, and we can’t exactly report it missing, can we?’ She knelt to put the floorboard back in its place. A few moments later she asked me, ‘Can nothing be done for Ralph?’
‘Not unless you can persuade Grice to drop the charges.’
‘I’ll try,’ she said. But we both knew that was hopeless.
*
At dawn I was woken by Mistress Binch shaking me. I was in the middle of a dream where I was stuck in a sinking ship and was slowly drowning. It took me a few moments to realise that she was telling me my sister Elizabeth was downstairs in the kitchen.
When I got down, Elizabeth was pacing the flagstones, pink-cheeked but tight-lipped with fury. She fired words at me like arrows.
‘You’ve to do something,’ she said. ‘Talk to Lady Katherine, tell them she can stay.’
I blinked, shook my head, not knowing what she meant, not sure I’d understood.
‘What have you done?’ Elizabeth said. ‘You’ve been dismissed, haven’t you?’
‘No! I don’t know what you’re talking about. Talk slowly, I can’t understand that gabble.’
From the corner of my eye I saw Mistress Binch, her eyes open wide, goggling at our conversation.
‘It’s Mother. Your precious Lady Katherine has thrown her out. No notice given, nothing. Just came yesterday afternoon and said to be out by noon.’
‘Who came? What are you talking about?’
‘Grice! And one of his flunkies. She’s frantic. Where will she go?’
I backed away to try and find a little space.
‘I don’t know anything about it, it’s nothing to do with me. It’s Ralph. He hit one of Grice’s men.’
‘Soon as I heard it was at the Manor, I knew you had something to do with it. You just can’t keep out of trouble, can you?’
I didn’t want to listen. ‘What about Father? Can’t he help?’
Elizabeth came closer until I was backed up against the kitchen wall. ‘He’s useless. He says he hasn’t got the time for it all now with the King’s troops bearing down on us. All he thinks about is the fighting. He says Mother’s to go to his sister’s, but you know she won’t. She hates Aunt Agnes. She says she’d rather join Ralph and his crazy Diggers. Except Ralph’s in gaol, isn’t he, thanks to you.’ She poked a finger into my chest. ‘I don’t know what’s been going on here, but I know it’s your doing, all this trouble. Just like last time.’
The barb hit home as she knew it would. It was true, I’d brought them all nothing but trouble. My sister always had the power to make me feel small. Tears sprang to my eyes.
Elizabeth’s mouth turned down in disgust. ‘Crying’s no use. You’ve to talk to Grice, beg him to reconsider. Tell him she’s nowhere to go.’
‘Now just a minute, young lady.’ Mistress Binch inserted her skinny frame between us. Elizabeth tried to step to one side, but Mistress Binch squared up to Elizabeth and looked her full in the face. ‘You can’t come in here upsetting everyone like that. Whatever’s gone on at home, it can’t be Abigail’s fault. She’s been right here working with me. Now if you can’t keep your tongue, you’d better get out of my kitchen.’
She looked so fierce that Elizabeth was momentarily speechless. I saw my sister’s mouth open and close in a stutter before she shouted at me, ‘You’d better do something. Unless you want Mother and the two little ones sleeping rough. She knows it’s you, doesn’t she? That Ralph going to gaol and all this is your fault, but she always says we’ve to make allowances. Allowances. Nobody ever made any allowances for me. I had to –’
‘Out.’ Mistress Binch pushed her through the open door and closed it firmly behind her.
When Mistress Binch turned to me my eyes were blurred so I couldn’t make out her words, but she took hold of me in a bony embrace and gave me a rag to blow my nose. I struggled out of her grip and managed to say, ‘Beg pardon, mistress.’
Her face had a soft look about it. ‘I can manage if you want to go and talk to Mr Grice. Tell you what, I’ll give you some of my hot lardy cakes. That will sweeten him up a bit.’
I wiped my face whilst she put two cakes on the griddle. When she handed them over she said, ‘He’s turned bitter, these last months, Mr Grice. He never used to be like that. He roused up a right rabble against those poor folks on the Common, them that were meeting in our old barn. I wished I’d never told him. They went for them like savages with picks and spades. Now this. Turning people out of their homes, it’s sinful. You get along now, see what you can do for your poor Ma.’
*
I took the platter to the library but Mr Grice was not there, and there was no sign of Lady Katherine. Perhaps he was in his room. I went up and knocked, pushing it open a fraction as I always did to see if he was in.
The room was empty. One of the letters that should have gone to Lady Katherine lay opened on the bed. I recognised Thomas’s handwriting. I glanced over my shoulder before putting down the plate and leaning over to read it. It was folded over so I could not read all of it, but I made out a few sentences,
‘…so Lady Ann’s manservant will check all is well with you until we can find a new overseer. Grice was insolent to my stepfather last time they met and he has been told to look for employment elsewhere. I am afraid that despite his long service with the family, we simply cannot keep him on…’
A sixth sense alerted me to something behind me and I snatched up the plate. Grice glared at me and I took an involuntary step away.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’ve brought you some hot lardy cakes,’ I said, acting simple.
