Yorkshire

by Lynne Connolly

  “I’ll see you in hell, Richard Kerre.” She said it quietly, but with such malice I feared for her sanity. Richard smiled as though she had made a polite remark, inclined his head to her in a courtly manner and left the room with me. I didn’t see who opened the door for us. I kept my eyes on his face.

  Although I protested I was quite able to walk, he didn’t put me down until we reached my room. There he gently put me on my feet so he could open the door, took me inside and laid me on the bed. “Now.” He looked around. “Ah yes—” He fetched my wrapper which lay on a chair near the fire—a poor thing compared to his magnificent item, but serviceable. I blushed when he began to undo my ruined gown and took the fichu away, but he smiled. “Think of me as your lady’s maid, my love.” That made me smile, and I sat up so he could help me slip the gown off my shoulders.

  He deftly unlaced my stays for me, pulled them away and put my wrapper around my shoulders so I could thrust my arms into the sleeves. He pushed gently on my shoulders, made me lie down again, and talked calmly all the time to soothe me, fastening the garment for me at the front. Then he fetched a damp cloth from the washstand and wiped my face.

  I caught his hand and kissed it. “You’re too kind.”

  “You’re too foolish if you think that.” He put down the cloth and sat on the bed next to me. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Not much.” Now I was out of danger, I was unwilling to admit I might have hurt my foot in some way in my backwards fall. He considered me calmly. “You are hurt, aren’t you? I’ll kill him.”

  “No, no more dramatics today.” I laid my hand on his sleeve. “But would you look at my foot, please? He pushed me back, and I think I caught it somehow.”

  Pushing my skirt back, he examined my ankle. He flexed the foot as I winced. “Did that hurt? I’m sorry, my sweet.” He replaced my skirt, turning to face me. “No bones broken, I think, but it’s a trifle swollen. I’ll send Carier to you. I’d set him over any doctor. I think you should stay here for the rest of the day. I’ll make sure you’re left alone, but I’ll send someone to you with a hot drink. And you might like a bath, later.”

  “Oh, Richard.” I cried a little again, relief taking control of my wayward emotions. He seemed to have taken over my welfare. Normally I would have cavilled at such treatment, but at this time, it came as a relief, although I did wonder how he would deal with Martha.

  He didn’t go until he was sure he had properly comforted me, but when he had gone I indulged in the hearty bout of tears I’d been holding back, and then I promptly fell asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I woke later in the day to the sound of pouring water. Richard had been as good as his word, and ordered me a bath. The maid helped me as I lay against the warm towels in hot water and dreamed. I didn’t allow myself to dwell on recent events. I felt too tired, drowsy, but he was right. After the bath, I felt much better, cleansed in more than body.

  I relaxed in a chair by the fire while the maid brought a hot drink. Martha and Carier came in to me, Martha seeming to have regained her rightful place as my chaperone. Carier propped my swollen foot on a stool, probing the leg gently for injuries. He bound it and stood. “Only a sprain, ma’am. You’ll recover in a few days. Don’t put your weight on it more than you have to.” He bowed and turned to go, but Martha stopped him.

  “How long have you served Lord Strang, Carier?”

  “Since he went on the Grand Tour at eighteen, my lady.”

  “Is he a good master?”

  “The best, my lady.” He waited until Martha nodded, dismissing him. He took the cup that had held the posset I’d drunk away with him.

  Martha poured tea, then sat in a chair by the fire, her face serious. “You have been playing a dangerous game, haven’t you?”

  I looked at her over the rim of my tea dish. I’d known her all my life, but recently she had taken on a new sheen with her responsibilities. In a few years, she would become entirely the great lady.

  “I didn’t see it coming. Neither did Lord Strang. It’s taken us both by surprise.”

  “No.” Her gaze never left my face. “He explained things to us.” She paused, frowning. “He’s a difficult man, Rose. Are you sure he’s what you want?”

