‘That’s annoying,’ I said, ignoring his reference to Bridlington. ‘I had hoped to go home tomorrow.’
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ he said, quietly dismissive. ‘You’ve been ill. My bailiff forecasts a thaw before long, so you’ll have to be patient until you’re stronger and the roads are dug out.’
‘I have a business to run. Anyway, I’m not ill. It’s only a chill.’
‘Yes, and I dare say you’ve been too busy chasing about the countryside in the snow to give any thought to your own needs. Perhaps it’s time you began to think of them, unless you want pneumonia too. If I were you, Miss Follet, I’d take this as an indication that you need some rest, after all that’s happened.’
That made me angry. Take a rest? How like a man. Ignore everything that needs attention and everyone who depends on you and take a rest. How could I rest?
Winterson’s housekeeper, Mrs Murgatroyd, came in with a silver tray of tea things and, while she set it out and poured the steaming amber liquid into fine Queen Anne teacups, I was able surreptitiously to knuckle away a tear of impotent fury and to mop my nose on the back of my hand. Very unladylike. My hand shook as I accepted the teacup, rattling it on the saucer, so she removed it with a smile and set it on the table beside me. Then, bobbing a curtsy, she withdrew.
‘How can I?’ I said. ‘Customers still need new clothes, even in midwinter.’
He plopped a lump of sugar into his tea. ‘Well, for a start, you can allow Jamie to spend more time here. Mrs Goode is a very sensible woman and I’m perfectly willing to share the duties of caring for him. Medworth and his wife are too. Their eldest is just about Jamie’s age, you know, and there’s nothing more respectable than to be related to a country parson’s family. He enjoys his visits there, I believe?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, very much, but…’
‘But what? Too countrified for you?’
‘I am a countrywoman too, my lord. Mr and Mrs Medworth Monkton are delightful and charming, and so is little Claude. But Linas was never very happy to see pigs and geese, hens and goats wandering through the house, especially when there are small children and babies about. Last time we were there, the goat chewed the baby’s layette; when the donkey wandered into the dining-room, they allowed Claude to feed it with his own bread. I’m used to animals, but I would never go quite that far.’
‘No, I wouldn’t feed good bread to a donkey, either. It’s far too rich. But you know Linas’s attitude to animals, Miss Follet. He could never see the need for them except as food or transport, or inside a kennel. It would be a pity, wouldn’t it, if our Jamie adopted the same indifference to them. He’s quite fearless with them, you know.’
Our Jamie. Our Jamie. ‘Yes,’ I replied, stepping gingerly over the implications. ‘I do know. He has a little temper, too.’
His voice dropped, soft and indulgent. ‘That’s not temper, lass, it’s sheer frustration at not being able to express himself, to tell you how he feels. You offered him the alternative of twiddling his thumbs at home with his nurse while I offered him the chance to ride in the snow, without you. There’s no magic in that. He’s a lively little lad, bright and bursting with energy and curiosity. He doesn’t always want velvet suits and silk shirts. He’s not a puppet. He needs coveralls and some muck to stamp in, and things to climb.’
‘You make it sound as if you know about such things.’
‘I do. I’ve been a three-year-old boy. You have not.’
I had brothers. I knew he was right, but how could I offer Jamie those more alluring alternatives while keeping to my intention not to get involved, more than I must, in Winterson’s life?
My silence prompted him to ask, ‘Does he enjoy seeing your family? He was very disappointed not to go.’
‘Yes, he loves it. I promised to take him, then I couldn’t.’
‘Because of the snow?’
‘Yes, it was too dangerous.’
‘But you had to go, did you?’
‘Yes, I had to go. My mother is ailing. The same as Linas. I knew they’d be snowbound and running low on food.’
‘But they were not snowbound, if you got through to them.’
‘They were, almost. My brothers knew that, if they got away, they’d probably not get back again and, as it was, I only just managed to find them, knowing that I could stay overnight. They told me I was mad, but I’m the eldest and I have a responsibility to them. My mother needs medicines. I cannot let a snowfall stop me, but nor could I have taken Jamie and his nurse. I tried to make him understand—’ I stopped and held a hand to my face.
