‘And I shouldn’t have liked to see the calf and mother die,’ I call over my shoulder, still feeling the need to explain myself. The birthing residue comes away easily, making me feel less self-conscious.
Once clean, I look back to see Edward smiling as though he is proud of me.
‘Come,’ he says after a moment, ‘let us get back to the carriage. There is someone I should like you to meet.’
Chapter 26
The carriage draws closer to a large country hall, of the Tudor kind. It is fashioned from imposing redbrick, towering to several storeys, with enormous latticed windows on the ground floor. Two grand wings sweep out either side of the main building, approaching a small moat, which stretches around and out of sight.
Undoubtedly it is a grand ancestral building, but I think it would be a cold place to actually live in.
It is only after the carriage rolls over the moat bridge that I realise Edward truly intends to take me inside.
‘We are going into your house?’ Panic makes my words sound strangely high-pitched.
‘Inside the manor, yes.’ He is smiling at my obvious nerves. He takes my hand. ‘Do not concern yourself,’ he says kindly. ‘There is nothing to fear.’
‘But who is it you wish me to meet?’
‘My mother,’ says Edward. ‘I think she should be charmed by you. And she has few enough visitors.’
‘Your mother?’ Now I truly am afraid.
‘She will like you,’ he says, squeezing my hand. ‘Just as I do.’
‘Are you very sure of that?’ I ask, as he helps me out of the carriage.
He stops in front of me and straightens my cap.
‘Very sure,’ he says. ‘Take off your cloak, so she might see your dress. For she likes pretty things.’
I do as he asks, still wrought with anxiety.
Edward considers me with a sweeping gaze.
‘Lovely,’ he decides. Then he frowns, moves forward and gently smooths my frowning forehead with his fingers. ‘Better,’ he says approvingly.
‘I do not know if this is wise, to meet your mother,’ I am saying, as he takes my hand and pulls me unwillingly towards the house. ‘You may make a mistake on my charms.’
‘If my mother likes you half as much as I do,’ says Edward, in answer, moving me towards the main door, ‘she will like you a great deal indeed.’
I barely take in the huge hallway and stairwell as we enter the house. The interior is very grand, but unlike Edward’s townhouse, it is not in the lighter contemporary style. Overall it is larger with a lot of dark wood panelling.
I follow uncertainly behind him, growing more and more nervous as he leads me through the house.
‘Should not a footman announce us?’ I ask, thinking it strange we make our own way to greet his mother with no servant to take us.
Edward shakes his head.
‘I know where my mother will be,’ he says. ‘There is no need for formality.’
Nevertheless, we do encounter a neatly dressed maid as we move through the house. But rather than seeming surprised, or perturbed at the unexpected arrival of her master, she gives us a delighted smile.
‘Lord Hays!’ she beams. ‘We did not know you would be returning so soon.’
‘I am not returned quite yet, Tabitha,’ Edward replies apologetically. ‘I had some business that needed to be signed on the estate. This is my companion, Elizabeth,’ he adds.
The maid curtsies to me, with a little smile. The lines around her eyes suggest she is middle-aged, but her cheerful temperament makes her seem younger.
‘Should I prepare a meal?’ she asks. ‘There is plenty of rabbit, for the gamekeeper sends us a steady supply.’
Edward turns to me and back to the maid.
‘We shall be returning to London rather quickly,’ he explains. ‘But perhaps you might prepare us something good to take in the carriage.’
The maid curtsies again. ‘It will be done. Do you still mean to return to us by the end of the week?’
Edward nods and the maid beams once more.
‘We shall be sure to have something fine prepared,’ she promises. ‘Your mother is by her fire as usual,’ the maid adds, and for the first time her face looks sad. ‘She slept long this morning, but I believe she woke this past hour.’
‘Thank you,’ says Edward, with a sad smile of his own. ‘We go to her now.’
‘Your mother is unwell?’ I ask, my uncertainty heightening, as the maid scuttles away.
