by Mary Nichols
‘Of course. Next Thursday, here in Hadlea.’
‘Please convey my gratitude to Lady Wyndham for her generous hospitality. I have written her a note, which I have asked her maid to pass on to her when she is feeling up to receiving it.’
‘That is kind of you.’
‘And express my good wishes and condolences to Miss Isabel. It is going to be hard for her to have the wedding postponed and cope with a very different life from the one she envisaged. How did she take the news?’
‘She is very sad, of course, but took it well enough, all things considered. She has the support of her mother and Jane, for which I am grateful, for I cannot give her the attention I would like just now.’
‘I am sure they understand. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall go and pack.’
‘There is something you can do for me,’ Mark said, as they shook hands. ‘Will you make sure my letters go on the mail?’
‘Gladly.’
‘I’ve just one more to write. I’ll send them to you when they are ready. Jeremy will drive you to the Fox and Hounds.’
Drew left and Mark pulled another sheet of notepaper towards him, dipped his pen in the ink and resumed writing.
* * *
An hour later he was free to receive Lady Cavenhurst and her three daughters. All four bent the knee and addressed him as ‘my lord’, which made him feel thoroughly uncomfortable and he begged them not to change towards him.
‘How is your dear mother?’ Lady Cavenhurst asked. ‘I would not intrude on her grief if she does not wish it.’
Even as she spoke Lady Wyndham entered the room. She was dressed in unrelieved black, but was dry-eyed and upright. ‘Grace, thank you for coming,’ she said.
Lady Cavenhurst hurried towards her and took both her hands in her own. ‘Helen, I am so very, very sorry. If there is anything we can do for you, you have only to ask.’
‘There is nothing that I can think of. Will you be seated?’
They sat in a little circle, not knowing what to say until Jane spoke. ‘Lord Wyndham will be sorely missed by everyone who knew him,’ she said. ‘He was such a good, kind man, always ready to listen and so generous, too.’
‘Yes, he was, wasn’t he?’ Lady Wyndham smiled suddenly. ‘I remember when he found Jeremy as a child running about the streets of London and brought him home. He was filthy and verminous, but nothing would do but he should be given a bath and new clothes and fed. He slept in the stables and has been with us ever since.’
‘You mean Jeremy, your coachman?’ Isabel queried.
‘Yes, he has grown into a fine man and would do anything for my husband and for Mark, too.’
‘That is why his lordship listened to my tale of wanting to set up a home for war orphans,’ Jane said. ‘He understood.’
‘His promise will be honoured, Jane,’ Mark said quietly.
She turned to him and noticed the sparkle of tears in his eyes and her heart went out to him. The pity of it was that she could not tell him so. ‘Thank you, Mark, but you have more important matters to deal with, I am sure.’
‘Have you decided on the funeral?’ Lady Cavenhurst asked him.
‘Yes. It is to be in St Peter’s in Hadlea next Thursday. The Bishop of Norwich and the Reverend Caulder will officiate. There will, of course, be refreshments here afterwards and the reading of the will.’
‘I shall mourn for the rest of my days,’ Lady Wyndham said. ‘But we will not keep Mark and Isabel waiting too long for their wedding. I want to see grandchildren playing about the place before I leave this world. I think six months will be enough for the official mourning.’
‘Thank you,’ Isabel said. ‘You are very kind.’
‘I have no doubt you have much to do,’ Lady Cavenhurst said, rising. ‘We will take our leave. Please do not hesitate to send for us if there is anything we can do for you.’
As they were leaving they met Drew on the gravel in front of the house. He was about to climb into the gig which was to take him to the Fox and Hounds. He bowed to each of them. ‘Ladies, I regret I cannot stop and talk. The mail is due in twenty minutes.’
‘Are you leaving?’ Isabel asked with something like dismay in her voice.
‘Yes, Miss Isabel. I would not intrude on the household grief, but I shall come back for the funeral. Lord Wyndham was very good to me, when I was struggling to make my way.’ He bowed again, climbed into the gig and was driven away.
