A Marriage of Convenience

by Miller, Fenella J

  Sam hurried after him. ‘My lord, Colonel; we will find her, but you need to keep a clear head. Be ready to leave at dawn. Getting foxed will help no one.’

  He glared at his batman, his fist bunched and saw Sam brace himself for a blow. ‘Get out of my sight, damn you. When I require your advice I’ll ask for it.’ He slammed the door in his man’s face and poured brandy liberally into a glass.

  Two decanters were emptied before he managed to sink into an alcoholic doze. He snored, stretched out in a chair, his travel stained garments steaming in the warmth of the fire.

  Eleanor’s sad party stopped for breakfast in a deserted clearing deep in the heart of East Anglia. The horses were unharnessed and hobbled, canvas buckets of feed were tied over their heads and water was tipped from one of the barrels on the open cart into a canvas trough.

  Eleanor and Mary found privacy in the dense trees for their relief while Smith helped the young maid servants and a footman set up a table and chairs for their meal. The air was crisp and cold, the ground hard, which had made their journey a trifle easier. The roads she had selected to use were often little more than farm lanes and so their progress, necessarily, had been slow.

  ‘John,’ Eleanor called her head groom over. ‘We’ll stay here for an hour. Make sure the men rest and take refreshments also.’

  ‘Yes, my lady. We’ve made good time in spite of the going and should reach Wenham before dark.’

  ‘Thank you, John. It’s hoped the young man you sent ahead has already arrived and warned the staff to have things prepared for our arrival.’

  ‘Matthew’s a good lad, my lady, and the horse he took is sound. He will have travelled at twice our speed; the staff at Wenham Manor will have had several hours’ prior warning.’

  ‘Come, Mary, I see the food’s set out. I have no appetite, but as Smith has gone to such trouble, I’ll try to swallow something.’

  ‘You must, my lady. You don’t want to fall ill, now, do you?’

  The food on wooden trenchers was simple. Slices of cold game pie, homemade chutney and yesterday’s bread. They washed it down with water from the same barrel as had been used for the horses. Eleanor’s face was drawn, dark shadows hollowed her eyes.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Mary. It’s hoped the brightness of Christ’s birth reflects a little light on our sorry undertaking.’

  ‘Happy Christmas, to you, my lady. I’m sure things will turn out for the best. God has a hand in all our lives; all we have to do is listen.’

  Eleanor smiled sadly. ‘It’s not the Christmas I expected. But I do thank God I have my health and my friends to sustain me.’ She stood up, shaking the crumbs from her crumpled green velvet travelling dress. ‘How well have we covered our tracks, John, should anyone be searching for us?’

  ‘Well enough, my lady; we’ve avoided towns and villages and have put a good many miles between us and Monk’s Hall. Doing our travelling at night means if we were heard, no one would have seen us.’

  ‘Now it’s daylight, we’re bound to be spotted; there will be workers in the fields soon.’

  ‘No, not today, my lady. Don’t forget it’s Christmas day; most folks have the day off. The fields will be empty.’

  ‘Excellent! For I doubt any labourer would ever forget the spectacle of, a travelling chaise, a carriage and large cart, followed by two outriders, passing by.’

  The journey unwound and her new home drew nearer. She sat up and began to take notice. The flat fields stretched out on each side of them, their monotony broken by small forests and woods. She was going to miss the rolling hills that surrounded Monk’s Hall. The cavalcade had passed several hamlets and she was horrified at the dilapidation of the housing.

  ‘Mary, look at that, the roof is sagging and a stream appears to run straight into the cottage. How can the landlord leave his tenants in such misery?’

  ‘It does look poor around here. Much worse than home - Monk’s Hall I mean.’

  The nearer they got to Wenham the worse the condition of the cottages. The hedges were overgrown and the fields poorly husbanded. Something was badly wrong. She knew of the problems caused by absentee landlords and unscrupulous land agents, she had read countless pamphlets on the subject, but she had never seen such blatant neglect.

  ‘Mary, I fear this is going to be far worse than either of us anticipated.’

  ‘We’ll manage, Miss Ellie, don’t fret yourself. There’s little that can’t be put right with a lot of hard work and willingness.’

