Bursham All Saints was a rather larger village than their own, and the home of the local physician, although Caroline felt that the apothecary in their own village and Lin’s herbal remedies would be sufficient for most needs. She vividly remembered the costs associated with Papa’s last illness, and again with Mama. Such expense was not to be thought of except in the direst of situations. After a pleasant hour at the home of the wheelwright’s mother, filling their basket with seedlings and cuttings and small packets of seeds, followed by visits to the haberdasher and grocer, they turned their steps towards home.
They had just passed the Starlingford farm when the noise of horses and rumbling wheels drove them to move to the side of the lane. A splendid procession drew into view, comprising two curricles, one drawn by a pair of black horses, the other by white ones, followed by a small carriage with two gentlemen sitting rigidly inside, looking neither to right nor to left, and then no fewer than two luggage wagons and finally, some distance behind, two outriders. Only when all the carriages had gone by and the outriders drew nearer, one on a fine white horse, the other on a black, and both outlandishly dressed in the fashionable style, did Caroline begin to suspect that the gentlemen in the carriage might be merely valets and that these two smart young men were the owners of so much grandeur.
They drew their horses gently to a halt alongside the sisters.
“Well, well, what have we here?” said one.
“Three fair maids all in a row,” the other said, as in unison they doffed their hats and bowed.
“Whither bound, fair maids?” said the first, his white horse pawing the ground beneath him.
“And who may you be?” said the second.
“And by what happy chance comes there such an assembly of beauteous maidenhood?”
They were perhaps five and twenty, very handsome and as like each other as they could stare. Caroline was not inclined to answer such a nonsensical opening, especially she had no idea who the two men might be, and she could see Lin’s doubtful expression mirroring her own.
Poppy, however, had no such inhibitions. “We are the Milburn sisters, and we are bound for our home at Bursham Cottage. But who are you?”
The two men, who must surely be brothers, exchanged surprised glances, and then both dismounted, one to the left of his horse and the other to the right.
“Why, you must be the new tenants—”
“— in Mr Wishaw’s house. We heard he was drowned and dead—”
“—in the Brig Minerva.”
Poppy shook her head, her delicate curls bobbing around her face. “No, we own it. He left it to us, because Mama was— Ouch! Why did you kick me, Caro?”
“Too forthcoming with strangers,” she said sharply. Poppy subsided, but with large, reproachful eyes.
“Oh, how remiss of us—”
“—not to introduce ourselves! I am Edward Alsager and this is—”
“Elliott Alsager of Corranwater. Edward is the elder by less than an hour, but I do not mind, for—”
“—we share everything equally. We are the very best—”
“—of friends!”
They beamed at each other, and even Caroline’s natural hostility towards the new and unknown could not withstand their good humour. They were Lord Elland’s sons, she presumed, and two more easy-going young men it would be hard to meet. They walked the rest of the way home with the sisters, chattering readily on all manner of subjects, and commenting on minute changes as they passed through Bursham St Matthew — “Why, look, brother, Jeremiah Pierce has—” “—painted his door red!”
They made Caroline laugh, but when the brothers had escorted them to their gate and ridden away, and the sisters were walking up the drive admiring their newly-shorn lawn, she said to Lin and Poppy, “They are very affable, I dare say, but they are the sons of a baron and not for the likes of us.”
“Of course not!” Lin said at once.
“What do you mean?” Poppy said, wrinkling her nose bewilderedly.
“Do not let yourself become fond of either of them, that is all,” Caroline said.
“She means we must not think of marrying above our station,” Lin said, with unwonted seriousness. “We are not of the gentry, and so we should not aspire to marry gentlemen. Men with a respectable trade or profession, that is where we should be looking for husbands.”
In principle, Caroline agreed wholeheartedly, and the barony would be ambitious indeed, but Mr Leatham? That was certainly a possibility for Lin, so beautiful as she was. So she said cautiously, “Of course, if a gentleman should fall in love with one of us… that would be different. We might consider it then.”
