‘How did you know that?’ he said in astonishment. She only laughed again.
‘Oh Jemmy! Kiss me, kiss me again.’
But he broke from her, taking her hands gently but firmly from his shoulders and folding them together at her waist, and then pushing himself away, one pace, two paces backwards.
‘I cannot. I dare not. You are like my own daughter to me.’
‘Not any more. I love you, Jemmy. I have always loved you, and I mean to have you. I shall have you. And it is what you want too, if you would only be honest with yourself. But for now, I permit you to go. You have leave, sir,’ she bowed her head, parodying her royal title. ‘Go to your wife, and comfort her if you can.’
Jemmy fled, as if devils were hounding him.
*
On his way to his room that night, he saw that there was still a light shewing under Mary’s door, and he paused, knocked hesitantly, and when there was no answer went cautiously in. Mary was alone, sitting in a chair beside her bed, dressed in her bedgown and cap, with a wrapper round her. Jemmy gained the impression that she had been sitting like that for a long time.
‘Mary?’ he said carefully. He went across to her, and sat down on the edge of the bed near her, looking at her with concern. At last she moved her eyes from contemplation of the empty air before her and looked at him.
‘What do you want?’ she said coldly. ‘I should not have thought even you would suppose I had anything else to give you. You have had my dowry and my two sons.’
‘Mary, please don’t be so unhappy,’ he said gently. ‘Just think that—’
‘You have what you wanted,’ she went on as if he had not spoken. ‘The girl is all yours now.’ For one horrible instant he thought she meant the Princess, but she went on. ‘You did not waste any time in calling her home, did you? I know you never loved my sons, but I did not think you would go so far as to kill them.’
‘Mary, dear,’ he said, ‘you cannot know what you are saying.’
’I know!’ she shouted suddenly, her eyes flashing. ‘You killed them, you did, with your horrible infatuation with that terrible house and all its inhabitants. I know you never loved me – I know you wanted that other woman – Aliena – I heard the servants talking about it. Well, I forgave you that. But you have spent your life running around after her daughter, spending your time there, with her, doing her bidding, like a foolish dog, forcing us into intimacy with her. Princess, I have heard you call her. Princess! She is not even honourably born! She is a bastard! And when her horrible relations came, bringing that foul disease, you let them infect my sons! My sons! It’s all your fault. I shall never forgive you for it, never.’
Jemmy was silent. There seemed nothing he could say. After a moment she went on more quietly.
‘You never wanted to marry me, I understand that. Well, I never wanted to marry you. But I was willing to make the best of it, to love you and be a good wife to you. But you treated me with contempt, you slighted me and ignored me for the sake of that other woman and her child, except when it suited you to make use of me. I gave you your daughter at the cost of my own health, and don’t think I don’t know why you made a pet of her, rather than loving your sons as you should have. And even now they are dead, when you should be in mourning for them, you still can’t keep away from Shawes. You were there today.’
‘I had to, Mary, I had business—’
‘I know what your business is. Well, you have what you wanted. Now leave me alone. They were all I loved, and you killed them. Don’t tell me not to be unhappy.’
‘Mary please—’
‘Leave me alone,’ she said, calmly and coldly. ‘Go away and leave me alone.’
St John’s Day – midsummer – was an important day in the year’s calendar. It marked the end of the hay-harvest, when the ings which had been fenced since Candlemas were opened up for pasturage; it was the end of sheep-shearing, too, with all its concomitant festivities. It was by ancient tradition a time of merry-making, and though the Church frowned upon such pagan jollifications, it could no more stop them than stop the sun in its course. St John’s Day was also quarter-day, when the rents fell due, and the tenants came up to the Big House to pay them and to lay any problems or complaints before their Master for settling, and to discuss and decide the farming policy for the second half of the year.
