by Dilly Court
‘It’s nice to see you again too, old man,’ Toby said cheerfully. ‘Take the horses and give them a rub down.’ He moved swiftly to take Champion’s halter. ‘Except this one. I’ll see to him.’
‘What’s that you’ve got there?’ Jeffries demanded, squinting short-sightedly at the bundle on Champion’s back. The outline of a body was clearly visible beneath the wet calico. ‘What’ve you got there, master?’
Toby turned to Effie. ‘Take the boys into the house. We’ll see to everything out here.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I know where there is a patch of soft ground. He’ll lie easily there.’
‘You can’t just plant him like a tree. We must say some prayers and give him a decent burial.’
‘All right. Anything you like, but go indoors and get out of those wet clothes.’
‘What shall I tell Nellie?’
‘Tell her the truth. You can trust her to keep her mouth shut.’ Toby turned to Jeffries who was standing in the pouring rain, gaping at the ill-disguised cadaver. ‘See to the horses first, Jeffries, and then we’ll need shovels and spades.’
A shout from Tom brought Effie to her senses and she took Georgie from his arms. ‘Come with me, Tom,’ she said, heading for the scullery door.
‘What is this place?’ he said, hurrying after her. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘It’s the saddest house in the world.’ Effie thrust the door open and stepped inside. ‘And I hoped never to see it again.’
In the kitchen, Nellie was seated in her usual chair by the fire. She looked up, taking in their bedraggled state with a resigned sigh. ‘So you’ve come back. I thought we’d seen the last of you, Effie Grey.’
‘I’m sorry for leaving without telling you,’ Effie began, but Nellie raised her hand.
‘I don’t want to know the details. You’re here now and I suppose it was young Toby who brought you. That boy turns up like a bad penny.’ She glared at Tom. ‘And that must be the brother you kept on about. He looks old enough to take care of hisself.’
Tom shook the rain from his hair and wiped his sleeve across his wet face. ‘You was good to my sister, missis. I thank you for that, and we’re only passing through. We won’t trouble you for long.’
Nellie rose to her feet. ‘Ho, it speaks. Well, I like the cut of your jib, boy. You don’t look like one of the rapscallions that torment old folks and steal the food from under their noses.’
‘I should think not,’ Effie said indignantly. ‘Tom is a good boy and he’s been brought up to respect his elders.’
‘Hoity-toity as usual,’ Nellie muttered. ‘Nothing’s changed. Anyway, best get out of them wet things. Give me the baby and I’ll look after him while you go upstairs to change. Your room is just as you left it and Mirella’s old clothes are still in the chest of drawers.’
Effie held on to Georgie, shaking her head. ‘It’s all right, thank you, Nellie. I can manage.’
‘But you haven’t brought any clothes for the poor little mite, I can see that. I’ve still got some of Bertie’s things in my trunk. I hadn’t the heart to throw them out and now they’ll come in useful again. You really should take better care of him, missis. He’s a poppet.’
As if responding to this flattery, Georgie held his arms out to Nellie.
‘See,’ Nellie said triumphantly. ‘He remembers me.’ She prised him from his mother’s arms, hugging him to her flat breast. ‘Who’s a lovely little fellow then? Who is Nellie’s best boy?’
Georgie tugged at her mobcap, pulling it down over one eye. ‘Hungry,’ he said.
Nellie set him down on her chair. ‘And you shall have some of Nellie’s freshly baked bread with lots of butter and some strawberry jam. There was a good crop this year even though the plants are choked with weeds.’ She turned to Effie and Tom who were staring at her as if in a trance. ‘I daresay I can find some of Bertie’s old clothes for you, young man. I kept everything of his in the hope that he would return one day with his nippers, but it never came about. Wait here a minute.’ She left them staring after her as she hurried into the room, which was little more than a cupboard, where she slept and stored her possessions. She returned almost immediately with an armful of garments which she thrust at Effie. ‘They’re a bit moth-eaten and shabby, but they’re dry and I’m sure you’ll find something there to fit the boy. I’ll see to little Georgie.’
‘You’re very kind,’ Effie murmured. ‘I’ll go and change, but what about the master? Is he well?’ She did not know how else to put such a delicate question, but Nellie seemed to understand her meaning.
