As simple as that? It could not be so. Downall’s clenching and unclenching fists told me he was as uncomfortable as I was. His eyes fixed mine in a warning. He was well aware that I could tell Sir Simon about the riot last summer. But then, he could tell Sir Simon of my intimacy with Ralph.
We glared at each other with unspoken hostility.
Best to keep quiet. Sir Simon would show me no mercy if he thought I’d been unfaithful to Thomas. But Downall despised the Diggers. What would happen if Downall were put in charge? I needed to think.
‘I’ll go and call for refreshment and see about airing your chamber, sir,’ I said, and fled from the room. On the way to the kitchen I took in great gulps of air. I felt as if my stays were suffocating me. The thought of Downall being in my house was unbearable. I could still see him in my mind’s eye, slinging the noose around Ralph’s neck.
Abi heard my steps from above and ran out to meet me, her face pale and drawn. ‘I saw. Your stepfather’s hired Downall. What shall we do?’ she whispered.
‘Worse – Sir Simon’s only staying one day, then we’ll be at Downall’s mercy. He’s wormed his way into my stepfather’s favour. God knows how, but he has.’
‘But what about—’ Abi was protesting but there was no time for argument.
‘Sir Simon won’t know they’re Diggers. He’ll just think they’re hired hands. Ask the womenfolk to make up beds in the servant’s quarters in the west wing,’ I said, making my speech as plain as I could. ‘Try to keep Sir Simon and his servants in the east wing. East wing, do you understand?’
‘I don’t see how I can. The menfolk don’t like being told what to do.’
‘Explain it’s only for one night. I’ll face up to Sir Simon about Downall; suggest he appoints someone else.’
‘But who?’
‘Whistler? One of ours anyway.’ My head buzzed with trying to keep all my thoughts ordered. ‘And if we can placate our people for just one night, we might have a chance of keeping them on. They must act like our servants, invisible, don’t create any fuss.’
‘You don’t know what you’re asking. They don’t want to be servants, do they? Ralph was always saying that they wanted charge of their own—’
‘Have you a better idea?’ I snapped.
Abi was silent.
‘Then do as I ask.’
*
When I got back to the parlour with the last watered dregs of our ale, the serving boy had lit a fire with the few sticks in the basket. It smoked and sputtered, for the wood was damp. Downall was at the table, looking over plans of the estate, and Sir Simon was warming his backside against the meagre heat.
Sir Simon nodded at the tray in my hands. ‘You’re too lax with the servants,’ he said. ‘Your girl should have brought that up. Still don’t know why you keep her on, a deaf girl like that.’
‘Can I speak with you alone, sir?’
‘Have you heard from my nephew yet?’ Sir Simon ignored my request.
‘No sir. You can ask him why.’ I gestured to Downall.
Downall studiously ignored me, his eyes never leaving the papers, but his tensed neck showed he was listening.
‘It’s not like Thomas,’ Sir Simon said. ‘He should have arrived with me weeks ago. Have you heard no word at all of his whereabouts?’
‘None, sir,’ I said.
‘Did you not think it strange? Why did you not write to tell me?’
‘I assumed Thomas had gone to you, so I saw no cause for worry.’
Sir Simon fixed me with cold eyes. ‘A dutiful wife would expect letters from her husband, would she not?’
I flinched. ‘Thomas was never in the habit of writing to me. Has he not written to you?’
‘No.’ Sir Simon was not pleased at me pushing the vexed question back at him. He paced the room. Downall’s stillness showed he was listening to all this unfold, like a hawk watching prey.
My question had disturbed my stepfather. He seemed to search for an answer. ‘Well it could be that he is still lying low, awaiting better weather and a passage to France.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Downall said, turning to face us. ‘He’ll be hiding in a safe house somewhere. That is, unless he’s been arrested. Cromwell’s determined to stamp out the last of the king’s sympathisers. Those who have yet to see sense.’ It was a veiled threat, and from my stepfather’s face I could see he knew it.
