Macbeth's Niece (13 page)

Tessa was at a loss. She couldn’t bring
herself to speak well of Jeffrey Brixton, who had taken all she had
from her and played with her emotions in the process, but she
couldn’t speak ill of the man Eleanor loved. “I—I do not think of
him at all.”

Eleanor’s eyes focused for a moment on Tessa
through her own pain. “I want you to promise that when next you see
him, you will give him something.”

“What?”

“A wooden box where I keep a few things. I
would like you to get it for me now from my trunk in the storage
closet off the hall.”

“Can we not get it later?” Tessa worried
about Eleanor tiring herself fretting over minutia as her body
weakened.

“Best do it now. For one thing, my father’s
will is in the box. William mustn’t see it when I’m gone. It makes
it quite clear I am the only child my father had at his death. He
wrote it out himself just before he died, leaving me all his
worldly goods. There was nothing much to leave, and I only kept the
document because it was in my father’s hand. At the time William
was only interested to know there was no money, but if he finds it
now and reads it, he will deduce you are not my sister. The will
you must burn as you did Jeffrey’s letter. Give the rest of it to
Jeffrey when you and he can find a time to be alone. Go now,
please, and get it.”

Tessa did as she was told, slipping into
William’s closet and pulling closed after her the curtain that
served as a door. Luckily, servants and family alike were busy
unpacking the cart. People passed by but no one looked in on her.
Searching quietly through the trunk, Tessa finally located a small
wooden box with an “E” carved in the top. It was beautifully
wrought with great care and detail. Attached to top and bottom was
a red ribbon that secured it with a neat bow. Turning it over, she
found the initials “M.T.” in tiny letters on the bottom. Miles? she
wondered.

The box held just a few pieces of paper,
most of them sealed with wax imprinted with an “E”. The bottom one
had simply been refolded, the wax around the broken seal old and
crumbling: the will. Tessa put the other papers back as she had
found them and closed the box, tying it shut with the ribbon as
before. Listening at the curtain until the hall was quiet, she went
back upstairs.

“I have it, Eleanor,” she said softly, and
then stopped. Eleanor lay, white and still, on the bed. Beside her
was the tiny earthen bottle Tessa had so often looked upon with
dread. Later, when Auntie Madeline found them both, Tessa was
holding Eleanor’s head in her lap and crying softly, “You didn’t
want to ask me, I know. You didn’t want to ask.”

Chapter Twelve

Poor Madeline was heartbroken at the loss of
her sister-in-law. Tessa and the other girls did what they could to
comfort her, but the old lady had indeed looked upon Eleanor as a
daughter. She insisted on preparing the body for burial, staying up
all night in a prayer vigil.

Tessa felt empathy for the aunt’s loss, for
without Eleanor’ intercession, she could have become like Madeline:
childless and alone, living on the edges of a household with no one
of her own to love. With Eleanor’s help, there was hope she would
find peace with Cedric and joy with the children they would someday
have.

The most helpful person of all was Aidan,
who returned with some speed to York and oversaw the arrangements
for a grave but elegant funeral. For once Lord Brixton didn’t stint
on cost, and the house was put into good order as much as possible
in the brief time available. Tessa thought angrily that it would
have been kinder to let Eleanor herself buy new curtains when she
still could have enjoyed them, but she tried to see William’s
actions as a tribute to his wife.

Aidan worked efficiently, without fuss or
pretension, to make the preparations. The result was a tasteful
ceremony that proclaimed to the world, whatever the truth might be,
that William’s wife had been his dearest treasure. Eleanor received
in death the tributes she deserved, but it was Aidan who was most
responsible. The family found themselves depending on his judgment,
which was faultless, and his kindness, which was unfailing.

Tessa was surprised at the number of people
who came from London for Eleanor’s memorial. Midmorning on the day
of the service, a large carriage arrived at the gates of Brixton
Manor. It was like a box on wooden wheels, and though efforts had
been made to decorate it, the ride could not have been comfortable.
From a distance Tessa recognized the Acton colors. Touched that
Cedric had made the journey from his lands near Beverly, she was
surprised when he assisted not only his mother but also Dame
Ballard from the carriage.

