‘Who is the gentleman with Master James, sir? I saw him arrive at the Abbey on horseback,’ Boyd asked Mr Farrow.
‘That’s his real father. He’s stayed at the Reddy Arms recently.’
‘I didn’t know he had a father.’
‘I did,’ Daisy said. ‘Why doesn’t he live at the Abbey?’
‘Ooh, there was a scandal to do with his mother and grandmother,’ Mrs Farrow replied. ‘I heard his lordship – his late lordship, that is – tried to cut them out of any inheritance, but he couldn’t break the entail.’
Her husband added, ‘It’s the same with all big estates. It all goes to the nearest male heir. Keeps it together for future generations, you see.’
‘Yes, I do see,’ Boyd said. ‘Wouldn’t his father have had to run things for James anyway, as he is not yet one and twenty?’
‘Eighteen’s old enough to inherit a title. Queen Victoria ruled from the start without a regent.’ Mr Farrow chuckled. ‘I heard that old King William hung on until she was eighteen just to spite her mother who was desperate to be regent.’
Mrs Farrow was peering at James and his father as their coach moved forward. ‘He’s the new Lord Redfern, then. The one that wasn’t allowed anywhere near the Abbey.’
‘Can’t stop him now, can he?’ Boyd commented. ‘I wonder if he’ll make a lot of changes.’
Daisy was thinking about James. How awful for him to lose the only family he had known, even though his lordship was reputed to be a bitter old man. James had no brothers or sisters to turn to and now he had to mourn in a most public manner with a father who was all but a stranger to him. She wanted to be with him, to be by his side as he grieved. ‘Shall we go and see the burial?’ Daisy asked. ‘We can try round the back of the churchyard?’
‘Your best bet is the big cedar tree,’ Mr Farrow suggested. ‘I climbed it reg’lar when I was a lad. It’ll give you a fine view of the Redfern vault.’
‘I don’t think so for Daisy.’ Mrs Farrow sounded shocked. ‘You’ll rip your gown.’
‘Oh please, Mrs Farrow. I’ll be careful. Boyd will see to that.’
Mr Farrow came to her rescue. ‘Let her go, dear. There’ll not be another spectacle like this for a generation. Hurry along though. I won’t be the only one who’s remembered the cedar.’
He was right and the highest of the thick spreading branches was taken. Boyd made a back and Daisy took hold of a hand offered from above. Someone came after Boyd and made a stirrup for him to climb after her. Before long the ancient tree was laden with young folk sitting and standing amongst the strong branches. They were near enough to hear the singing inside the packed church, and the silence when it stopped.
The bell tolled again and two clergymen came out slowly. Daisy heard snatches of a conversation from beneath her. ‘The old rector is to retire.’ ‘This new fellow is tekking over.’ ‘Oh yes, he has a wife and family.’ ‘Aye, there’ll be a bit of life in the rectory now.’
The single repetitive ring continued as the coffin came out on the shoulders of six tall men. Mr Stanton was one of the front coffin bearers and, Daisy inhaled sharply, Joseph was there too. He really must be an honoured and trusted servant. She grimaced and thought, I bet his butler has no idea how he can behave towards ladies.
Master James and his father followed the coffin. A procession of grand gentlemen in regal or military uniforms wearing black arm bands came after them and stood around the Redfern vault. It was a large stone-built mausoleum with steps to the crypt below ground. The coffin disappeared first. The clergy continued their prayers as mourners filed one by one into the crypt and emerged from the other side. A significant group, however, stayed above ground and bowed their heads.
‘Boyd?’ Daisy gave him a nudge. ‘Isn’t that Abel Shipton? He’s that tall fellow at the back?’
‘I do believe it is. How come he got a seat in the church?’
‘I don’t know.’ But Daisy watched as James detached himself from his father’s side and moved amongst the mourners. Daisy couldn’t see his face but he was standing quite straight and she thought he was being very brave. The clergymen came to speak with him but the old rector moved away after a moment. Then she was surprised to see James’s father approach the new vicar and embrace him in a way that suggested they were well acquainted. The other mourners began to disperse as their carriages appeared at the churchyard gate to take them to the Abbey.