“I shouldn’t like to marry too high,” Lin said. “It would be uncomfortable, I think. But someone like Papa — a linen draper, or… or something of that nature… that would be very acceptable. I should know how to behave in such a situation.”
That did not sound too promising for Mr Leatham. Caroline sighed. Where in this corner of Hampshire were they to find a husband for Lin? They were surrounded by the out-of-reach sons of the nobility, or else the sons of the soil, the farmers and millers and carpenters who were very good and worthy people, but not at all the life she wanted for her sister. It was very difficult.
Susie greeted them on the doorstep in great excitement. “Mr Stratton was here again and—”
“Mr Stratton!” Lin said. “How kind of him to call!”
“Aye, with three other gen’lemen, lawyers like hisself. You not being in, they’ve gone to the inn to see about rooms, since they’ll likely not get back to Romsey tonight. They’re to come back in an hour. Left cards on the mantel.”
She nodded towards the parlour, and with only the briefest pause to remove muddied boots, the three sisters rushed in to retrieve the cards. Mr Stratton’s they were already familiar with, but there were three new ones. ‘Mr P Willerton-Forbes, of Markham, Willerton-Forbes and Browning, Gray’s Inn, London’ and ‘Captain M Edgerton, late of the East India Company Army’, Caroline read. The final card said only ‘J Neate’, with a London address.
When the gentlemen arrived, Caroline took them into the study, its masculine air seeming more appropriate for what sounded like a matter of business. Mr Willerton-Forbes and Captain Edgerton looked nothing at all like lawyers, to Caroline’s mind. At least, when placed alongside the plain, sober clothes of Mr Stratton they looked nothing like lawyers, their attire being of a sort which might have graced the streets of London. Mr Neate was a slender man dressed all in black, who was a secretary to the other two.
Mr Stratton was his usual beaming self, introducing his colleagues briskly, but then allowing his eyes to stray towards Lin. “Delighted to see you again, ladies! Quite delighted! You have been greatly in my mind, wondering how you go on, you see. But look how cosy this room is already, with a lace cloth here and a vase of spring flowers on the mantel. There is nothing like the feminine touch, I declare, to make a house into a home, and as for the garden — now there I see the artistry of Miss Elinor at work already.”
“Lin’s artistry, perhaps, but John Christopher’s scythe,” Caroline said crisply. “Please sit, gentlemen, and tell us how we may help a London lawyer and a captain of the East Indian Army.”
“Ah, but they are here to help you,” Mr Stratton said, his grin so wide that it reached almost from one ear to the other. “I have told them who you are and they are quite satisfied— I beg your pardon, Mr Willerton-Forbes. You must tell the tale in your own way, of course.”
The London lawyer had done no more than raise one finger, but it was enough to subdue Mr Stratton.
“Miss Milburn, Miss Elinor, Miss Penelope, thank you for receiving us without prior notice. We are obliged to Mr Stratton for his good offices in introducing us to you, and also for furnishing us with the proof of your identity which we required for our purpose. It is most convenient for us that he has already made those same enquiries into your family in order to fulfil the terms of the late Mr Abra
ham Wishaw’s will. I congratulate you on your good fortune! This is a splendid property, and I trust you will enjoy your residence here.”
“Thank you, sir,” Caroline said. “We are indeed grateful for Mr Wishaw’s benevolence, and are very happy to be settled here.”
“I have more good fortune to impart to you,” Mr Willerton-Forbes said. “Mr Wishaw was tragically drowned in the sinking of the Brig Minerva off the Cornish coast two months ago. Three and twenty souls were lost in the disaster, but one of them was the Duke of Falconbury, and so the event drew notice from higher levels than would normally be the case, and was much reported in the newspapers and discussed in the London saloons and clubs. As a result, one person in particular was very moved by the loss of life, and decided to assist the few survivors and the next of kin of those drowned. This person, whom we call the Benefactor, knowing no other name, wishes to give you, as Mr Wishaw’s nearest kin, one thousand pounds, free of all restrictions.”