‘No,’ replies Edward. ‘But she takes laudanum for her nerves. It makes her sleepy.’
I make no reply, but I am beginning to understand why Edward has no fear of introducing me to his mother. If she is one of those who makes daily use of opium, she likely remembers little from one hour to the next.
‘You are very easy with your servants here,’ I observe, thinking him a lot more natural than in London.
‘They are like family to me,’ he replies. ‘I grew up with many. Or they are relations of servants I grew up with. I hold them very dear, for a household is made by all its people.’
Edward leads me through a large door into the belly of an immense wood-panelled room. A huge fire burns in a medieval-sized grate, the thick logs sending their smoke up a wide chimney.
The only furniture in the room is a hard-looking sofa, a large easy chair and a rug, all of which have been arranged close to the hearth. As though someone were trying to make a small fireside room out of an enormous wood-panelled expanse.
As we move closer to the fire, I realise that the large chair is occupied. A small woman sits inside it, shielded from view by the size of the chair back. But evident now we step around the front.
She wears formal dress, though it is of an old-fashioned style, with a less rigid structure than my attire. Even so, it must make her uncomfortable to dress so properly. Her snow-white hair is made in careful ringlets, and the neatness of it is in contrast to the frail papery skin of her face and the sleepiness of her blue eyes.
I see Edward’s likeness in her face, in the finely made cheekbones and the high sweep of the brows. But where he has a solid kind of handsomeness, his mother’s features are more delicate. I can imagine her as a young beauty, looking almost ethereal.
When she sees us, her smile is so kind I forget to be afraid.
‘Edward!’ she says, her thin voice rusted with age. ‘You are kind to visit your mother.’
He stoops to kneel by his mother’s chair, taking her hand and kissing it.
‘You are well?’ he asks. ‘Not in pain?’
She shakes her head.
‘No,’ she assures him. ‘The tincture takes care of it.’
Her eyes sweep up to me.
‘Who is your lovely companion?’
‘This is Elizabeth,’ says Edward, standing. ‘I thought you might like to see something bright.’
‘You are right in that,’ his mother says. ‘How delightful to see such young beauty. Come closer, child, so I might admire you better.’
I step forward and she clasps my hand. Her grip is surprisingly warm and firm.
‘So very pretty,’ she says, nodding her head. ‘And I can see from your eyes that you are lively and good-natured.’
She looks to Edward in approval.
‘What a fine companion for you,’ she decides, turning to me with a wink. ‘For Edward is often dull and serious.’
I laugh.
‘Not so much these past few days,’ I assure her.
Edward’s mother nods at me thoughtfully.
‘I am glad to hear it,’ she says.
I glance at Edward, who looks a little abashed. Then his eyes stray to his mother’s birdlike arms.
‘Have you taken any food today?’ he asks.
‘Oh yes,’ she assures him. ‘Tabitha takes very good care of me.’
‘Yet you seem frail,’ he admonishes. ‘Do you eat that good broth I ordered for you? From the doctor?’
His mother waves her ar
m vaguely.
‘It is hard to remember.’
Edward frowns. ‘Elizabeth, would you mind keeping my mother company, while I fetch a dish of broth from the kitchen?’
‘I should be delighted to,’ I promise. ‘I shall find out all your secrets while you are gone.’
He rolls his eyes, touches my shoulder and retreats from us.
‘I was blessed with Edward,’ says his mother, watching him go. ‘He was the most clever boy, even from a very small child. God made me a mercy in giving me a son who was nothing like his father.’
‘You must tell me more about Edward,’ I encourage her. ‘What was he like as a boy?’
His mother shuffles slightly upright and then winces as though her clothes hurt her.
I move to help but she raises a hand.
‘It is well, it is well,’ she murmurs. ‘Us women are used to our restraints, are we not?’
‘We are indeed,’ I agree, thinking of my own tight stays. ‘But surely a venerable lady may dress as she chooses?’