The pony and trap in which Jane had driven them to Broadacres was waiting for them at the door. It was just big enough to seat four comfortably. She was a competent driver and enjoyed bowling about the village in it, though her mother and Isabel much preferred the coach.
‘It was considerate of Lady Wyndham to think of you, Issie,’ Jane said, skilfully turning the pony towards the entrance gates. ‘In the midst of her sorrow, she is still thinking of others. Six months is not so long to wait and the time will soon pass.’
‘I knew spilling that ink on my gown and letting Mark see it was a bad omen,’ Isabel said. ‘And I have been proved right.’
‘That is just a silly superstition,’ her mother told her. ‘Do not think of it.’
‘It is not the only one about weddings,’ Sophie piped up. ‘It is said a postponed wedding never takes place.’
‘Sophie, how could you?’ Lady Cavenhurst remonstrated as Isabel burst into tears. ‘There was no call to repeat such nonsense. You have upset your sister, for no good reason.’
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled.
But nothing would comfort Isabel and she continued to weep all the way home.
* * *
‘Issie, do dry your tears,’ Jane said as gently as she could, though she was fast losing patience with her sister. ‘If Lady Wyndham and Mark can bear up, so should you. Their loss is the greater.’
‘It’s all right for you, Jane,’ her sister grumbled. ‘You have not had your wedding snatched away from you.’
‘Isabel, it has not been snatched away,’ her ladyship said. ‘It has merely been postponed for six months. It is to be hoped that by that time you will have learned how to be more dignified. Think of the position you will have as Mark’s wife. You will be Lady Wyndham and mistress of Broadacres. Everyone will look to you to set a good example. Mark does not want a wife who bursts into tears at the slightest setback.’
Isabel did not answer and Jane pulled up in front of the stables and they all dismounted, leaving Daniel to unharness the pony and rub him down. They met Teddy in the hall, as they were going upstairs to take off their bonnets.
‘Teddy, where have you been?’ his mother asked him. ‘We have just been over to Broadacres to offer condolences. You should have been with us.’
‘I had business in Norwich. I will go over later.’
He did not elaborate on what the business might be. Jane had little hope that he had been looking for a way out of his dilemma. She knew their father had spoken to him about the need to make savings, but she had no idea what her brother’s reaction had been. She sighed as she continued upstairs to her own room. She must write to the bank manager to ask him to release her savings. And then what? Would Teddy turn over a new leaf?
* * *
The funeral had been attended by almost the whole male population of the village and distant relatives and friends of the Wyndham family came from far and wide, including Drew. Although it was not usual for ladies to attend funerals, but to wait at home for the menfolk to return, Lady Wyndham had insisted on being present at the interment of her husband. She had been dry-eyed throughout and regally upright in her widow’s weeds. She had maintained the stance throughout the service and even afterwards when everyone gathered for refreshments in the long gallery at Broadacres. Helped to a seat by Mark, she sat accepting condolences and listening to the mourners recounting
tales of what Lord Wyndham had said and done, some of which raised a wry smile. Mark was here, there and everywhere, being the perfect host, but Jane could see the strain in his eyes. To be suddenly catapulted into his inheritance years before he expected it must be a daunting prospect for him.
* * *
One by one the mourners began to leave until only the family and servants remained for the reading of the will. Mark caught Jane as she was preparing to leave with the rest of her family. ‘Stay, Jane,’ he said. The look of dismay on Isabel’s face made him add, ‘And you, too, Isabel.’ He turned to Sir Edward. ‘I will see them safely home afterwards, Sir Edward.’
