An Honourable Estate (14 page)

“Ah!” said Lymesey as he caught sight of Mabel.  “I must
say that I am disappointed,” he told her.  “There is very little grain in
the barn, the crops in the fields are not growing well and all your animals are
sickly.  I don’t know what sort of master your husband was but it looks as
if things have been lax, very lax.  But not to worry,” he continued. 
“I shall bring the peasants round so that they work hard and turn a profit for me.”

“There has been famine and disease,” said Mabel as she
watched her kitchen boy pour water over his outstretched hands.  She
handed him a cloth to dry them herself.

“As long as there are peasants there will be excuses,” he
said.  “But I don’t listen to excuses.  Now.  Is my supper
ready?”

“It is, my lord.”

“Then bring it in, woman.  I’ve had a long day and I’m
eager for a good meal.”

Mabel returned to the kitchen and instructed the boys to
carry through the soup in the best pottery bowl.  Without waiting for his
men to arrive Lymesey demanded to be served and when she had put a platter of
fresh bread before him she poured him a cup of her best wine as if she were a
mere servant.

“Is that all?” he asked as she stood back, wondering if he
would invite her to eat with him.

“This is all we have,” she replied as he broke off a lump of
bread and dipped it into the bowl before transferring it, dripping, to his
mouth.  He chewed then wiped a dribble of the soup from his beard. 
“Not bad,” he remarked.  “Is there no meat?”

“I’m sorry, but all the winter stock of meat is gone. 
Until we have animals to butcher or we can buy more at market then this is all
we have to live on.”

“Well I hope you have enough to fill my men.  They have
good appetites,” he said as the door opened and the half dozen or so of his
retainers came in and looked expectantly at the table.  Mabel sent for
more trenchers and cups and as they sat on the benches she supervised the
ladling of the soup into bowls and watched as they began to eat.  The young
page hung back, but Mabel smiled at him and beckoned him to the table where she
put a bowl in front of him.  The boy gazed up at her in surprise and she
rested her hand on his young shoulder wishing that she could do more to ease
his situation.

 “And you can make the bed ready.  I’m tired,” said
Lymesey.  “My men will sleep in here.  I take it you have pallets?”

“You will find sacks and some straw in the barn,” said Mabel,
wondering where she was intended to sleep.

“The boy can sleep in the small bed so he can attend me in
the night,” Lymesey went on and Mabel was glad that the girls were safe with
Mistress Palmer.  “Unless of course you are willing to fulfil my
needs.”  The men guffawed until he glared them into silence and Mabel saw
that they were all watching her to see how she would react.

“As I am a married woman I do not think that would be
appropriate in the eyes of God – or man,” she replied.  Lymesey studied
her as he chewed on his bread and washed it from his mouth with a gulp of wine.

“As far as I am aware you are a widow,” he said.  “And
if your husband has not returned after a year and a day, which he will not do,
being dead, you will be free to marry again – and I would very much like to
make you my wife.”

“You would very much like to retain these lands for yourself
you mean,” Mabel told him angrily.  He paused and looked her up and down
as she felt a prickle of fear that she had provoked him too far.

“Yes, I would like to keep the land, but a comely woman to
warm my bed would be a bonus,” he replied.

“Until it is proven that I am a widow I will still consider
myself to be a married woman.” 

“Oh I think you are choosing the harder path, Mistress
Bradshaw,” he said, “which is a shame because you will only arrive at the same destination
eventually.”

“Excuse me,” said Mabel, relieved now that he hadn’t asked
her to join him at table.  She walked out with as much dignity as she
could to the kitchen where she sat on a stool with her own bowl on her
knee.  But she found that her appetite was gone.  It was unbelievable
that she should be treated in such a way in her own home.  She could only
fume inwardly and try to find ways to keep herself safe until she discovered if
there was anyone still alive who was able or willing to protect her. 
“Damn you William Bradshaigh!” she said out loud as she put the food to one
side.  “Did you never once consider what would happen to me if your
rebellion failed?” And as her tears flowed once more she covered her ears to
shut out the sound of the men laughing in the hall.

