by Annis Bell
She squatted next to Fiona, who took out an old newspaper from under the bushes. “Ta-da! The latest news from the outside world! Ain’t I a star?”
“You’re the best, Fiona, but listen . . .” Mary told her what had just happened in the classroom.
“And you didn’t mention me?”
“No, I already told you!”
“Good! I just wanted to make sure! I don’t want the camel or that bastard Cooper dragging me out of bed at night, stuffing me in a sack, and dumping me in the river!”
“Stop it, you’re scaring me!” Mary spread out the newspaper. There were stories about sittings of parliament, the uprising in Poland, newly opened railway lines, the launch of the navy’s biggest three-master, and a drowned teacher in Cornwall.
“Fiona, look!” Mary pointed excitedly at the little article about the death of a teacher from the orphanage in Bodmin.
Fiona read through the short article quickly. “Tch, poor lass. Left in the lurch and would rather throw ’erself in the drink than live in shame. What’s it to you?”
“Maybe it isn’t just that. I was thinking of poor Miss Fannigan. I mean, I told her about the things that Cooper put in the sack, and if she goes to the master now . . . I’m afraid, Fiona.” Mary rubbed her hand on her belly. “It hurts in here, and I can’t do anything about it. That’s fear!”
For a moment, the two girls sat side by side in silence. Finally, Fiona said, “Let’s wait and see. If we get all barmy about this, it ain’t going to ’elp nobody. They mustn’t know what we’re thinking. You know what they’ll do with us then.”
“And what about the transport? Where do they send the children?” Mary asked quietly.
“Oh, I’ve been asking round over there. I was talking to a poor sod from Launceston who was breaking stones, and ’e told me ’e knows about ships that sail English children off to the colonies. Off to America, Africa, and Australia, ’e said. They say it’s ’cause they’re better off over there, but people say it’s just a way to get cheap workers. They’re sold by the Salvation Army and the orphanages.”
“But the girl from yesterday was so small!”
Fiona shrugged. “Don’t matter to them. The trip takes ages anyway, so they’re nearly a year older by the time they arrive.” She laughed bitterly. “We’re goods, Mary, no more than cheap goods. But I’ll tell you one thing, no one’s shipping me off nowhere! I know my way round ’ere. If you’re poor, the world’s a shit ’ole wherever you go. Them in America, they’re no better than the ones ’ere. Take my word for it!”
“How do you know that? Maybe it really is nicer over there.”
“Why should it be? Where did the people who live there come from? From ’ere, all of ’em! No, Mary. I’m staying in the shit ’ole I know.”
20.
“The captain is a handsome man, ma’am, if I may say so.” Hettie was kneeling before Jane, helping her unlace her boots. After Wescott rode off to visit the gamekeeper, Jane had gone out for another walk, and her boots were wet and dirty from her trek across the fields.
Jane was working on the fasteners on her jacket, but the tiny, cloth-covered buttons had also gotten damp and were almost impossible to push through their loops. “He wanted to speak to Blythe.” She sniffed. “I would have done it myself, but no sooner does he arrive than he starts interfering.”
With a skillful twist, Hettie pulled off the first boot. “He’s your husband, and he’s worried about you.”
“We have—,” Jane began, then stopped. Hettie knew a lot about her and was her confidante in most matters, but Jane had spoken to no one about the special circumstances of her marriage to Wescott. Even Alison, her best friend, didn’t know. After the death of her uncle, it was one thing on top of another, and a matter like that was not something to write about in a letter. She would have to invite Alison to visit, soon.
“He has his life and I have mine, Hettie. That’s the way it is.”
Hettie looked up in surprise. “He won’t be staying? I mean, you’ve had no time at all together, no honeymoon.” She grinned. “And I was hoping so much that you would travel to Italy, like the fine people do. Lady Alison was in Rome, wasn’t she?”