Leaving their parents, Sophie and Teddy to go home in the family coach, the girls took seats near Mark and Lady Wyndham as the lawyer cleared his throat to begin. There was nothing remarkable in the will. There were bequests to all the servants commensurate with their status, small bequests to nephews and nieces, a generous allowance for his widow and three thousand pounds to Jane to use for her orphans. The amount made her gasp. His lordship had promised a donation, but she had never dreamed it would be so much. It made her realise that she would have to go ahead with it; there could be no backing out now. Mark, who had been standing by his mother’s chair, bent and whispered in her ear. ‘I will match that, Jane. You shall have your orphanage.’
The lawyer was coming to the end. ‘Finally, to my beloved son, Mark, I leave the estate of Broadacres and all its lands and holdings, the London house in South Audley Street, the overseas investments and the residue of monies after all other bequests have been fulfilled.’ He looked round at his audience, but, as no one had any comments, he gathered his papers up and prepared to leave.
Some of the relatives, who had come a distance and would be staying at Broadacres overnight, went to their rooms to rest and change for dinner and those living locally took their leave of Lady Wyndham and Mark, leaving only Jane and Isabel.
‘Drew, will you be so kind as to escort the ladies home?’ Mark asked. ‘I must stay with my mother and my guests.’
‘It is not in the least necessary,’ Jane said. ‘It is a fine day and we can easily walk.’
‘Then I shall walk with you,’ Drew said. ‘I am staying at the Fox and Hounds. The Manor is not so very far out of my way.’
‘Oh, thank you, sir,’ Isabel said before Jane could protest again. ‘I, for one, shall feel more at ease with an escort.’
This was a strange statement from one who was accustomed to walking about the village with only Jane or Bessie as a companion. Jane looked sharply at her, but did not comment. With Drew between them they set off. No one spoke as they made their way down the drive and out of the huge iron gates on to the road to the village.
‘It has been a sad day,’ Jane said. ‘We were all very fond of Lord Wyndham. Her ladyship stood up to the occasion very well, don’t you think, Mr Ashton?’
‘Indeed, yes. She showed enviable stoicism, but underneath I am sure she was suffering. They were so devoted, an example of what a marriage should be.’
‘Yes, it is a pity all marriages are not like that,’ Jane said. ‘But I suppose it is down to finding your soulmate, someone you wish to spend the rest of your life with. So often marriage becomes a matter of convenience. Husband and wife lead almost separate lives, each with their own interests and circle of friends.’
‘Unfortunately that happens all too often’ he said.
‘You have never been married?’ Isabel queried.
‘No.’ He laughed. ‘I never found my soulmate. I thought I had once, but it was not to be.’
‘Why not?’
Jane held her breath for his answer, praying he would not mention her name. He looked at her and smiled. ‘We were both too young, too immature and I had yet to make my way in the world.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘Since then I have been too busy making my fortune to think of marrying.’
‘Would you go back to her if you could?’
‘Isabel,’ Jane remonstrated, ‘you should not quiz Mr Ashton in that fashion.’
‘Oh, I do not mind it,’ he said. ‘To answer your question, Miss Isabel, I thought I would. I thought that if we met again and she saw how prosperous I had become, she and her papa might think differently and I would win her. But I have thought better of it since.’
‘Why not? Is she not as beautiful as you remembered?’
‘Oh, more so. It is not that—’
‘Issie, did you notice how strained Mark was looking today?’ Jane interrupted the conversation, which was becoming too embarrassing to be borne. ‘It is hardly to be wondered at, but I hope he manages to sleep tonight. He will need his strength in the next few weeks.’
‘There will be no wedding,’ Isabel said, ignoring Jane’s attempt to divert her. ‘Did you know that, Mr Ashton?’
‘I knew it had been postponed, but it will take place later, will it not?’
Isabel sighed. ‘I am no longer sure of anything.’
‘Isabel, what are you saying?’ Jane exclaimed. ‘Surely you have not changed your mind about marrying Mark?’
‘I don’t know. I am so confused. Watching how everyone behaved today, especially Lady Wyndham, I thought I shall be expected to be like her, to direct that huge household and remain calm whatever the crisis and I do not think I can manage it.’
