His Brother's Wife

by Val Wood

  Harriet thought of Ellen, who would be alone if Fletcher left; was that what he was thinking too? A mother’s bond was strong; but she also thought she would never hold Daniel back if he wanted to test the world for himself. Her own mother hadn’t: she had wished Leonard Godspeed as he set off on his travels, never to return.

  ‘There is someone,’ she murmured, keeping her face towards Mary so that she could read her lips. ‘But there are obstacles in our path.’

  Mary nodded. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘But sometimes obstacles are there for a reason, a sort of test,’ she suggested. ‘Like a gate or a fence to be jumped over, but oft times you’ll find that ’gate has a sneck to be lifted and ’fence has a stile, and it isn’t so difficult after all.’ She raised her grey, bushy eyebrows. ‘I’m sure that you’ll both find a way if you think on it.’

  Harriet cast her an enquiring glance. ‘Meaning?’

  ‘I saw you out of ’window that day you saw him off. He’s fond o’ you, that young man. It’s not allus possible to hide your feelings, not when you’re young, at any rate. Sometimes older people can hide all sorts o’ things, especially if they’ve had a lifetime to practise.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Harriet leaned towards her. ‘Who do you mean?’

  ‘I mean that Ellen Tuke hasn’t allus told ’truth, but that’s none o’ my business.’ Mary looked down and continued knitting. ‘But it might be yours and her son’s.’

  ‘Mary, look at me.’ Harriet lifted Mary’s chin so that she was gazing straight at her. ‘What do you know about Ellen Tuke? I’ve discovered things which I believe no one else knows about, but what can I do?’

  ‘Without proof,’ Mary agreed. ‘Aye, I know that too. But a lot of them that knew her think that your late husband Noah, Ellen’s second son, was not hers but born to another woman.’

  Fletcher had to get away from Marsh Farm. His mother was getting more vocal every day, constantly and vehemently urging him to go to Hart Holme Manor and confront Christopher Hart, and never mind that his wife was expecting a child.

  ‘Why should he believe you?’ He’d actually shouted at her, for the first time in his life. He’d been cruel, he admitted to himself as he marched along the top road, recalling what he’d said. ‘I dare say that men like him are constantly being accused of fathering their servant girls’ children,’ and he’d seen her flinch.

  And mebbe it was true, he thought. It must have been tempting for a young man of means to have these young girls so close, and maybe willing too. But she hadn’t said that he’d taken advantage of her: she’d said that she loved him and he’d loved her; she’d wanted his child and assumed that he would take care of her, until she’d heard in the kitchen that his parents were looking for a bride for him.

  ‘So poor old Da,’ he’d accused her. ‘You tricked him.’

  ‘What if I did?’ she’d answered coldly. ‘He got this farm, didn’t he? He’d never’ve made owt of himself without me.’

  Fletcher was so disgusted that he turned about and charged out of the house, and was now heading in the direction of the manor. I have to do summat about this situation, he raged. If Harriet will agree, we’ll go back to America where no one knows us. We have ’same name. We can be man and wife.

  It was ten thirty and Christopher Hart was drinking a second cup of coffee at Melissa’s bedside whilst she ate her breakfast. Melissa had been advised by her doctor to stay in bed of a morning, now that her time of giving birth was getting closer. He had also told her to take a walk outside only if the weather was clement enough, so that she didn’t catch a chill. She chafed against his advice; she felt well and healthy, but she was so very large that Christopher now always slept in his own bedroom.

  ‘I shall get up shortly,’ she told him, ‘and take a walk round the garden this afternoon. I need the exercise. Harriet Tuke worked up to the last minute, and I’m—’ She was going to say as fit as her, but Christopher interrupted.

  ‘She’s a working woman,’ he said. ‘Much stronger than you are. You do nothing more than admire your roses.’

  ‘I prune and deadhead them too,’ she said. ‘You didn’t know that, did you? I’m stronger than you all think. Old – what’s his name, the gardener – Parrish – he almost had apoplexy when he saw me!’

  ‘I know that you are strong, my darling,’ he said soothingly. ‘But you must be careful. Childbirth is not to be taken lightly, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.’ Although he wouldn’t have dreamed of telling her, he was terrified of losing her. ‘I was thinking,’ he went on, determined to change the subject, ‘and your mention of Harriet Tuke has reminded me . . . Does she still work here, by the way?’