Edward’s mother laughs at this.
‘Maybe so, child,’ she concedes, ‘but when you are as old as I, you gain habits. Edward’s father was a tyrant for dress and I learned under his authority.’
Her knotted fingers stroke her skirts thoughtfully.
‘Edward was the most caring boy,’ she says. ‘I often wonder if his situation made him that way.’
She leans forward, her eyes glistening.
‘He was made to take on many responsibilities that should have fallen to his father.’ She shakes her head. ‘He rose to the challenge beautifully. But I fear it has made him preoccupied with estate business. Though he always had an eye for pretty girls,’ she adds, considering me with a sparkle to her eye.
‘I do my best to keep his mind from business,’ I promise, smiling.
She takes my hand gently, but her grip is firm.
‘I have always prayed,’ she continues, ‘that he would find a woman to watch over him. For Edward was denied the proper frivolities of childhood. And his disposition grew more serious than it should have done. He deserves love and laughter more than most.’
Her hold on my hand tightens. I nod, not certain of what role she imagines I have at her son’s side.
‘I am sure Edward will make a fine marriage and bring his family great pride,’ I say carefully.
‘A girl to make him merry,’ she replies with a wink, and I smile gratefully.
‘I can certainly do that.’
‘Be sure you do.’ She pats my hand approvingly.
There is the sound of a door opening and I turn to see Edward has returned, carrying a plate of broth.
‘For there is nothing worse than a dull man,’ concludes his mother, raising her voice for his benefit.
Edward smiles a little.
His mother releases my hand.
‘I was telling your lovely companion how she must make you lively,’ she explains.
He reaches us and kneels to place the broth on the small table next to his mother.
‘She is accomplished in that business,’ he says.
‘Good,’ replies his mother. ‘It is about time you found a spirited girl, rather than those simpering society creatures.’
Her eyes droop a little, as though she grows tired.
‘Today, my son looks as well as I ever saw him,’ she murmurs, pleased. ‘Edward, you have a sparkle to your eyes, which warms my heart to see.’
‘Will you not take some broth?’ he urges. ‘I should like to see you eat a few spoons before we leave.’
‘At my age it is not so easy to swallow such foods,’ she replies. ‘For they make the broth very rich.’
Edward drops to her side.
‘Yet you must take rich foods for your sustenance,’ he says gently, stroking her thin arm. ‘Promise me you shall try the broth, if not now, then later today.’
She nods, but her eyes are closing. And as her lips move to make a reply, she is falling into sleep.
Edward stands, watching her sleeping form, and turns to me.
‘She sleeps most of the time,’ he explains. ‘We were fortunate to have so much conversation from her. I think she liked you very much.’
He studies his mother again. She is breathing gently.
‘I try and have her eat,’ he says. ‘But she forgets and the laudanum numbs her appetite. I do not think she has eaten yet today, though Tabitha will have done her best.’
‘Has she taken the laudanum for a long time?’ I ask.
Edward nods.
‘Since I was a boy. I think it was her way of escaping the brutalities of my father.’
There is something heartbreaking in his face. Automatically, I reach for his hand. He smiles.
‘Come,’ he says. ‘Our business is done. And you have greatly cheered my mother. I suppose we must return to the city.’
But he hesitates, as though perhaps he would rather not.
Chapter 27
I’m sad to see the beauty of Edward’s country estate roll away. Though I’m enjoying being back in the carriage.
Edward and I have our own cosy little world in here. We’re wrapped in blankets against the slight evening chill, and sharing our abundance of food and wine.
As promised, Tabitha packed us a further basket of jugged rabbit, with fresh bread and another bottle of wine.
‘I enjoyed meeting your mother,’ I say, as Edward fills my glass with wine.
‘You did not expect to enjoy it?’ he asks, catching my tone.
‘No,’ I admit. ‘I was in terror of it. I am nervous around fine folk. And your mother is very fine.’