Jane tugged nervously at the buttons, accidentally ripping one off. She threw it angrily onto the dressing table. “Oh, to blazes with it! No, get that out of your head. There will be no honeymoon! I really have other things on my mind. Where is your head?”
Shocked at her mistress’s unaccustomed outburst, Hettie lowered her head and pulled off the other boot. “May I help you with those?” Gingerly, she reached for the lowest button on the damp woolen cloth.
Jane leaned back to make it easier for Hettie. “Cousin Matthew’s demands are deeply unsettling, Hettie. Then Floyd’s accident, and the whole matter of the dead girl, and Miss Shepard, and, oh, it’s all just too much!”
“But isn’t it good to have some support?” Hettie cautiously interjected.
With a sigh, Jane relented. “Perhaps. It’s a new situation for me. I have to get used to it first.”
Wescott was little more than a stranger, and she hoped very much that she would not have cause to regret her impulsive decision to marry him. On the other hand, she trusted her instincts about people—they had never let her down. Whatever secrets he might be harboring, he was no fraud.
“How is Floyd? Has he eaten?”
“Yes, ma’am. He said he’d get fat if we kept stuffing him like that, but he is following the doctor’s orders. Oh, look, there he is now!” Hettie was standing closer to the window and could look down onto the yard.
“Wescott?” Jane’s breathing grew a touch faster.
“No, the doctor.”
“Ah, good. He should stay for dinner.” Jane let Hettie help her out of the tight bodice and stood up. While Hettie unlaced the corset, Jane told her, “Run down to Mrs. Roche and tell her that we will be having two guests for dinner. Her meals are excellent. I don’t think I’m going to be needing a new cook after all.”
“I won’t be telling her that, ma’am!” said Hettie. “Shall I draw a bath?”
“Yes, do that.”
Once Hettie was gone, Jane stepped in front of the full-length mirror and ran her hands over the contours of her narrow hips. Would a man be pleased with what he saw here? Her body was firm, her breasts small and round, perhaps not quite ample enough, but her legs were slim. Horses with slim fetlocks were valued, and if they had a little temperament as well, it was considered a good mixture. Not for women, though, thought Jane and turned away. But then again . . . No, no man would look twice at her, because no man could tell her how to live her life. She lifted her chin, threw her long locks back over her shoulders, and stepped over to the window.
Wisps of fog swept over the land from the sea, and the sun gleamed weakly behind an overcast sky. The smell of the sea mingled with the cries of gulls. Jane felt already that she had formed a deep attachment to the region. The house may not have been the most beautiful, nor the grounds, but it was her land and her house. Her parents had bought it as a place to live one day. Matthew could not be allowed to take it from her!
Shortly before eight, Hettie plucked at the velvet trim of Jane’s exquisite evening dress. It was a deep violet and shimmered like mother-of-pearl, a compromise during this time of mourning to which Jane still felt herself bound. A “Swiss belt” was the name for the broad serrated waistband, adorned with silken tassels, that emphasized Jane’s slender midriff.
“You look especially beautiful tonight, ma’am. The captain won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.” Her maid stepped back and put her clasped hands to her lips.
“Thank you, Hettie. Take Rufus outside for a little while, and ask Floyd if he needs anything. No, even better, just take him a whisky and something to nibble. That will cheer him up. The poor man has been so fidgety since he’s been confined to bed.”
“Yes, ma’am.” As if he had understood Jane’s words, Rufus snuffled and stood up. He trotted obediently to the door with Hettie, and Jane held it open for them.
Jane opened the jewelry box on her dressing table. She was considering what would go best with the solemn dress when she heard a knock at the door. “It’s open, Hettie, come in!” she called, without turning.
The door opened and closed, but the steps didn’t sound like Hettie’s. Jane froze for a moment, then turned around so fast she knocked a hairbrush from the table. These sweeping skirts make it impossible to move normally, Jane thought, as she bent to pick up the brush. Wescott was faster.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a fright,” he said as he deftly fished the silver brush from behind the leg of a chair and placed it back on the table beside Jane. His voice was husky and full of warmth.