Busy though he had been overseeing the haying and shearing, Jemmy had not failed to ensure that the midsummer festivities would be as splendid as ever. A huge bonfire had been built, and a cook-pit dug, in which a whole ox would be roasted; there were tents and canopies and coloured flags, and space for various stalls which were to be let to enterprising tradesmen from the city; there was to be a wrestling booth, and all the usual games, and a team of tumblers, a fire-eater, and of course the morris-men, and any number of roving musicians. There would be plenty to eat and drink, and then dancing, and when it grew dark enough at last, on that longest of days when the magical green twilight extended itself almost until morning, there would be fireworks.
All those things were to take place from midday onwards: in the morning there was the quarter-day business to take care of, and Jemmy had passed the word to his tenants that he wished to address all of them formally before the festivities started. So at eleven o’clock they all found themselves assembled in the great hall, hats politely doffed, a gentle murmur of speculative conversation rippling amongst them. The senior house-servants also drifted in, gathering in doorways wherever they could find room. At one end of the hall a makeshift dais had been placed, and around this the family began to gather, some looking curious, some interested, some resentful. They presented a sad group, being still in half-mourning for the ‘poor young gentlemen’ as the tenants had dubbed Thomas and Harry. Silence fell as they gathered, a silence that breathed a sentimental sigh at the sight of Lady Mary, who eschewing the lighter greys and whites permissible at the end of the half-mourning period, was dressed all in crow-black silk, even to her black lace gloves and the black ribbons on her cap.
The Master’s brothers were all there, together for the first time in many years. Captain Morland was paying his wedding-visit with his bride, a comely lass, the tenants thought, and looking like to breed well, though it was sad to see a bride so newly wed in mourning clothes. The Reverend Robert Morland was there with his gaunt wife and two stout sons; Captain Edmund, elegant in his red coat even though it had black ‘weepers’ sewn to the sleeves, supported his pretty wife, who looked pale and likely to faint away at any moment, poor lady, she who had lost two babies to the pox, though she had the boy and two pretty maids left to her, thank the Lord. There was Master George, a hale and stout man indeed, his great belly and red face making him look a proper gentleman. Everyone liked Master George, for he rode well to hounds, was affable, and always tipped a man a shilling if he opened a gate for him. And causing a great deal of interest and excitement, there, too, was Master Charles, tall as a maypole and looking sadly brown from his travels, back from one of his trips to the New World. He had brought back a strange new plant from the pine forests of Mexico which the Aztecs called cocoxochitl, which he was busy trying to cultivate in the kitchen garden of Morland Place. It was said that it had a root like a potato, and Master Charles hoped it might be a new kind of vegetable.
All these thoughts drifted about the minds of the tenants as they stood waiting for the Master, and a new buzz of conversation was beginning to rise when Jemmy finally appeared, pushing his way through to the dais from the staircase hall, followed by his step-brother Allen and little Miss Jemima, who took their places to the side of the dais as the Master sprang up and began to address them.
‘I called you all here because there is something I wish to tell you which affects you all in one way or another,’ Jemmy began, ‘something which I thought you had better hear from me, so that you know the truth of it.’ At that point Lady Mary flicked her husband an irritable glance, which would have told the intelligent observer that she had no ide
a what he was going to say, and that she thought is most improper for her to be addressed thus as part of a public meeting, instead of being informed privately and beforehand.
‘As you know,’ Jemmy went on, ‘God has seen fit to take to His bosom my sons Thomas and Henry.’ He paused to allow the expected murmur of sympathy to die down. ‘He has also seen fit to deny me any more sons to take their place, and it is not for us to question His judgement.’ Many eyes turned towards Father Andrews, who thought it proper to nod in assent to this proposition, though he doubted whether many of the stubborn and contentious folk that made up the Yorkshire community could have refrained from questioning anyone’s judgement, even God’s, if it went contrary to their desires.
‘Many of you must remember my late father, James Matthias Morland, and all of you know that when he died he left the entire Morland estate to me alone, disregarding any claims which the world might have considered my six brothers’ – he moved his hand in a gesture to encompass them, and Robert and Edmund exchanged a sour glance – ‘my six brothers had to a share in it. His reasons for doing so are not our concern here today; his intention in doing so is, however, quite clear. He did not wish the estate to be broken up.’