‘He’s been better, but he’s had to do without his smoke. The excise men caught up with them as they smuggled the stuff upriver. He went through a bad patch, but he’s getting over it. He won’t bother you.’
Leaving Georgie with Nellie, Effie led Tom through the house to the staircase. He paused, looking round him in awe. ‘What a place, Effie. I’d no idea you’d been living in a mansion.’
She mounted the stairs. ‘I cleaned every room in this place, but I couldn’t wait to get away from here.’
Tom followed her, stopping to stare at the portraits and then taking two steps at a time in order to catch up with her. ‘I wouldn’t say no to having a house like this. It’s really grand and I bet it’s haunted.’
‘I think the ghosts are more like memories from the past, and they’re not happy ones.’ Effie hurried past Mr Westlake’s room and breathed a sigh of relief when she opened the door of her old bedchamber. Her clothes clung damply to her body and she shivered although the room was warm. While Tom rifled through the pile of old clothes, Effie went to the chest of drawers and selected a blouse and skirt that had belonged to Mirella. Toby might choose to deny the past, but it was obvious to Effie that the illicit love affair between the master and his gypsy maidservant had been both intense and long lasting. Separated by death, Mr Westlake was in love with her ghost. Reluctantly, Effie changed out of her wet clothes and dressed in Mirella’s faded finery.
Tom had found a pair of breeches and a shirt that were worn and patched but fitted reasonably well. He wrinkled his nose. ‘They stink of lavender,’ he grumbled. ‘And they itch.’
Effie opened the door. ‘Never mind that now. I’ll see to our laundry when I’ve got a moment. Come on, Tom. I don’t want to leave Georgie alone with Nellie for long. She gets funny ideas and convinces herself that he’s her long lost Bertie.’
‘This is a madhouse,’ Tom muttered, following her out onto the landing. ‘But I wouldn’t mind stopping here for a while. I might see the ghost.’
Effie came to a sudden halt as Mr Westlake’s door opened and he emerged, resplendent in his crimson and gold robes with a tasselled velvet cap on his head and his long, dark hair flowing around his shoulders. ‘Mirella, my darling. You’ve come back to me.’
Chapter Fifteen
EFFIE STOOD HER ground, determined to put matters right there and then. She faced up to Seymour, looking him in the eye with an unflinching gaze. ‘I am not Mirella. I am Effie Grey.’
His smile faded. ‘Effie Grey,’ he repeated dazedly. ‘Do I know you?’
‘Yes, sir. I’ve been here before and you made the same mistake then. I am not the person you think I am.’
‘What’s going on, Effie?’ Tom demanded, clutching her arm. ‘Who is this old cove?’
‘This is Mr Westlake. He owns Marsh House and he mistook me for a lady he knew a long time ago.’
‘You are not Mirella,’ Seymour said, frowning. ‘I know that now.’ His face crumpled and he bowed his head. ‘She was taken from me.’
Casting a warning glance at Tom, Effie moved swiftly to Seymour’s side. She took him by the arm and led him back to his room. ‘Sit down, sir,’ she said, helping him to a chair. ‘Mirella died years ago, but her son lives and he is here now.’
‘Her son?’
‘Your son too, I think,’ Effie said gently. ‘Will you see him, Mr Westlake? Will you t
ell him the truth about his birth? As I see it, you are both alone in the world which is madness when you have each other.’
‘My son?’ Seymour raised his head. ‘I did have a son, but he went away a long time ago.’
‘You sent him away when he was just a boy, but something draws him back to Marsh House. I beg you to see him, sir.’
‘Effie, come away,’ Tom called nervously from the doorway. ‘The old bloke is clearly off his head.’
Seymour rubbed his hand across his brow. ‘Did you come here to torment me, Effie Grey?’
‘No, sir. This is the last place I would come to willingly, but Toby brought me here with my baby son and my brother Tom.’ She indicated Tom who was hopping from one foot to the other in a state of agitation.
‘Why come to this sad place? It’s fit only for ghosts and memories of the past.’
‘You’re right, Mr Westlake. There is something else and we need your help.’
‘My help? I can do nothing for anyone, least of all myself.’
‘I’m asking your permission to bury my father-in-law on your land. It’s a long story but he took sick and died.’
