He was a pleasant-faced man of around fifty, still hale, who greeted them with civility but without warmth. The only other occupant of the room was a worn-looking woman of middle years in drab clothing, a Miss Pointing. “My relation,” Lady Elland said dismissively. There was no sign of the two bouncy sons, which was rather a disappointment, for they would have lightened the atmosphere considerably. Caroline had no idea how she was to make conversation with people she had nothing at all in common with. To her surprise, however, within five minutes Lord Elland proposed a walk in the garden.
“Oh, yes, please!” Lin cried.
There was a slight delay while outer garments were found for Lord and Lady Elland, and then they were led through another, even grander, room to doors leading to a broad terrace at the back of the house. Beyond it, formal beds surrounded a wide reflecting pool which ended in a fountain.
“A parterre!” Lin exclaimed, and promptly set off towards it, with Lady Elland and Miss Pointer in pursuit.
Caroline was more interested in the fountain. “How does it work?” she said, enchanted.
“There is a reservoir on that hill over there,” Lord Elland said. “The water runs down the slope in underground pipes and the pressure is sufficient to lift the water into the air.”
“How ingenious! Modern engineers are so clever, aren’t they?”
“They are, it is true, and we live in an age of wonders, but fountains are a very old idea, Miss Milburn. The Romans and Greeks both constructed them.”
“Oh. That was a long time ago, wasn’t it?”
“A very long time ago,” he answered gravely. “Shall we walk beside the pool? Then you may examine the fountain from closer quarters.”
The gravel path crunched under their feet as they walked, while Caroline struggled to think of something to say to him. Making conversation with a baron was not a skill which she had ever needed to develop before. She could hear Lin’s high voice in the distance, and wished she had her sister’s facility with strangers. Where there was a garden to be admired, or plants to be discussed, Lin could talk endlessly, but Caroline had no such topic to fall back upon. Household management and lacemaking were her only skills, and neither was of interest to a gentleman.
Fortunately, she didn’t need to think up something to say, for Lord Elland soon began to speak again, although the subject was surprising.
“Miss Milburn, I believe Lady Elland approached you recently to enquire after some documents relating to my family which the late Mr Wishaw had in his possession.”
“Yes, but we don’t have them,” she said. “There were very few papers in the house. Mr Wishaw’s business partner took everything relating to the business, and all that was left were old bills and a few personal letters. Nothing about your family at all.”
“I talked to Mr Salter, but he has nothing of the sort. He very kindly permitted me to examine everything he took away, and there was nothing there.”
“Maybe Mr Wishaw had them with him when he went to Ireland, so they went to the bottom of the sea?” Caroline said.
“That is unlikely, because Mr Salter told me that all his friend’s possessions were recovered after they refloated the ship, and he looked through them himself and found nothing. It is my belief that the papers are still in your house, Miss Milburn, but perhaps hidden away in some secret crevice for safe-keeping. Under the floorboards, perhaps, or behind the wainscoting or a loose brick somewhere. Or the attics?”
“I’ll have another search, if you like,” Caroline said. “It would help to know just what I’m looking for, though.”
Lord Elland smiled. “That is just the problem, I have no idea! The documents came from Italy and relate to my mother’s family, that is all I know. She is French, although she met and married my father in Italy, and they lived there very happily for many years. I and my sisters were born there, and I can still remember the heat of the sun, the scent of jasmine and the taste of fresh olives and figs. We only returned when my grandfather became sick, and wanted his son at home.” He sighed. “The papers have no significance in themselves, but Mother is seventy now. She is very nostalgic for her French family, but we have quite lost track of them. These papers would be a great comfort to her, if they could be found.”
“Why did Mr Wishaw have them, if they’re yours?” Caroline said, wondering a little at so much effort for papers of no significance.
“Oh, one of his business associates came across them in Italy,” he said airily. “Mr Wishaw thought they would be of interest, but for one reason or another they were never handed over. He never liked to entrust them to the mail service, and either he was away somewhere or I was. But having heard of their existence, Mother is fretting about them, you know how elderly ladies do. I would like to set her mind at rest.”
