A knock at the kitchen door brought one of the younger women to open it. With frightened eyes, she turned and called out, “Ma! It’s Miss Milburn.”
As soon as she saw Mrs Neilson’s face, Caroline knew there was something very wrong. She had never been particularly friendly towards the sisters, but she had at least been respectful. But now she was plain angry.
“You’d best go home again,” she said, standing on the threshold, hands on hips, as if to bar Caroline from access. “We don’t want your sort here. Thought you were raised decent, but it’s in the blood, ain’t it? We’re God-fearing folk in this house, and we don’t want none of your immodest ways round here.”
“Immodest?” Caroline said. “Whatever has Poppy done that’s so upset you?”
For a moment, Mrs Neilson gaped at her, then gave a hollow laugh. “Well, if that don’t beat all! You don’t even know, do you? Don’t know what that oh-so-innocent little sister of yours has been up to. Well, you’ll find out soon enough. In about six months or so, by my reckoning.”
“What?” Caroline whispered. “No…!”
“Aye, it’s true enough. She’s always liked babes, hasn’t she? Well, see how she likes having one of her own. Good day to you, Miss Milburn.”
She stepped back inside, slamming the door in Caroline’s stunned face.
24: Of Marriage
That evening was full of tension. Poppy was tearful, while everyone else was too shocked to speak much. Mrs Stratton and Susie had marched Poppy upstairs and questioned her closely enough to determine that, yes, she was with child, and that John Christopher was responsible.
“They will have to marry,” Mrs Stratton had said.
“I will talk to Mr and Mrs Christopher tomorrow,” Caroline had said.
After that, there seemed little else to be said on the subject. Caroline’s head was filled with questions, like what on earth they would do if John denied knowledge of it, or his father refused his consent to the match? And how was Poppy ever to be fit to be a mother, when she was still such a child in so many ways? It was a dreadful situation. How appalling that they, descended from illegitimacy themselves and yet risen above it, should find themselves in exactly the same situation as their grandmother Carter. And this time, there was no wealthy Mr Wishaw to support and protect his unfortunate offspring and her mother, only poor John Christopher, who had no money and no prospects for getting any.
Everyone went early to bed, although Caroline could not imagine any of them slept much. She herself was wracked with guilt, for should she not have protected Poppy better? Everyone knew how artless and childlike Poppy was, and here was the proof of how she had been neglected. Had there been signs of attachment that Caroline should have observed? Should she have suspected John from the start and kept them apart? She had been so glad that Poppy had her chicks and goats to keep her at the house and prevent her from wandering, but she had been afraid of the wrong thing. How foolish she had been! And yet could she have watched Poppy every moment? It would have been impossible. So her thoughts ran, and drove sleep from her.
At first light she rose, dressed and went down to her study. It was her refuge, the place where she escaped from the trials of her life into the restful world of the accounts. She had been away for two weeks, so there were neat lists of purchases from Mrs Stratton to be entered into the pages of her daily ledger, and less neat lists from Lin of supplies bought for the garden, and one scrap of paper in Poppy’s hand, much blotted and crossed out.
She worked for some time, but her disordered mind must have made a mistake because the columns of numbers would not add up, no matter how she tried. She wrestled with it, reworked it, checked the original numbers and still it would not oblige her.
It was too much. She threw down her pen and burst into tears.
Just at that moment, there was a sharp rat-tat-tat on the front door. No Susie came through from the kitchen to answer the door, but the visitor, undeterred, rapped again, more peremptorily. With a sigh, Caroline wiped her face and went to open the front door.
Charles Leatham stood there, one eyebrow raised in surprise. Then his face changed to alarm.
“Heavens, Caroline, you look terrible. Whatever is the matter?”
He opened his arms and without a second thought she walked straight into them, with another burst of weeping. For a while he simply held her tightly, murmuring soothing nothings above her head, and gently rocking her. It was excessively comforting to be held so, she found, and although it was terribly improper, she was most unwilling to surrender to propriety when she had such a reassuring presence to draw strength from. It was just like the time that Poppy had fainted, and there Charles had been, taking charge and exuding authority. So she wept into his coat, and he asked no awkward questions.
After a while, he said into the top of her head, “Do you know, I cannot help thinking you would be more comfortable not standing on the front door step. Shall we go inside?”
She nodded and, with the utmost reluctance, let go of him. He crossed the threshold and shut the door firmly. “Now, what room were you in? In here? Good. Now you sit down just there, and let me call someone to attend to you.”
Gently, he settled her in one of the chairs by the fireplace. There was no fire lit, only the lace screen to hide the empty hearth.
He reached for the bell, but she said quickly, “No, no! Susie isn’t even up yet, I don’t think. I’m all right now.”
“You are not in the least all right,” he said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “You must allow me to send for the physician.”
“Oh, please do not! There is nothing at all wrong with me. At least, I am quite well. It is just…” She tailed off miserably. How on earth to speak of such things? And before a gentleman, too, and a neighbour who would inevitably despise her when he knew of it.