She noticed that he had taken a bath. His hair was still wet, and he had shaved and changed his clothes. He now wore a dark frock coat and matching trousers. Only the brown velvet vest and loosely knotted scarf around his neck showed that he was traveling lightly, and also that he placed little store in formalities.
Jane pulled herself together. She closed the lid of the jewelry box and took a step to the side. “Captain.”
“Jane, I wanted to talk to you before dinner. Doctor Woodfall will be joining us, won’t he?”
“Yes, I thought he might. Are you looking forward to that?”
Wescott nodded. His eyes roamed the room and came to rest on hers. “We knew each other in another time, Jane, in Crimea. In war, everything is turned on its head. The whole world feels out of joint. Nothing is the way it was before, nor will it ever be the same again.” He touched his cheek, then let his hand fall and went across to the window. “A wonderful view. This estate has potential.”
“There’s still an awful lot to be done. I hope your room is all right for now,” she said, self-consciously checking the line of her wide décolletage.
“Thank you. I have everything I need.” He turned back to her. “I’ve spoken to the gamekeeper, Blythe.”
“Oh, yes?”
“He keeps very much to himself, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with him. That said, he keeps quite a few pens of deer, pheasants, and partridges. Do they organize a lot of hunts here? That ought to be checked, at least. He seemed genuinely appalled at your butler’s accident. He thinks someone fired a shot to startle the horse intentionally.”
“I’ve been thinking the same.”
“He believes the miller’s brother is responsible. Perhaps avenging his sister. By dismissing the cook, you seem to have slighted the entire Thomas clan.”
“I will not allow myself to be intimidated!”
Wescott smiled. “No, clearly not. If you ask me, the people here don’t know who they’re dealing with.”
“Don’t make fun of me, sir,” Jane snapped back.
“That was never my intent. I would not be standing here if I did not have the greatest respect for you.” He took a step toward her, took her hand, and held it between them for a moment. He seemed to be having difficulty finding words. “Our agreement requires us to appear and to act as a married couple would, and I would ask you not to address me formally. If that would be acceptable to you, Jane?”
She pulled her hand free and looked at him doubtfully. What did he really want? Was this a trick to seduce her, to wrap her up and force her to submit to his will?
He seemed to read her thoughts, for he tipped his head to one side and grinned. “Don’t worry, my intentions are entirely honorable. It is just that I know Richard Woodfall well and am on very familiar terms with him. It would seem strange if you and I were to address each other with anything other than our given names.”
Jane sighed with relief. “Of course. I understand. And what are we to do about Fred Thomas? Should I inform the police? If I do that, I’ll no doubt turn the whole village against me.”
“That would certainly not be helpful. Perhaps you should come with me to London for a time.”
“No!”
He frowned. “You’re in danger here, Jane. Are you not aware of that?”
“There is no solid proof of that, not yet. Just suspicions. And I will not let anyone drive me away from here! Certainly not now. Do you understand that, David?” There was a pleading edge to her words.
Wescott gestured toward the door. “Shall we go down? We don’t want the doctor to starve for our sake.” He offered her his arm, and Jane placed her hand on his sleeve. “By the way, you look absolutely captivating, if I may say so.”
“That is not an answer,” she said, her voice now lower as they stepped out into the hallway.
“If the question was whether I understood you, then an answer is unnecessary, isn’t it?”
She glanced angrily at him from the corner of her eye, and they descended the stairs in silence. As they entered the dining room, where the doctor was already waiting for them, she greeted her guest with a smile. “My apologies, Doctor. We’ve kept you waiting. I hope I can make up for it by bringing an old friend along.”
Richard Woodfall was overjoyed to see Wescott again, and the two men embraced in a hearty greeting.
