by Rona Randall
But beneath all this lay a deeper hurt — the last callous step Acland had taken before leaving. Or perhaps it was the step he had been planning all along, the whole reason for his visit to the Freemans? He had sought a moneyed wife and, had he succeeded, the secret meetings and the impassioned moments in the gazebo would have ceased without explanation.
She had been a trusting fool, blinded by flattery, weak, stupid…but the knowledge did nothing to ease her pain or to diminish her longing for him. Were he to ride up to the door of her home right now and demand to see her, were he to pour out declarations of love and swear before God that what the Freeman girls had said was untrue, were he even to look at her in the way she had come to know so well, and reproach her for believing the worst of him, she would be penitent and beg his forgiveness. She would promise anything, give him anything, throw discretion and all her moral teachings to the wind again. The man obsessed her and to forget him would be impossible.
She tried to believe that he would be at Evensong tonight and that after the service the secret meetings would continue as before, allaying all her fears. Stubbornly, she clung to unreality, trying to convince herself that Acland was incapable of going away without a word, that somehow he would get a message to her assuring her that nothing was changed, that it was she he loved and was determined to marry.
Opening her eyes, she saw her reflection in the long cheval mirror in which she inspected her appearance daily, usually in a cursory way because there was never time for more, and she marvelled that she looked unchanged. Her bonnet and gown were as immaculate as when she set out for her brother’s house. Her smoothly coiled hair still displayed not a single errant strand and her Louis-heeled shoes were spotless beneath the hem of her muslin gown. She had taken pains with her appearance because Joseph was critical of such things and she had wanted to win his approval, hoping thereby to gain an advantage. But now her torn mittens bore testimony to her distress, reminding her of the cause. And pain stabbed again, thrusting through her desperate denial.
It was true. It had happened. It was useless to blind herself.
She moved across the room, unpinning her bonnet with difficulty. Her body seemed numb, her senses stupefied. She was in a situation which had to be faced, but she had no idea how to. A cold knot of fear was wedged tightly inside her.
“So there you are, Jessica! Mamma has been looking for you.” It was Phoebe, very excited. “Joseph came to see her just when we were about to go walking, which was lucky for me because she promptly forgot about it. That shows how important his visit was, and it plainly concerned you because when he left, and he was not here very long — in fact, he seemed in quite a hurry — Mamma came out into the hall looking very disturbed and asking for you. And before that I heard Joseph say, “You must tell Jessica yourself, my dear mother.” So naturally I wondered if he has found a husband for you. How splendid if so! It will mean that he is looking for husbands for both of us, because surely he would not find a suitor for one twin and neglect the other.’ She squeaked with excitement. “That means it should be my turn next!”
She pirouetted, swirling her semi-hooped skirt above the satin slippers she so delighted in, then dancing to the door and throwing over her shoulder as she went, “Mamma is in the parlour, waiting for you. Do hurry — I long to hear the news!” At the door she looked back. “And you will not be difficult, will you? You know what you are like when people expect you to do as you are told. You become defiant. I declare you do it on purpose. But not this time, I beg, or you will displease Joseph and that will distract him from giving thought to a marriage for me, an event I can scarce wait for. To be a married woman, looked up to by unmarried friends, mistress of a man’s home — !”
“And mistress in his bed. Have you thought about that? It is what marriage is all about.”
“Don’t be shocking, Jessica. It’s a woman’s lot to defer to men’s wishes…”
“…and to be dominated by them, used by them, treated by them as they will?” A flash of her customary spirit sparked beneath Jessica’s numbness. “If God had intended that to be a woman’s lot, He would have included it in the commandments.”
A lifetime of training in feminine docility came to Jessica’s aid now, helping her to assume an air of composure she was far from feeling. Hair tidy, back straight, eyes calm enough to appear submissive, she descended to the parlour where her mother waited.