  ‘And a lot of money, Mary, which we don’t have.’

  ‘We’ll be fine; just think of what we experienced on our trips abroad. If we survived that we can survive anything. Isn’t that so, Smith?’ Mary appealed to the elderly lady half asleep in the corner of the carriage.

  ‘Oh, yes, quite right. Whatever the shortcomings of the staff and premises, there are enough of us to put things right.’

  ‘I hope you’re correct. I’m never returning to Monk’s Hall, not while Lord Upminster is in residence.’

  The carriage lapsed into silence. No doubt Smith was glad she was to be of use again and Mary was praying matters wouldn’t be as bad as they feared. Eleanor, however hard she tried, couldn’t eradicate the darkly handsome face of her husband. She knew his behaviour had been unforgivable, that he had an ungovernable and unpredictable temper, but in spite of his many faults she still loved him.

  She had made her choice and now she would have to learn to live without him. She was grateful they were married for this meant she would never have to share her life with another man. If she could not have Leo then she would have no one.

  As they trundled nearer their destination she reviewed their finances. The jewellery, some purchased in India, some inherited from her aunt, should fetch several hundred pounds, if she could find a buyer in such a godforsaken part of England. She calculated the £115 in gold coin and the £20 or so in silver and bronze would be more than sufficient to see them through until John could find someone in Norwich to take the jewellery.

  She gazed out of the window at another row of ramshackle rough cottages, its occupants too idle, or too dispirited, to come out and stare.

  John raised the lid in the roof and called down. ‘Matthew’s riding back to meet us, my lady, he should be here in five minutes.’

  ‘I hope he brings good news. Can you see if he looks happy, John?’

  ‘No, my lady, he has his hat pulled down low against the biting wind. Shall I stop?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll get out and talk to him.’

  Tommy, the stable boy acting as groom, scrambled down from the box and removed the folding steps and set them out. Eleanor descended and her bonnet was whipped from her head; only the ribbon round her chin restraining it.

  ‘Goodness, it’s so much colder here. The wind’s so sharp - and is that snow I can see in the fields, John?’

  ‘It is, my lady. We’re a good deal further north than Monk’s Hall, it’s bound to be colder; look, here’s Matthew.’

  The young man, his face invisible under his muffler, reined in beside the stationary vehicles. He dismounted nimbly and removing his hat came over. He was grinning. ‘The Manor’s in some need of repair, my lady, and understaffed because no one has been in residence for years. But the housekeeper, Mrs Anderson, says as she’s delighted that you’re coming. She has had some rooms cleaned and fires lit; you won’t be displeased with your welcome.’

  Eleanor unclenched her fists. ‘Thank you, Matthew. Is it much further? Will you lead the way?’

  ‘Mile or so, no more.’ He swung back into the saddle and trotted off to lead them to Wenham Manor.

  They didn’t pass the village of Wenham, this was on the far side of the Manor, but they did pass several rows of rundown cottages that were, she was relieved to see, not in such gross disrepair as those they had seen earlier.

  They turned through the rusty lop-sided gates and bowled along the weed infested drive. The trees hung darkly across their route and cut out t
he remaining light. The carriage, after travelling in darkness, eventually emerged into the fading light and she had her first glimpse of Wenham Manor. Every window was filled with welcoming light, the imposing front door stood open and the elderly housekeeper waited on the steps to greet them, her face creased with smiles.

  In the excitement and relief of their arrival Eleanor ignored the broken shutters, peeling paintwork and slipped tiles. She stepped into the stone flagged entrance hall flanked by a beaming Mrs Anderson and three smiling, bobbing maids. She stopped enchanted by the sight that greeted her. The hall had been decked with holly and ivy and red ribbons had been pushed amongst the branches. An enormous, sweet scented, yew log burnt in the cavernous grate. The whole was lit by dozens of candles.

  ‘Oh, look at this, Mary. It’s so lovely. What a wonderful welcome.’ Impulsively she grasped the housekeeper’s hands. ‘Thank you, Anderson; I shall never forget the trouble you’ve taken today.’