“Well, I’ll have another look,” Caroline said. “I haven’t gone through the attics properly yet, so I’ll start there.”
“You are very good,” he said.
By this time, they had almost reached the fountain at the end of the reflecting pool, but running feet on the gravel heralded the arrival of the footman who wore the different livery.
“Mon seigneur! Mon seigneur! Un instant, s'il vous plaît. Excusez-moi, mais votre dame mère désire vous voir tout de suite. Immediatement, s'il vous plaît.”
Lord Elland stopped at once. “Oui, Lucien. Je suis en chemin.” The footman scuttled off as fast as he’d arrived. Lord Elland turned to Caroline. “Forgive me, Miss Milburn. That is my mother’s personal footman, Lucien, informing me that she requires my attendance at once. If she has had another one of her turns—”
“Of course. Go to her, my lord. Don’t worry about me. I’ll find Lin over in the parterre.”
“Thank you for your understanding.” And without another word he hastened away.
So the sinister footman was old Lady Elland’s personal footman, was he? What a strange household they were, to be sure.
~~~~~
MAY
The invitation arrived for dinner at Starlingford. ‘The carriage will collect you at a quarter before five and bring you home at midnight,’ Mrs Leatham had added. There was no question of refusing. Lin could barely contain her excitement at the prospect of her first dinner as an adult. Caroline had accompanied their parents to a few dinners and card parties and even assemblies, and had been among the company when they returned hospitality, so although such occasions had not occurred often, she had some experience of them. Papa had grown too ill to accept evening invitations by the time Lin had reached the proper age, and after he had died Mama had not thought it proper to accept hospitality that couldn’t be returned. Now there was no reason not to accept. Even Caroline confessed to some curiosity to see how the true gentry entertained. Only Poppy was long-faced to be excluded.
“Your turn will come,” Caroline said, with more optimism than she truly felt.
“Oh yes!” Poppy said. “I shall be sixteen soon, so perhaps then…?”
“Perhaps,” Caroline said, not wanting to give her too much hope. Who knew how many such invitations they would receive when they could not reciprocate?
“You must tell me everything,” Poppy said, practically bouncing. “All the dishes and what everyone is wearing and the jewels! The ladies will all be wearing jewels, won’t they?”
“Oh good grief, jewels,” Caroline said. “We shall have to make do with Mama’s few pieces. We didn’t sell the pearls, did we? They will do for you, Lin, and I can wear the topaz cross. They will not expect us to be dripping with diamonds.”
Three whole days were devoted to the delicious task of making gowns and hairpieces and trimmings, and this involved the ceremonial opening of Mama’s Box. Even before Papa’s death, Mama had begun setting aside lengths of silk and delicate muslin and fine wool for their trousseaux, and before the shop had been sold she had taken a great many more, so that they now had a whole box full of unused fabrics of the very finest quality. There was no discussion on whether they s
hould be used or not, for they none of them expected to marry well enough to need so much finery. The only question was which would make the best gowns, and whether to assume that full evening dress would be required.
“Mama only ever wore half-dress,” Lin said, as they fingered the silks reverently. The morning room had been cleared of detritus and a worktable set up in there, now that spring had brought better light for sewing.
“Different company,” Caroline said. “We dined with grocers and apothecaries, not gentlemen. When we went to the assemblies, we wore full dress then. I wore the gown with a short tunic over the top for dinners. It was the cream sprig muslin that Poppy wears now on summer Sundays. It looks better on her than it ever did on me, but then everything does. I shall wear this apricot satin, I think, with my own net over it. If we add some spangles, it will look charming. And a demi-train.” She sighed. “I don’t like this fashion for trains, but we must make an effort, I think.”
“Full dress, then,” Lin said in a small voice. “Must I have a train, too, and show off… well, everything?”