Sir Simon pursed his lips, obviously holding back a retort. It took him effort to do so. Six months ago he would have drawn his sword on Downall for such a statement. Instead, he said, ‘Constable Mallinson suggests I should make enquiries with the stage coach companies for news of my nephew.’ He flicked his eyes meaningfully to Downall. ‘Mallinson, at least, seems to be a reasonable man. Perhaps he’s right, and they can tell us something about where Thomas went.’
‘Can I talk to you alone, sir?’ I asked again.
He scrutinised my face. ‘Is it about my nephew?’
‘Yes,’ I lied.
‘Very well. Downall, arrange for a servant to take my bags upstairs.’ Downall stood from the plans, and bowed, but it looked as though it hurt him to do so. ‘And you, Venner,’ my stepfather waved at his other servant, ‘go and dry the tack and see to the horses.’
Moments later, I was alone with Sir Simon and the boy. I felt like I was twelve years old again. I still remembered the sound of my stepfather’s whip as it cut through the air, and the sudden stinging pain. The old fear rose up, but I stiffened my spine, refusing to let him cow me.
‘Well?’ my stepfather asked.
‘Downall’s not to be trusted. Shortly after the king fled into exile, he roused up the other men in the village to try and take over this house with his Puritan rabble. They came in the night, armed with picks and shovels.’
‘What about Thomas? Did he—?’
‘Thomas and another Royalist, Copthorne, tried to defend the house against them, but it was hopeless. Downall’s men were like a pack of dogs, wild with anger. And there were too many. They tore through the house and…’ I pushed away my emotions, took a deep breath. I tried to make my account of it factual; gave him the bare bones of it, ‘Downall would have killed Thomas if he hadn’t fled. His men would have torn him limb from limb.’
‘You think I don’t know all this? You’re wrong.’ Sir Simon’s face twisted in a half-smile. He lowered his voice. ‘I know precisely what Downall is. A mealy-mouthed God-botherer and a traitor to the king. But we have had to come to an agreement now. I need him. He has friends in the new Protectorate. Constable Mallinson is using him to ensure we uphold the new regime. I had no choice but to employ him.’
I looked away. It was not what I wanted to hear.
My stepfather continued, ‘They trust him – more fools, they. He’s somehow wrangled himself onto the sequestration committee for this area. We have a good chance of keeping this house only if we show penance and loyalty to Cromwell’s rump of a Parliament. And common men like Downall.’ He spat out the words with derision.
‘What then? What will happen to this house?’
‘If they don’t take it from us, we’ll sell. We need the coin if Thomas is to make his way in France. England’s finished. God knows, I can’t live with Cromwell’s law. And life’s costly at the French court. You’ll find that out for yourself soon enough.’
I was silent. I was not going to France. I knew that with certainty, but it was wisest to say nothing. Instead I asked, ‘Has Thomas no savings?’
‘The King’s Army ruined us,’ my stepfather said bitterly, slumping into a chair. ‘It ate up all our reserves. And all for what? The young king’s not like his father, he cares not a damn farthing for any of us. As soon as we find Thomas, I shall arrange your passage to the French court. The war has interrupted your lives for far too long, it is time to think about an heir, someone to carry on the Fanshawe name.’
No. The idea of surrendering my body to Thomas Fanshawe was unthinkable. There would never be a s
on to carry on the Fanshawe name, I thought. A rush of grief for Ralph blinded my eyes with tears. I turned away.
When I looked back, it was to see Sir Simon leaning on the mantel to warm his knees. ‘Constable Mallinson knows a family from London who wish to view the estate and they might make us a decent offer. Damned Puritans, no doubt. But it will be good to be rid of the Ferrers’ lands, they’ve been nothing but an encumbrance.’
‘The deeds are in Thomas’s name. You cannot sell unless Thomas agrees and he’s—’
‘He’ll sell, Katherine.’ My stepfather’s expression told me that when he found him, he would bully Thomas into acceptance as he usually did. It wouldn’t surprise me if Thomas had gone missing on purpose, simply to avoid his overbearing uncle. ‘And in the meantime, you need not see Downall. He is lodging in the village. He will come daily to oversee the estate. It’s no business for a girl like you. You will keep out of his way and leave the business to him. He has his orders and will answer to me, and to Mallinson.’ Sir Simon sat down heavily, and stretched his feet towards the fire.