  ‘It were nothing, my lady. It is Christmas after all, it were lovely to have the excuse to decorate the place how it should be. Now come on in do, your chambers are all ready, and there’s a hot bath waiting for you. I’ll not show you up meself, a lass can do it, I’ll get back to the kitchen. I’ve a Christmas meal cooking for you; it will be served in the dining-room in an hour, if that is acceptable?’

  ‘That will be wonderful.’ Eleanor smiled at the girl waiting to escort her to her new rooms. ‘Come along then, show me the way, I wish to see my accommodation.’

  The girl led the way up the wide central oak staircase. It led to a gallery which overlooked the entrance hall. ‘This way, if you please, my lady. Your rooms are at the back; they face the park and get the sun in the morning.’

  .The runners were threadbare but the wood was polished and there was no sign of neglect inside the ancient building. The girl stopped in front of an ornately carved door. ‘Here we are, your ladyship. The room was large and square, mullioned windows filled the far end; an enormous oak bedstead, piled high with feather mattress and comforter, stood centrally, and on the right, opposite the bed, a roaring fire blazed in the cast iron grate. In front of the fire, screened from the window draughts, stood a large hip bath. The lemon scented water drew Eleanor towards it.

  ‘Thank you, my abigail can manage now.’ The maid dropped a curtsy and vanished through a cleverly concealed door in the wall to the right of the fire.

  ‘This is very acceptable, Mary. And it is considerably warmer than the room I used at Rothmere.’

  ‘Indeed it is, my lady.’

  A banging and bumping could be heard on the other side of the panelled wall. She looked at Mary with astonishment. ‘Have we noisy ghosts here, do you think, Mary?’

  ‘Oh, my lady, I hope not!’

  There was a loud knock on the hidden door. Eleanor laughed with relief. ‘It’s the trunks arriving. There must be a passage running behind that wall.’

  Mary hurried to the door and the two footmen staggered in, trunks balanced on their backs. ‘Put them there, boys. You may leave the rest outside; they can come up tomorrow.’ Red-faced and puffing the young men retreated; presumably glad they didn’t have to manhandle anymore boxes up narrow stairs and the maze of dark corridors that must make up the servants’ route. Mary locked the door behind them. ‘Now you can take your bath, my lady, and I’ll sort out your garments while you do so.’

  Downstairs, Smith had taken it upon herself to play the role of housekeeper and had allocated rooms and bedding to each of the indoor staff that had travelled with them. John found dry stabling for the tired horses in a derelict building and temporary accommodation for the two grooms, stable lad and himself in a cluttered room above the animals. Eleanor had thoughtfully included palliasses and warm blankets in the cart, so no one would have to sleep on the boards. The two girls who had accompanied them from Monk’s Hall became the chamber maids.

  The heavy oak table in the dining-room groaned under the weight of food set out for Eleanor. She sat in solitary splendour and forced herself to try a morsel of each lovingly prepared dish. The cook came in to see if the meal had been enjoyed.

  ‘Thank you, Anderson, that was truly delicious. You have made what I expected to be a miserable Christmas Day into a happy occasion.’

  ‘You be very welcome, my lady. It’s a true pleasure to have a mistress in residence after so long.’

  ‘Please make sure all the staff shares in the feast. I’ll require nothing else this evening. I hope you’ll be able to enjoy your Christmas meal without interruption.’

  She was escorted to her chamber by Smith. It helped having familiar faces serving her, but the strangeness of the mansion, with its low ceilinged reception rooms and heavy black beams, seemed to weighing her down.

  ‘I have warmed the bed, my lady, and the chamber pot is behind that screen. Will you need anything else?’ Mary asked.

  ‘No, Mary. Go and enjoy your meal. I’m sure I’ll sleep tonight; I’m exhausted after all the travelling we’ve done.’ Her pillow was saturated with tears long before she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep

  Chapter Nineteen

  The rattle of the bed hangings being drawn back woke Eleanor. ‘Good morning, my lady; it’s nine o’clock and I know you don’t like to sleep in.’

