He hadn’t cried since that day, not even when he heard his father grieving for his lost love in the dark hours of the night, or in the morning when he found him lying in sloth beside the empty whiskey bottle. That had frightened him, for he did not know how to help. Sophie did, for she hugged their pa and shed childish tears with him, but she had been dry-eyed since, not showing her feelings.
He tried not to mind when his pa had turned away, saying that Charlie reminded him too much of Charlotte, and yet he took Sophie of his knee and called her his beautiful girl, and they laughed and cried together.
Uncle Lucius had liked Charlie, but couldn’t cope with Sophie, and he’d never explained why she had been sent to the convent. She just went one day when Charlie was at his lessons. When she returned, Uncle Tom came to Ireland to collect them; and in the morning, he would take them away.
Despite what Uncle Tom said, Charlie couldn’t return. He’d never before appreciated Linmore as he did now. He hoped that Aunt Jane wouldn’t disown them for Sophie had no one else if anything happened to him. That’s what bothered him.
“Are you going to join the army?” Sophie sounded a long way away.
“So they tell me,” he said.
“Can I come with you and follow the drum?”
“Yes,” said Charlie. “It’ll be you and me together again, just like it was before.”
“Mmm…” she murmured in a sleepy voice. “I’ll tell Aunt Winifred that’s what we’ve decided we’re going to do. Don’t worry; I’ve got plenty of money…”
CHAPTER 25
It was after dark when the word came for Joshua to go downstairs. The Hall servants were all at supper, so none but his father and Gilbert saw him leave the house in William Rufus’s company, or set off across the back drive towards Aunt Jane’s cottage in the woodland.
She greeted him with a hug, and spoke for a few minutes before departing with William Rufus, in the gig, for the Hall.
“I don’t know how much you are aware of our plans, but tomorrow morning, your father and I are taking Charlie and Sophie to stay with Aunt Winifred. He must remain in London because Parliament is in session, but I will return as soon as can be. We will talk then. What you must know is that Ed Salter is here in the cottage. Jessie will nurse him with help from William Rufus and Sergeant Percival. We felt this was the best place to maintain discretion, and allow Dr Althorpe to visit in private.”
“How is Ed?” he said, terrified of what he might hear.
She hesitated before saying, “The physician has stitched the wound and he’s under sedation.”
“Will he be all right? I mean…”
“Yes, I know what you mean, and we must pray that he is.”
With that Joshua had to be content. Sleep was long in coming. He felt empty inside but he relived every moment of the previous day and felt every punch and kick to his ribs that Charlie had given him that would show as a bruise in the morning.
His mind was fixed on the moment when Charlie snatched up the knife; seeing Matthew Norbery all over again, on that far-off day as a child when his brother had similarly threatened him and Jessie stepped between them. William Rufus had interceded a few minutes later to save his sister’s life, but she still bore the scars.
He felt sick to the core, knowing that someone else was the innocent victim of an attack intended for him, but now it was Ed Salter who had borne the brunt…and every time he saw the man in the future he would remember.
In the morning when Jessie gave him breakfast, she said. “I heard you moithering in the night, so you’d better come and see Ed for yourself.”
Joshua blessed her for knowing what had bothered his sleep. He knew that her words were well intended but the prospect scared him.
“When was he brought here?” he said.
“Soon after the doctor had stitched the wound,” she said. “Your father decided that it was easier for the physician to visit without being seen. The story is that he’s been kicked by a horse.”
It was a feasible cause of injury, even if it wasn’t the right one in this case.
“How long will I stay here? My father said I’d be sent away.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, “but he’s got to find somewhere to send you. Until then, you can make yourself useful.”
Ed Salter lay perfectly still in the big bed where Aunt Jane normally slept. Joshua had known the cottage from a little boy and had often crept into this room, and felt safe as he slipped beneath the covers. Now it felt anything but normal.
The curtains were half-drawn to ensure the room was in shadow. The sound of the man’s steady breathing might have implied a healthy sleep, if the awkwardly placed bandages were not visible around his head, and Joshua hadn’t been told that the groom was given a dose of laudanum to control the pain. The soporific effect was the result of sedation.
He sensed another presence in the room. Turning, he saw Sergeant Percival sitting beside the bed, his eyes apparently closed, but as Joshua watched, the man stood up and approached. There was not much that passed his notice.
The sight of him in the sickroom evoked memories of the time in Macedonia, when Dr Hawley’s life lay in the balance. They were dark days, in appalling conditions, but Joshua had companionship. The recollection brought home to him what he had lost.
Feeling choked, he made his way towards the parlour. Sergeant Percival followed, and Jessie remained in the bedroom.
“How is Ed?” Joshua asked, striving to stifle the memories shared with Charlie.
“The sleep will have done him good, but I want to be prepared in case there’s any fever. Jessie tells me there’s a herbalist in these parts, so I’ll be going out later to seek her advice.”
“Will I be able to come with you?” Joshua said, feeling lost and craving the company of someone he respected.
“It’s best if you stay here in case your father wants to see you before he goes to London.” Sergeant Percival’s voice held a hint of regret.