Mr Stratton, who had been practically bouncing with excitement on his chair, now burst out, “Is that not wonderful news? One thousand pounds to add to the five thousand that Mr Wishaw left you — a tidy sum! A very tidy sum! This must set your mind quite at rest, Miss Milburn, as to your ability to meet the additional expenses of your new home.”
They all gazed at her, Lin and Poppy too, waiting for her to express her pleasure at the unexpected largesse. One thousand pounds. Another forty pounds a year, if invested prudently. A dowry, perhaps, of two thousand pounds apiece, if it should be needed. The formless fears of future poverty receded slightly. Yes, even Caroline could not be displeased by the increase in their wealth.
She laughed. “There is some Madeira in the cellar, gentlemen. This might be an appropriate time to sample it, do you not agree?”
6: Searching
One morning, Lin and Poppy were out in the garden, Susie was humming upstairs, and Martin and Molly were in the kitchen preparing breakfast, so Caroline set out her lacemaking cushion for the first time since the move. She looked at the half-completed piece in dissatisfaction. It was a narrow strip, only good for trimming or perhaps an elegant fichu, but ever since Mama’s death that was all she had felt able to work on. Quick pieces that could be traded for the much-needed coins at Mr Turner’s shop every two or three weeks. Before that she and Mama had worked side by side on much finer pieces, like wedding veils, collars and caps, and Caroline’s favourite, fans. There was nothing like a lace fan for adding elegance to a lady.
Resolutely, she finished off the current piece. It was not up to her usual standard, so perhaps she would keep it for herself, as a smart fichu. Then she began to dress her pillow for a new piece, a fan, but something more elaborate, in Mama’s delicate style. Breakfast was a brief interruption before she went back to work in the parlour. Oh, the joy of making lace again! Her worries about their new life had receded somewhat, for they had enough money to live on, her sisters were safe in the garden, Susie was happy since she had learnt to leave the kitchen to Molly, and even their inherited servants had settled into some semblance of usefulness.
She was startled out of her absorption by the sound of carriage wheels and hoof beats. With a sigh, she pushed away her pillow stand, and went to the window. Mrs Leatham’s carriage, and this time two cards were handed to the footman to be delivered to the door. ‘Mrs Ambrose Leatham’ and ‘Mr Charles Leatham’, Caroline read, when Susie brought the cards into the parlour. Well, these morning calls were tedious, but perhaps this one had possibilities.
“Show Mrs Leatham and Mr Charles Leatham in, wait to see if they want any tea, and then run and fetch Lin from her patch of dirt in the garden.”
“Not Poppy?” Susie said, then got the point. “Ah, Lin.”
Susie dashed out to the hall again, and Caroline had no time to do more than check in the mirror over the mantel that nothing was askew before the visitors were upon her.
“Ah, Miss Milburn… all alone?” Mrs Leatham said.
“My sisters have been drawn out by the fine weather to do a little weeding in the kitchen garden.”
“Well, no matter. I would not disturb them for the world. I have brought my son to see you today, Miss Milburn. He has been most anxious to further his acquaintance with you, have you not, Charles?”
He bowed, saying nothing.
The offer of refreshment was made and accepted, and Susie bobbed a neat curtsy and disappeared to attend to it. She was rather well suited to drawing room appearances, Caroline thought. She had been a kindly if haphazard nurse and an indifferent cook, but was turning out to be an efficient house maid.
Caroline and Mrs Leatham sat decorously on facing chairs, while Mr Leatham milled about the room, slapping his gloves against his thigh as he walked. Caroline waited politely for Mrs Leatham to begin the conversation.
“And how are you settling in, Miss Milburn?” she said, not waiting for a reply. “Mr Popham tells me that you are buying your tea from him, but I must advise against it. He is a very good sort of grocer for ordinary wares, such as flour and sugar, but I would not buy tea from him. He does not look after it well, and that affects the taste. You must go to my fellow in Salisbury, Higgins. He is very good, and will not overcharge if you mention my name.”