‘No. I didn’t ask for any. They must be for Lady Katherine.’ He waved me away. ‘Stupid girl,’ I saw him mutter.
His look told me he wasn’t going to listen, but I ploughed on regardless. ‘Excuse me Sir, but about my mother…’ I planted my feet firmly, hoped I didn’t look as scared as I felt. ‘You gave her notice. Won’t you think again, Sir?’
‘Do you dare to question what I do? I told you. Unruly tenants won’t be tolerated. Get back to your mistress.’
‘But I –’
He lunged towards the door with his arm raised as if he would strike me. I closed the door in his face with my free hand and the lardy cakes shot off the plate and onto the floor.
As I was picking them up Mr Grice came out of his room and almost tripped over me. I cringed away from him as I saw a stream of expletives come from his mouth.
It was only then that the words of Thomas’s letter sunk in. Grice had been dismissed. He shouldn’t be here giving me orders at all.
*
I told Mistress Binch what I had read, but I could see she didn’t want to believe me.
‘You must be mistaken,’ she kept saying. ‘He wouldn’t do that – come here and take charge. Not if he’s no right to. And Sir Simon wouldn’t give him notice – he’s worked for them forever.’ Her face was troubled, uncertain.
‘He’s never given me a single penny in wages,’ I said.
We stared at each other a moment.
‘Nor me, neither. Not for the last few months.’
‘And he won’t relent – about my mother, I mean.’
Mistress Binch dried her hands. ‘Never mind the polishing today, you’d best get on home. See if you can help your Ma. I’ll manage. I need time to think.’
*
When I got to our cottage, the door was planked and nailed shut. The lace had gone from the front window, so it stared at me like a blank eye. It gave me an ache in my stomach when I pressed my nose to the window and saw only an empty room.
Neighbours told me my family were staying at the smith’s house for the night. When I went there I saw the handcart outside with my father’s fireside chair loaded on it, and the crib, and the rest of our possessions all on view for everyone to see on the street. It was shaming, that we owned so little. Through the window I saw my mother sitting at their kitchen table feeding William. She looked exhausted.
I could not bear to go in. To see her sad face, and to know it was all my fault again. Elizabeth was right. If I hadn’t lent Lady Katherine my clothes then Ralph wouldn’t have fallen for Kate and then he wouldn’t have hit Pitman and none of this would have happened. I turned away from the window and walked away in the gathering dusk.
When I first came to the Manor, I’d come to try and make it right – to put the past behind me and make amends to Mother for what I’d done all those years before. But all I’d done now was make it worse.
It had been an evening just like this one, warm and brooding, with the corn dry as tinder, that I’d made the spell. Was it only five years ago? It seemed so much longer. I stopped to catch my breath and leaned over the kissing gate. I remembered it as if it was yesterday.
‘My sampler’s better than yours,’ Elizabeth had said.
She was right of course, because she was older and quicker, and I knew Mistress Maple, our governess, would be sure to give the prize – the box of confits – to her. I was a slow stitcher, but neat, and so I thought if only Elizabeth could be ill for a few days, then I would be able to catch up.
Mother’s recipe books had some spells at the back too, written there by a well-meaning neighbour and these were my favourite reading. I remembered the writing so well, the faded spidery hand, the lists of unlikely ingredients. The feeling that you could hold a sprinkle of magic right there in your hand. And one recipe in particular had stuck in my memory – the title at the top of the page – ‘to cure sicknesse of the stomache, or to give it.’
‘To give it.’ That set me thin
king. The recipe was easy, only common herbs such as we already had in our well-stocked larder. The hardest part would be to go into Elizabeth’s room at night. She hated me going in her room, probably because she feared I might find the little tweezers she used to pluck her brows into a bow-shape, the tint of madder she used for her lips.
On the night I did it, I could hear my family beneath me, voices and laughter, my mother chuckling at a joke my father made. It was the last time I heard that sound. For as I was grinding my spirit of buckthorn, my wild garlic, the bulb of wormwood together in the pestle, thinking it was all a great game, I had taken no heed of the candle I had left burning on the window ledge. The window was open to give a little air and the flame flailed and flickered. I did not see the danger, even then.
I waited until the whole house was sleeping and I could hear father’s snores before I went to Elizabeth’s chamber. In those days she had her own small room in the eaves – a room she guarded jealously from the prying eyes of her little sister. All I had to do was to place the foul-smelling bundle on Elizabeth’s stomach as she slept and remove it before she woke. I remember sneaking across the landing, a delicious giggly feeling inside. I did not know then that casting spells was wicked.
Next thing I knew, the stairwell was full of smoke and the servants running hither and thither with brooms and buckets. Father’s shouts and mother’s screams as Father tried to fight his way into my chamber, thinking I was still asleep in there. The fire had taken hold already and orange flames and heat pushed him back. When I appeared in the hall, still clutching mother’s recipe book, he cried, ‘God be praised!’ and he hugged me until I was breathless before thrusting me coughing into the night.
The neighbours were too slow with their fire buckets, and what with dealing with Martha and William, Mother could not help. Elizabeth stood by me in her nightdress, a damp green stain over her stomach, and just stared.
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