Emily Drayton was plainly agitated. Instead of occupying her customary chair beside the fire, she was pacing the floor, wringing her hands. She wasted no time in coming to the point.
“Is it true?” she demanded before Jessica had even closed the door. “It cannot be! Not a daughter of mine! No daughter of mine would conceal such things from her mother!”
“What things, Mamma?”
“You know full well, since you have been to dear Joseph and confessed. Now I know why you avoided our afternoon walk, and that was deceitful too.” The hands continued their fidgeting, the restless pacing began again. “To think you have been seeing that man without my knowledge! To think you would deceive your own mother, you, my own daughter!”
Emily Drayton could continue in this vein indefinitely. She had to be stopped.
“Had I wished to deceive you, Mamma, I would have continued to.” “So you admit it! And to what extent, pray? Don’t tell me things are even worse than Joseph revealed!”
“And what did he reveal?”
Jessica knew full well that it could be no more than her avowed intention to marry Roger Acland, for she had revealed no more than that herself, but the question gave her some breathing space.
Her mother sobbed, “What else but your appalling duplicity, your deceitful behaviour?”
“My — behaviour?”
“— in planning to wed a man without the knowledge or approval of your guardian, let alone your mother! What kind of behaviour is that, pray?”
“But I didn’t keep it a secret. I went to Joseph and told him the truth. Dear Mamma, don’t be so agitated. He forbade the marriage, though I am unaware of any Act that enables even the head of a family to do so.”
“Then it is high time one was passed. Even so, his decision was wise. Thank God for Joseph! Without him, where would I be? How can a lone woman cope with wayward daughters?”
“Only one, Mamma. Phoebe can never be called that.”
‘A blessing I am thankful for. But you, Jessica — dear Jessica, whom I truly love and for whom I desire a good marriage above all else — your behaviour has always been unpredictable, but never more so than now. How did you come to fall in love with a man we scarcely know and who, from what Joseph tells me, is virtually without means? You must have been seeing him without our knowledge the situation has become so advanced. I recall now the number of times you have visited the Freemans of late — surely dear Agatha didn’t connive in this deception?”
“Far from it. She introduced us after church one morning, but beyond that, she knew nothing.”
But her glances and her words less than an hour ago had suggested otherwise; her condescension, her triumph, her hint of relish, all seemed significant now. At the recollection pain stabbed again, making Jessica deaf to her mother’s next words.
“God be thanked that Joseph dealt with the situation so promptly — even before you called on him today, he tells me. It takes a man to deal with another man. I vow I could never have sent Mr Acland packing so speedily and effectively, for, alas, I lack the means to pay off impecunious suitors. I wonder he didn’t set his cap higher — one of the Freeman girls, for instance — or perhaps their father was as wise as Joseph and put a stop to that. You are indebted to your brother, my dear, as I am. But for his foresight —”
“What foresight?”
“Instinct, then. As soon as his suspicions were aroused he sent for Acland and disposed of him. That was before you dared to call on him this afternoon. How he learned about the matter I have no idea; all he told me was that he sensed the situation
at the Freemans’ garden party last week, where you were constantly in the man’s company and even slipped away with him, alone…”
“For a walk, Mamma. In full sight of everyone. Was that so compromising?”
“It was indiscreet. Unmarried young ladies should always be chaperoned. I would have been considerably embarrassed had I known of it.”
Emily was still fluttering about the parlour with helpless, bewildered gestures, touching familiar objects as if for reassurance and finally halting before a corner what-not on which the platter and beaker, from which her husband had taken his last meal, stood in pride of place. Joseph sometimes frowned on this display when he visited her, reminding her that she had more valuable things to cherish in memory of her husband, but like most weak people Emily Drayton could be surprisingly stubborn at times. Nothing would induce her to throw away the simple pots. “They were the last things he touched,” she had pleaded, to which her eldest son could make no denial.
