Reckless Angel

by Jane Feather

  At the close of the meal he sent the girls off to their lessons, Lizzie’s ardent suggestion that today should be a holiday receiving short shrift. “Henrietta, we should discuss some details of household management, and then I will leave you to work matters out to your satisfaction with Susan Yates. She is a sound housekeeper and will be able to tell you all you need to know of the way domestic affairs have been conducted up to now.” Coming around the table, he drew out her chair as he was talking. “Of course, any changes you may wish to make in the conduct of the household are for you to decide.”

  Henrietta stood up, smiling bravely at words that were supposed to put her at her ease but instead filled her with dread. They went into Daniel’s study at the back of the house. He sat down behind a black oak desk, inviting Henrietta to seat herself in an elbow chair beside the fire. She did so, busily smoothing her skirts in an effort to disguise her unease.

  “Harry, I do not wish you to misunderstand me,” Daniel began slowly, “but I would prefer that you not relate to the children the story of your adventures.”

  “Why not?” Surprised, she raised her eyes from her lap.

  “Surely you do not need me to tell you that,” he said with a hint of impatience. “Such an example is like to send Lizzie hot foot in search of similar adventures.”

  “Oh, yes, I see.” She smiled ruefully. “I beg your pardon for being so stupid. Of course, I will say nothing. But had we better not construct a story to explain how we came to be wed?”

  Daniel frowned, tapping his fingers on the gleaming desk top. “I think ’twill suffice to say that I met you when I was sojourning in London and you were in your father’s company. No one will question beyond that.”

  “But will they not think the marriage took place somewhat precipitately?” Harry objected.

  Daniel shrugged. “They may think what they please. But difficult times can explain much that at other times would be considered strange.”

  “Aye, I suppose so.” Henrietta stood up. “If that is all, I will leave ye to—”

  “Nay, sit down again.” Daniel waved a restraining hand at her. “That was but the first matter I wished to discuss.”

  Henrietta resumed her seat, feeling much like a sailor trapped in a sinking ship. She fixed an attentive and hopefully intelligent expression upon her face and tried to look as if she welcomed this discussion.

  “I think it will be best if you cast your household accounts yourself, and we will look at them each month,” Daniel said briskly, tapping out the points on his fingers. “You will have the same sum I have been accustomed to allotting Susan Yates, but if ye feel ’tis insufficient then we can examine it after the first month.” Receiving a mute nod from his wife, he continued to the next point. “I expect you will wish to spend two or three days accustoming yourself to the household, which you may do in Susan Yates’s company. But when y’are ready to take over yourself, then ye may start to instruct the girls. Lizzie is quite old enough to begin learning the arts of the stillroom and the kitchen, and may be assigned some tasks in the dairy, I think. Nan is still too young to do more than observe, but I would have her grow accustomed early.”

  Henrietta nibbled her bottom lip. Should she tell him of her own complete ignorance of these matters? It was an ignorance she had brought upon herself, of course, and one that would be hard for Daniel to believe. Any girl from her background would be assumed to know of what he spoke, would be expected to enter her husband’s house and take over the domestic management without delay. On the whole, she thought she would keep it to herself. Surely she could learn by watching Susan Yates and asking discreet questions that hopefully would not reveal her abysmal ignorance? She offered another mute nod.

  Daniel was frowning thoughtfully and seemed not to find anything amiss in these silent responses. “I think ’twill be best for the moment if Mistress Kierston retains supervision of their lessons and deportment and reports to me. I would not put too much upon your shoulders at once.”

  “No,” said Henrietta faintly.

  “But it would please me greatly if you would spend as much time as you can with them.” He smiled across the desk. “Riding together, mayhap, doing things that will give you all pleasure so that you may grow in friendship. They have need of such companionship.”

  Henrietta’s agreement to this was strong, since here she felt on sure ground. Becoming friends with Lizzie and Nan was a task she knew she could perform with ease.