  ‘She does.’ She smiled. ‘Have you not noticed your beautifully ironed shirts?’

  ‘Ah, yes! Well, I was wondering about Marsh Farm and what to do about it now that Ellen Tuke and Harriet are alone there.’ He saw that Melissa was about to say something, but he continued anyway. ‘It’s too large for them to farm it on their own, and the house would be better suited to a family, but on the other hand, the land is so wet that I’ve spoken to Thomson about the possibility of warping – land reclamation. It would take some years for it to be good growing land, but it would work. They’ve done it at Broomfleet, and with very good results at the eastern end of the Humber, Sunk Island in particular.’

  Melissa raised her eyebrows. Christopher didn’t as a rule discuss farming with her before he made a decision, although he quite often told her what had been decided.

  ‘And your reason for telling me this is?’

  ‘Because you talk to Harriet Tuke.’ He seemed a trifle apprehensive, Melissa thought curiously. ‘I wondered if she might have any thoughts on it if I told them I was considering moving them elsewhere.’

  ‘If you decide to do what you suggest,’ she answered pragmatically, ‘of course you must tell them that that is what you are going to do. It’s your land and you must do whatever you think fit with it. I think it would be very generous of you to offer them other accommodation. However,’ she took a tiny bite of toast, ‘from what I understand from my spies, the elder son has returned and Harriet has taken lodgings elsewhere.’

  It was almost midday and Christopher was in his study. Thomson had been in and again they had discussed Marsh Farm and the possibility of warping. Christopher mentioned that he’d heard that the elder son had returned.

  ‘Yes, I’d heard that too,’ Thomson had said. ‘Apparently he came back a few weeks ago after he’d had news of the death of his father and brother. It’s possible that he might want to stay on. He was always the one with ideas. I recall him mentioning land reclamation some years ago.’

  ‘I see,’ Christopher had said thoughtfully. ‘Well, we must give it further thought. He wouldn’t make much of a living whilst we were working on it, would he?’

  He had his head bent over farm tenancy agreements when one of the maids knocked on his open door. ‘I’m sorry to bother you, sir.’ She dipped her knee. ‘Fletcher Tuke is at ’back door, asking to speak to you with regard to a tenancy. I said he should talk to Mr Thomson, but he’s gone and Mr Tuke says he needs to speak to you urgently.’

  Christopher frowned. Drat! I seem to have been forestalled. I haven’t yet made a decision, but still . . . I’ll have to discuss it with him eventually. He cleared his throat. ‘Show him through, will you?’

  ‘In here, sir?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said abruptly. ‘In here.’

  Fletcher was astonished to be invited in: he had assumed that, like last time, Hart would come out to the yard to speak to him. Instead he was ushered through the kitchen, where there was a good smell of roast beef, up the back stairs, across a wide hall and towards the open door of a room where Christopher Hart was sitting at a desk.

  Christopher looked up as the young maid knocked. Fletcher touched his forehead. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, if it’s inconvenient. I’d lost track of time and didn’t realize it was so near to dinner
time.’ He gave a sudden grin. ‘It was ’smell of roast beef that reminded me.’

  ‘Goodness. Is it?’ Christopher glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘No, not yet. We eat at one. Do sit down. I’m behind with the time too. I hadn’t realized you’d come home until this morning; oddly enough I’d been discussing Marsh Farm with my bailiff and, erm, he told me of your return. I’m so very sorry about your father and brother,’ he added. ‘A dreadful business; you must have been very shocked when you heard?’

  ‘I was,’ Fletcher admitted. ‘But I didn’t hear ’news immediately or I would have returned straight away. A friend wrote with commiserations,’ he said, rather bitterly, Christopher thought. ‘My mother, for reasons best known to herself, chose not to tell me.’

  ‘Really?’ Christopher was astounded, but after a moment he said, ‘I think she – quite naturally, of course – was not at all herself after it happened, was very shocked and unnerved. My wife and I commented on it, and your brother’s wife took to her bed; we asked the parson to visit her to baptize the child.’ He recalled too that Melissa had said that she thought Ellen Tuke was a very cold fish.