“Let me fetch you something… brandy perhaps, or—”
“At eight in the morning?” she said, with a sudden laugh. “Our reputation is already shot to pieces, without added drinking before breakfast to the list of charges.”
He looked at her quizzically but asked nothing about reputations, instead saying only, “You need something to steady your nerves, and I have always found brandy most efficacious. Or Madeira, or some such. Or tea, if you absolutely insist.”
That made her laugh again. “There is some Madeira in the cupboard over there. No, the next one along.”
“Ah.” He occupied himself with pouring, and then brought a glass for her. He’d poured one for himself, she noticed. She sipped it gingerly, as if it might choke her, but finding that nothing untoward happened except for the usual warming effect of the wine, she sipped again.
“There, that will do you good,” he said, settling himself in the chair opposite hers, the pristine, little-used visitor’s chair. After a pause, he went on, “You are probably wishing me at Jericho, but I have no intention of leaving you alone when you are so out of frame, so we shall sit here quietly and get slowly foxed until one or other of your household arrives to bear you company.”
That produced another small chuckle. “You are very good, sir. I’m sorry to weep all over your coat. I’m not normally so… so…”
“Lachrymose? I know it. You are the steadiest and most sensible person I know, so to see you brought so low is most concerning. However, we have long since agreed that we would not apologise to each other, so let us say no more of it. This is a very pretty screen. The lace is your work, I take it?”
“My mother’s. She was the finest lacemaker in the county.”
“What, better than you? That is hard to believe. But she taught you her skills, of course. It is a beautiful screen, and would be perfect in the dining room at Starlingford. If ever you wish to sell it, I would give you a very good price for it.”
“I should never sell it. Oh! You came for your usual discussion of the book,” she said, realising.
“Indeed I did, but unfortunately it has gone missing. I expect I left it at Na
rfield Lodge.”
“You would forget your head if it wasn’t stuck onto your neck,” she said.
He gave a bark of laughter. “So I would. Soldiering suited me better, I believe, for I never once left my guns behind, or my sword, or my regiment.”
“Or your horse?”
“One horse was shot out from under me, but I trust you would not count that in my disfavour. I left my batman behind, once, but luckily he caught up later. My colonel was far more forgetful than I, for he once left his wife, three children and their servants behind in London when he set off for the country, and it was only when he arrived and wondered where they all were that he realised.”
“You are trying to cheer me up,” she said.
“Is it working?”
“A little. It makes me feel much better to have you here to talk to, but as soon as you leave I shall be as blue as megrim again.”
“Then I shall have to stay indefinitely,” he said cheerfully, getting up and refilling his glass. “I hope your cellar is well stocked.”
He was so kind that she wanted to cry again. He had asked nothing about what troubled her, and her scruples still prevented her from speaking of it. Yet that was absurd. It was not a matter that could be kept secret, for it would be common knowledge before too long. Once Charles knew of it, she would be quite sunk in his estimation, and somehow that distressed her almost as much as anything else. For a while she had moved in society as… not his equal, perhaps, but as one who was not too far below him. One who could aspire to friendship with him, at least. And if he were truly her friend, then it would not matter to him what Poppy had done.
Would it?
“Poppy is with child,” she blurted. And then waited. Waited for his face to change, for him to glower at her disapprovingly. He would make his excuses and leave…
“Ah…” He set down his glass and steepled his fingers thoughtfully. “Yes, that would account for your lowness of spirits. That would certainly be enough to make anyone blue-devilled.” He paused, with a questioning look in his eye. “May I ask…? Is it known… who the man is?”
“John Christopher.”
“Oh.” He let out a breath with a smile that may have been relief. “Well… that is all right, then. They will marry, and it will all be forgot in a few months.”
“You suspected someone else?”
He pulled a rueful face. “One never knows. Your sister is such an innocent that anyone with ill intent might have taken advantage of her. But the Christopher boy… he is no great catch, but she will do well enough with him.”
“How can you say so?” Caroline cried. “He is no older or wiser than she is! He has no fortune, no fixed employment… he is our labouring gardener, for heaven’s sake! We pay him ninepence a day. It is certainly not enough to marry on.”
“You would be surprised what people manage to marry on,” he said with a smile. “But you are not thinking rationally, Caroline. If they marry, then they will not be setting up house for themselves. They will live either at the parsonage with his parents or here with you, at very little expense to anybody, especially as you will be saved the ninepence a day. He will get himself a proper job and contribute to the household expenses, and Poppy will have her own baby to look after and will be completely happy. Since Lin and her attorney will be living here, there will doubtless be another baby in the house soon, so any expense in engaging a nursemaid will be shared. You will be here, so the house will be well-regulated. And — perhaps the most important point — Poppy will be surrounded by people who love her unreservedly, and will protect her from the harshness of the real world. I would wager a hundred pounds that she has not spent any time crying over the shame of her situation.”
“That is true!” Caroline said. “She is upset because John has been sent away. Once she has him back, she will be completely happy. She doesn’t understand what she’s done wrong, or why we’re all so upset, and I’m not sure I can forgive her for it.”