‘You’re not the monster-mother you thought you were, you know. He was as right as rain, once I picked him up.’
He was trying to reassure me, I knew, telling me that there was no magic in it. But Jamie would run to him without any promise of rewards or alternatives, but simply to be noticed by his hero. It had been the same when Linas was alive. Jamie doted on him.
‘Who is Nana Damzell? Your mother?’ he said.
I nodded.
‘I see. And there are animals there too. They have a farm?’
‘Yes. Please don’t ask me any more, my lord. I cannot tell you.’
‘Why? Are they outlaws, like Robin Hood?’
‘Not at all like Robin Hood,’ I said, glancing at my cooling cup of tea. My hand still shook, but I managed not to spill while I drank, wondering how much my chatterbox son had divulged about his uncles and their isolated home. I suspected that Winterson would have liked to ask me about the Bridlington connection, but he apparently thought that enough had been said for one day, for he did not pursue the question of why anyone living in a town the size of Brid should run out of food. Or indeed how I had managed to get there. Or not.
‘Miss Follet,’ he said, after a pause.
‘My lord?’
‘I wouldn’t like you to think that I shall make a point of asking Jamie about his maternal family. I shall not. I can see that you’d rather not talk about them, so I’ll wait until you do. But neither do I want you to use Jamie’s inclination to chatter as an excuse to keep him away from me. You’re entitled to your privacy, and I shall respect it. That’s what Linas did, I believe.’
The truth was more stark than that. Linas had not the slightest curiosity about my family. Not only did he never ask me about them, but even when I visited them for two days at a time, with Jamie, he didn’t ask where, who, or how they were, whether they had what they needed or what had happened to their former lives. I didn’t complain, for I was able to share my earnings with them and that was all that mattered. But I often found it strange how Linas’s life revolved only around himself, until Jamie came.
‘As you know,’ I said, very quietly, ‘Linas was a very private kind of person, and I sometimes think that he tended to ignore the possibility that I had a family in case I brought them into the life we shared. I would never…ever…have done that, but I think he believed it was a risk. Some mistresses’ families can be quite demanding, as I’m sure you’ve heard.’
He smiled at that. Lady Emma Hamilton had recently lost her beloved Lord Nelson and, anticipating that he would leave her substantial wealth, the poor woman’s relatives were already hounding her day and night. That, at least, would not be happening to me. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘now you see how differently Linas and I view matters. I can accept that you have a responsibility to your family whose privacy you wish to protect and who you need to visit from time to time. But to take Jamie all that way without a proper escort is a risk I do not want you to run. In the future, you must take at least two men with you. Either my men, or your own.’
While we were on the subject, I thought I might as well tell him, though I could easily foresee the reaction. ‘When I told them about Linas, there was some discussion that I might go and live with them again. With Jamie.’
‘Who suggested that?’
‘My mother would like it. She wants me to look after my brothers.’
‘Yes, I can
understand the reasoning, Miss Follet, and you must do whatever you can for them, but I would not allow Jamie to live so far away. He will be either at Blake Street with you, or here with me.’
‘I told her that I could not do so. I have my business to attend to, you see, and I need to be on hand. It brings me an income, and, if that were to go, they would be much the poorer.’
‘Oh, so your business supports them, does it? I thought…’
‘You thought it was another way for me to line my pockets? Yes, well, that is what mistresses often do, I believe. They usually move on when the going gets rough, and I didn’t do that either, my lord. Nor did I shirk from telling Linas that I was pregnant, even when I feared he would surely turn me out. That was a risk, I can tell you. A very uncomfortable one.’
‘I can see why you are bitter, Miss Follet.’
‘At the way I was used, and still am being used? As Jamie’s mother, being told what I must and must not do, as if I were married? Which I cannot do either?’
‘Have there been no compensations?’ he asked from the depths of his chair. His long legs crossed and recrossed, and I saw the pinpoints of fire reflected in his eyes as they turned again in my direction.