 “Forgive
me Father Gilbert, for I have murder on my mind,” Mabel confessed to the priest
as she knelt in the small chapel at Haigh.

“Murder, my child?” repeated the priest.  “Who has
troubled you so much that you contemplate a mortal sin?”

“Sir Peter Lymesey,” she said, though she surmised that
Father Gilbert would not be surprised at the name.  “Well maybe not murder
in reality,” she explained.  “I doubt that I could indeed perpetrate such
a thing – though if William were here I would not be surprised to see him raise
his sword to the man.”

“Perhaps you had better unburden your mind,” suggested Father
Gilbert.  “But you need not do so on your knees, Mabel.  Come and sit
with me and explain what troubles you.  For, in all the years I’ve known
you, I have never heard anything but words of penitence and kindness pass your
lips.”

Mabel rose from the cold stone step and followed Father
Gilbert to his private chamber where a low fire flickered in the hearth. 
The priest pulled a stool nearer to the warmth and poured her a cup of wine,
pressing it into her cold hands and urging her to drink.  She sipped at
the liquid and coughed as it stung the back of her throat, then sipped some
more enjoying the feeling of warmth that suffused her.

Father Gilbert sat down opposite her and poured a cup for
himself.  “I have heard a little of your troubles,” he told her. 
“But I urge you not to spill this man’s blood.  Not only would you damn
your eternal soul but your earthly life would be ended in pain and violence
also.  Think of your children, I beg you.  They have lost their
father; do not allow them to lose their mother as well.  Has the man...
harmed you in any way?” he asked her gently.

“No,” said Mabel.  “I have managed to prevent that so
far, though he continues to hint and threaten that I must go to his bed if I am
to be allowed to remain at Haigh.”

“Then perhaps it is time for you to leave.”

“But it is my home, Father.  It was my
inheritance.  Why should I give it over to this vile stranger when I have
done nothing wrong?”

“I agree it is hard, Mabel.  What of your little girls?”

“They remain in the care of Mistress Palmer but they are not
happy.  Although Mistress Palmer keeps a neat house it is not what they
have been used to.  The manor is their home too. ”

The priest reached across to take the empty cup from her and
then laid his hand over hers as she twisted them on her lap.  “Listen to
me Mabel,” he said gently.  “I do not think you can hold onto the hope
that the manor will be returned to you.  You are in a vulnerable position
and soon you will have to marry again for your own protection and for the
protection of your children.  This man – I do not know him well, but if he
extends you his favour, perhaps you should consider what he has to offer.”

Shocked at the priest’s words, Mabel snatched her hands from
his and stood up, moving out of his reach.  “I do not know how you can
suggest such a thing, Father Gilbert!” she told him. “My husband may still be
alive, and even if he is not I... I could never give myself to a man like
Lymesey.  He is vile.”

“But you say that he has not harmed you?”

“No.  But it is the things he says; the way he looks at
me...”

“Some men are diffident when it comes to telling a woman that
they admire her,” said the priest.  “The man may just be clumsy in his
words and actions.  He may mean well.”

Mabel stared at Father Gilbert.  How could a man like
him, a celibate priest, have any comprehension of the desires of a lecher like
Sir Peter Lymesey, she wondered.  Whether William was alive or dead, there
was no question of her willingly allowing the man to lay so much as a finger on
her.  But neither was there any question of her willingly giving up the
manors of Haigh and Blackrod just because a court of law had outlawed her
husband in his absence.  None of it was justice.  She had expected
the priest to support her, to give her words of strength to help her, not to
suggest that she give up without a fight.

“You need a husband to protect you, Mabel,” continued Father
Gilbert.  “All I’m asking is whether Sir Peter Lymesey is really as bad as
you think.”