This bizarre statement had the desired effect. Seymour was suddenly alert and interested. ‘You want to bury a corpse on my land?’
Effie rose to her feet. ‘Yes, sir. As I said, it’s a long story.’
‘And one I want to hear,’ Seymour said eagerly. ‘Sit down and tell me this extraordinary tale.’ He waved his hand at Tom. ‘Boy, go to the kitchen and ask Nellie to bring up a tray of tea for Effie and a jug of ale for myself.’
‘Effie?’ Tom shuffled a few steps closer to her, eyeing Seymour as though he were a wild animal about to pounce on its prey. ‘I don’t want to leave you with him.’
‘It’s all right, Tom. I’ll be quite safe with Mr Westlake, and I’m going to tell him everything.’
‘Fetch the ale, boy,’ Seymour said impatiently. ‘My throat is dry as tinder and I’ve a craving for brandy, but there is none in the house.’
Tom left the room encouraged by a nod from Effie. She turned to Seymour with an attempt at a smile. ‘Ale is better for you, sir.’
‘My supplier ran into a spot of bother,’ Seymour said, tapping his finger on the side of his nose. ‘Excise men, you know. But Nellie makes a tolerable drop of beer, and I’m told it’s better for my constitution, although it doesn’t blot out the painful memories like opium and a fine cognac.’
‘And it doesn’t addle your brain,’ Effie said, pulling up a footstool and sitting by his side. ‘You are not an old man, Mr Westlake, but you’re wasting your life away shut up in this room. You have so much more than most people and yet you wallow in self-pity. Do you think you are the only person in the world who has lost a loved one?’ She realised that she was pushing him to the limit, but she could not stop herself. All her pent-up feelings had bubbled to the surface and now her anger was directed at Seymour Westlake. ‘You were born into wealth and privilege but you’ve let it all go to ruin. There are people who would give anything to have what you have.’
‘I expect you’re right, but why are you so angry with me, Miss Grey? What has my sad life got to do with you anyway?’
‘It’s Mrs Grey,’ Effie said, forcing herself to keep calm. ‘I’m a widow and my husband died of consumption before our son was born. My little boy will never know his father, but you with all your money and education have abandoned your son.’ She stopped, biting her lip, knowing that she had said too much. She waited for a tirade from Seymour but he was silent for a moment, staring at her thoughtfully.
He reached out and touched her hand. ‘Tell me your story, Scheherazade. I’m sober for once and I’m listening.’
Half an hour later, Effie returned to the kitchen feeling drained and exhausted after reliving her past in order to satisfy Seymour’s curiosity.
Toby and Tom were sitting at the table eating bread and cheese washed down with tankards of ale, and Nellie was seated by the range feeding Georgie with bread and milk.
‘There’s tea in the pot,’ Nellie said, eyeing Effie with a tilt of her head. ‘You took your time.’
‘Mr Westlake wanted to know all about us,’ Effie said tiredly. ‘He seems a lot better in himself now.’
Nellie spooned food into Georgie’s open mouth. ‘He’ll fall into his old ways again. Someone will come knocking on the door in the dead of night offering cheap brandy and opium, and the master will be off again on one of his wild flights of fancy.’
Effie helped herself to a cup of tea. ‘I don’t think you should sit back and do nothing about it.’ She took a seat at the table next to Tom. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s really none of my business.’
‘You’re right there, missis. What the master does has nothing to do with you.’ Nellie set Georgie down on the floor as he clamoured to be with his mother and he toddled over to Effie.
‘That’s a bit harsh, Nellie old girl,’ Toby said mildly. ‘Effie’s speaking the plain truth.’
Effie turned to him eagerly. ‘Why don’t you go upstairs and see him, Toby? I think he’s lonely and maybe some young company would make him feel happier. Maybe you could persuade him to join us for supper?’
Toby rose to his feet. ‘You won’t catch me out like that, Effie. I see through your little game, and it won’t work. The man upstairs is not my father.’ He tapped Tom on the shoulder. ‘Come on, we’ve got work to do. The dead won’t bury themselves.’ He cast a questioning look at Effie. ‘I take it there were no objections.’
She shook her head. ‘No, he was very good about it after I had explained the circumstances.’