  Sincerely concerned, she thought I’d be unable to cope with such a difficult person in the longer term. After all, up until now I’d been the quiet, disregarded member of the family. I had no hidden depths anyone had noticed before, not even a private life of my own.

  “Yes, Martha. I’m very sure.”

  Martha looked at me in silence, and then she nodded in her brisk way. “You’re determined to have each other. There’s not much I can say is there? Though I don’t know what we’re going to do about his betrothed. He says he’ll go and talk to her father, and then speak to his.”

  “He wants us to marry quietly, then go to Venice. He owns a property there.”

  Martha frowned. “That’s akin to elopement. You might find it very difficult, when you return.”

  “I can’t say I don’t care, because I know what it will do to you. But if that’s the only way, then I’ll do it.”

  “He might bring them around.” We knew it was unlikely. “James seems reconciled to it. I like him. If he can persuade James to give you up to him, the rest should be easy.”

  We smiled, and sipped our tea.

  “Lord Strang is very concerned for you, dear,” Martha went on. “When you have rested, perhaps you may see him.”

  “Tell him I’m well. Please, Martha, may I see him soon?”

  “Not until you’ve had a good night’s sleep.” I had to accept her advice, though I’d rather have seen him before I slept, but I was tired and conscious of not looking my best. My newfound vanity speaking to me again.

  “What did he tell you?”

  “Enough.” Martha sipped her tea, then put the dish down. “He’s determined to make you his wife, and you have accepted him. Rose, that was a foolish thing to do. You know he’s not in a position to propose to you.”

  “He hasn’t formally proposed.”

  Concern stamped her homely features. “Rose, are you sure? You don’t have to, not now. You don’t have to marry at all if you don’t wish to. James can provide you with everything you want. You used to talk about living independently, with your own household. In a few years, you can do so, if you wish. It’s not desperation, is it?”

  “No. I love him, Martha. I’m sure of it. I don’t think life with him will be easy, but I want to try. I’ll take him, Martha, under any circumstances.”

  She looked at me hard. “No, you won’t. You’ll take him when he’s free to ask. He says he will be in a few weeks, but we must wait and see.”

  I couldn’t argue with her. Martha had always been very aware of the proprieties. She’d have been appalled, had she known what we’d done. She might even refuse to let him come near me again and so drive us to a true elopement. I had every confidence Richard would conclude his contract with Miss Cartwright, whatever the cost. I remembered the look he’d given her when she’d tried to excuse Steven’s behaviour. She’d be lucky if he consented to share a coach with her on the journey home now.

  Martha sighed, looking at the small comforts we’d brought to the room. “I don’t like this house.”

  “Will you stay here?”

  “I don’t think so, dear. The place is rotting around us. We’ve had a builder looking at the house and the timbers are rotting and the structure was thrown up with little regard to quality. It would take too much to restore it, almost a complete rebuild. We’ve been discussing it, James and I. We always wanted to extend the manor at home, and now we may do so. I miss my family and friends, too. We don’t belong here.”

  “But the people who rely on the estate?”

  Martha sighed. “We will do our best to help them. We’re not abandoning the estate, just the house.”

  “Things will never be the same again. You have a title, a new way to make in th
e world.”

  “No, things won’t be the same, but at least I can face it in the comfort of my own home, with my people about me. Exeter Assembly Rooms will be agog with it.” Her eyes gleamed at the thought. The old tabbies who sat by the wall and gossiped would have a field day. Her real triumph would be when she confronted them. Any London success paled into insignificance compared to that.

  I felt relaxed, quiet. The day’s events receded as I remembered someone else in distress in this house.

  “How is Lady Hareton?” I put down my empty cup and sat up.

  Martha looked grave. “She’s not at all well. Mrs. Peters is devoted to her. I don’t want to upset you, dear, but she’s had such a bad time of it. Her back is lined with scars you would only expect to see on a sailor from the beatings she received from her husband and father. We’ve kept her in her room. Mrs. Peters is attending to her. She’s keeping her well dosed with laudanum.”