Joshua nodded, knowing that it was unlikely for he had seen his father before he left the Hall last night. Ten minutes was all he was allowed but it was enough to reassure his father on the subject that was bothering him.
“There’s just one thing I wanted to ask you, but in the uproar there was no chance for private speech,” Tom Norbery had said.
It wasn’t easy to admit that he wasn’t entirely blameless, but when he had, Joshua learned that Millie was the first person to bring her complaint, closely followed by Jack Kilcot the assistant-coachman, who said that he recognised Sophie immediately. She was too conspicuous to pass unnoticed climbing a ladder, wearing buckskin breeches and top-boots under a skirt made for a shorter woman.
If only Joshua had insisted on opening the door in the loft wall above the yard, he would have seen her hiding in the shadows and guessed her intent.
The discussion gave him much to think about, particularly his father’s comment that caused him to squirm. “Your mother and I had noticed Sophie’s preference for you, but we did not think it was reciprocated. Now we have to decide what to do with you. I will give the matter some thought and will let you know what I decide. Before I leave, is there anything you wish to say to me?”
“The matter with Sophie was not something I planned, sir. I would never have touched her in that way.”
His father looked at him. “No, I didn’t think you would intentionally, Joshua, but I have to know if you did unintentionally – just in case there are unforeseen… complications.” The inference of a pregnancy was obvious.
“No, of course not…” he said, indignant, while hoping that he wouldn’t be asked what Sophie had done to him.
His father looked relieved and the conversation ended, but at the library door Joshua looked back and said, “I’m truly sorry, Father.”
“Yes, Joshua, I know, we are all sorry that this has occurred.”
Thinking of the sadness in his father’s voice, he lay awake in the middle of the night, running the conv
ersation through his mind many times before he realised what his father had said… Your mother and I noticed Sophie’s preference for you but we did not think it was reciprocated…
Of course it was not. Your mother and I…? The words screamed at him.
Joshua could not believe that his father, who normally only talked with Aunt Jane, had discussed such a thing with his mother. Would he also, knowing how she hated Joshua, tell her of the latest episode?
For much of the first couple of days, the only person he saw was Jessie, and she never said a lot. He sensed she did not know what to say, but at least she applied salves to the cuts on his face and sore ribs. The bruises soon started to fade, but the grief inside was raw as ever. Aunt Jane’s absence made things seem worse.
Every day, Joshua heard the physician arrive and stayed out of sight until he left. Sergeant Percival had decreed it must be so. No one was taking a chance on Joshua being questioned. No doubt it was really on his father’s orders.
Hearing a familiar voice in the kitchen, he learned that Gilbert had walked across the park to bring him clean clothes and to sit with Ed through the night, and would return to the Hall in the morning.
“Aren’t you tired?” Joshua asked.
“There’s not much to do with Squire Norbery away,” he said.
No, he supposed there wouldn’t be. Gilbert had lost his other charges as well. “When did they set off?” he said, wanting to glean the information.
“On the first day at about twelve o’clock, so I reckon that they’d have a couple of nights on the road. Jack Kilcot and Horace took them in the big coach. Daniel Salter stayed here this time…”
Of course he would with his son lying injured…
That meant they should be in London by now. Joshua wondered how many days it would be before Aunt Jane returned.
“What are they saying at the Hall?” he said.
“Folks at the Hall know better than to gossip,” said Jessie, bustling into the kitchen to interrupt. “They know which side their bread is buttered.”
He took the comforting thought to bed, that the servants’ loyalty to his father held firm even in his absence, and slept properly for the first time since he arrived.
In the morning, Jessie scolded when he got under her feet in the kitchen.
“It’s no good you moping about, or starving yourself, Joshua,” she said. “You need to eat and get outside in the fresh air. Things will look better there.”
If only they did. He knew she meant to be kind. She had always been good to him. Rather than argue, he started to eat. He couldn’t taste the flavours, but felt the benefit. Outside, he had to dodge the April showers on his walks in the woodland, and often came back soaked.
“When do you think Aunt Jane will return, Jessie?” he asked for the third time.
“Stop moithering me,” she said in her blunt way. “I’ve told you before that she won’t stay any longer in London than is necessary. She never could abide the place.”
No, she promised to come back and talk and she’d never disappointed him.
This went on for almost a week, and every day, he watched the rain running down the windowpanes. They looked like the tears of sadness he felt inside, but was not supposed to show. Females could do that sort of thing – just as they could twist the truth to suit their ends. As long as he lived, he would never trust another woman.
One day at breakfast, Jessie said, “Mr Weyborne sent word he’ll be over to see you later, Joshua.”
He frowned at her, and then realised it was the Linmore land agent.
“Why is he coming to see me, Jessie?”
“That’s for you to find out,” she said, and went on with her work.
It was late morning before a gig drew up outside the cottage and the agent knocked on the door. Jim Weyborne was a man of few words, but those he spoke were to the point.
“Good morning, Master Joshua,” he said. “Squire Norbery has sent word that he wants you to stay with me and Mrs Weyborne. If you’d like to get your things together, Francis will pick you up later today.”
