The House of Allerbrook

by Valerie Anand

  “For the love of heaven,” said Stephen, “can I have the curtains drawn back? I’m so hot. I’m not feverish now—it’s that huge fire.”

  “You’re luckier than Clifton is,” Spenlove said. “He’s ridden off into a snowstorm. He’s going to Greys now, I gather. They’ll probably be saddled with him until the snow goes away. Let me have a look at your smallpox rash, though—just in case he makes a third visit.”

  “You look horrible, Stephen,” Jane remarked. “I congratulate you, Dr. Spenlove. How did you do it?”

  “My pigments are good,” said Spenlove. “And I’m used to getting the results I want, after all.”

  He had made a most artistic job of Stephen’s face, strewing it with a realistic set of smallpox spots, and he had also adorned the backs of Stephen’s hands and added, for good measure, a few more spots on his chest, even though his bedgown hid them. Most were simply red, but some had yellowish centres, as though they were filled with pus, and a few looked as though pus was dribbling from them. Even at close quarters, the impression was both convincing and revolting.

  “I’ve hidden my paints,” Spenlove told him. “Just in case they gave our good captain ideas. I made sure they were all locked in their cupboard, and I put a cloth over my paint-stained old table and set a statuette on top. It’s the one Father Drew gave me at Christmas.”

  Stephen moved uncomfortably. “It was a good idea to hide my breastplate inside this mattress, but it’s a nasty hard thing to lie on. What did you do with my helmet?”

  “It fits neatly into one of our cauldrons,” said Jane. “I put it inside and tipped a lot of pottage in on top. It’s bubbling away now. We shan’t eat the pottage—the pigs can have it.”

  Stephen began to laugh. “I’d no weapons when I came home. I had a pike, but I lost it in that last fight. What would you have done with that?”

  “Pushed it up a chimney, I expect,” Jane said. “He didn’t look up any chimneys. But I heard him tell his men to look in the well.”

  “Cunning bastard,” said Stephen. “I wonder if he will come back a third time?”

  “He’ll find everything just as he found it before,” Spenlove said.

  Jane gave him a grateful smile. Dear Spenlove. She might well owe to him the fact that Allerbrook was still hers. She’d never know, because he wouldn’t tell her and she would never ask.

  Spenlove smiled back at her, happy to have defended not only her nephew but Jane herself, happy that he had once broken the law to keep Allerbrook safe for her. He had a curious idea that there had been something between her and Peter Carew. On board the Pretty Doe, she had been alone with Carew for over an hour and she had emerged—transfigured. Well, he would never speak of his guess. He was growing old and he was celibate, but he was glad that, after all, he knew what it was like to fall in love.

  Captain Clifton did in fact consider going back for a third time, but Dr. Spenlove had painted Stephen’s face extremely well. The captain’s nerve failed him. In fact, it was nearly a month before he stopped examining himself every morning to see if he had come out in spots.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  To Love at Will

  1560

  “I like April,” said Blanche. “The skylarks are singing and you can hear the lambs bleating miles away and the flies aren’t a nuisance yet and even the wind isn’t cold.”

  She and Tobias were on the ridge above Allerbrook, walking toward the barrow. She turned to him, smiling.

  “You’ve been home from London since last December, but somehow I haven’t yet told you how much we all missed you. We did, you know.”

  “I was glad to be back,” Tobias said. He looked at her, returning her smile. It was six years now since a solemn little girl named Blanche had astonished them all by inventing the scheme that saved the life of Stephen Sweetwater. She was a little girl no longer, but had grown into a pretty young woman, who had a clever way with her hair and clothes. She had herself put the line of embroidery around the front of her cap, and she had skilfully trained a curl of light brown hair to fall a little way over her forehead, to hide the very few traces of childhood smallpox.

  Much else had happened in those six years, too, to him and to Stephen. They were travelled young men now, who had seen the royal court and crossed the channel to visit France.

  “It was interesting, seeing other places,” he said, “and I liked the Flaxton family, but I was happy when Mother wrote saying that I’d had enough polishing and asking me to come home and take charge of Allerbrook.”