A buzz of comment was irrepressible, and again Jemmy waited for quiet before continuing.
‘His intention I feel bound to honour, and I would do so from filial duty even if I did not think, as I do, that it is in the best interests of you all that the estate should be kept intact. God, as I said, has seen fit to take my sons from me; but he has left me a daughter, Jemima, whom I present to you all here today as my sole heir. Gentlemen, the future Mistress of Morland Place.’
His last words were almost inaudible over the talk which broke out. Jemima was staring up at her father with huge, surprised eyes, and when he smiled down at her and held out his hand, she could not move until Allen gave her a gentle, friendly shove. Jemmy helped her up onto the dais, and turned her to face the assembly, keeping his hands on her shoulders in reassurance. It was a reassurance she needed, for she had never been the object of so many eyes before, and nothing in her sheltered childhood had prepared her for this public exposure.
The sea of faces seemed to ripple and blur before her terrified gaze; the eyes seemed to burn her skin; she saw the mouths moving though the roaring in her ears prevented her from hearing what they said, and they seemed like the mouths of predators, ready to devour her. Her legs trembled, and tears prickled her eyes; but her father’s hands were warm and strong on her shoulders, holding her down and bearing her up all at the same moment. She was too terrifed to smile, but the upturned faces studied the solemn, sallow, large-eyed face and saw what they wanted to see. Someone shouted out, ‘God bless the little Mistress!’ and at once others took up the cry, and there was cheering and applause, and caps were waved in the air. It was an excuse for celebration at the very least, and outside the smell of roasting ox was beginning to scent the air, reminding them that now business was over they could all go out into the sunshine to eat and drink at the Master’s expense. And if the Master – their good Master – wanted to give everything to his little girl, why, that was his business. Morland Place had been ruled by a woman before and no harm, so God bless her, she’d like to do as well as a boy.
Jemmy nodded to Allen, who alone had been party to his confidence and plan in this business, and he came to the front of the dais and lifted Jemima down, and escorted her towards the great door, through the passage that opened up automatically before them. Jemima, with Allen pressed close behind her, walked in bewilderment through the crowd, looking to left and right at the grinning, cheering faces, nodding to those who bowed or curtseyed, hearing a confusion of blessings and kind words, feeling hands touch her arms or shoulders as she passed. When she reached the great door and passed out into the yard, Allen quickly took her hand and led her towards the stable.
‘There are horses ready,’ he said. ‘Come quickly, and we will get away from the crowd before they follow. It’s all right, your father commanded it. He thought you would be best away from it all for today.’
Bemused, Jemima allowed herself to be led, but her brain, though lagging behind, caught up with her before they reached the stable, and she stopped short to say, ‘You knew about it? He told you?’
Allen nodded, and in reply to the implied rebuke said, ‘Yes, but only this morning, when Pobgee came with the will and he asked me to witness his signature. He had to tell me, to arrange for me to get you away quickly, but he swore me to silence, so I could not have told you anything, even if there had been time. Speed and secrecy were his object.’
He led her horse out and linked his hands for her foot. She began obediently to mount, then paused.
‘But why?’ she said. Allen gave a rueful grin.
‘Knowing your uncles, knowing your mother, you ask that? There’s only one more unpopular choice he could have made for sole heir, and that’s me. Come on, they’re after us already.’
He flung her into the saddle, and slapped her horse on the rump, springing up onto his own mount even as it started forward in pursuit. They clattered under the barbican and over the drawbridge even as the first of the tenants began streaming out of the great door.
‘Foxed them!’ Allen called cheerfully as they pushed their mounts into a canter along the track, skirting the field where the tents and stalls were laid out. ‘A pity we shall miss the fair, but it can’t be helped.’
‘We’ll miss the feast, too,’ Jemima said, beginning to regain her wits now they were away from the house. Allen gestured to the large saddlebag behind him.
‘All taken care of. I have a cold collation in here that I think won’t disappoint you. Jacob himself put it up, and he was very secretive about it, and you know what that means.’