“I should hope he would not overcharge at any time,” Caroline said indignantly.
Mrs Leatham stared at her, then said, “Oh! Oh, I see what you mean. I mean only that you will be offered his best price if he understands that you are a neighbour of mine.” Then, without pausing for breath, she said, “I trust your visit from the London lawyers went off satisfactorily. Oh, you need not look so conscious, and I shall not pry, although one might guess their business with you.”
“Might one?” Caroline said faintly, trying to work out how Mrs Leatham even knew they were from London.
“Oh, yes. The Benefactor’s purpose is in all the newspapers. It is quite a puzzle as to who might be giving such large sums to those connected with that poor ship that went down, but I expect it must be something to do with the dear Queen, do you not think? Ladies are so readily affected by a sad story, and who else would have so much money to hand?”
“The new Duke of Falconbury,” Mr Leatham said. He had been gazing vacantly around the room, but he snapped back to attention abruptly at this new subject, lounging against a window frame to face his mother.
“Oh. Do you think so? Distress at his brother’s death, I suppose?” his mother said. “And he is very rich, naturally… a duke, after all… and his estates are vast. Why, part of his land borders yours, Miss Milburn, and Valmont is more than ten miles away from here. Beyond Corranford one is entirely surrounded by the duke’s property. Have you settled on a coal merchant yet, Miss Milburn? We get ours from Powney, and it is always of excellent quality, although he is not terribly reliable as to deliveries. He never quite appears just when one expects him.”
“Mr Wishaw got his coal from Dunn’s,” Caroline said. “I see no reason to change. Unless he overcharges us, of course.”
“Oh. Oh well, Dunn’s is reliable enough, I daresay.”
Susie returned with the tea and cakes. Caroline mouthed ‘Lin?’ at her, but she gave a slight shake of the head. Mrs Leatham talked and ate and talked and drank, without much pause for breath. Fortunately, she required little in the way of response, but Caroline, her fingers itching to get back to her lace, heartily wished her long gone. Mr Leatham settled on a chair, accepted a cup of tea, gulped it in three mouthfuls and then resumed his restless prowl.
After a few minutes, he stopped, gazing out of the side window towards the kitchen garden. “Whatever are your sisters doing?” he said. “They appear to be chasing butterflies.”
Caroline laughed. “So they may be. Poppy has always been fascinated by them.”
“How delightful!” Mrs Leatham cried, springing up and rushing to the window. “How charming! Charles, you will not mind if I go outside and further my acquaintance with the younger Miss Milburns? You may stay h
ere and drink your tea with Miss Milburn.”
She left the room, leaving Caroline bemused. Mr Leatham scowled as if he had been sucking lemons, but he made no protest, sitting down on his chair again, playing idly with the gloves he had discarded on the table beside it.
“More tea, Mr Leatham?” Caroline said.
“Thank you, but no.”
What on earth was she to say to him? His brooding silence had not mattered when his mother had been there to fill the void with her chatter, but Caroline had not the least idea how to make conversation with such an awkward man.
Eventually she said, “We made some new friends yesterday — the Alsager brothers.”
He grunted, but made no comment.
“You must know them very well, being neighbours.”
“Not really.”
“Oh… but surely, when you are much of an age—”
“Just because we are the same age does not mean we have to live in each other’s pockets, you know,” he said angrily. “I have nothing at all in common with those two wastrels, I am happy to say. They may spend their lives sweet talking every female within a twenty mile distance, but some of us have better things to do with our time. Never was a pair so spoilt! Every whim gratified, every extravagance permitted and every folly indulged. I am sure you found them very agreeable—”
“Very,” she said at once. The contrast between the amiable twins and the ill-mannered Mr Charles Leatham was striking.
“—but do not be fooled and get your hopes up, Miss Milburn. They have both been betrothed these three years or more, but do they show the least sign of settling down? Not a bit of it! Instead they gad about the country with no thought of their responsibilities.”
The Lacemaker (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 2) Page 6