  “I hardly knew you when you rode in,” Blanche said. “You looked so smart, and you had a goshawk! I felt shy with you. I think that’s why we haven’t talked together very much. Today, when you asked me to walk, I wondered what I’d find to say!”

  Toby laughed. “I’ve noticed how elusive you are, always either in the dairy or else earnestly embroidering. But I’m just the same old Tobias at heart. I’ve got velvet doublets and fashionable ruffs, but they’re all put away. You haven’t noticed me wearing finery, have you? I’ve learned about falconry but I don’t call it sport—just a way of bringing down game for the table. I’m still Tobias, even though Sir Giles Flaxton took me to the court of Queen Elizabeth.”

  “Did you see her?” Blanche asked. “What is she like?”

  “She’s young, but there’s something frightening about her,” said Tobias thoughtfully. “A kind of glitter…and a way of compelling people to do her will. She gives an order and even the most powerful courtiers jump. She is determined to swing the whole country back to the Protestant faith, you know.”

  “That’s a good thing. Isn’t it?” Blanche sounded worried. “I miss the Mass and the incense,” she said. “But still, when I think of the things that happened in Queen Mary’s reign…”

  They were both silent, thinking of the horror that had hung over the land in those days, which were still so recent. Mary’s laws had condemned over three hundred of her own subjects to death by fire, only for the crime of disagreeing with her in matters of faith.

  Blanche shivered. “There was a man, John Hooper, who was once in the abbey at Cleeve. After the abbey was closed he went out into the world and became a bishop. Anyway, he turned away from the old faith and Queen Mary had him burned. It must be such a terrible way to die. And there was Andrew Shearer, in Minehead, and Master Luke Palmer only escaped because he died in his bed before he could be arrested. There was a warrant out for his arrest on a heresy charge. And he was eighty years old!” said Blanche.

  “Really? I didn’t know about Palmer. He was lucky,” Tobias said soberly. “But Hooper and Shearer…poor devils. I heard about Hooper through a proclamation, and Mother wrote to me about Shearer. It happened only just after she sent Stephen and me to London. He’d been making public speeches against the old faith—gathering crowds in the middle of Minehead and shouting his head off. Stupid of him! But yes, it was a vile way to die. Mother said Tim Snowe rode over the shoulder of Dunkery hill that day, and swears he saw the smoke rising in the distance. Does Stephen know?”

  “Yes,” said Blanche. “Mistress Allerbrook wrote to him, too, because she said he’d be sure to hear it from someone anyway when he came home. He wrote back that Master Shearer had scarcely acknowledged him and meant nothing to him, but when he came back and the Hannacombes asked us all to dine, by way of welcoming him home, Will Hannacombe mentioned Shearer. He meant no harm—he was just talking about the past and saying he’d heard that Mistress Shearer had married again. But I saw Stephen’s face go hard and shut-in. I think he minds a good deal. No one wants those days back again.”

  “But it doesn’t have to be like that, Blanche. I have visited France,” Tobias said, “and seen the young king and queen there. They are Catholic, naturally, but I don’t believe either of them would wish to persecute those who think differently from themselves. Young Queen Mary—she’s queen of Scotland as well as France—no one could be sweeter. Did you know that many Catholics believe she is Englan
d’s rightful queen, as well? They say that King Henry and Anne Boleyn were never lawfully married, so that Elizabeth is only a love child. But Mary would never harm anyone—I’m sure of it. Couldn’t a nation be led back to the old faith, without being terrified into it? I miss the old rituals, you know, just like you.”

  “It’s all so confusing,” Blanche said with a sigh.

  “Don’t trouble yourself over it. Live your own quiet life. If that’s what you want. Or do you wish that you, too, could go away to another household, or go travelling? Have you been happy with us?”

  “I have been happy,” said Blanche, “and fortunate. Your mother has been so kind. She has treated me like a daughter, though I’m only a penniless orphan now.”

  “Don’t talk of yourself like that. You are Blanche,” said Tobias indignantly.