Lady Acton descended upon her like a large
goose, arms extended in what might have seemed a threatening
gesture if she hadn’t known the lady. Tessa was soundly enfolded in
mixed scents of pomander and the normal human reaction to a warm
summer day. “Oh, my dear child, if only we had known how ill poor
Eleanor was! I told Cedric she looked terrible when I saw her last.
Didn’t I say that, Cedric?”

“You did, Mother.” Cedric stepped up to
Tessa and kissed her cheek. “I am so sorry you have lost your
sister after finding her only recently.” He was for once focused on
her emotions, and his words were genuine. These people were making
their best efforts to comfort her.

Not willing to be forgotten, Dame Ballard
stepped up behind Cedric. “I am so sorry, my dear. Eleanor was
loved by us all,” she pronounced formally in her little-girl voice.
Then as her curiosity could be stayed no longer, she added, “Did
she die on the road? I suppose it was most unnerving if she did,
for then you had to travel with a corpse in the cart, did you
not?”

Ignoring the Dame’s misplaced
inquisitiveness, Lady Acton took Tessa’s arm and proceeded to the
house. “I felt I had to come. I am sure you have need of an older
woman’s support at such a time.”

Tessa thought she heard Auntie Madeline, who
had been largely ignored thus far, sniff in disapproval. As if she
could not comfort her own family! Lady Acton noticed nothing. “I,
of course, am never ill, but I realize some become quite overcome
with grief, and their health suffers accordingly. I will assure
myself you are able to manage before I leave this place.”

Tessa tried to appear at once grateful for
the offer of help and capable of managing on her own. Considering
William’s increasing coldness, she did not need the strain of
Cedric’s overpowering mother staying under the same roof as well.
She should have been heartened by the presence of these people, for
it indicated their commitment to her and meant Eleanor’s plans for
her were likely to be successful. All she could think of, though,
was that Eleanor herself would never see them come to fruition.
Eleanor was gone.

The funeral itself was a blur. She
remembered little except William’s stiff presence beside her as
they took their place as chief mourners. Servants and estate
workers were grief stricken. No one had been more beloved to them
than the Lady Eleanor. They crowded outside the chapel and lined
the pathway, heads bowed and silent in respect.

When it was over, Aidan again smoothed the
way for Tessa, tactfully suggesting she needed time to herself and
escorting the guests to their various conveyances. Though Tessa
sensed Cedric would have made his offer after the funeral with any
encouragement from her, she simply could not face the prospect of
deciding whether to marry him at that point. She sent him off with
a look meant to portray fondness and the suggestion he return in a
week. Aidan sent him and the ladies off with just the right mixture
of friendliness and respect.

“I must say,” she told him as the carriage
bumped away down the dry cart road, “you’ve been wonderful. I hope
Sir William appreciates you enough.”

“It’s a fact he doesn’t,” Aidan said, but
his brown eyes sparkled. “Nobody knows what I can accomplish when I
put my mind to it.” His face sobered. “I had to do it, you know.
She made life bearable for me when Lady Brixton died. William, I
think, might have sent me on my way. I’m sure you know the story?”
Never having been able to lie when asked a direct question, Tessa
nodded. “I don’t mind making myself useful, but I was afraid I’d be
sent to become a soldier, like Jeffrey. It may be his way, killing
masses of people, but it isn’t mine.”

He stopped, as if remembering. “Sorry, I
didn’t mean to make Jeffrey sound—“

“It’s all right,” Tessa told him. “I’ve
never explained that day to you, because I don’t know how to
explain it. I know Jeffrey and Eleanor were…fond of each other—”
She stopped, not knowing how much Aidan knew and unwilling to
tarnish his memories of Eleanor.

Aidan’s eyes were on her, and again she got
the feeling he was sensing her thoughts. He looked blank for a
moment, but a look of understanding finally appeared. “Oh, you know
about Jeffrey and Eleanor.” He stopped, evidently unwilling to put
words to the thought. “Yes, I’m sorry you had to see that. It was
distressing to me. I tried to talk to Jeffrey about it once, but he
felt he was getting a bit of his own back from William for the poor
treatment he’d received. It was sad to see him so bitter.”

“I am sure it was. But my awareness of—of
that—” She tried again. “What you saw between Jeffrey and me was an
accident. I have no hold on him, nor he on me.”

