Macbeth's Niece

by Peg Herring

  Chapter Six

  By the time the little ship sailed up the Humber, the weather had warmed considerably. They were far south of Inverness, of course, and spring was farther advanced. Flowers had begun to peep out of the hedges and roadsides, many Tessa had never seen before, and their fragrance wafted over them as they journeyed along to the west.

  They left the ship at Kingston Upon Hull and traveled on in a small fishing boat Brixton hired to take them up the Ouse to York. Brixton Hall was actually south of the town somewhat, so Tessa did not glimpse the sights young Rob had described so glowingly. The home of the Brixtons was made of stone, as befitted their station. Rising two stories in height, it was stately but not ornate, large but not grand. Set back from the riverbank far enough to avoid floodwaters, it was near enough for convenient travel and provisioning. Trees as yet only lightly green formed a backdrop, making a charming frame for the house. At the east side were gardens and on the west various outbuildings.

  Not truly a castle, the house was defensible enough, with strong outer doors that led into an entryway with a second set of doors. There being no immediate threat, both sets stood open, facing the river so Tessa could see directly into the great hall.

  Jeffrey Brixton straightened and dusted his tunic with both hands, then helped Tessa out of the boat and led her up the path to the house. She felt very nervous, as she had when approaching Macbeth’s castle, only worse, since these people were not family, but enemies.

  “Say nothing at all until I’ve had the chance to explain,” Brixton ordered. She resented his tone, but the anger that welled up helped her face her fears. “It’s not that she won’t take you, but she shouldn’t think I assumed she would. Even if I did,” he admitted.

  Tessa recalled Jeffrey’s journal had revealed he loved this Eleanor who was married to his brother. She ignored him as if he had not spoken.

  The great hall, the home’s center of activity, was a large, sparsely furnished room where everyone passed on their way to everywhere else. The ceiling was two stories high, useful for dispersing the smoke in winter. Around the edges of the hall were small rooms, or closets, where various people slept. A spiral staircase circled up one side of the room, and there were more closets upstairs, these slightly larger, for family members. No room was terribly large, for that would make it hard to heat in winter. At the back of the hall were the fireplace and a door to the cookhouse outside, where meals were prepared.

  Later a servant would explain to Tessa that Brixton Hall, like other modern homes, had a specially designed “water closet” on the second story where the back wall of the house was extended a few feet and a board with a hole in it laid across the span. Tessa would come to appreciate this improvement to the outhouses she had experienced all her life.

  At that moment Eleanor Brixton appeared on the stair, and Tessa saw why she held Jeffrey’s heart. Here was a lady from a fairy tale, one Banaugh might have described in his stories of Tristan. Tall, willowy, and fair, she seemed to float downstairs as she hurried to embrace Jeffrey.

  “Dear little brother!” She laughed as she greeted him, and well she could laugh, for she didn’t look a day older than he. Her blue eyes sparkled and her skin was perfectly white with only a faint flush of happiness at his appearance. “I wish you had warned us of your arrival. I have made no preparations, and William is away.”

  “All the better,” Jeffrey answered deliberately. “I would have neither of you go out of your way for me.” But he embraced her warmly, and Tessa could see affection in his eyes. A very different man than she had seen thus far.

  “And have you brought home a wife, then?” Eleanor stepped back and examined Tessa. Her gaze was good-humored, and no jealousy showed in her face. Tessa knew her appearance could not be flattering after days aboard ship, and she blushed under Eleanor’s gaze. The lady herself was elegantly turned out in a dun-colored dress with long, tight sleeves and softly draped skirt. A simple garment, but on Eleanor it was transformed into loveliness. While Tessa had hurriedly braided her thick hair into two long plaits as the best she could do, Eleanor’s blond hair was gathered smoothly at the back of her neck and tied up in a snood of the same color as her dress. To her credit, the lady seemed not to notice Tessa’s disheveled state.

  “No, this is no wife of mine,” Jeffrey responded to Eleanor’s question. “She is the niece of a friend, who asked me to watch over her while he is on business.”

  Eleanor’s eyebrows rose. “This friend left a young female in the care of a man only a few years older? Is he mad? He can’t know you as I do, and trust you would not harm her.” Tessa, searching for clues to their relationship, reacted to the lady’s assumption. Was she so sure of his love that she had no doubts as to his fidelity?

  Tessa almost spoke, but Brixton’s grip on her arm tightened. “The Scots’ ways are different from ours.”

  “I would say so,” was the woman’s reply. “But Jeffrey, she cannot travel around England with you willy-nilly. She must stay here with us until it’s time for her to return to her family.”

