A Marriage of Convenience

by Miller, Fenella J

  ‘I’ll call him here and dismiss him. Then I’ll appoint a new estate manager and put things back as they ought to be.’

  John hesitated and cleared his throat. ‘Forgive me, but it isn’t as simple as that, my lady.’

  ‘Why? I’m the mistress here, it’s my right to appoint and dismiss staff.’ Her voice became less certain when she saw John’s expression. ‘It is my right, isn’t it, John?’

  ‘Not in law, my lady; this property is owned by Lord Upminster and Foster doesn’t have to take orders from you unless told to do so by his lordship.’

  Eleanor dropped her head into her hands. The only way she could intervene in the running of the estate was with her husband’s support and that she would never apply for. She straightened; she had to make the best of what she had.

  ‘Will there be any problem if I employ the displaced cottagers?’

  ‘No, I doubt it. The manor and its grounds are within your domain, it’s the farms and tenants you’ve no jurisdiction over.’

  ‘Then that’s how it will be. John, I wish you to become my Man of Affairs. Is there one of the under grooms who can take your place in the stables?’

  He stood up and beamed. ‘Thank you, my lady I’ll not let you down. Young Matthew Jeffries is ready to take my place as head groom. I’ll draw up a list of what needs doing. May I return with it later?’

  .She sat pensively studying the notes she had made. There was much work to be done to restore this lovely old house and little money available to do it. She had no one to talk to about her concerns. Mary, John and Smith were both literate and numerate but they were still her employees, not her equals. This was a burden she had to bear herself.

  The Twelve Days of Christmas passed and the festive evergreens were removed. The empty hall looked bleak and unwelcoming bereft of its finery.

  ‘Smith, have you sent anyone up to search the attics yet? Is it possible that there are still treasures stored away up there?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, my lady. What there was has gone out to John to furnish the rooms above the stable. That was nothing of any worth.’ Eleanor was puzzled. She understood her aunt and uncle had never resided at Wenham Manor but her uncle had visited several times and his glowing description of the interior didn’t match what she found.

  ‘I would like to see the Anderson now.’ A tentative knock on the door heralded the cook’s arrival. ‘Sit down, Anderson; I have questions that need an answer.’

  The cook paled at her formal tone. ‘I will help in any way, I can, you know that, my lady.’

  Eleanor leant forward, her eyes narrowed. ‘Well, tell me this, if you please. What has happened to the furniture, rugs, paintings, silver and plate that belonged to Wenham?’

  The woman ostentatiously wiped her eyes on her snowy white apron. ‘Oh dear, my lady, it was awful. When old Mr Foster, God rest his soul, passed on, his son took over and he’s a black hearted villain. He stripped the house of everything of value and there was nothing I could do.’ She wrung her hands piteously. ‘How could I stop a man such as him?’

  Her fine performance did not fool Eleanor. Her voice dripped scorn when she answered. ‘Why did you not contact Lady Dunstan immediately?’ Anderson shrunk into her seat. ‘I will tell you why because you are in league with him. You are dismissed. I want you away from here before dark or I will have John throw you out. Do I make myself clear?’

  The cook’s obsequious manner vanished. She jumped to her feet, her face contorted with rage. ‘You’ll regret this, my girl. Mr Foster will have you out of here. Everyone knows you’re here because Lord Upminster has banished you, because you’re a disgrace to his good name.’

  ‘Get out of here. Remove yourself from my sight.’ The raised voices had attracted the attention of Smith and the two footmen. Eleanor was relieved to see them. ‘Smith, this person is to leave Wenham Manor instantly. She will take nothing with her. She will not return to her room. See her out of the gates.’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’ Smith replied, her face stern. The two footmen grabbed the flailing arms of the once pleasant cook and dragged her, heels kicking, from the room. Her screams of abuse and wild threats echoed behind her.

  Eleanor sank back into her chair trembling uncontrollably. Had she done the right thing? The wretched woman had seemed so plausible, so pleasant and welcoming, why hadn’t she seen it was a facade masking a dark and vicious nature? There were heavy footsteps approaching the study and she quailed. Surely it wasn’t the hated Foster here so soon to extract revenge?