  Eleanor rubbed her gritty eyes and yawned. If she had slept so long why did she still feel exhausted? ‘Put out my divided skirts, and heavy boots, Mary. I wish to explore my new home.’

  ‘But it’s Boxing Day, my lady. None of your tenants will expect a visit so soon.’

  ‘More reason to go then. They will have no time to hide from me. I want to know why the estate is in such disrepair. I remember Uncle George telling Aunt Prudence, when she inherited Wenham Manor, that it was a veritable goldmine. So why is it so poor now? I need to know what has happened here.’

  ‘As you wish, my lady.’ Mary’s tone alerted her to her folly. It would be unfair to descend on her tenants on one of their few days respite, however eager she was to get answers.

  ‘You’re right, Mary. I’ll concentrate my attention on the Manor and grounds today. I’m sure there is plenty here to occupy me.’

  ‘I fear you’re in for a nasty surprise. John says the stables and barns are all but falling down and I noticed several places in this roof where the tiles are missing.’

  ‘As bad as that?’ Mary nodded. ‘I cannot understand how this has happened; where has all the revenue gone? It certainly hasn’t arrived at Monk’s Hall. I only knew Wenham was still part of the properties once owned by Aunt Prudence because I found the deeds, which were hidden away in the back of the safe when I was looking for money to take with us. I realised then Wenham Manor was the perfect place to go.’

  Mary’s eyebrows disappeared under her cap. ‘I can’t believe it! Where were you intending to take us then?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, Mary. I just knew we had to get away from Monk’s Hall. The hand of God led me to those deeds, it must have been. I was praying hard enough for a solution.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad that he did or we’d still be wandering around in the cold like lost sheep.’

  The vast flagged hall was gloomy and the greenery looked less attractive in the puddles of weak sunlight that had managed to find its way through the leaded casements. The yew log was burning fiercely in the grate and she was glad of it. Even with several layers of wool she was finding it hard to keep warm. She stared around; the vaulted ceiling and massive carved oak stairs, flanked by lopsided suits of rusty armour, the dark panelled walls, the axes and shields from a bygone age hanging above the fireplace, all gave the hall a heavy, old-fashioned feeling.

  Smith, dressed in blue bombazine, appeared from a dark passage on the far side of the stairs. ‘Good morning, my lady, shall I direct you to the small dining-room?’

  ‘If you would; I need to speak to Anderson as soon as I’ve eaten. Ask her to join me in the library.’ She stopped and shook her head. ‘Is there a library, Smith?’

 
‘Yes, there is. There is also a study, which is smaller and, if you don’t my saying so, much warmer than the library.’

  ‘Then I shall use the study, thank you, Smith.’

  By midday Eleanor had established herself firmly as the head of the household. She knew where the most urgent repairs were needed and where the most skilled artisans were to be found. She also confirmed Smith as housekeeper, and Anderson as cook. John was next on her list. He arrived in the study incensed by what he had discovered.

  ‘Sit down, John; tell me, just how bad is it outside?’

  ‘Bad, my lady, very bad. A new roof is needed at the stables and the barns are so ramshackle it might be best to pull them down and start again.’

  ‘Will it be expensive? Funds are short, as you know.’

  ‘The five of us can do most of it and if we use salvage it shouldn’t be too dear. But the outbuildings are not the worst of it. I hardly know how to tell you what I’ve discovered.’

  ‘Go on, John, I have to know what I’m facing.’

  ‘Very well, my lady. The land agent, Foster, who took over from his father when he died a few years back, is a nasty piece of work from all accounts. He evicted the rightful tenants and cottagers and installed his own family and friends in their place. The poor cottages we passed had been condemned by old Foster. They are now occupied by the displaced people. They had nowhere else to go. The Poor Rate is all most of them have to live on. It’s a disgrace, that’s what it is. The houses are not fit for pigs, let alone a family with little ones.’ This was the longest speech she had ever heard him speak.

  ‘And I suppose the illegal tenants are dwelling in well-kept homes and young Foster is living like a lord at my expense?’

  John nodded. ‘That’s the right of it, my lady. The village is divided; those who have benefited from that scoundrel’s corrupt practices support him, and the others are against him.’