  The grip on Tessa’s arm relaxed a bit. He’d got what he wanted. Tessa guessed he was used to it, with his looks and the charm he exuded when it suited. “You are kind, Eleanor, as always.” He smiled wryly. “Truthfully, I hoped you would ask. The girl is a detriment to my work.”

  “Then it’s settled. Will you introduce us, or must we acquaint ourselves?”

  Jeffrey’s handsome face showed consternation and his feet shuffled nervously as he struggled for an answer and finally gave up. “Acquaint yourself with her, Eleanor, for I’m blessed if I know the girl’s name.”

  Eleanor looked confused, then incredulous, then amused. “Jeffrey, Jeffrey,” she admonished. “What other man could travel from Scotland with a lovely young woman and never think to ask her name?” She turned to Tessa. “I apologize for my brother-in-law. He thinks only of war and combat and has no time for the fair sex. I am Eleanor Brixton, and I welcome you to Brixton Hall.”

  Tessa responded unconsciously to the first kindness she’d experienced in days. “I thank you, Madame. I am Tessa of the clan macFindlaech, and I appreciate being in the company of civilized folk once more.” She glanced at Brixton as she said this, and he rolled his eyes in aggravation. Eleanor saw but went on without comment, taking Tessa’s arm and leading her into the house.

  In a very few minutes, Tessa was established in a small closet off the main hall which held a pallet, a stand with a pitcher and basin, a peg for her cloak, and a stool. Eleanor, noticing she had no personal belongings, gave Jeffrey a probing look and promised a hairbrush and other items she would need. She then left Tessa to rest, telling her a bell would ring when the evening meal was ready. “You must sit beside me, Mistress macFindlaech, so I can learn more about you,” Eleanor said in farewell.

  Tessa found she actually needed rest, for though she’d had little activity on the two boats, she’d slept fitfully due to the movement of the waves and her own disquiet. Nodding, she wondered briefly what Jeffrey Brixton would tell his sister-in-law when they were alone. How would he explain her to his lover?

  When Tessa awoke, there was a small pile of items on the stool beside her pallet. She was delighted to find a clean dress and undershift, both long for her, which she took to mean they were Eleanor’s own. The dress was a deep blue, and a girdle of bleached hemp was folded inside it. There was a rough cloth to wash with, and the water in the pitcher was warm. She washed, put on the clean clothes, and brushed her hair, putting into its heavy waves two combs made of some type of shell. The last gift, a pair of soft slippers, were also too big, but she could keep them on if she shuffled a bit.

  As she finished her toilette, the bell rang for dinner, and Tessa pulled back the curtain to find the hall transformed. The trestles had been brought out, and the boards laid across them were laden with food. Some people milled about, some hurried back and forth with more trays of food, and still others were already at table, their knives read
y.

  Eleanor spotted Tessa and gave her brother-in-law a push in her direction. Reluctantly, Jeffrey approached Tessa and offered his arm. He spoke sidewise to her as they moved to their places. “Eleanor knows your story, for I could not lie to her. She will tell no one else the truth and will treat you as a guest. If you insist on airing your troubles, I will take you off in the morning and leave you in an alley in York where you may fend for yourself. It’s your choice.”

  What choice was that? Tessa asked herself as she looked at the tables crowded with alien, curious faces. No one here was going to help her get back to Scotland to warn her uncle that the English and Norwegians were plotting with rebels to overthrow the king. She was alone in a country of enemies, or at the very least, not friends. “I understand,” she told Brixton. “But you must understand that someday I will repay you for the ruin of my life. I have nothing now, no family, no home, and no reputation, and it is your doing.” This last was whispered in a hiss, as they kept the appearance of amity between them.

  Jeffrey, his face a mask and his arm stiff beneath Tessa’s, seated her next to Eleanor and went to his own place across the table. When she looked at him next, the expression of amused scorn was back, as if to let her know Jeffrey Brixton was not one to succumb to threats or worry about earning the hatred of one small Scottish girl. She turned to the meal, but the food was oddly tasteless and the wine bitter on her tongue.

  The next morning Tessa awoke early, before most of the household was astir. She had always been an early riser and liked the quiet time in the morning when no one else was about. After briefly exploring the castle, she decided to walk outside and orient herself so that if the chance to escape ever came, she would be familiar with the grounds and the habits of the workers. Pulling her cape from its peg by the door, she stepped out into the mist.