Jemima smiled suddenly. ‘Anyway, I’d sooner eat with you than with a crowd,’ she said, and Allen was touched, even if he didn’t wholly believe her.
*
The outraged commentary and argument could not be avoided, but Jemmy’s plan had been to delay it until tempers were perhaps a little cooled and arguments blunted. Thus he had arranged for Allen to spirit Jemima away, knowing that she would otherwise be overwhelmed by it all. While all eyes were on her, he slipped quietly from the dais and out by way of the kitchen passage and a buttery door. The public nature of the day’s festivities meant that none of his family was able to speak to him privately at any time, and it all went on until such a late hour that he was able to go straight from the fireworks to his bed without having had to talk about his will at all.
But the next day, after first Mass, there was no avoiding it. Robert, in his nasal pulpit voice, was the most vocal.
‘Outrageous – preposterous – impossible – impious—’
‘Impious?’ Jemmy questioned mildly. ‘Impious to carry out my father’s last wishes?’
‘You don’t know what his wishes were,’ Edmund protested angrily. ‘He left you the estate, that’s all you really know. The most likely thing is that he meant you to divide it up between us.’
‘That’s right,’ Augusta nodded. ‘Between us all.’
‘Probably didn’t like the trouble himself,’ George rumbled slowly. ‘Can’t say I blame him. But you know how he used to shut himself away.’
‘That’s true,’ Edmund seized on it eagerly. ‘Towards the end he was doing very little of the business of the estate. He left it all to you. So it’s only reasonable to suppose that he meant you to take on the task of dividing the estate amongst us.’
‘Only reasonable,’ Augusta nodded.
Mary listened to it all in painful confusion. Much as she did not wish the estate to go to Jemima, still less did she want it to go to Jemmy’s brothers. She had determined not to involve herself in the vulgar wrangling, but to speak to Jemmy privately on the subject, but Augusta’s foolish, sheep-like bleat annoyed her so much that she found she had said ‘Nonsense!’ very clearly and cuttingly before she could stop herself.
‘I must say, Jemmy, it does seem rather hard on us all, to take this attitude. Naturally you wouldn’t want to break up the actual land here, but I can’t see anything against selling off the other properties and assets, to give us each a little something. I know I’ve got my pay, and Edmund’s got his, and Robert has his living – but times are hard, and I’ve got Maria to think of now. She can’t live at her father’s house for ever, and if we should be fortunate enough to have children—’ he glanced towards his wife, who blushed and lowered her eyes, ‘Well, as I say, I’ve got my pay, and I don’t want to be greedy, but he was our father as well, and we ought to have something—’
‘Was he?’ Jemmy said quietly. Edmund flung his hands in the air in exasperation.
‘Now don’t bring that old story up again. No one really believes it. It was just malicious gossip.’
‘My father believed it.’
‘Your father?’ Edmund sneered. Jemmy nodded.
‘I know he had doubts about me, too, but in the end he made up his mind to acknowledge me, and he did so, and left me everything.’
‘You’re all missing the point,’ Robert said, cutting through the debate as firmly as he could. ‘Our father left everything to Jemmy, it’s true – not because he didn’t acknowledge the rest of us, but because he wanted it kept intact by passing it to one person.’ There was a silence of utter astonishment which encompassed even Jemmy, who could not believe that Robert was arguing his case for him. ‘Obviously,’ Robert added as a sop to Edmund, ‘obviously he expected Jemmy to make some provision for the rest of us out of that estate, but his intention was evidently to keep the government of matters in the hands of one person, his eldest son. Now while Jemmy’s sons were alive, I would not have questioned his decision.’ Here Allen and Jemmy both stared at him in amazement. ‘But I’m afraid, brother, that you are going wrong now. You are right to want to honour our father’s wishes, and now that your sons are, most sadly, no longer with us, the estate must and shall pass to the next proper heir, my eldest son.’
Dynasty 8: The Maiden: The Maiden (The Morland Dynasty) Page 22