  “Lastly,” Daniel returned to his finger counting. “You have need of clothes, d’ye not?” He smiled again. “’Tis a poor business when a bride has no time to prepare her wardrobe.”

  “I have need of little,” Henrietta said. “I have never been accustomed to possessing a lavish wardrobe.”

  “Or even an adequate one, I would guess.” He raised a comprehending eyebrow, receiving another assenting nod. “Well, there is no reason why you should not go into Pembury. There is a good mercer where you may purchase materials, and if you do not wish to make them up yourself, our own sempstress will do so to your designs. She is more than competent, Mistress Kierston assures me.”

  He pulled out an iron-banded strongbox from the bottom drawer of the desk, unlocked it, and lifted the lid. “We may as well spend this while we have it. What I do not have, Parliament cannot take.”

  “You expect a heavy fine?”

  He shrugged, drawing out a leather pouch. “Aye, ’twould be fool’s paradise to expect less. I must compound, and take the National Covenant.”

  To take the National Covenant meant a public oath forswearing loyalty to the king and declaring acceptance of Parliament’s rule. After the act of concession, the government would set a fine based on the degree of Malignancy and the size of the covenanter’s estate. In order to live within the law of the land, all previous supporters of the king would be required to compound. Exile was the only alternative. Looking at his face, set now in grim lines, Henrietta realized that the act of concession itself, rather than the fine, would cause Daniel the greatest heartache.

  “This should suffice.” He handed the heavy pouch to her. “I suggest you take Mistress Kierston for company and advice. She is familiar with the towns and villages around here, and all the merchants. Take the children, also, if you wish. They may make some small purchase in celebration of our wedding and my return.”

  Henrietta accepted the pouch, feeling its considerable weight. It seemed she had drawn a generous husband, but the thought of what he would require of her in return rather diminished any pleasure she might have in the fact.

  “When should we make this expedition?”

  “I must journey to Maidstone on the morrow and present myself to the commissioners. ’Tis better thus than having them search me out. I do not know how long I shall be gone, but you may see to these matters in my absence, and when I return we will start this life of ours afresh.” He stood up, coming around the desk to where she still sat next to the fire. Dropping to one knee beside her chair, he reached a hand to turn her head toward him. The black eyes looked warmly upon her with that empathetic understanding that he had so often evinced in the past.

  “We will manage, I believe, elf,” he said softly, tracing the line of her mouth with a fingertip. “’Tis confusing for you at present, but soon I trust you will feel quite at home. And ’tis not as if we do not know each other rather well.”

  “I am afeard,” Henrietta heard herself whisper.

  “Of what?” His finger continued its gentle caress.

  “Of…of doing things awry,” she confessed, her brown eyes huge in the small, heart-shaped face crowned with its braided corn silk-colored coronet. “I would please you, but…but mayhap I will not.”

  “Why would you not?”

  “’Tis a strange bargain we made,” she said carefully. “A bargain made in haste. I would not have you regret it.”

  He shook his head. “Nay, Harry, I’ll not regret it.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And I trust you
will not either.”

  She shook her head vigorously, as if the idea were unthinkable, then left the room in some haste, making her way to the kitchen, where she hoped in secret to make amends for her misspent youth. If Daniel was to be away for a few days, she would be granted some respite in which to cram the skills and knowledge she should have learned in the last ten years.

  Daniel stood looking into the fire. What an odd little thing she was. A curious mixture of pride, determination, and a great vulnerability that she did her utmost to conceal. Fierce in her defense of those she cared for, she had her own special brand of courage, yet she was frequently reckless of her own safety, following her instincts without thought for the consequences. Never could he have imagined taking such a one to wife, but then he had never expected to find a wounded maid upon the lost battlefield of Preston, one who would embroil him in her own tangled webs of hurt and love.

  That night, in the bed he had shared with Nan and for the last four years had occupied in aching loneliness, he found Henrietta soft and responsive. Remembering her youth and inexperience, he possessed her gently, tenderly, enjoying again the once-lost pleasures of lovemaking. He thought the body beneath him had taken its own pleasure, but the explosive glory he had shared with Nan was absent and he did not know how to re-create it. He imagined he could live quite satisfactorily without it, and what Henrietta had never known she would not miss.