  John, his face shocked, appeared in the open doorway. ‘Is everything all right, my lady? It should never have happened. It’s my duty to see to such unpleasant matters. Why didn’t you call me?’

  ‘Thank you, John, I am almost recovered. I’m glad to see you; Foster has sold all our furnishings. I suppose this means the three girls are also in with Anderson?’

  ‘It would seem likely, yes. I think we must have them in here, in turn, and see where their loyalties lie.’ He reached over and pulled the bell-strap.

  Smith appeared almost instantly, looking flustered. ‘Oh, my lady, I was just on my way. What a to-do there has been. The three girls have gone as well. I never hope to hear such language again!’

  John looked serious. ‘That answers our question, my lady. We’re better off without them; all inside people have to be trustworthy.’

  ‘We cannot run this house with so few staff; we’ve no cook and no kitchen maids now.’

  John stood up. ‘I think I know how to solve that problem. I’ve employed several men from the cottages and there are women down there equally desperate for employment.’

  She relaxed a little. ‘Send someone down to ask. We need a cook and three girls for general duties.’ She looked across at Smith, worried double duties might prove too much for the elderly spinster. ‘What about gardeners and outdoor people, John?’

  ‘The park grounds are overgrown and the kitchen garden is more weeds than vegetables. Four men could make a start on righting things. Unfortunately we have no accommodation for them; they will have to work at day rates.’ This meant that they had to be paid in cash at the end of each working day. Live-in staff were paid monthly, or even six monthly, in arrears. A better proposition for someone as stretched for funds as she was.

  John went off to search out the extra staff and Smith was left to organise the clearing of the rooms occupied by the four women. Eleanor felt overwhelmed by the responsibility and worry. She had always wanted to be independent, to run her own affairs; but was now discovering how difficult this could be for a woman on her own. She began to appreciate why most left such matters to their husbands and concerned themselves exclusively with domestic issues.

  The women who arrived just before dark were a pathetic sight. Their garments were so patched and worn it was hard to tell what colour they had originally been. Eleanor left the selection to Smith and John. She would find it hard to turn anyone away, even the most unsuitable of the candidates.

  Dispirited and lonely she wandered through the sparsely furnished house and wished she was back at Monk’s Hall. Tears rolled unbidden down her cheeks. Her life was in ruins. She was a wife, with all the restrictions and none of the advantages. Had she been too hasty in judging Leo? Had she once again acted impulsively and landed herself in a situation she wasn’t capable of solving? Too miserable to eat, she retired to bed and for a second night cried herself to sleep.

  Leo woke Christmas morning with a head like a bear-pit and a mouth to match. Sam was unsympathetic and unnecessarily noisy as he moved about the room. ‘What time is it, Sam?’

  ‘Past mid-day, my lord,’ was the terse reply.

  ‘Hell’s teeth! What can I have been thinking of? The trail will be cold by now. We should have set off at dawn.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  ‘Sam, do you wish to remain in my employ?’ Leo asked smoothly.

  Sam scowled. ‘I ain’t sure that I do, sir.’ This unexpected answer jolted Leo
out of his post-drunken daze.

  ‘Good grief, Sam, you don’t mean it, do you? I know I’ve behaved badly, but not so beyond the pale that you wish to quit?’

  ‘Can I speak plain, my lord?’

  ‘Yes, go on, man.’

  ‘You married the best young lady any man could hope to find; you were as happy as a lark in her company and then you threw it all away in a fit of jealousy.’ He paused, his face contorted with worry. ‘Where has the little lass gone, my lord? How will she manage out there on her own with no one to protect her?’

  ‘And if any harm comes to her, it’s my fault? Thank you, Sam, you’re absolutely right. You’re telling me what I already know.’ He swung his legs onto the floor and stood. Wincing, he grabbed the bedpost as his eyes blurred and his stomach revolted. ‘Now isn’t the time to leave, Sam, I need your help. We have to find Eleanor. I cannot do it speedily enough on my own; will you help me, please?’ Leo rarely said please to anyone under his command.