  ‘That was kind of you, sir, very much appreciated.’ Fletcher glanced unobtrusively at Christopher Hart to discover any resemblance to himself, but found none. They were both tall and fair-haired, but that was the only similarity as far as he could tell. He gave a quiet sigh. His mother was lying.

  Christopher brushed away his thanks and continued, ‘As I mentioned, I have been discussing Marsh Farm with Thomson. We’ve given some thought to flooding the bottom field to increase the acreage; it will be expensive, involving having to build sluices and drains and so on, as you know, to keep the sediment in, but I think it will pay off eventually and make good growing land. I’d considered offering your mother and her daughter-in-law a tenancy elsewhere, somewhere they could manage more easily, but then I discovered that you were back.’ He hesitated, Melissa’s additional information in mind, but decided not to mention it. ‘Which slightly changes things, although I must tell you that that is what I have decided to do.’

  Fletcher heaved out a breath of deliverance. He’d arrived at the manor anxious and tense and with no clear idea of what he was going to say; he certainly wasn’t going to confront Christopher Hart with a question about his own paternity, no matter what his mother said. But now he knew what was important to him.

  ‘Warping is something I’ve thought about for years, sir, though in practice I knew we could never afford it. But what I came to say was that I won’t be staying on at Marsh Farm. My brother’s widow has already moved out and tekken other lodgings; two women in ’same house …’ He shook his head and grimaced. ‘Not a good combination. But Ma can’t stay on ’farm on her own, it’s far too big, and I came to ask if you’ve a cottage that she could rent.’

  Christopher too felt a release of concern; Ellen Tuke’s whispered words when he had called to see her after the tragedy had disturbed him more than he might have admitted. He leaned towards Fletcher. ‘I think I have the very place.’

  Melissa came slowly down the stairs. Pausing by the newel post, she saw through the open door of the study that Christopher was talking confidentially to someone. They turned and looked towards her, suddenly aware of her presence, and both stood up.

  She gripped the post more firmly. She saw their similar height and build, their hair the same colour and texture except that Christopher’s was streaked with grey, their open honest faces and wide smiling mouths, and she began to tremble.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Melissa waited until luncheon before bringing up the subject of Fletcher Tuke. She had only seen his back that day last year as he’d walked down the drive next to Harriet, but today she had known instantly who he was, and was extremely disturbed. Christopher hasn’t told me everything about Ellen Tuke, she thought as she sat in the sitting room waiting for the luncheon bell. I suppose that young men are expected to sow their wild oats, which I think is extremely unfair, for if society women should do so they would be considered slatternly and vulgar, and ostracized by their peers and family.

  But women like Ellen, what of them? Was she willing? Surely Christopher wouldn’t have forced her. He is the kindest, most gentle man, but now I wonder if I really know him. What worried her most of all was why Ellen Tuke’s son might have come here. Was he a potential threat to her unborn child?

  When they had finished dessert and were sitting drinking coffee, Melissa casually asked, ‘Who was that who called this morning?’

  ‘Mmm? When?’ Christopher seemed vague. ‘Did someone call? Oh, you mean young Tuke? That was a coincidence, wasn’t it, when we’d been talking about Marsh Farm? I’d been discussing it with Thomson, too.’

  He lifted the pot to offer Melissa more coffee but she shook her head and he poured himself another cup. ‘Strange business,’ he said. ‘It seems that he’s only recently returned from America; his mother hadn’t told him about his father and brother being drowned. He learned the news from someone else.’

  ‘I said she was odd,’ Melissa muttered. ‘Any normal woman would have wanted her other son to be with her, unless of course her daughter-in-law was a comfort to her.’

  ‘No,’ Christopher said. ‘Seemingly that’s why she’s moved out. They don’t get on.’

  Melissa pressed her lips together; she wasn’t interested in the minutiae of Ellen Tuke’s life, only in the plans of her son. ‘So why did he come to see you?’ She watched Christopher’s expression closely for signs of guilt or anxiety, but there were none as he replied.

  ‘Hah! He’s saved me a good deal of bother. He came to tell me he wouldn’t be staying on at Marsh Farm and wouldn’t want the tenancy. He wanted to ask if I would accommodate his mother in another cottage when he moves out. And there’s another odd thing.’ Christopher put down his cup. ‘He didn’t know that the tenancy was in his mother’s name. He’d always assumed it was in his father’s.’