  Henrietta lay in the darkness of the bed curtains in the bed that would be hers for the rest of her life. Beside her slept her husband, his breathing deep and even, the warmth of his body spilling over to her. Why did she feel this vague sense of dissatisfaction? Daniel had been so gentle, so considerate of her feelings, and she had felt a spreading warmth that had been most pleasurable…but it had not been sufficient. How could she possibly know that something was lacking from this conjugal act when she had not known until Daniel had initiated her exactly what the conjugal act consisted of? But she did know that it was not as it could be, and that Daniel knew it too.

  That sense of confusion, as if she were a little girl lost in a dark forest, swamped her anew, together with these newfound fears that she would be inadequate to the part she had so blithely agreed to play in Daniel’s life. She had never before been afraid that she would fail at something. She had been too busy proving to herself and others that she would plow her own furrow and needed neither approval nor assistance to do so. And she most certainly had not needed love. Which was just as well, a wry voice murmured in her head, since it had not been forthcoming—not even from Will, if she were honest, and perhaps she had only thought she loved him. At least she had affection and kindness from Daniel. It was ungrateful to ask for more, wasn’t it?

  Chapter 7

  Henrietta tried. In the five days of Daniel’s absence in Maidstone, she stuck to Susan Yates closer than the housekeeper’s shadow. She hung on every word the stilling-room maid uttered. She haunted the dairy, watching the dairymaids make the slip-coat cheeses, churn the butter, skim off the whey. At first, she attempted to hide her real purpose, to pretend that she was simply observing the manner of the household, but she had to ask questions which she knew would reveal her ignorance, so finally she gave up the pretense, well aware that she had fooled no one.

  Reluctantly, she was obliged to admit that the only way to acquire the skills and learning necessary to a lady of quality who would run her own Great House was through practice—years of practice. Daniel expected eight-year-old Lizzie to begin her education in these matters without delay, but Henrietta, as a child, had flatly refused to learn to perform any of the household tasks assigned to her. Finally, her stepmother had washed her hands of her, leaving Henrietta to run wild. Delighting in the freedom that kept her away from persecution in the house, the child had never questioned the usefulness of the education she had abandoned.

  Now the chickens had definitely come home to roost, Henrietta reflected glumly. The entire household knew that the master had married a complete incompetent, although they were far from unkind to her and offered her the lip service due to the mistress. Only Tom knew all her secrets, but he wasn’t telling—more out of his respect and affection for Daniel than for herself, Henrietta decided. The question was: how long would it take Daniel to realize the true state of affairs?

  Whenever she could, she took off with Lizzie and Nan into the fields and woods, hunting, gathering flowers, looking for birds’ nests, fishing, sharing with them what she had learned in her childhood—the pleasures of freedom and the countryside. It did not occur to her that Daniel might not consider this learning appropriate for his daughters. She was vaguely aware that Mistress Kierston was not entirely approving, but the governess would not question the actions of her charges’ stepmother, particularly in the absence of their father. Lacking the advice that might have given her pause, Henrietta simply shrugged off the raised eyebrows, the rather chilly demeanor, and blithely continued enjoying herself with her stepdaughters, who could scarcely wait until their lessons were over and the day’s entertainment could begin.

  Daniel returned in the late afternoon of the fifth day. He came upon the three of them trudging, weary but merry, up the driveway, their arms filled with autumn foliage. He looked askance at the grubby untidiness of his daughters, and Henrietta was in not much better condition, but they were so clearly happy that he allowed himself to be infected by their good spirits. His own spirits were so depressed by events of the last few days that it was a welcome relief to let their simple gaiety wash over him. He dismounted, walking with them through the gathering dusk back to the house while the girls prattled artlessly, constantly referring to Henrietta for confirmation, agreement, and information. She responded always with a natural ease, a ready smile, and Daniel began to feel better. He may have acquired a penniless bride and a mountain of debt, but it appeared his children had acquired the loving companion he had hoped for. The occasional torn petticoat, crooked stocking, and muddied knee were no great matter.