At last, there was news, but he wished his father were here to tell him, not send messages with the servants.
The morning sky was overcast, but the afternoon sun began to shine when Francis Weyborne arrived at the cottage. Joshua’s low spirits started to improve in the company of a younger person, and as they talked, he learned that Francis, of a similar age to him, was in training as bailiff on the estate.
The journey to the Home Farm took them within sight of Linmore Hall, but halfway across the park, a fork in the back drive made a sweeping detour towards the stone-built farmhouse where the agent lived.
Joshua liked the Weyborne family on sight, especially Mrs Weyborne, a plain-speaking, motherly soul who was a wonderful cook. In the absence of Aunt Jane, she was a good substitute, who made him welcome and prepared a meal of his favourite roast mutton. After that, the world did not look quite so dark.
His bedroom, which was next to Francis, was smaller than the one at home, but the linen was fresh and the feather mattress comfortably warm.
The agent’s family did everything they could to make him welcome. No one in the household mentioned Charlie and Sophie although he was sure everyone on the estate knew the story. It was as if they had never existed.
Sitting in the dining room, Joshua listened to Francis talking with his father about estate work they were planning. Although the two men included him in the conversation, he did not know what questions to ask without sounding ignorant.
Instead, he concentrated on his food and complimented Mrs Weyborne on the excellence of her meal. It was evident from her smile that his comment gave pleasure, and in return, the agent’s wife insisted they introduced other topics to discuss besides farming.
When the meal was over, the family took prayers with the servants, and at nine o’clock, a servant brought a tray of tea to the drawing room. This comfortable family life was so different to what Joshua was accustomed.
An hour later, the agent said, “Come on, Francis, we’ll need an early start in the morning.”
Out of interest, Joshua said, “What time’s early, Mr Weyborne?”
“Half past five.”
That came as a shock, for at the cottage, Joshua used to lie abed until all hours of the day. “Does that mean me as well?”
“It does, young man,” said the agent. “Your father wants you to see something of the estate and find out the kind of work we do.”
The following morning, Joshua mounted his horse and set out from the Home Farm with the agent and his son on their rounds. Until then, he had not realised the long hours worked. They rose at dawn, and apart from an hour for breakfast, kept going until daylight was fading. Through all the villages to inspect parcels of land for repairs, some of which he could hardly remember seeing.
By the end of the first week, he started to look at farm buildings differently, to see things he would previously have missed – recognise a dislodged roof slate and know the portent. It was little enough, but he was glad to have learned. He had not been aware of the need for him to know, because he assumed that was why they employed an agent.
The ride through Hillend village brought back memories of the last time he had been there, eight years ago, just after Charlie arrived at Linmore. On that occasion, they stopped at the church and then drove home.
This time, he rode with the agent and Francis, past the inn on the village green and continued out the other side. Half a mile beyond, they stopped the horses beside a pair of high metal park gates in a sadly dilapidated state.
Joshua looked for some identification, but the weathered wooden sign attached to the stone pillars gave no clue. Rusting chains barred their way, as did a metal plate bearing the faded words of warning. Private Property. Keep Out…
This must be the only place on the estate to have a notice threatening to prosecute trespassers. The land looked coldly remote – barren even – apart from the overgrow
n coppice of birch, beech and hazel. Individual tree trunks melded with brambles and weeds to form a barricade, leaving no hint of what lay beyond.
“Where is this, Mr Weyborne?” Joshua pointed to the sign.
The agent cleared his throat before speaking. “It’s where Miss Littlemore used to live when she was a girl, Master Joshua.”
“Why are the gates locked?”
“There’s nothing there. The house was demolished years ago.”
Before he could ask more details, the man said, “We’d better be on our way. This can wait for another time.”
When Joshua attended Evensong on Sunday, he walked up the aisle towards the empty Linmore Hall pew by the pulpit. Then he remembered and turned aside to follow the Weyborne family. Others in the congregation must have noted it, but no one remarked on the lapse.
Aunt Jane returned home in the middle of the second week, looking tired. Joshua was so thankful to see her, but there was no question of him stopping work. He visited in the evenings, and learned that Ed Salter was still weak, but he had started to recover.
“Come into the bedroom, Joshua. He’ll be glad to see you,” Aunt Jane said, leading the way. She stopped for a moment at the door. “Don’t be alarmed by Ed’s appearance. The wound looks puckered but it is healing. It’s just that there was a lot of infection, but the herbal remedies worked.”
Just as they had for Dr Hawley in Macedonia. The thought crossed Joshua’s mind as he entered the room. It was lucky that Aunt Jane had warned him; otherwise he might have shown more of the shock he felt.
The man he saw in the bed looked frail, but he was awake. Before the accident he was a handsome man, but now, a jagged scar ran down his left cheek, disfiguring him. Joshua felt sick, but not at the image before him as much as the fact it could have been his face he was looking at.
He was glad the room was half in shadow to hide his feelings.
“Hello, Ed,” he said, reaching for the limp hand on the sheet, and felt a slight squeeze of the fingers.
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