The villagers crowding the churchyard perimeter started to move away and someone in the cedar tree announced free ale and a good spread at the Reddy Arms.
‘I’d better be getting back to the stables,’ Boyd said. He dropped easily from the branch and held out his arms to catch Daisy as she pushed herself off her temporary perch. She fell onto him heavily but he didn’t budge an inch. Strong, steady Boyd, he was her rock and she clutched at him. He hugged her back for the briefest second then stepped away. ‘I’ve not had a chance to ask you how you got on with Joseph.’
‘I don’t like him,’ she said.
‘Why not?’ He sounded surprised.
She looked at the ground and didn’t answer.
‘You ought to tell me, Daisy.’
She lifted her shoulders in a shrug.
‘Look, everywhere is shut for the day so why don’t you come back to the stables with me? There’s a spread in one of the barns for the outdoor servants.’
‘Will Joseph be there?’
‘He’ll be waiting on the gentry today.’ He gazed at her for a moment. ‘You really don’t like him, do you?’
She shook her head.
Boyd blew out his cheeks. ‘What am I going to do with you, eh? Run and tell Mrs Farrow where you’re going and we’ll cut across the park to the stables.’
Daisy’s eyes roved around the churchyard hoping for one last glimpse of James. He was talking to his father.
* * *
‘The carriage is waiting to take us back to the Abbey, Pater.’
‘I’m not going.’ Edgar had already had more than enough of this celebration for the life of a man he hated.
‘The mourners will expect you, sir.’
‘And have all the South Riding gentry staring at me and asking questions?’
‘You are Lord Redfern now, Pater.’
‘I can’t do it alone. I’ve not lived among them as you have and I need – look, son, why don’t you do it for me. You are acquainted with them.’
‘Certainly, if that is what you wish. The villagers will want you to put in an appearance at the Redfern Arms as well.’
‘I’ve told you, I can’t do it.’ He moved from side to side, hesitating over how much to say. ‘I have to talk to you, James, to explain things.’
‘What things?’
‘I’ll ride over to the Abbey tomorrow when they’re gone.’
‘You said your home was ten miles distant. It will be too much for you, especially in this cold weather. I’ll come to you.’
But Edgar was firm. He wanted to find out how much James knew about Prudence before his son met her. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I mean it. I do not invite you.’
‘Then at least let me send my carriage.’
‘My carriage.’
‘Sorry, Pater.’
Edgar’s shoulders sagged. ‘You’ve been schooled well for the role of lord. Send my horse to the rectory as soon as you can.’
‘I shall instruct Stanton to see to it personally. You will – I mean, you can be a proper father now, if – if you wish it.’
‘Of course I wish it! I had no desire to give you up to that – that tyrant in the first place.’
‘Then why do you not stay with me now, at the Abbey?’
James was pleading with him and Edgar grimaced. He muttered, ‘You don’t understand.’
‘What shall I say to your waiting guests?’
‘Tell them – tell them I am speaking with my tenants and giving surety about their futures.’
Edgar was aware that he should have returned to t
he Abbey with James, but he hadn’t expected this day to be so difficult. He didn’t know the mourners and they didn’t know him. If only Mrs Wortley were by his side instead of this boy. His boy, he corrected himself. But he was no longer a boy so maybe he would understand, if he could talk to him about her first. Milo understood, even if he didn’t approve. Edgar needed to speak with James and Milo before he visited the lawyers again. But here, today, was not the place or the time.
Daisy did not take her eyes off James until he disappeared from view. Then she watched his father talking to the new vicar and, to her surprise, Abel Shipton walked over to join them.
‘Did you see that, Boyd?’ she said.
He grasped her wrist and responded, ‘Do come on, Daisy. I’m needed at the stables.’
Reluctantly, Daisy stumbled after her brother.