“Well, at least you are not using them yourself,” he had conceded. “That would be morbid, not sentimental. I forbid you to indulge in that, my dear mother. Promise you will obey me. I ask only because I have no desire for you to dwell on your grief. Besides, you own better tableware than these rough crocks.”
“I wouldn’t call them rough, Joseph. They are highly glazed and such a pretty colour, unlike anything Drayton’s has ever produced. Moreover, they are Martin’s work, though he tells me you yourself did the glazing. I sensed his disappointment over that, so I insist on keeping them because he made them for his father’s last birthday.”
“As you wish.” Joseph had shrugged and let her have her way, hut he still disapproved. Nor had he concealed his anger when learning how she came by them.
“I suppose young Martin stole them on your behalf,” he had said, to which his mother had blandly replied, “Oh dear me no — Martin would never be so dishonest as to steal! They were a gift to me, dear Joseph. A surprise gift from that poor girl who works as a turner — Meg Gibson I think her name is. Daughter of that ailing woman down by the marlpit. I was very touched when she brought them, carefully wrapped in a piece of calico. She said she was sure I couldn’t abide someone else using them. I can still hear her saying it in her rough way, so kindly. ‘’T’wouldn’t be right, would it, Mistress Drayton’ And I agreed.”
“The slut had no right to call on you, much less to steal. She shall be punished.”
“Oh no, Joseph, please! It was a kind thought and I shall always appreciate it. She had washed them and wrapped them so carefully. I beg you not to chide her.”
“She had no right to enter the Master Potter’s office, or to take his property.”
“Out of thought for his widow? It was a kind thing to do, and I shall never forget it.”
So in his widow’s parlour George Drayton’s simple crocks remained, the glaze worn thin where his spoon had scraped against the platter and even at the rim of the beaker, at the side from which he had drunk. One day she had found Martin examining both articles. He had expressed surprise at the state of the glaze, regretting that Joseph had prepared only a small amount and then thrown the rest away, otherwise it could now be analysed. Emily knew he had hoped to develop his gift through every phase, from the raw clay to final decoration, but Joseph had insisted that it would be a long time yet before he advanced to glazing.
Jerking herself back to the present, Emily continued to reprimand Jessica because her eldest son had impressed on her that such was her duty.
“Joseph declares you left the garden party with Mr Acland quite openly, as if taking a solitary walk with a gentleman who was no more than an acquaintance was an acceptable social practice!”
“We kept within the limits of the Tremain gardens. Surely there was no harm in that? Many people were promenading, and over a much greater distance than Roger and I covered.”
“First name terms! After an acquaintanceship of only a few weeks? That speaks for itself. A man and woman only advance to such intimacy when they know each other well, and you could only have come to know this man well by secrecy. Oh, Jessica, how could you? You have always been wilful, but never deceitful, and it can only have been this man’s influence that made you so. You are indebted to Joseph, as I am, for buying the man off.”
“Buying him — ?”
“By how much? Is that what you want to know? Handsomely, my dear. Too handsomely. No less than two hundred pounds, and that is a fortune. The man accepted it promptly, and the rest of your brother’s terms into the bargain.”
Having unloaded her agitation, Emily Drayton was calm again. Jessica would behave herself now; she would put the whole regrettable episode behind her. And it must surely have taught her a lesson. Thank God, she had been well brought up; from a less moral background she might have been unable to resist the man. Emily well remembered him from that garden party: a handsome man whom every woman noticed, a fact of which he was patently aware and plainly encouraged. A man without scruples, intensely physical, lusty. From her sheltered background Emily Drayton might have been expected to be unaware of such male attributes, but she had borne ten children to a physically lusty man.
But dear George had been honourable. Roger Acland was not. No man who accepted a financial bribe to cease courting an innocent young female could be that. And, of course, dear Jessica had been entirely innocent and unsuspecting. What a blessing that Joseph had forestalled any further development! The thought of her daughter being seduced before marriage was too dreadful to think of. Not that it would have happened, of course. Jessica’s instincts as a lady would never have permitted it.