I thought of Whistler and the others. ‘Can’t we have someone else?’ I took a deep breath, ‘Some of the villagers are living in to help with the land. There’s a man called Whistler and he—’ I paused. A noise outside the door.
‘And how are you paying them, these villagers?’ Sir Simon asked.
‘They’re working for nothing, for a share in the produce…’ I tailed off. Downall appeared in the doorway, smirking.
Sir Simon stared up at me. ‘For nothing, you say?’ He laughed. ‘Maybe you’re turning into a Fanshawe after all.’
Downall’s presence stifled any reply. Something warned me, he’d heard every word I said.
Sir Simon dismissed me. Thank the Lord, he and Downall spent the afternoon in the old library, whilst Sir Simon told him how to run the estate. During this time, I chivvied Abi and Cutch to move everyone’s possessions into the west wing.
Of course that evening, when the Diggers found out they’d been moved, there was grumbling.
‘They’re not happy, Kate,’ Abi said, as we brought back plates from the west wing. ‘They know something’s not right, and it’s stirring up ill feeling. Whistler saw Downall as he left to go home. There’s never been love lost between them. And now you’ve moved them to smaller quarters they’re calling you tight-fisted, that you’re squeezing them for their labour.’
‘It’s just one night,’ I said. ‘One night, then Sir Simon will be gone.’
‘What about Downall?’ Abi said.
‘I don’t know. You could try talking to Jacob, see if he can get his father to send someone else.’
‘If I ever see him,’ she said. She swallowed, looked away. ‘The lack of a dowry has changed things between us.’
I saw the hurt in her eyes. ‘He still cares, Abi, I’m sure of it,’ I said.
‘Then why doesn’t he come? Do you think he’s found someone else?’
‘Nonsense,’ I said briskly. ‘Stop these foolish thoughts and help me dry.’ I turned away; scrubbed hard at the platters in the sink.
9: The Broken Promise
The next morning I had to eat with my stepfather. The way he chewed his cold meat and spat out the gristle made my stomach heave. I picked at the crust of my bread, anxious that he should get to horse and be on his way, but our breakfast was interrupted by a loud hammering at the door.
‘Answer it, boy,’ Sir Simon said.
A few moments later the boy stood to one side to allow Constable Mallinson and Downall to come in.
Sir Simon wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stood.
‘Fanshawe,’ Mallinson extended his hand. ‘I’m glad you are here at last. You have saved me issuing warrants for non-attendance at church. Downall tells me you are willing to put your allegiance to Parliament, so I’m assuming you will sort out the troublemakers who are lodging on your nephew’s land.’
Downall shot me a triumphant look. I stiffened, heart sinking, fearing what was to come.
Sir Simon remained standing, looking to me for an explanation, his expression grim. I felt a cold sweat break on my forehead, but could not think of what to say. So I lowered my gaze, said nothing, waiting for the axe to fall.
‘What troublemakers are these?’ Sir Simon asked.
‘Downall alerted me,’ Mallinson said. ‘He’s been keeping a close watch on who came and went here. He came across Mr Soper in a tavern, and he said his cousin Margery Barton’s being used by the Fanshawes as slave labour. He asked him what he meant, and with a little persuasion he confirmed what Downall had suspected.’
No persuasion, I thought. Ned Soper’s mouth was legendary.
‘And what’s that?’ Sir Simon was impatient, picking at his teeth with a toothpick.
‘He says you’re housing irregular meetings here, meetings of Winstanley’s men, the Diggers. None of the people working here have been seen at church for the past months, and that’s an offence.’
‘Katherine?’ Sir Simon turned his eyes to me, and I could feel the threat in them.
‘We couldn’t get to church because of the weather,’ I said. ‘The snow.’
‘Do you deny you’re housing dissenters?’ asked Mallinson.
I sighed. ‘Yes, there are men working here, and yes, they believe in Winstanley’s ways. The Diggers’ ways. But their beliefs are no business of mine. They’re my workers, that’s all.’
‘The law is clear against meetings and conventicles,’ Downall said. ‘Cromwell won’t permit any gathering against the true church.’