  “You look awearied,” Henrietta said, once the children had been dispatched abovestairs with Mistress Kierston. “I will have water heated in the washhouse if you would like to bathe before supper. ’Twould make you feel a little better.”

  Daniel looked gratified at this evidence of wifely concern. “A kind thought, Harry. Give order by all means. I should be glad to wash away the dirt of the road…and the stench of Parliament,” he added with sudden savagery.

  “It was bad?” She touched his arm instinctively. Not a trace of that gentle humor remained in his voice and the black eyes were cold and tired.

  “I cannot bring myself to talk of it,” he said, not meaning to sound short and dismissive but unable to help himself.

  Henrietta swallowed the hurt, telling herself that he was fatigued and hungry. “I will see to your bath,” she said in what she hoped was an authoritative fashion. “And I will prepare something special for your supper.”

  Henrietta hurried off to the washhouse. Unfortunately, she had forgotten, or rather had not been aware, that today was the one day in the month when the great copper cauldrons were scrubbed clean of scales and residue accumulated during a month of continuous heating. The fires in the washhouse had been allowed to go out and there was no hot water for a bath.

  She stood chewing her lip in the cold, deserted building normally filled with steam and the cheerful bubble of boiling water. She should have known such an elementary fact of household routine.

  “D’ye wants somethin’, m’lady?” The cheerful tones of one of the maids came from behind her.

  “Hot water, Meg,” she said with a rueful smile. “Sir Daniel is in need of a bath.”

  “Oh, Tom’ll take a tub to ’is chamber,” the girl said. “There’s water on the fire in the kitchen. I’ll find Tom.”

  “Thank ye, Meg.” Henrietta returned to the house, going upstairs to explain the change of plan to Daniel. To her relief he heard her explanation of a momentary forgetfulness without surprise, saying he
was content to bathe by the fire rather than trekking to the washhouse.

  A knock at the door heralded Tom’s arrival with tub and water. “What ’appened in Maidstone, Sir Daniel?” he demanded bluntly, depositing his burdens before the fire.

  “I’ll tell ye as soon as I’m in the bath,” Daniel said, accepting Tom’s ready assistance with his boots. “They’re whoresons, Tom, every last one of ’em.”

  They both seemed to have forgotten Henrietta, who felt like an intruder. Clearly her husband would talk with Tom of things he would not discuss with his wife. Quietly she left them, going down to the kitchen to wrestle with the matter of a special dish for supper.

  The cook looked doubtful when informed that the lady of the house was going to make a cheese pudding, one of Sir Daniel’s favorite dishes. However, he provided the recipe, indicated the ingredients in the pantry-closet, and retreated to the far end of the long, scrubbed-pine table to finish his baking.

  It seemed simple enough, Henrietta thought. All she had to do was follow the recipe. The only difficulty was that quantities of herbs and spices were not specified. The kitchen was full of people, but they were all busy at their allotted tasks and she was reluctant to ask what must be an obvious question. Working on the principle that one cannot have too much of a good thing, she sprinkled the pepper, nutmeg, and sweet marjoram with a generous hand. Egg breaking was a little messy, but stirring, beating, cheese grating, soaking bread in milk, were all quite straightforward, and the result when it went into the pudding basin looked just as it should—a few minute pieces of eggshell would not be noticed. She set it into a saucepan of boiling water on a trivet over the fire to steam, before going abovestairs to bid the girls good-night.

  As she passed Mistress Kierston’s chamber, she heard the voices of the governess and Sir Daniel coming from within. The door was open and she glanced sideways as she went by. Daniel was looking uncommon grave, frowning deeply. Mistress Kierston appeared agitated. They both saw her pass and she wondered if she had imagined the uneasiness that seemed to cross their faces.