  Being a mountain girl, Tessa was used to morning fog, thick and damp, which chilled as one passed through it. The difference in York was the elevation. The fog was thinner, more ethereal, like dust settled on the countryside. She expected it would pass off more quickly than at home, since the land was much flatter hereabouts. Once that happened, she saw, the day would be pleasant. Passing buildings they’d come by the day before, she saw all the crafts essential to country living: a blacksmith, a leather worker, a brewer, and various others. Most had begun to stir, opening doors and checking the weather, some sniffing the air testily, others peering at the sky with speculative eye, a few apparently with eyes not yet focused. Farther off, on the riverbank, was a mill operated by the power of the flowing water, and behind the house were the stables, far enough removed to lessen the odor of manure but close enough for convenience.

  Between the river and the house was a vegetable garden, as yet unplanted but showing evidence of preparation: turned soil and tools scattered about. Closer in was a low wall separating the house from its surroundings, and here lay the flower garden. Again, not much variety yet, just early daffodils and jonquils, but it was quite large, with stones laid out for walkways and trees and bushes of various heights to provide interest and privacy. It would be lovely when the sun shone and one could see the whole without the tendrils of mist that obscured parts of it. Someone cared deeply about encouraging the beauty of nature, and Tessa knew instinctively it must be Eleanor herself.

  Following the pathway with head down, the girl almost missed the sound of murmured voices, which she later thought would have been most embarrassing—to be caught eavesdropping on Jeffrey Brixton a second time! As it was, she stopped short and stepped between two lilac bushes already green with early leaves. The two people who passed her unknowingly, just a few feet away, were Jeffrey and his sister-in-law Eleanor, walking arm in arm and talking softly. Tessa heard the words, “—doesn’t understand me at all,” from Eleanor.

  “It’s a pity for a woman such as you to be unappreciated,” was Jeffrey’s answer. “My brother is a fool.” It was said with decision, but no vehemence, as if he had said it many times before.

  Eleanor sighed. “Oh, it could be worse. He doesn’t beat me or force me to live in London and watch his affairs. I am content to be here where I am free to do as I please each day. Still, it’s a pity he is not on better terms with his brothers. To keep you all penniless is his shame, not yours. He should at least provide for your needs so you have the means to take your rightful place in society.”

  “But he’d have to give me a few acres of land then, and that he will not do,” Jeffrey growled. “It doesn’t matter. I’d rather earn my way with my sword than attend him as Aidan does.” His voice changed to a different tone. “I don’t mind the soldier’s life, really, except it leaves the work of managing this place to you alone.”

  “And I miss you when you are away and worry for your safety. But that is life, and one may as well accept what one has and find the good in it. You were here for a day, and you have left me a companion, little Tessa.”

  Jeffrey snorted and the sound of their steps paused. Tessa jumped as a small rock came clattering toward her. She froze, but Jeffrey had thrown it idly, unaware she stood on the other side of the lilac. “Companion? Problem. I hope the minx does not annoy you too much.”

  “She seems intelligent despite her rural speech and ways,” was Eleanor’s reply. “We’ll get on well enough, I think.” Eleanor had spoken to Tessa kindly at dinner the night before, adroitly explaining her appearance at Brixton Manor to the household. The story was that Tessa had come to visit, being the daughter of an old friend of Eleanor’s. She had traveled with an elderly waiting-woman as chaperone, but the woman fell ill near York and therefore stayed behind. Tessa had come on in Jeffrey’s protection, being anxious to arrive, and the other lady would return to Scotland when she recovered.

  Tessa had been surprised at Eleanor’s calm spinning of this string of untruths, and it sounded totally believable when accompanied by the lady’s serene composure. Tessa was grateful for the lie, for Eleanor had made it possible for her to keep her reputation, at least as far as anyone in England knew. It seemed the lady of the manor would do anything for Jeffrey.

  “I can’t tell you how grateful I am you will take her off my hands,” Jeffrey said now as he turned to Eleanor and took both her hands in his, “but I must go. Old Matt should have my horse brought round by now.”

  They moved off, and Tessa digested what she’d heard. First and foremost, she was stung by how glad Jeffrey was to be rid of her. Second, she’d confirmed to her satisfaction that he and Eleanor were lovers behind the back of her husband, his brother. What sort of man cuckolded his own brother? The sort who abducted helpless girls, that’s who. She imagined the tearful farewell taking place at the manor gate, Jeffrey leaving his love to go off to war. Eleanor would surely be a wreck at breakfast.

  On the contrary, Lady Eleanor was composed when they met for the morning meal, which consisted of oatmeal, a rasher of bacon, milk, and aromatic, freshly baked bread. Eleanor merely announced that Jeffrey had left for Norway very early. Tessa was oddly disappointed he was gone, and oddly content that Lady Brixton was her usual, gracious self. She ate heartily, watching Eleanor and copying her manners, remembering the comment about her rural ways.