Caroline laughed. “We may cut the neck as high or as low as you wish, and a tiny frill of lace will make you feel more comfortable. As for the train, a demi-train is not too difficult, so long as you remember not to turn round too quickly and stand on it. We’ll practise a bit before the day. I think you should wear the white crêpe, dear, in a three-quarter length tunic, but the ice blue sarcenet will be perfect for the slip. We have nothing for our hair, but I can net something. Stockings we have a-plenty, but gloves—! We’ll have to look through Mama’s things and hope there is something suitable.”
“We could buy some,” Poppy said.
Her sisters stared at her.
“So we could,” Caroline said, in astonished tones. “We are ladies of means now.”
Thus it came about that they made their first trip to Salisbury. The gig was not large enough for all of them, but Caroline recklessly authorised Martin to hire a larger chaise from the inn. They departed at first light, had breakfast at the White Hart, tripped merrily from shop to shop, spent almost one hundred pounds and returned home exhausted, exhilarated and, in Caroline’s case, full of guilt. One hundred pounds on fripperies such as kid gloves, satin slippers and tortoiseshell combs! Such expense would have been unthinkable just a few weeks ago, but their present income, and the largesse of the unknown Benefactor, made the purchases possible, so long as they were not repeated too frequently. She consoled herself with the thought that the mound of parcels filling the box of the chaise also included some more practical acquisitions — lengths of simple muslin and cambric, pins and thread, soap and some tea that was cheaper than Mr Popham’s.
Caroline left Lin and Poppy to unpack and went straight away to the study to note down all their purchases in the accounts. She had not been there long when Susie came in.
“Beg pardon for disturbin’ you, Miss Milburn, but Mrs Neilson is here and askin’ to see you.”
“Mrs Neilson? From the farm? I didn’t hear the knocker.”
“Came to the kitchen door. Askin’ for you in particular. Show her in, shall I?”
“Oh yes, of course.”
Mrs Neilson crept in, clutching the edges of her cloak nervously. Caroline had not seen her much, apart from church, but she had not set her down as a diffident type, in fact very much the reverse. Embarrassment, then. Caroline’s heart sank.
“Come in, Mrs Neilson. Would you like some tea?”
She shook her head decisively. “No, no. Not… not a sociable call, Miss Milburn.”
“Oh dear. Have we erred in some way?”
She twisted her hands awkwardly in her lap. “It’s your sister, miss,” she blurted.
“Poppy? Is she making a nuisance of herself?”
Mrs Neilson’s face softened. “Oh, no, no! Not really, but… she’s so gentle and kind and…” She heaved a sigh, falling silent for a moment. Caroline let her gather her thoughts. “Trouble is,” Mrs Neilson went on, “she’s so good with the babe… too good, really. Ruby’s happy to let her do it, and then they sit there at my kitchen table gossiping, and really, Ruby needs to manage the child herself and learn to get on with her work while she’s about it. It’s not easy, but we’ve all had to do it. Ruby’s not a lady like what you and your sisters are—”
“We’re not ladies!” Caroline said, astonished. “We work for a living…” She tailed off, all too aware that they had passed the whole day in Salisbury spending money, and had earned not a penny piece since they had moved to Bursham St Matthew. They lived off their investments now, and that, to their neighbours, made them gentry. “I’ll speak to Poppy,” she went on more gently. “Shall I tell her not to visit at all?”
Mrs Neilson smiled. “No need for that. Maybe… if she comes home with us after church, say… she could stay for the rest of the morning and it wouldn’t be stopping Ruby. You do understand, don’t you?”
“I understand very well,” Caroline said. “She is so powerfully drawn to babies that she just can’t resist them, but now that she has some chicks to take care of, I’m certain she will be content with those. I’ll make sure she appreciates the position, and if she turns up when she’s not wanted, just send her home.”
She had no sooner seen Mrs Neilson out, through the front door this time, and turned back to her accounts than there was another interruption, this time from Lin and Poppy. Lin bore a rusty old tin box in her hands, grimy with dirt. Clearing a space on Caroline’s desk, she placed the box there. The two sisters stood watching Caroline, Lin grinning gleefully, Poppy wide-eyed.