“My God, David, how long has it been? You look fantastic! Who would have thought? Excuse me, my lady, but I saw your husband in such a state that I hardly hoped to—”
Wescott cut him off with a dismissive gesture. When he spoke, there was a certain warning in his words. “Let’s drop it, Richard. No war stories, not when there are ladies present.”
The doctor eyed his old friend and then said, “Where are my manners? Your butler is doing much better, my lady. No infection, and the break is healing cleanly. If he’s careful, he can even take a few steps. He is beset with the idea of resuming his duties.”
Jane laughed. “Yes, that’s our Floyd. I am so happy that he’s recovering. Please, let’s sit down.”
She let Wescott guide her to a chair, and as she sat his fingers touched her bare back. The touch was so brief, little more than a whisper of air, but it felt to Jane like an apology, and her anger at her husband evaporated.
Jane noted the care that had been put into setting the table: a tiered dish lavishly filled with candied and fresh fruit, the silverware freshly polished, glasses gleaming. Without being asked, the serving girl poured champagne that Jane did not even know they had. Hors d’oeuvres were tasty fried oysters, which raised Jane’s hopes for the course of the evening. She had discussed the menu only briefly with Mrs. Roche. The letter to Mr. Tobin had seemed more important.
“It’s a damn scandal they let Lucan off the hook,” said Woodfall and drained his glass of champagne.
“But you could see it coming. The commanders get off scot-free every time. It makes no difference how many soldiers die from their incompetence,” Wescott answered bitterly.
“At least Lucan has left active service.”
Wescott’s mouth twisted in disgust. “There are enough others out there. Another one will get promoted, and it will happen all over again in the next battle. There will always be inept, puffed-up idiots like Lucan, and unfortunately their families have most of the money.”
Jane looked at her husband curiously. His father, after all, was among England’s richest men. Then she turned to the doctor. “Is that why you turned your back on the army, Doctor? Because you saw how senseless all that sacrifice was?”
Woodfall leaned back and turned his glass back and forth. “I studied medicine because I wanted to help people. We don’t understand misery and disease enough without a war, my lady. Where’s the sense in robbing a family of its breadwinner? It doesn’t matter which country.”
“Careful, Richard. That sounds awfully close to treason. You haven’t been in London for quite a while, have you?”
Woodfall ran his hand through his blo
nd hair. “I don’t miss it. Well, perhaps the theater season. My wife would love to spend more time there, but the sea air is better for her.” A shadow settled over his face.
“Is your wife sick? I’m sorry,” said Jane with sympathy.
“What? No. I mean, she is not well, but it’s in her family. Nerves.” He looked at her, his face dejected. “Maybe you can come and visit us sometime, then you’ll see for yourself. My wife is afflicted with epilepsy, and the only thing that can ease her suffering is morphine.”
It did not escape Jane that Woodfall and Wescott exchanged a glance, as if they shared a secret. Epilepsy was a rather dramatic disease and was generally considered incurable.
“And what a blessing it is . . . a medicine that has helped so many cope with such serious pain.” Jane waved to the waiting maid to serve the next course.
Wescott’s expression grew darker, and Woodfall said, “I would not talk about morphine as a blessing, my lady. It certainly has its advantages, but it quickly becomes a habit among patients, which leads to new problems. But we don’t want to spoil our evening with such depressing topics, do we? Where did you two get off to on your honeymoon? I wish I could travel down to Rome this summer! I love the coast down there. Blue water, colorful houses, and the sun shines the whole day!”
Jane laughed. “I’m starting to understand why everyone here is so mad about the sun! I must say, though, when it does come out, I find this area absolutely stunning.”
“We haven’t yet had the time to travel anywhere, Richard. Jane’s uncle passed away very suddenly,” Wescott said.
There was a scratching at the door, and when the maid opened it, Rufus pushed his big head through the gap. Jane clicked her tongue, and the huge dog trotted over and lay on the carpet beside her.