Chapter 34
Edgar refused to acknowledge the man who had cuckolded him all those years ago and moved away, leaving his friend Milo to get rid of him. He blamed Abel Shipton for ruining his mother’s plans. But in reality, Edgar knew it was the despot he had just buried that had done that by insisting he give up his son. He had never stopped hating him for that. Still, his mother had died knowing her grandson was living the life she wanted for him, and she had never known the truth about how Edgar had funded her last few years on earth. She would have enjoyed living in the Redfern Dower House marshalling a brigade of servants, he reflected.
The housekeeper at the rectory was busy preparing roast venison for the old rector’s final dinner with the new vicar after the wake. She made no comment when Edgar arrived to wait for his horse and when she offered him her meat-and-potato pie luncheon, he accepted and asked for a bottle of claret to go with it. Clergymen always kept a good cellar. He was not disappointed and finished the bottle with slices of stilton and plum cake. He considered opening another, but was anxious to be on his way.
As soon as his horse appeared, he left and spent a couple of hours riding the vast tracts of land that were now his. His. Yet he didn’t want any of it if he couldn’t share it with Prudence. They could have enjoyed life here for years if it hadn’t been for his great-uncle’s intransigence. Everyone had danced to his lordship’s tune. Well, he was his lordship now and he was giving the orders.
He could do what he liked and if that meant bringing his mistress to live with him in the Abbey, then so be it. Dear God, the stories of revelry and fornication that he’d heard of Abbey life in the old Regent’s day were nothing compared with his comparatively quiet life now. He needed Prudence by his side and to hell with protocol and these new Victorian virtues the preachers preached of. Why should the morals of some Germanic princess with a French name dictate his future?
But even his friend Milo had changed as he’d married and grown older and he didn’t want to risk Prudence being shunned by church or gentry. He had to be firmly established as the new Lord Redfern before he introduced her. The farmers’ wives and villagers might gossip to begin with, but not the servants. They knew better.
He was Lord Redfern now and he could do as he wished. In spite of feeling cold he was cheered by this thought – and by the last of the brandy from his pocket flask. He spurred his horse to a gallop to tell Prudence of his decision.
His body ached from the ride and he was hungry when he arrived at Ellis House. But he was in good spirits. Damn his ageing limbs! His left arm in particular always suffered from holding the reins.
Prudence was dressing for dinner as he arrived. His butler and cook were busy preparing for the meal. ‘I’ll be another hour,’ he told them, took a slice of cold pie from the larder and climbed the stairs two at a time. But he had to stop and catch his breath on the landing. He swallowed the rest of the pie in chunks, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and tried to square his shoulders. His chest was hurting from the cold but no matter. He was Lord Redfern. He ruled the biggest estate in the Riding. It had been a long time coming but no one – no one – could take it away from him now.
Prudence was holding on to the bedpost while her maid heaved on the laces in her corset. She saw him in the doorway through her long cheval glass and told her maid to leave them. He came up behind her, placed his purple face on her shoulder beside her white one and began loosening the laces.
‘It’s almost time for dinner,’ she murmured.
‘I told them to delay.’ The corset dropped away and he covered her large soft breasts with his hands. Then he stroked her belly and rump, his fingers squeezing her flesh, before they reached between her legs. ‘How would you like to be Lady Redfern and live at the Abbey?’
He watched her face in the mirror and her eyes widened. ‘Is it possible? What about your wife?’
‘She’s been mad for years. I’ll put her in an asylum and then divorce her.’
‘Divorce? Won’t that cost a fortune?’
‘I’m a wealthy man now.’
Prudence looked away so he would not see her triumphant smile in the glass. She’d have a title, the grandest home in the Riding and as much money as she needed! It was well worth the humiliations she had suffered over the years as Edgar’s mistress.
‘Will it not cause an enormous scandal, dearest one?’
‘Not if she’s declared insane. The judge will understand. Besides, I’m rich and I can have anything I want.’ His fingers stroked back and forth between her legs, his way of telling her what he wanted from her.