  I was appalled.

  “She’ll stay here, then move to the Dower House. Mrs. Peters said that with my authority, she’ll do well with her ladyship. I believe she will.” She smiled to reassure me. I was thinking of poor Lady Hareton. What despair she must have gone through with no one to turn to. I hadn’t thought such cruelty existed, but despite knowing what she did was wrong, I was glad she’d enough spirit to do it.

  My eyes were caught by something outside. It was dark now, but I saw a glow at the corner of the window. “What’s that?”

  Martha went over to close the curtains on the early winter night. “Just the old coach, my dear. James says it’s beyond repair, so he ordered it burned. I’m glad because it was a melancholy thing.” She turned back to me. “I don’t know what the cut strap thing at dinner was, but you must have been mistaken. It probably gave way with old age, rotten for years like the rest of this place.” I could swear that she winked at me.

  “I suppose I saw an illusion,” I agreed, pleased James had made that decision. Lady Hareton had suffered enough for the sins she’d been driven to commit.

  I leaned back, yawning, and Martha noticed. “Back to bed now, dear.” It was comforting to be tucked between the sheets like a child. I was very tired. “Sleep now.”

  I woke up at two in the morning, ravenously hungry and with a dry mouth. After checking the time on the pocket watch I kept by my bed, I turned over and tried to sleep, but it was no use. I was awake now. I swung my feet out of bed and tested my foot on the floor. It was tender, but I could bear it. Finding my wrapper, I thrust my arms into it and limped to the door. If I could find something downstairs without disturbing anyone, I could probably get back to sleep.

  It took me some time to get downstairs, gripping the banister, taking a step at a time. Carefully, I limped to the dining room. Cordial and bread rolls awaited me on the sideboard. I sat, finishing my meagre repast, enjoying the solitude. Even the servants were abed.

  When finished, I rested, considering the day’s astonishing events. They’d take some time to sink in properly. Perhaps, I thought, with a smile, I should get up every night at two, just to think about things. It helped.

  I recalled a large vase of walking sticks by the back door, resolving to fetch one before returning upstairs.

  I shuffled carefully up the corridor, favouring my right foot as much as I could, because the ankle was getting progressively sore, and then I heard a sound, the unmistakable sound of footsteps. Too early for the maids to be up, and everyone else had gone to bed. I looked around wildly for somewhere to hide, but couldn’t see anywhere. They’d hear the door open, and come to investigate. More dignified for me to face them.

  As they rounded the corner, they came to a halt and stared at me, as I did at them.

  Steven and Julia.

  “Oh God,” breathed Steven. “Don’t call out.”

  I remembered him saying that once before. I had been afraid of him then, but not now. “Good evening. Why should I call out?”

  They were dressed for riding, but it was far too early for even the earliest morning ride, and Steven carried two bags. He bent and quietly put them down.

  “Yes, why should you care?” said Julia Cartwright bitterly. “If it weren’t for Steven I’d be utterly ruined.”

  “I think that might be putting it a bit high.” I kept my voice down. “You could have given Richard the release he asked for. He wanted that before he met me.”

  Julia’s lip curled in a sneer. “I could have brought him around. With the help of his father—and mine.”

  Angry, but still remembering to be quiet I demanded, “And what sort of life would that have been for him? Forced into marriage with someone he couldn’t like?”

  Julia gave me a look of contempt. “Like? What does that matter? I could have given him the children he needs, and left him to follow his own life. How will you feel when he takes his first mistress? He says he loves you. How long do you think that will last? He’s never gone more than a month before, and I don’t think he will this time.”

  She articulated some of my doubts, but I couldn’t let her see it. I used the reasoning she would understand. “I’ll be a viscountess. And someday a countess. I’ll manage.”

  Julia turned triumphantly to Steven. “There? You see? You wanted to marry someone like that?”

  Steven looked at me, a frown above his velvety eyes. “You really think that way, Rose? You’ll take him anyway?”