‘Jamie. And a place to live in comfort, and a thriving business and good friends to work with. Yes, and I still have some freedom left, which I shall fight tooth and claw to keep.’
His tone sharpened to match mine. ‘You have no need to fight tooth and claw, lass. We’re on the same side.’
I swung my legs off the long chair, ready to go.
‘Correction,’ I said. ‘We have never been on the same side, my lord. Not even before I became your brother’s mistress, when you tried to warn him off me. Too unreliable, you told him.’
‘Is that what he told you?’
‘That’s what he told me. We laughed about it. We shall never be on the same side, except where Jamie’s welfare is concerned. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m getting rather tired.’ I tried to stand, but the room swayed dangerously and I had to sit down again with an ungainly thud, my hands clutching to keep me upright. ‘Oh!’ I said. ‘Oh, dear.’
He was beside me instantly. ‘Steady…steady, lass. God’s truth, but I’ve never known a woman fly up into the boughs so fast. Now wait. I’ll take you back, but I shall not allow you to walk. It’s time you were taken in hand.’
I let the remark go, for he was justified in thinking that I was on edge, snapping and snarling as if I was being threatened. ‘I’m all right,’ I said. ‘It’s just dizziness, that’s all.’
‘No, you’re not.’ Busily re-wrapping me, his hands came to rest upon my shoulders where the blanket pinned my arms to my body. Holding it tightly so that I could not protest, he swung me once more into his arms where I lay with my head upon his shoulder, utterly powerless. Wordless, too.
‘Now, my beauty,’ he said, sternly, ‘let’s get one more thing straight, shall we? It will be better for Jamie if we both try to show him that we’re friends, not rivals. I shall not use him to score points, nor should you do that. If you want to fight me, we’ll do it in private, not in front of him. Agreed?’
‘Yes.’
His eyes narrowed and his lips moved, and I knew there was more to come. ‘Fierce woman,’ he whispered. ‘My God, but the lad has a warrior-mother to defend him, doesn’t he? You don’t have the physique to go with it, though, so don’t even think about going home yet. You need some care and attention first. I expect someone can take care of the shop?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the house? I’ll get a message to them as soon as I can.’
‘Yes. Thank you.’
‘Saints, lass. Have I silenced you at last? No, perhaps not. I remember there was another way to do that, wasn’t there?’
‘Please!’
‘Hah!’ Throwing back his head, he bellowed with laughter as the door opened, letting Jamie and his nurse into the room to make what they could of me in the arms of Jamie’s guardian.
It could have been worse, as it happened, for Jamie was too young to think anything of it and Mrs Goode was one of those rare creatures whose experience of life runs just ahead of one’s own. She was approaching middle age and still handsome, and the flash of interest in her eyes disappeared as she dealt with the scene with perfect composure. ‘Oh, good,’ she said. ‘You just on your way up, ma’am?’
Jamie ran to Winterson’s leg and clung, somewhere beneath me. ‘Bring Mama, Uncaburl,’ he said, ‘to see snowman. He wants to say goodnight.’
I began to protest, but Winterson had other ideas. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘So if you let go of my leg, young whipper-snapper, and hold the door open for us, we’ll go. Come on, lead the way.’
So we did, followed by hounds, striding, trotting and sailing high along the stone passageways, across the great hall and out to the front porch that overlooked the snow-covered terrace. The formal garden lay beyond like a fairyland of blue shadows and heavy-laden trees, and the cold air filled my lungs, making my hair prickle and my eyes water.
‘Not too cold for you?’ said Winterson, softly.
‘No, not at all. It’s beautiful.’
Mrs Goode tucked the blanket deep into my neck, her expression suitably serious. Jamie ran to greet the snowman who stood twice his height, wearing an old beaver hat. ‘See, Mama!’ he called. ‘He’s got Uncaburl’s best hat on.’
‘It was either that or one of my neckcloths,’ the donor explained. ‘There was little choice in the matter, really. What d’ye think, ma’am?’