Her hands crept behind her body to fondle him. She didn’t need to arouse him. His blood was up already. She knew what he expected. ‘Oooh,’ she protested mildly. ‘Oooh, Lord Redfern is awake and arisen! Does he want his way with me now?’ She wiggled her bottom from side to side and held onto the bed post, hoping he would do it standing up and get it over with quickly.
Edgar relished the way she gave in to him at any time he wanted her, no matter where. It gave him a sense of power, something he craved over any woman he met. He might have driven into her there and then if he had not been fully clothed. But he needed to feel his skin on hers, be on top of her, in control, dominating her. The anticipation made his breathing more laboured. ‘Get these things off me,’ he ordered hoarsely, ‘and mind my left arm.’
It was not only his arm that ached. His chest hurt too. The long ride in the cold air had not done him any favours. But a rut with Prudence would soon heat him up and, afterwards, another bottle of claret would keep him warm.
Prudence Wortley removed his clothing with practised ease and marvelled just as readily at the disgusting sight of his grossly distended offering poking out from under his lardy belly. He gave her the familiar jerk of his head which meant ‘on the bed’. She slid off her chemise and drawers and lay face down lifting her round white rear for his pleasure. He hoisted himself over her and jabbed around until he pushed into her and he was away, heaving and grunting, causing rucks and wrinkles on the silken bedcovers.
She had taught herself not to think of him when he did it to her. He was a noisy animal of a man who seemed to have learned his technique from the farmyard, so she closed her eyes and counted her gowns and pairs of shoes and – and – this time she dreamed of jewels. He was very generous to her when he was in funds, although sometimes she had to wait far too long for him to replenish her allowance. As he pumped away growling like a bear, she took her gratification from the fact that she was now the mistress of a very rich lord who was, actually, rather dependent on her.
She had begun as his housekeeper, having grown too old to earn a living in Leeds as a provincial courtesan for travelling gentry. But she retained the skills of her former occupation and offered him more than a well-run home. Everything a wife might offer in fact.
He said often that he adored her. Now, he’d told her he was going to move heaven and earth to make her his wife. She never imagined that. Ageing mistresses don’t expect marriage as a rule and she was no different. But when the stakes are high and there’s a title involved, it was not a sit uation to be denied. She was to be Lad
y Redfern! She wondered if she’d have a tiara. He’d be sure to give her jewels and a proper carriage of her own with a pair of matching horses to draw it.
Dear God, he was making more noise than usual, but then he always sounded like a stuck pig and he yelled out obscenities when he shed his seed. What a pity it was too late for her to become with child. She’d stopped using a sponge when she stopped her bleeding so there was no chance for that. Edgar wasn’t bothered. He told her he’d once had a son and that was enough for him. She winced. He was slavering over her and she could feel the dribble on the back of her neck. Now he was groaning and – and slowing. Slowing? He didn’t normally slow down. Generally he hammered her at full tilt until he’d finished. He was gibbering away at something. His title must have gone to his head for he wasn’t making sense. Oh well, he’d finish soon and collapse on top of her and go to sleep as usual. She would have to wait for his snoring before she tried to move.
James had ridden alone in his father’s carriage to the Abbey, where Mr Stanton was waiting anxiously.
‘Where is his lordship?’
‘He – he is meeting with his villagers to – to reassure them about their futures.’
‘His guests are gathering in the long drawing room. They have wine and biscuits but they wish to pay their respects.’
‘I shall receive them on his behalf.’
‘Very well. You are more of a lord than he will ever be.’
‘You speak of my father, sir.’
‘I beg your pardon. It was meant as praise for you and not—’
‘Yes, yes,’ James interrupted. ‘Make sure my father’s horse is taken to the rectory stable immediately.’
‘I shall attend to it personally, sir.’
James straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath and nodded. A footman opened the doors to the long drawing room.
The Lost And Found Girl Page 31