Mabel looked down into the priest’s kindly eyes.  She
was sure that he meant well, but he could never understand her torment. 
Although Haigh was rightfully hers she would not marry Peter Lymesey to keep
it.  Though the only alternative she could envisage was to take her two
small daughters and live as an outlaw in the forest herself.

“How
easy do you think it is to live in the forest?” Mabel asked Ned Kemp as she
walked up to the summer pasture with him to see if it was fit to let out the
sheep.  For all Peter Lymesey’s talk he knew very little about farming and
despite his boasting about turning a profit he showed no interest in the
running of the manor, preferring to hunt or hawk in the king’s forest as was
his right as a knight of the household.  So it was left to Mabel to
continue to shoulder most of the work and, as Ned was the most dependable of
the few able-bodied men that were left in Haigh, she had come to rely on him more
and more.

“Are you thinking of Sir William,” he asked.  “Do you
suppose he’s out there somewhere?”  He paused and Mabel followed his gaze
northwards towards the thick forest of Charnock that shrouded the rising
hills.  “I would think that the life is hard, my lady, especially for
someone used to the privileges of a manor such as this.  But I’m sure Sir
William could survive.”

“I... I was thinking of myself,” admitted Mabel.

“Oh no, my lady!” replied Ned, his disbelief apparent in his
voice.  “You could not go to live in the forest!  And what of Bella
and Amelia?  You could not take them to live like animals in the
greenwood.”

“You’re right,” agreed Mabel, acknowledging that the idea was
not feasible.

“Does Lymesey abuse you, my lady?” asked Ned, pausing to turn
his weather-lined face towards her.

“He... he wants me to marry him,” said Mabel.  Ned
kicked at a clump of grass and stared back towards the forest.

“Then he does not think my lord still lives?”

“No.  He tries to convince me that William is
dead.  Do you think he is dead?”

“I couldn’t say, my lady.  But I did not see him
killed.  And there are outlaws in the forest.  Who can say that Sir
William is not amongst them?”

“But wouldn’t he have come back?  Or at least sent a
message?” she asked, posing the same questions that she asked herself over and
over again.

“It would be too dangerous, my lady, whilst Lymesey is
here.  If Sir William is found he will surely be executed as a traitor.”

“Yes,” said Mabel, with a sigh. “I suppose you are right. 
I do still hope that my husband lives.”

“All the villagers pray for it too,” said Ned.  “None
wants Lymesey for their lord.  He is a cruel man.”

Mabel nodded in agreement as she remembered that these
tenants were her responsibility.  If she left them to the mercy of Peter
Lymesey she would be letting them down.  Her father had always taught her
that the tenants deserved respect and consideration in return for their hard
work and loyalty.  He had been a good and loving lord and Mabel had learnt
from him.  When she and William had returned to Haigh, her husband had
been influenced by her way of doing things, especially when he saw that the
villagers worked twice as hard for a lord and lady who appreciated them and
treated them fairly.  In many ways these people were like a family to her
and she knew that she could never leave them.

“I will try to hold out for the year and a day, after which I
hope that the land will be returned to me and Lymesey can be persuaded to go,”
she said.

“If he tries to harm you, my lady, you need only say a
word.  There may not be that many men left in Haigh, but those of us that
remain would not see you misused.”

“I appreciate the offer, Ned,” she said, laying her hand on
his arm.  “But I would not see any of you hanged for my sake, and I think
any attack on Lymesey would only bring the sheriff and his men to seek
revenge.”

They walked on, up to the summit of the hill and as Mabel
paused to catch her breath she looked down at Haigh in the valley below. 
No, she thought, it would be wrong of her to walk away from her
responsibilities.  She must find the strength to resist Peter Lymesey,
whilst still giving him just enough hope to prevent him turning her out −
and when his time was up she must insist that he left and then she would run
the manor alone until William returned home to her.