‘Right, then there’s no time to lose.’ Toby beckoned to Tom. ‘There’s a reasonably clear patch in the orchard, and the rain has stopped so we’ll start digging there. Come on, old chap, we’ve a lot of soil to shift.’
Tom drained his tankard of ale and grabbed a hunk of bread and cheese. ‘Ta, Nellie,’ he said, grinning. ‘You’re a toff.’ He hurried off in pursuit of Toby.
‘He’s a young limb if ever I saw one,’ Nellie said, chuckling. ‘He reminds me of my Sidney when he was a nipper. He had the cheek of the devil, but it landed him in trouble and now he’s in Australia for life, so maybe it ain’t a good comparison.’
Effie absorbed this remark in silence as she sipped her tea. It had not occurred to her until this moment that Tom’s lively and adventurous nature might lead him astray. She would have to watch him carefully in future and guide him along the winding path to manhood. She had two boys to nurture and raise to be good citizens. It was not going to be easy.
‘You ought to eat something,’ Nellie said severely. ‘You look peaky, although it’s hardly surprising after what you’ve been through. Why don’t you have a lie down? I’ll look after Georgie.’
There was nothing that Effie would have liked more than to sink into a soft feather bed and sleep for hours, but she resisted the temptation. Once again, Nellie’s obvious fondness for Georgie was making her apprehensive. Marsh House seemed to cast a spell over its inhabitants, locking them in the past and never allowing them to move on. ‘Thank you,’ she said with an effort. ‘But I’d rather keep busy. If it’s all the same to you, I’ll take Georgie and show him the goats and hens. I could do the milking if you haven’t already done it.’
‘I won’t say no to that, but you ain’t going nowhere until you’ve had a bite to eat.’
Outside in the yard Georgie chased the hens and sent them flapping and clucking in protest. The more they fluttered about the faster his little legs went, and his shouts of laughter brought a smile to Effie’s lips. Effie filled a rush basket with eggs and took them into the dairy, returning with a wooden pail and a milking stool. With Georgie trotting along beside her she went to the overgrown kitchen garden where the goats had demolished just about every plant in sight. She chased the nanny and caught her eventually, despite Georgie’s attempts to help which consisted of getting underfoot and taking a few tumb
les, which he seemed to think were all part of the game as he struggled to his feet, unscathed and chuckling.
At midday the sun was high in the sky when Effie took bread, cheese and a flagon of ale to the spot where Toby, Tom and Jeffries were digging the grave. Tom had discarded his shirt and Toby was also stripped to the waist. Sweat glistened on his muscular torso and his curly hair clung damply to his brow. He rested on the pick handle, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes, Effie,’ he said, smiling.
She tried not to look too pleased at the compliment, but she could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks all the same. ‘I’ve brought you some food,’ she said, placing the basket in the shade of a gnarled apple tree.
‘Good, I’m starving.’ Tom flopped down on the grass and helped himself to bread and cheese.
‘Leave some for us old ’uns,’ Jeffries muttered. ‘Digging graves ain’t the work of a stable man.’
‘It’s not my line of work either,’ Toby said easily. ‘The clay is hard as iron.’ He took the flagon from Effie and drank deeply. He passed it to Jeffries. ‘If I’d known that Nellie could brew beer like that I’d have come more often.’
Effie peered into the shallow trench. ‘It’s not very deep. How long will it take you to finish it?’
‘We should get it done before sunset.’ Toby reached for his shirt which he had slung over a tree branch. He slipped it on. ‘Apologies for my state of undress, Mrs Grey, but it’s hot work.’
She knew that he was teasing her, but Effie averted her eyes. Her feelings for Frank had awakened emotions and desires that she had thought were dead and buried with her late husband. It was a shock to realise that her young body responded to Toby in the same way, and she could not bring herself to look him in the face. ‘I’ll leave you to eat your meal,’ she murmured.
‘Bring us some more ale, Effie,’ Tom urged, holding the empty flagon upside down to emphasise his need. ‘Digging in this heat is thirsty work.’
‘I think you’ve had enough of that strong brew. You can fill it with water from the pump and wash some of that dust off you at the same time.’ Effie tried to sound severe but Tom had a way of making her laugh. In his tipsy state, with dirt smeared all over his skinny torso and a wide grin on his face, he had even brought a smile to Jeffries’ lugubrious features.