‘He’s a splendid snowman,’ I called. ‘Shall we say goodnight to him before we go in?’ It was like being a family, I thought. Mother, father and child, so different from the previous artificial relationship of pseudo-father and pseudo-uncle with me somewhere between.
But close behind that thought came the warning. Beware. This is getting too dangerous. Held in his arms, safe and warm, assuming another ambiguous role, it’s going to be so easy to forget the brothers’ scheme, forged years ago without a by-your-leave. You owe this man no favours, the warning said, coldly, bitterly.
Back in my room upstairs, the blankets were peeled off.
‘Whose nightgown is this?’ I said, noticing for the first time the unfamiliar broderie-anglais yoke. I had made all my own night attire.
‘Mrs Murgatroyd found it for me,’ said Debbie, holding the sheet open. ‘I only managed to pack one, and that’s gone to the laundry.’
‘Then get this thing off me,’ I said. ‘Heaven only knows who’s worn it before me. I’ll have my own back, if you please.’ I could well imagine who had worn it, and who had been hurriedly slipped out of it, too. One of his mistresses.
Wrestling it over my head, Debbie treated me to some mutterings about the whims and fancies of convalescents, but the enchantment of the previous hour had faded and, as Debbie opened the bedroom door to retrieve my gown, I heard the chimes of the long-case clock before the parlour door closed upon them. He would be in there thinking, no doubt, that he had won that round hands down.
* * *
My recovery took only a few days, since I was healthy and strong and eager to resume my life in York. I used those few days well, though, playing around Winterson’s spacious house with Jamie and Mrs Goode, having snowball fights in the garden, playing hide and seek, watching the racehorses, walking in the snow and skating on the lake. Each night my beloved infant would fall asleep with apple cheeks, exhausted and happy in his own rosy paradise, and I fell asleep in the hope that the thaw would set in overnight while my heart was still my own.
I kept to my side of the agreement to assume a convincing friendship with our host, which was little different from what I had always done whenever Jamie was there to see. But as for sitting with him in private again, that I did not do, but found some excuse to be elsewhere. It was not so much that I wished to evade any future tactics he might be planning, but that I had a campaign of my own that did not include letting him think I was softening.
Not one bit. Good manners I could manage when I had to, but pretend a sincere friendship I would not.
* * *
At last, after a day of shovelling, of dripping eaves and light sleety rain, the way was cleared between Abbots Mere and York, and I knew that Goody and I would have our work cut out convincing Jamie that going home could be better than staying. A coach ride being out of the question, Jamie rode with Uncaburl to lead the way, helping to ease the transition, while the rest of us followed behind with two grooms. Whether Uncaburl said anything to his ward about accepting the situation, far from ideal in Jamie’s eyes, I do not know, but there were no tantrums.
Jamie was carried around the house, straddled across Uncaburl’s waist, to reacquaint him with his own room, his rocking horse and Noah’s Ark. How they had missed him, his guardian said, promising him another visit to Abbots Mere before long.
‘And a pony?’ said Jamie. ‘You did say a pony, Uncaburl.’
‘When the winter has gone away, there will be a pony for you.’
‘He’s too young,’ I whispered as we went downstairs. ‘I told you.’
‘I know you did, but he’s desperate to learn and that’s the best time to do it. Trust me. I’ll find something suitable. He’ll be safe with me.’
‘What am I to do about my own transport, my lord? Am I allowed to borrow one of the horses from the stable at Stonegate, as I did before?’
Mrs Goode and Jamie had gone ahead to the kitchen, leaving Winterson and me in my pretty pale-green panelled dining room. I poured a glass of port and handed it to him, aware that I was occupying his house and beholden to him for everything in it, even my mode of transport. My question about the horses was meant to point to the fact.
He placed the glass upon the table and came to stand before me where I could breathe in the freshness of his skin. ‘Miss Follet,’ he said, ‘you may borrow any of the horses from Stonegate at any time, but don’t take your phaeton out yet. It’s not safe. If you want to go visiting, send me a message and I’ll have a carriage sent for you. And don’t go too far.’
Marrying the Mistress Page 8