“She has all the innocence of childhood,” he said. “Do not wish her any different. Be glad that she has her own protection from the cruelties of the world. I could wish that you had a little of her resilience, but you may depend upon my support, and Mama’s.”
“Do not speak for Mrs Leatham,” Caroline said in a low voice. “Your support I’m very glad of, but don’t hold your mama to anything she may not quite like.”
“Very well,” he said softly. “You will see her at church tomorrow. May I inform her privately of your sister’s situation? Of course, if you prefer to keep such a matter secret, you may depend upon my discretion.”
“You are very good, sir. You may tell her what you choose, but I should not wish the tale to spread beyond her ears just yet. It will be known everywhere soon enough.”
He agreed to it, and as Susie appeared shortly afterwards, he took his leave. Caroline hardly knew what she felt about him. He had dealt with her news most generously, but that could not be depended upon. Once Poppy’s situation became widely known, any friendship with the Leathams must surely be at an end. She had begun by resenting Mrs Leatham’s insistent approaches, but had grown to like her very much, and even Mr Leatham… here she stopped, unwilling, even in the privacy of her own thoughts, to venture down that path. Ever since that wretched kiss, she had been tormented by ideas of matrimony, of the closeness that can only exist between a husband and wife who trust each other implicitly. Both Lin and Poppy, seemingly, had found such closeness, and something in Caroline yearned for it, too. It had been such a relief to have someone, even Charles Leatham, to talk to about all her difficulties. Without his comforting presence, she would have been terrifyingly alone.
After breakfast, there was no help for it but to go to the parsonage to talk to Mr and Mrs Christopher. Such an awkward interview! They were shocked, of course, but Mrs Christopher recovered her composure quickly.
“But the cloud truly has a silver lining, for we shall have our first grandchild, albeit a little earlier than we had thought, and Poppy is such a sweet girl. Who could have the slightest objection to such a daughter-in-law? Indeed we had wondered…” She laughed, and went on, “This is quicker than we anticipated, but as soon as you and your sisters moved here we—”
“You mean you wanted them to marry?” Caroline said, astonished.
“Well… we hoped, let us say. ”
Caroline stared at them, appalled. Looking back over the months since their arrival, she could see how the Christophers had pushed John into their lives, by offering him as a gardener, and then accepting Poppy as his friend. They had invited her to dinner the night that Caroline and Lin had dined at Starlingford! They had encouraged the match, in fact.
“But why?” she said, dazed.
“Why? Because we have not two pennies to rub together and too many mouths to feed, and there you are with a fine cottage and plenty of money. You gave John five pounds every time he dug up something from the garden, and that is riches to us. So yes, we encouraged John to think about Poppy. He’ll be better off with her, and she’ll be well taken care of, don’t you worry. This is good for both of them.”
Mr Christopher went off to talk to John, returning with the boy in tow and looking very sheepish. But he professed to a great willingness to marry Poppy as soon as it might be contrived. He then returned to the cottage with Caroline, was joyfully reunited with Poppy and they went off happily together to the parsonage to see about the banns.
Caroline was left to reflect on how to adjust their domestic arrangements to cope with the new situation, and to contemplate the prospect of her youngest and least worldly sister as a married woman and a mother. And beyond that, to wonder at the topsy-turvy world where the linen-draper’s daughters were richer than the clergyman.
~~~~~
Charles walked home in a very contented frame of mind. Poppy did not concern him, for she would marry and have her baby and be happy, and in that alone he envied her. But Caroline! So distraught, and yet she had turned to him for co
mfort… she had confided in him. Even now, the dampness of the morning air could not chill him, nor anything at all dismay him, for Caroline had wept in his arms and poured all her troubles into his ear and he thought… he hoped at least, that she saw him as a friend. And perhaps that was enough, for now. A solid foundation, to be built upon in time.
He whispered the news to his mother, who was shocked to hear such a thing of John Christopher, distressed for Caroline and solicitous towards Poppy.
“What can we do to help?” she said at once, as he had known she would.
“Do not turn away from them,” he said. “What else? There will be those who close their doors to all the Miss Milburns, but I hope… I very much hope that we will not be amongst their number.”
“So long as they marry,” she said, looking at him anxiously. “If they should not…”
“They will marry,” he said.
It seemed he was right, for at church the next day Poppy was there on the Christopher boy’s arm, receiving the congratulations of all their friends on their forthcoming marriage. There were a few sour-faced groups casting them censorious looks and whispering together, but most of the congregation seemed pleased for them. The boy looked rather shamefaced, as well he might, but Poppy was radiant, as happy as if she had just landed a duke. Happier, probably, for it was hard to imagine her as mistress of a palatial establishment like Valmont. The vicar’s son was about right for her.
As for Caroline, she too was surrounded by well-wishers, including Charles’ step-mother. Charles managed no more than a tiny wave of one hand from some distance away, to be rewarded by a smile of acknowledgement. It was of no consequence, for he would see her tomorrow, when he made his usual visit before breakfast. He must hope to find her in higher spirits, and perhaps he—
“Nothing but trouble,” a voice at his side muttered. It was Mr Ascot, the apothecary.
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
The Lacemaker (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 2) Page 25