‘It has been a trying day,’ Jane said, wishing her sister had not voiced her doubts in front of Drew. ‘You will think differently when you have had a night’s sleep and are more yourself.’
‘It’s not just today. I have been worried about it for ages.’
‘Oh, Issie, I am losing patience with you. This is all because of the ink spilled on your gown and that ill-considered remark of Sophie’s.’
‘What remark was that?’ Drew asked.
‘It was nothing,’ Jane said. ‘A silly superstition our sister picked up from somewhere.’
‘Postponed marriages never happen,’ Isabel told him.
They had been walking side by side, but now he turned to Isabel. ‘I am inclined to agree with Miss Cavenhurst. It is silly.’
‘Oh, I would not mind it if I had not already been having doubts,’ she said.
‘Now is hardly the time to express them, Issie,’ Jane remonstrated. ‘Think of poor Mark. He has enough to contend with without that.’
‘He knows how I feel.’
‘And what did he say?’
‘That I would have the mourning period to get used to the idea.’
‘There you are, then.’
‘Jane, I wish you would not try to be a second mother to me. You are always telling me what I should and should not do and I am tired of it. You can know nothing of how I feel. I do not believe you have a heart.’
Jane was hurt as she was often hurt by her sister’s thoughtlessness, but she would not show it, certainly not in front of Drew. ‘Issie, you knew that if you accepted Mark one day you would be Lady Wyndham and mistress of Broadacres. It is not something new.’
‘I didn’t think it would be for years and years when we had grown quite old. And now it has happened.’
‘But if you truly love Mark, that would not matter in the least. Now, let us speak no more of it. I am sure Mr Ashton does not want to hear it.’
They continued in silence. Jane was appalled at what Isabel had said and in front of Andrew Ashton, too. Did Mark really know how Isabel was feeling? It must have added to his sadness over the loss of his father. The bride he had chosen did not want to become the sort of wife a man in his position needed. Was he expecting Isabel to become used to the idea or was he really worried about it? The pity of it was, that she, the unmarried sister, could not speak to him on such a private matter. What could she say if she did? Nothing. Her own feelings, locked away in the heart Isabel declared she did not have, could never be brought i
nto the open.
She stole a sideways glance at Drew, wondering if he would pass on what he had heard. He looked sombre as if debating the issue within himself. He turned his head towards her and caught her looking at him. ‘Do not worry,’ he murmured. ‘Your secret is safe with me.’
She looked away in confusion. What secret? Isabel had said Mark knew how she felt, so that was no secret. That she and Isabel had been arguing about it? That was hardly a secret either. Surely he had not guessed how she felt about Mark? That would be too mortifying.
They arrived at the front door of the Manor. Drew declined Isabel’s invitation to come in for refreshment, bowed and took his leave. Jane and Isabel went indoors and rejoined their parents and siblings. Nothing was said of the conversation on the road.
* * *
Jane had been promised enough money to buy a house for her children’s home without the need to use her aunt’s bequest, so she had agreed to hand that over to her brother.
‘I do it for Papa’s sake, not yours,’ she told him, a few days later when she caught him coming into the house in the middle of the morning. He looked dishevelled, as if he had been up all night and she wondered if that had been the case. He was rarely at home. ‘I have asked the bank to pay it into your account, but it will be the last. Use it wisely and no more gambling.’
‘Thank you, Sis.’ He grinned. ‘I suppose a jobation is a small price to pay for it, but you know you are sounding more and more like Papa.’
‘It is because we both worry about you, Teddy. You do not seem to have any sense of responsibility.’
He heaved a melodramatic sigh. ‘I am a sore trial to you, I know. How much is it, by the way?’
‘Five thousand pounds and I begrudge every penny of it and make no bones about it. If it had been for anything else but gambling...’
‘It will pay my way out to India and keep me going until I make my fortune.’ He stopped her before she could begin scolding him again.
‘India! What are you talking about? No one has mentioned India.’
‘Well, it might be the West Indies. I haven’t made up my mind.’