And with that thought, Emily’s agitation finally evaporated. She was able to turn to more pleasant things. She put her arms round her daughter and said breathlessly, “And now, dear love, we can forget this unhappy episode. It is over. Finished. We have the future to think of, your future, and again we are indebted to dear Joseph for that.”
She felt Jessica stiffen and, mistaking the reaction for excitement, beamed upon her.
“You may well wonder in what way, child, but rest assured that Joseph’s plans guarantee both your happiness and mine. He has decided on a husband for you — gentlemanly, moral, and financially sound. An excellent match which your brother is confident he can bring about.”
“No — no!”Jessica pulled away.
“My dear, you mustn’t be frightened. Joseph would never choose for you a husband who would be displeasing, and certainly not one with an eye on your money. You will have a good dowry, of course; what Joseph did for Harriet, he will do for you. And Phoebe too, when her turn comes. Not a fortune in the strict sense of the word, but acceptable none the less. And a Drayton daughter has other things to offer — good breeding, social manners, a sound knowledge of housewifery, all the qualities that make a good wife. Joseph considers it a splendid match, and I share his view that the Freemans will see it in the same light.”
“The Freemans!”
“Yes, dear Jessica. I can think of nothing more splendid than our two families being linked. Joseph has wasted no time — hence his hurried departure this afternoon. He left it to me to tell you the news, and his haste was due to his customary decisiveness — whatever he makes up his mind to do, Joseph deals with immediately. He was proceeding forthwith to Tremain Hall to speak with dear Max’s father and I have no doubt that he will be sending for you as soon as his mission is accomplished. Do be compliant when you see him. I understand you were outrageously stubborn this afternoon — ‘brazen’ is the regrettable word Joseph used — and, of course, that angered him. Meekness becomes a woman. Always remember that. Men admire it and men desire it. I am sure you will find life a great deal easier if you bear that in mind. And with such a marriage ahead, you surely cannot be anything but compliant. I have no doubt Joseph will give a splendid reception at Carrion House, to announce the news, and that Charlotte Freeman will insist on giving a betrothal ball even though she is not mother of the bride. Such an elegant wo
man cannot fail to do things in the grandest style — “
But Jessica was not listening. Her mind fastened onto one unbelievable fact and promptly rose in rebellion.
“Max? Never! Never, Mamma!”
To Emily Drayton’s astonishment, it was now her wilful daughter who was agitated. Backing to the door, hands out-thrust as if to ward off a blow, she was sobbing, “No — no! I could never marry Max Freeman! Not ever!”
And for the second time that day a door slammed behind her.
Chapter Three
Martin didn’t believe that Joseph had hastened to Tremain Hall that very afternoon, though he declined to say why. ‘I don’t doubt he will call on Ralph Freeman if his mind is set on this idea, but I cannot imagine him choosing the Sabbath, nor that hour of it. The man probably takes an afternoon nap and Joseph would have more sense than to disturb it.’
He let Jessica think this was the real reason for his scepticism, saying nothing about Meg Gibson’s furtive departure from the side entrance to Carrion House. If Joseph had hurried to his mother’s home immediately after Jessica had left him, sparked by anger and a determination to curb his sister once and for all, he had made his visit brief because he had another appointment and one he was anxious to keep.
Between the time they had seen Meg at Cobblers Green and the time they returned home, her visit to Carrion House could have been over — and would she have retreated so quickly at the sight of them had she merely been calling on the housekeeper? Not bold Meg, who cared nothing for the opinions of others. Folk might think her not good enough to take tea with a senior servant, but not she, so Meg would only wish to avoid detection had she been visiting the master of the house when Hannah Walker was off duty. And what time could be more ideal for such a visit than a quiet hour of a quiet day, particularly when people were flocking to Cobblers Green and few were therefore in the vicinity?