‘It’s not about the church,’ I burst out. ‘It’s about not wasting good land. What choice did I have, Constable Mallinson, answer me that? So many dead in the wars, it doesn’t pay to be too particular.’
‘Wait! You employ these dissenters without my knowledge?’ Sir Simon stepped towards me.
‘Not employ, sir, no,’ I said bitterly. ‘Thomas is missing, and you’ve sent me nothing. How was I supposed to survive? On fresh air? I’ve no coin to employ people. The men and women working here work from the good of their hearts. For a share in the produce, and a roof over their heads. What can be ill with that?’
‘Enough.’ Sir Simon strode over as if to strike me, but then he let his hand fall. ‘I will talk with you on this matter later, Katherine. Leave us.’
I braced my shoulders. ‘I will not. I have run this household for months without—’
‘Leave us!’ Sir Simon’s voice dropped to a growl.
His servant, Venner, approached to take hold of me. ‘Don’t you dare to touch me! I’ll be in the small parlour,’ I said icily, ‘if I’m to be thrown from my own withdrawing room.’
But I did not go into the small parlour. Instead I hovered beyond the door, listening to the low rumble of voices beyond. I cursed the solid oak thickness of our doors that would not let me hear the conversation. I picked up only fragments; Thomas’s name, my own name. My stepfather’s slightly nasal voice could be heard with an unusually grovelling tone.
The ring of the servant’s bell below startled me into movement.
As I went down towards the kitchen I almost bumped into Abi coming up. ‘I saw the kerchief flutter,’ she said. Abi had a white rag tied to the bell hammer to alert her to its ring. ‘What is it?’
‘I don’t know. They threw me from the room. Mallinson and Downall are here, and they probably want refreshment. But they know about the Diggers living here. I don’t know what to—’
The door swung open in a great draught. Sir Simon’s corpulent bulk filled the space. He ignored me and addressed Abi. ‘Girl. Fetch everyone who works on the estate and have them line up on the drive.’
Abi looked to me for confirmation, but I could do nothing but shake my head. He was the master of the house in Thomas’s absence, and besides, one look at his bull-like face told me it was hopeless to refuse.
Sir Simon raised a hand towards Abi. ‘What are you waiting for? Now!’
Abi scu
ttled away.
*
I hoped the men and women wouldn’t agree to come, but they were all there, standing in a knot, close together in the drizzle, like sheep huddled in a field. Even Margery and Susan, who had their arms around their children’s shoulders as if to protect them. Their faces were apprehensive. They knew trouble was coming.
‘You won’t make them go, will you?’ I pleaded, with Sir Simon, fearing the worst. ‘They’ve given us more than two months of hard work.’
But Sir Simon ignored me, stepped out onto the front steps, his fingers stuck in his waistcoat to display his barrel-like chest, Downall and Venner flanking his sides.
‘Sir, I beg you…’
‘Be quiet,’ he snapped.
Before us the crowd were silent, waiting.
Sir Simon screwed up his mouth as if to gather his words before spitting out, ‘Circumstances have changed. We no longer have need of your services.’ An indignant muttering amongst the men. ‘I expect you to have removed your personal belongings and to be off this land by dusk. Any goods left behind will be burnt—’
‘Now just wait a minute—’ The men began to protest.
‘—and any person left behind will be arrested,’ Sir Simon shouted over them. ‘Do I make myself clear?’
‘What about wages or compensation?’ Potter said, stepping forward. ‘We worked hard to plant and sow this land and have had no harvest yet. My wife filled your belly last night and we’re not leaving until I have—’
‘Lady Katherine tells me you worked for shelter and a roof over your head. So you have already been recompensed. We owe you nothing.’
‘That’s not what I said!’ I took hold of my stepfather’s arm, but he whipped his arm away with an impatient gesture.
‘Don’t go!’ I shouted to Whistler, but Sir Simon’s hand caught me on the side of the cheek with a stinging slap that made me wince.
‘You stupid girl,’ he said, through clenched teeth. ‘Don’t you see what you’ve done? I had to grovel to gain us ground in Cromwell’s favour and you do this! Undo all my work behind my back.’
Lady of the Highway Page 7