  ‘Very well, I’ll not make a decision until I know Lady Upminster is safe and well. Then I’ll decide.’

  Leo dressed quickly, not prepared to wait for Sam to assist him. He hadn’t adopted the skin tight unmentionables and Weston coats that needed two men to pull them on successfully. He shrugged into his comfortably fitting navy blue superfine and pulled on his Hessians. He was focused and ready for action. He had lost a skirmish but the real battle was yet to be fought.

  He ran downstairs with Sam at his heels. He had letters to write. He was recalling his troops for action. If he was to locate his wife it was going to take more than Sam and himself. With good fortune on his side, within a few days soldiers, men he had fought beside, that he had led into battle, would start arriving at Monk’s Hall.

  While Sam galloped off to take the letters to the nearest post house he drew up his plan. Using the maps spread out on his desk he worked out all the possible routes Eleanor could have taken if she had wished to avoid being seen. He was intending to send pairs of men down each road to search for her.

  When she was found the second man could return, post haste, leaving the other to watch and wait for him to arrive. Satisfied his plan was as faultless as it could be, he sat back, kneading his neck with his fingers. The duke had been right; he wouldn’t give Ellie up without a fight.

  If, in the end, however, if she decided she wanted no more of him, he would release her from her vows. He knew, of a certainty, that whatever she felt he would never be free: he would love her until his very last breath.

  Chapter Twenty

  The new people melded seamlessly into the weave of life at Wenham Manor. The drive lost its growth of weeds, the rickety gates were straightened and both horses and grooms now had a rain proof roof over their heads.

  All this had been achieved with a minimum of expenditure. Eleanor had not needed to dip deeply into her meagre stock of gold sovereigns. Wood from the dismantled outbuildings was recycled to repair the stables. Bricks and stones from the same source were used in the same way.

  Eleanor was never happy, she believed she would never experience that wonderful feeling again, but at least her life was tolerable and for that she had to settle. Helping the destitute did give her a sense of satisfaction, but it could hardly compete

  In three weeks she had seen remarkable changes. The manor house looked cared for outside, although the inside remained somewhat lacking in comfort and style. She felt herself sufficiently settled to venture, with both John and Mary for support, into the village. On a fine cold morning in the middle of January she left the grounds for the first time since she had arrived.

  John, smart in his new brown tweed cloth coat and black breeches and boots, sat opposite and Mary, demure in grey worsted, sat beside her.

  ‘I’m a little concerned our reception will not be favourable, John. From what you’ve heard, Foster and Anderson have many supporters.’

  ‘There are as many locals who welcome your arrival, my lady. You’ve offered hope to several families on the verge of starvation.’

  ‘I know, John, but what about the soldiers and sailors who have returned here now they’re no longer needed for the war? Which side will they take?’

  Mary pursed her lips. ‘The side on which their bread is buttered thickest, most like.’

  Eleanor chuckled. ‘No doubt you’re correct. Perhaps we can entice them to our side by offering them work. John, I think it’s time you took my jewellery to Norwich and tried to sell it.’

  ‘Oh, my lady, not the lovely things you got in India, and the family pieces Lady Dunston left you?’

  ‘I’m afraid so, Mary, I no longer have need for diamonds and emeralds.’

  Conversation ceased as the carriage rumbled into the main, indeed the only, street of Wenham village. Eleanor saw little to impress. The mean cottages they passed had patchy, moss-stained lime washed walls and unkempt gardens. The village boasted one inn, The Bull, which looked in danger of collapse, with rotten thatch and crumbling walls. There was a huddle of commercial buildings which included a general stores, a cobbler’s, and undertakers. The smithy was the only premises that showed signs of life.

  The duck pond was deserted of both birds and people and the large green was home to a few sheep and two scruffy goats. ‘What a depressing place; where is everyone? I thought at least the legal tenants would be prosperous and spending their money in the village. There’s no sign of business anywhere.’

  ‘There were plenty of folk at the inn as we drove past,’ Mary said sourly.