  “My father was never tried or condemned for being part of Wyatt’s rebellion,” said Blanche sadly, “but all my lands were confiscated just the same. I really am penniless, whatever you may say. But at least it meant that Mistress Allerbrook could be my guardian and the authorities didn’t interfere. She says she’ll plan a happy marriage for me one day. I hope not too soon, though. I’ll have to leave Allerbrook then.”

  Tobias glanced quickly at her, but her face was turned away from him, looking toward the sea.

  “Stephen hasn’t changed much,” he said, changing the subject. “He was always one to want adventure. I’ve a feeling that he won’t stay here long.”

  “I know. He came home two weeks before you did—in November—and he was hardly back before he got that look of his again, as if he were gazing toward a distant horizon and wishing he could set off for it.”

  “Yes, that’s Stephen! How old is he now? He’s older than I am. I’m not quite nineteen. He must be…oh…about twenty-five. Here’s the barrow.” He held out a hand to her. “Let’s climb it.”

  Up on the barrow the wind was stronger, whisking Blanche’s skirts about. The day was clear, too clear; the horizon of the sea was a hard line and usually that meant rain was coming. But for the moment it was sunny and dry. Three young stags, still carrying last season’s antlers, started up from behind a gorse patch farther along the ridge and stood staring, poised for flight, at the human figures outlined against the sky.

  “Look, deer,” Blanche said, and then, in practical tones, “I hope they don’t get into the wheat again this year. They’re so greedy.”

  “There’s a kestrel,” said Tobias, looking upward and narrowing his eyes against the light. “See it? Hovering over the farmland. Kestrels can be greedy, too. Once when I was out on the moor with our sheep, I saw one try to snatch a weasel.”

  “It couldn’t! A kestrel wouldn’t be big enough. They just seize mice and things like that.”

  “It wasn’t big enough,” Tobias agreed. “It got the weasel a few feet off the ground and then the weasel broke free and fell. It was all right. They’re as clever and supple as cats. It hit the ground, sprang up and vanished into a clump of bushes.”

  “I would never have thought it! Something new always seems to be happening, here at Allerbrook,” Blanche said. “I’m not like Stephen, wanting to explore beyond the skyline. The moors are beautiful enough for me. I said that once to Tim Snowe, but he shook his head and said Ah, I be too busy to have time to look at they hills.”

  She imitated Tim’s voice but then stopped, embarrassed. “I mustn’t make fun of him. He’s kind, and Mistress Allerbrook might think I was rude.”

  “I think there’s a merry young girl inside our solemn Blanche, trying to escape into the open,” said Tobias, and they both laughed, until Tobias suddenly stopped laughing, reached out and turned her to face him.

  “You’re beautiful, too,” he said abruptly. “When I came home, the moment I set eyes on you I thought how lovely you had become. Your eyes fascinate me. They change colour according to the light and your mood. If you missed me while I was away, being polished in a gentleman’s house, then I missed you. But I only saw how much I’d been missing when I came home. So, you’d like to stay at Allerbrook?”

  Blanche, startled at what sounded like another sudden change of subject, said, “That’s so. But…”

  “Well, why should you not stay? Blanche, haven’t you seen me looking at you? Haven’t you realized…?”

  “Realized…what?” Blanche almost whispered it.

  “That I love you. Well, all right, I only knew it myself when I came home, and I’m sometimes shy, too. I’ve hidden my feelings so well that you haven’t guessed at them, it seems and nor, I think, has my mother. Well, it’s time to speak. Blanche, my dear little love, you’re seventeen now, quite old enough to marry. I am already the young master of Allerbrook. Why not marry me? Then you will be penniless no more, but part of Allerbrook, and we can live here together, for always!”

  The stags watched, confused, as the two human creatures drew together and united into a single silhouette, with not the smallest chink of light between their two bodies. The creature thus formed did not seem to threaten them, but it was too strange to be trusted. The trio fled, vanishing down the far side of the ridge in a series of swift leaps.

  The kestrel had drifted away, as well. Tobias and Blanche, engrossed in each other, never noticed any of them go.

  “We were all surprised, you know,” Jane said over the wine and cheesecakes which Idwal Lanyon’s wife, Frances, had brought out for her, “that Idwal and you finally decided to live in Lynmouth instead of Bristol though Idwal sails from Bristol whenever he goes overseas. Why was it?”