  “I’ll take him.” That much was true.

  “Then Julia is truer than you, because she wants me, despite my poverty.”

  “Because of it, more like.” I needed something to hold on to, but I wasn’t about to show them my weakness.

  “How so?”

  “She can dominate you, you’ll be her creature as Richard never would be.” I had seen enough of how Julia operated to guess this was a strong motive. “She tried to manipulate him to her ways, but he wouldn’t have it. You will.”

  “Hah.” The look Steven gave Julia held the fondness he had previously reserved for me, a look I suspected he’d practiced before a mirror. Seizing her, he kissed her, their mouths opening hungrily on each other. I was meant to watch, but I chose to shuffle over to the stand and find a stick instead.

  I felt much more secure now I could support myself properly. A crutch lay by the stand, but I left it. The stout hazel branch in my hand served me better.

  When they emerged, a trifle breathless, Steven stared at me, his mouth curled in a sneer. “Who’s in control now? Do you think you and Strang are the only people who can find quiet corners in this godforsaken house?”

  I hadn’t foreseen that, but when I thought about it, it made sense. That was why Steven was on that deserted corridor that afternoon, that was why he hadn’t pursued me as vigorously as he might. He had his hands full, in more ways than one, with Julia Cartwright.

  “You’re lovers?”

  “Why not? You are.”

  “So we are. And—now what?”

  “We’re leaving,” Steven said defiantly. “Going to Gretna.”

  “Congratulations.” Steven had snagged a rich wife, after all. Julia was a considerable heiress. After the marriage, Steven could count the money as his own.

  “Why not wait to do it properly?” I could have kicked myself, except I would have fallen over.

  “Because,” Julia said, bitterly, “if I stay, let Strang take me home, my father will bring a breach of promise suit against him and I’ll be the laughing stock of society. And I still won’t have him, so what’s the point? The only reason would be to get even with you, but I’d hurt myself just as much. Oh don’t worry,” she continued, as despite my good intentions, I sighed in relief, “I’ll get even.”

  “Why bother, if you have what you want in Steven?” I hated this pettiness, this tit-for-tat mentality.

  “Because you have done me a wrong, and I’ll see you punished for it.”

  Steven shrugged. He’d gained a greater prize, in losing me. Even with an enhanced dowry, my fortune was no match
for Julia’s. She was the only child of a rich man. Her prospects were mouth watering to a fortune hunter like Steven.

  I knew I should have stopped them, called out, but I couldn’t think of one good reason why I should do so. I was between them and the back door, so I moved aside. “Godspeed.”

  They moved past me. Julia produced a key, unlocking the door. “We’re riding to York to hire a carriage there. Now, you know, will you have us stopped? Will you send people after us?”

  “Not me.” I was going back to bed.

  “Thanks for that, at least,” she said.

  Cold air gusted through the open door. “This isn’t the end.” She gave me the key. Without a backward glance, they left.

  I locked the door after them. I got upstairs without waking anyone and fell at once into a dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I felt much better the next day. When Lizzie put her head around the door at nine o’ clock, I was comfortably propped on pillows, in bed with some hot chocolate.

  She came in and sat on the bed. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” As children, we’d shared a bed. Every day we’d say “Good morning” to each other. It was good to be reminded of it.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better, thank you.”

  Lizzie took my hand. “Two months ago, if you’d told me I’d be sitting in a great house, with my sister who had—well, all the things you have done in so short a time.”

  I yawned. “I feel like it happened to someone else. Two proposals of marriage—one conditional—”

  She interrupted me. “Two?”

  “Richard and Gervase.”

  “Both? Both of them asked you?”

  “Gervase only asked me so I could be with Richard, in case Miss Cartwright kept him to the contract.” I didn’t feel I could tell her Gervase’s real feelings. I hadn’t the right. “He says he owes his brother a great deal.” The excuse sounded lame to me, but I didn’t want to let anyone else in.