  John tapped on the opening in the carriage roof. A fresh young face appeared in the gap. ‘Drive through and take the next left hand lane; it will take us round and back to Wenham Manor.’

  She was thoughtful on the way back. If Foster’s people were living in poor circumstances where was all the money from her farms going? ‘John, can you find out where Foster lives and in what manner?’

  ‘I can tell you now, my lady. He has bought a substantial property in Norwich and is living the life of a gentleman.’

  ‘On my money? How dare he? Why did you not tell me this before?’

  ‘There’s nothing you or I can do to change things. I’m sorry, I should have told you.’

  ‘Yes, you should, John. This is scandalous. If my money was being used for the benefit of the estate then I believe I could have borne it. But not this; I won’t have it.’

  Feeling against the landlords was running high in neighbouring villages. It wouldn’t take much to cause a riot; half the population were living at starvation level and they had nothing left to lose.

  ‘I have business locally tomorrow, my lady. Perhaps we could go to Norwich the day after that, if the snow holds off?’

  ‘That will be fine. I believe I’ll attempt to see that man, and if he’s not at home, I’ll leave him a letter setting out my concerns.’ She smiled at Mary. ‘It will be enjoyable visiting Norwich, at least there people won’t be prejudiced against me.’

  The return route took them past the cottages inhabited by the farm workers Foster had installed. Eleanor noted the neat gardens, freshly whitened walls and new thatch. She directed her companions’ attention towards them. ‘They are the only decent homes in this area.’

  ‘His family and friends live in them, that’s why, my lady,’ John told her.

  ‘That’s something, I suppose. A man who takes care of his own cannot be all bad, surely?’

  ‘You’re too kind, my lady. The man’s no better than a thief and an outlaw.’

  ‘I haven’t changed my opinion, John. However, it does allow one a modicum of hope that he might be open to reason when the time comes to confront him.’ Leo would remove Foster immediately - but there was no use repining on that subject.

  Mary wasn’t happy. ‘My Lady, I beg you, please reconsider. John says there was a violent protest in Hadleigh and the militia were called. Two men were killed and several farms were burnt before it was put down.’

  ‘I know that, but as Hadleigh is more
than a day’s ride away I’m sure we’re in no danger. I’ve no intention of causing a disturbance. I’m merely going to visit Foster. I’ll have John, a coachman, and two grooms with me. I shall be quite safe. The man is corrupt, but as far as we know, not vicious.’

  Mary accepted defeat. ‘If you must go then I’m glad I’ll be accompanying you. It wouldn’t be right for a lady to go alone to a bachelor establishment.’

  ‘I’ve asked John to have the carriage brought round at eight o’clock. It’s a good two hour drive to Norwich and we might well be delayed by poor roads and other traffic. What a blessing it won’t be a market day.’

  Eleanor dressed carefully for her confrontation. She wanted to appear confident and in control and considerably older than she actually was. The russet-brown walking dress and matching pelisse were smart, but not frivolous. It had only two braid ruffles around the plain hem. The small poke bonnet she selected was unadorned apart from two matching ostrich feathers. A pair of neat, dark- brown half-kid boots, completed the outfit.

  Satisfied she presented a business like appearance she was ready. She wasn’t relishing the thought of meeting the land agent but she had no choice. Injustices had been committed and, as the landlord in residence, she must try to put them right.

  John handed her up into the carriage and Mary followed. He climbed in and banged on the roof with his cane. Matthew, the coachman, with the stable boy beside him, gave the matching greys the office to move. The two grooms rode behind, stout cudgels clearly visible behind their saddles.

  The weather had stayed cold and the rutted lanes were passable. But no amount of springs and padding could fully insulate the occupants from the jolts and drops of a country lane. As Eleanor’s bonnet shot down over her eyes for the second time she smiled.

  ‘I suppose we should be grateful the going is hard. If the ground was wet we would no doubt be stuck every five minutes instead of tossed about like shuttlecocks.’

  Mary carefully restored the offending bonnet to its correct place. ‘I hope the road’s improve soon, John; we’re likely to be black and blue long before we reach Norwich.’