  “We like it here,” said Frances, looking contentedly around the comfortable parlour. “We came back originally when Idwal’s father died, ten years ago. My mother-in-law wanted to stay here, but she needed our help. Now that Mistress Katherine has gone as well, we agreed to make this our main home. Bristol is just for business. We have many friends here and I like this house. It creaks like a ship at sea when the winds blow, but I don’t mind that.” She smiled. “It reminds me of the pleasant part of being in a ship, without the uncomfortable things, like floors that won’t keep still. I am not fond of travelling.”

  “I am beginning to find journeys tiring myself,” Jane agreed. “I’m nearly forty-two now and I must admit I find the ride over from Allerbrook a trifle long these days.”

  “Perhaps it’s because we’re women. Idwal never seems to tire…ah,” said Frances. “Here he is.”

  “I see Cousin Jane has arrived.” Idwal, striding in through the street door, greeted her with a bow before sitting down and reaching out a large hand with ginger hairs and freckles all over the back of it to pick up a cheesecake while Frances poured him some wine. “Forgive me for not being here when you arrived, Mistress Allerbrook. I was interviewing a couple of seamen I might take on. One of them will do, but the other won’t. He’s a mass of useful muscle but no brains and a nasty streak as well, I fancy. He’s been a seaman for nearly twenty years and been getting on captains’ nerves for the same length of time, I’d say. I believe he comes from your district, Cousin Jane. Name of Hayward.”

  “If it’s Tom Hayward,” said Jane, “I remember him well. An unpleasant man. He attacked one of our maidservants.” She never liked to talk in detail of Francis’s death. “But I’m sure you could control him and make use of him,” she said, looking at Idwal, who was a big man and looked even bigger in his padded brown doublet with its puffed and slashed sleeves.

  “I prefer seamen with some sense in their heads, and I certainly don’t want to hire a man who attacks young women. Never mind about him. You timed your letter well, Cousin Jane. I shall be at sea within a month. Travelling with a fleet of other ships, since we’re bound for the Mediterranean. Trouble with pirates is getting worse these days. No wise captain sails alone. Now, about this letter…”

  “Yes. You wrote back,” Jane said, “and invited me here, so I suppose you’re not opposed to the idea, but you didn’t actually say that.”

  “I couldn’t.
It’s years since we’ve seen your Tobias. Where did you send him? He and Stephen went together, didn’t they?”

  “Not quite. Tobias joined Sir Giles Flaxton’s household. Sir Giles is the son of Sir Edmund, who once arranged for me to go to court, though I didn’t stay there. Sir Edmund died a few years ago. Tobias has had some experience of the world now. He’s been to London, travelled in France and attended both the English and the French courts. He’s seen Queen Elizabeth face-to-face. Stephen went to a different household, though. Sir Giles made the arrangements, but I said it was best that Stephen and Tobias should be separated, because they’ve never been really friendly.”

  “I must say I’m glad you’re not suggesting Stephen,” Idwal said frankly. “He was a wild little boy, always in trouble! And if you’ll forgive me for saying so, Mistress Allerbrook, when I saw him last—about three years ago it was—I still sensed something wayward about him.”

  “He’s not the owner of Allerbrook, anyway,” Frances said mildly.

  Jane smiled. “No. And he still uses the name of Sweetwater. In fact, he’s turned out well in his own way and I intend to do something for him. He’s my nephew and he has nothing of his own. But I didn’t come to talk about Stephen. It’s Tobias that I’m offering you. He’s educated and he knows the world and yes, I now regard him as the master of Allerbrook.”

  “What kind of life would our Gwyneth have there?” Frances asked.

  “A good one, I promise. Allerbrook is prosperous these days. My brother began to improve our fortunes when he bought sheep from Cleeve Abbey, and my husband, Harry, made some wise decisions, too. I’ve tried to follow their example. Toby’s not a great landowner but he’s a yeoman in comfortable circumstances. I realize that Gwyneth has grown up in merchant circles and our way of living is different, but it need not be too different. She need not do farm work unless she likes. There are others to do that.”