‘There is no need to be nervous,’ he says. ‘Your manners do you credit.’
‘Thank you.’ I hesitate, before plunging on. ‘Your mother was very frightened of your father? His shadow seems to haunt her still.’
Edward nods slowly. His face is pained and for a moment I think he won’t reply. I almost regret asking him. Then he speaks.
‘He was a terror, my father,’ Edward says quietly. ‘A gambler and a philanderer and a brute.’
I take his hand.
‘We lived in fear of him,’ he says. ‘My mother particularly. I always thought … I still think … If only I could have protected her better.’
I keep the pressure of my hand steady.
‘You were just a boy,’ I say quietly.
He shakes his head, with a strange kind of smile.
‘I take it back through my mind often,’ he says. ‘What I could have done. What I should have done. When I began to manage the family estate, it gave me something to free my mind from it all. Something to occupy my thoughts.’
I nod, understanding this. Street girls know all about pushing away the bad thoughts. It is how we survive.
‘When I was old enough, I went to London,’ continues Edward. ‘I met Fitzroy. And between us, we found a way in law to discredit my father and have me declared heir before his death.’
I stroke his fingers, thinking how terrible his father must have been to force his son to such an act.
‘My father never forgave me,’ adds Edward. ‘And I never forgave him.’
‘Did you speak to him before he died?’
He shakes his head. ‘Perhaps I should have done. I heard afterwards that he asked for me. Perhaps he wanted to ask my forgiveness. But I do not know if I could have given it.’
We sit for a while, the steady motion of the carriage rocking us.
‘It is a lovely estate,’ I say eventually. ‘I can understand why it is so important to you that it prospers.’
‘I am glad you think so.’
‘And you mean to marry well and grow it even larger,’ I say.
‘You do not agree with this notion?’ determines Edward, pouring me more wine.
‘I did not say that.’
‘You did not need to. I could hear it in your voice.’ He re-corks the bottle and toasts his refilled glass against mine.
&nbs
p; I laugh. ‘I had forgotten you aristocrats were so well trained in social nuances.’
The carriage reels sideways through a heavy rut and Edward pulls me tight against his body.
‘Why is it so important,’ I say, as the carriage rights itself, ‘to grow the estate? You have made it profitable. Why not let it be?’
‘If I grow the estate, I can secure it for future generations.’
‘But what of you?’ I ask. ‘Surely you do not mean to give your whole life for this? To be a conduit for your family’s legacy?’
Edward’s eyes are on mine suddenly, searching.
‘And what would you propose?’ he asks. ‘How would you suggest I live my life?’
His words sound like a rebuke, but his face is anything but.
I look back at him for a moment and then turn my eyes away.
‘I only mean …’ I say hesitatingly, ‘that you should be permitted a happy marriage. At least with a woman you have a liking for.’
‘Ah.’ He smiles, leaning back. ‘You are talking about Caroline. You see we do not love one another.’
Edward strokes his chin, considering.
‘If we were to marry, it would be a union of convenience,’ he admits. ‘But perhaps you are overlooking just how convenient it would be. Caroline’s family comes with trading links. Shipping. I could establish a profitable trade with great ease.’
I frown. ‘May you not find some nice society girl?’ I suggest. ‘Some pretty personable young thing. Retire here with her and make a happy family? Certainly, your mother thinks you deserve such happiness.’
Edward smiles at this.
‘Some aristocrats have gone that route,’ he says. ‘From what I have seen, their marriages are no happier in the long run. After a few years, they spend their days in London, avoiding their wives, with all the other lords. The only difference is they have no financial advantage from the arrangement.’
‘Are no aristocrats happily married?’ I press, strangely dismayed at the thought.
‘Perhaps a few,’ concedes Edward. ‘Are common marriages always happy?’
‘No,’ I admit. ‘But there are many happy marriages. Where the man and woman are a comfort and companion to one another.’
Masquerade: Can a street-girl become a lady? Page 13