  Melissa gave a small sigh; perhaps it was going to be all right after all.

  ‘He seemed like a good sort,’ Christopher commented. ‘Honest and reliable, the kind of man you could trust. I wouldn’t mind him working here, maybe as bailiff if ever Thomson moved on. Anyway, he asked if I would give his mother the news about Marsh Farm. He seemed to think she would take it better from me than from him, and he’s yet to tell her that he’s moving out.’ He paused, and then stood up. ‘I got the feeling that he has other plans which don’t include her.’ He bent to kiss her forehead. ‘Must go. Don’t overdo things, my darling. You look a little pale.’

  ‘It’s because I’ve been in bed all morning,’ she said crossly. ‘That’s why I’m pale!’

  When he had gone, she put on a warm cape to cover her, for it was a cold though sunny day, and walked into her garden. She had been delighted with her roses, the perfume from them suffusing the air, and although the flowers were almost finished some of them clung on and she stooped to admire their velvety petals and rich jewel colours. I must ask the gardener to bring a seat here for next spring, she thought, so that I may sit and enjoy them; and she thought too that she wouldn’t be alone, but would have a child and a nursemaid with her. There would also be guests, for Amy was to be married in May and the reception would be held at the manor.

  She heard the crunch of gravel and looked up to see Harriet walking away from the servants’ entrance towards the drive. Melissa called to her.

  Harriet looked up and came towards her. ‘Ma’am.’ She dipped her knee as she approached.

  ‘No baby with you today?’

  ‘No, ma’am. Mary’s looking after him. We’ve, erm, made an arrangement. I’m – I’m staying with her at present.’

  ‘I see.’ Melissa knew this already, but not from Harriet’s lips. ‘Do come over here,’ she said. ‘We can’t have a conversation when we’re twelve feet apart. Or are you in a hurry to be off?’

  ‘No, ma’am.’ Harriet stepped on to the grass and came towards her. ‘I
know he’s well looked after while Mary has him.’

  Melissa frowned, nonplussed. ‘Mary? But what about feeding him? Or does he take a bottle?’

  Harriet flushed slightly. ‘I feed him afore I leave and Mary has a bottle o’ goat’s milk to last him till I get back.’

  ‘Oh,’ Melissa said thoughtfully. ‘That’s how it’s done.’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘I’ve read in books about all the different ways to manage, but it’s still rather a mystery to me.’

  ‘Perhaps you should talk to Mary,’ Harriet suggested. ‘She’s a midwife as well as a washerwoman. She delivered Daniel.’

  Melissa thought that she wouldn’t be expected to feed her child herself, but would perhaps employ a wet nurse. ‘Did she? Well, perhaps I might,’ she said, adding, ‘She wouldn’t think I was terribly ignorant, would she?’

  Harriet smiled. ‘No, ma’am. She’s very kind; and we’re all inexperienced wi’ our first babby. Ma’am,’ she said quickly. ‘Could I speak confidentially?’

  ‘Now?’ Melissa was startled and somewhat apprehensive. ‘It’s nothing personal, is it? I wouldn’t want …’ What if she wants to discuss the question of her brother-in-law’s origins, she thought uneasily. What could I say?

  ‘It’s about my husband’s parentage, ma’am. I need some advice.’

  Melissa was confused. Her husband’s parentage? Not her brother-in-law’s? What a very strange family the Tukes were, so much mystery.

  ‘Come on to the terrace,’ she suggested. ‘We can sit and speak privately there. I must definitely ask the gardener to bring a seat down here,’ she murmured.

  Harriet recounted as succinctly as possible her discovery of Noah’s birth mother and what she had been told about his real father, although she did not mention where he was born. ‘So Noah wasn’t the child of either Mr or Mrs Tuke,’ she explained, ‘which means that Fletcher and I could marry eventually, which is what we both want. The difficulty is, we’ve no proof that Noah and Fletcher are not brothers, because Noah’s real mother told me she won’t admit her story to anyone else; she was very young, you see, ma’am, and he was born out of wedlock, and although she’s now widowed she doesn’t want to lose her respectability.’