“What’s this?” Caroline said, eyeing the box warily.
“John found it in the garden this morning while we were out,” Poppy said. “Dug it up, from the new rhubarb bed.”
“Rhubarb! Why are we growing rhubarb?”
“Purgative. Come on, Caro, open it,” Lin said, quivering with excitement.
Gingerly, Caroline took hold of the box and tugged at the lid. It refused to lift. Another, harder, tug, then a heave and it burst open, tossing something into the air, which fell back onto the desk with a resounding thump. Caroline jumped, her chair sliding backwards. Then she laughed at the nondescript grey lump that had given her such a fright.
“What is it?” she said, prodding it warily.
“Look and see,” Lin said, giggling.
The outer wrapping was waxed cloth of some kind, made into a bag, stiff with age or dirt, it was hard to tell which. Loosening the drawstring, Caroline found a second bag inside the first. And inside that…
A purse, elaborately netted like the one in the safe, although this one was a dull, faded colour. Inside was a bundle of notes. Caroline didn’t need to count them to know the amount.
“Five hundred pounds,” she said thoughtfully. “Another purse, another five hundred pounds. One in the safe, one buried. What does it mean?”
Her sisters were mute.
Silently, Caroline rose and crossed the room to the cupboard where the safe lay hidden. Unlocking it, she deposited the purse inside, next to its twin. From the cash box, she counted out five sovereigns and gave them to Lin.
“Give that to Mr Christopher, as a reward for his honesty. If he should find any more such boxes, he will be rewarded in similar fashion.”
Poppy clapped her hands. “Oh, yes! He’s utterly honest, and should be thanked for his trustworthiness. May I tell him so?”
“Pray do, but ask him also not to speak of this to anyone else. We don’t want half the parish furtively rooting around in our kitchen garden in the hope of finding another box of treasure.”
Poppy nodded, snatched the coins from Lin’s hands and rushed out of the room, leaving Lin and Caroline to muse on the oddity of a man who buried money in his vegetable bed.
10: Dinner At Starlingford
Charles could not foresee any pleasure in the evening to come. He had endured a miserable day, his horse having gone lame after a mistimed jump, and the rest of his
morning had been spent closeted away with his father, as Hapgood, the bailiff, tried to explain the principles of four-field rotation to him. When that palled, they had moved on to the management of the succession houses. He had never bothered to think about fruits before, considering them basic foodstuffs which were simply there when required, but it sounded like an immensely complicated business. And now, having been bored all morning, he was to be bored all evening as well. Lord, if he could just escape! If only he could go back to the army and leave Starlingford for Cousin Will… But he could not. He must do his duty and suffer Miss Milburn’s unwelcome presence at dinner.
It was all part of his step-mother’s strategy, but he could not summon any enthusiasm for it. He was obliged to marry but he had no anticipation of happiness in the wedded state, and so courtship held no attractions, either. Nevertheless, he had been given his orders by his mother — to cleave to Miss Milburn’s side all evening.
“Like a barnacle!” she said merrily. “Do not allow anything or anyone to detach you from your prey.”
Poor Miss Milburn, to be viewed as prey. It made him feel less like a humble barnacle, clinging to the hull of a ship, and more like a hawk, digging his claws into his victim. Yet surely she would be less reluctant to be caught than a rabbit or mouse. All young ladies wanted to marry, so she would be willing prey, when the moment came. The moment that would require him to wind himself up to propose… he shuddered. He could face the massed French army with greater fortitude than an offer of marriage to a young lady. Still, no need to think about that for a week or two. He had a little time left before he must shackle himself for ever.
“Shall we attempt something a little more challenging with the neckcloth tonight, sir?” his valet said cheerily, as Charles dressed for the evening. “Mr Narfield’s man has been showing me a new arrangement that is all the crack in London, I’m told.”
“All the crack? When have I ever aspired to be all the crack, Roffey? You are mistaking me for a man of fashion.”
The Lacemaker (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 2) Page 10