Aidan’s smile got wider. “That’s good, then,
isn’t it? Room for the rest of us, perhaps.” And with that, he left
the hall, whistling.

The second blow to the peaceful life Tessa
had found in England came just a week later, in fact, on the day
Cedric was to visit. Tessa had not slept well. Grief for Eleanor
and her knowledge of the decision that awaited her combined to
prevent slumber. Could she marry Cedric? Eleanor had accepted an
arranged marriage and made the best of it, but she had not been
happy with William, only without him. Did Tessa want a life such as
that?

A sudden memory came into Tessa’s mind of a
servant in her uncle’s castle at Inverness who had done something
terribly stupid. “Cream-faced loon,” Macbeth had called him, and
the name fit Cedric as well, at least to her. She was faintly
repelled by the man, which did not bode well for a happy marriage.
Still, what else was she to do? Other men made it clear they found
her attractive, but most found her lack of property an
insurmountable problem. Could she afford to delay Cedric in hopes a
man more to her liking might appear? Probably not now that Eleanor
was dead. William would be anxious to have her gone.

The box now hidden in her room also occupied
her mind. What had Eleanor wanted Jeffrey to have, and why did she
choose Tessa to present it to him? She decided the answer was that
Eleanor had trusted Tessa not to reveal their affair, which of
course she would never do. It was their secret, and she had to
preserve it. Aidan had confirmed it, surprised, it seemed, that the
secret was known to someone else. Did Auntie Madeline know, she
wondered? Unable to decide who might be able to explain the box,
Tessa kept its existence to herself.

Because she was awake, Tessa heard the knock
at the door first and went down to answer it. A boy of about ten
stood there, shivering in the morning chill. He was wet from travel
through damp fields and muddy from last night’s rain. His thin
linen smock and coarse breeches could not be much protection from
the elements, and his nose ran. “Message for the master of the
house, mistress.”

Tessa took the proffered paper. “Come in and
we’ll give you breakfast and let you dry. Have you come far?”

“Flamborough Head, Mistress. They said there
the master here should get that paper right away.”

“I’ll see that he does if you rest and eat
before starting for home. Will you do that?”

“I will,” came the sturdy answer, and she
pointed him toward the kitchen where the fire was already kindled
and the breakfast started.

As she turned back, William came down the
stairs, a heavy robe wrapped around him against the morning chill.
He stopped on the last step, waiting wordlessly for an explanation
of the noise that had woken him. “A boy has brought this for you.”
Tessa handed him the paper. “From Flamborough Head. Isn’t that on
the coast?”

Without answering, he broke the seal. Tessa
watched his face and saw shock as he set his jaw.

“My brother Jeffrey is dead, it seems. Lost
from a boat during a storm on the North Sea. They don’t
suppose—What’s this?” for Tessa had fainted dead away on the cold
stone floor below him.

When she awoke Tessa was surrounded by the
four Brixton women, all in tears themselves but also concerned for
her. “Are you all right, dear?” Madeline asked.

She meant to say she was, meant to get up
and behave as if nothing had happened that should concern her
except as a mild sorrow that the family had lost another member so
soon after Eleanor. Instead, she wept bitterly.

It was three days before Tessa could get off
by herself to think. The cousins, especially Mary, were concerned
the two deaths so close together had unhinged her mind. Tessa had
to fight to maintain control, fight to assure them it was only the
shock of the news that had caused her fainting spell, fight to
avoid Aidan’s eye when he looked at her with sorrowful concern.
Jeffrey was dead. Life would go on, she told herself. He had never
been anything to her, should in fact have been her enemy, so now
she must go on without him and pretend his death didn’t matter.

But it did matter somehow. “You will find
happiness only among the dead,” the old woman had said. And now it
did feel like her happiness was dead, as if the life that stretched
before her could offer nothing.

In a daze, Tessa went through the motions of
another funeral. In a fog she heard Cedric promise to make her
forget her unhappiness if she would say yes to him. In a dream she
said yes and heard those around her say it was for the best. A
wedding would dim the memory of Eleanor’s death and her
brother-in-law’s drowning. But Aidan’s brown eyes watched her, and
she knew it was not a dream.