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Authors: Philippa Gregory

BOOK: The Favoured Child
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I never lied to my mama.

I had hoped I never would lie to my mama.

I had hoped there would never be a single thing I could not tell her.

‘I’ve heard he left when he was quite young,’ I said. ‘The reason that he is so popular is that he used to send money back to people in the village during the bad years. Prize money,’ I said, improvising wildly. ‘From when he was at sea.’

Richard looked at me, his face impassive. He knew from my paleness, and from the way the tablecloth twitched before me as I pleated and twisted it under the cover of the table, that I was lying. And lying not at all well. And he knew I was lying to protect Mr Megson. Mr Megson – whom Richard had named as his enemy.

‘How very creditable,’ said Mama lightly. She took her shawl from the back of her chair and draped it around her shoulders.

‘Yes, and most unlikely,’ Uncle John said.

I had risen, and I whirled around to face him, my face suddenly white. ‘What do you mean?’ I demanded, and I knew my eyes were blazing.

‘My dear Julia,’ Uncle John said in faint surprise, ‘I mean only that I suspect that it is a respectable version of the man’s life history. I should imagine that an early apprenticeship with smugglers would be more like it. And the favours he could do Acre as a local smugglers would certainly be worth remembering.’ He smiled at my scared face. ‘No need to look so shocked,’ he said gently. ‘It makes little odds. Smuggling will always take place while we have absurd excise laws, and if he can command a gang of smugglers, he can certainly organize a ploughing team, I should think!’

‘Oh!’ I said. ‘I was only repeating what I heard in the village. But if he
was
a smuggler and now he has stopped smuggling, there could be nothing against him, could there?’

Uncle John held the door open for Mama and me. ‘I don’t think the law gives much credit to people who retire from a life of crime to a life of comfort,’ he said with a smile. ‘But there is obviously no one who would betray him in Acre. And I do not hold it against him. What I will do is have a quiet word with Lord Havering and one or two other Justices of the Peace locally,
and see if there is anyone of Mr Megson’s description wanted. I don’t mind having a retired smuggler on my land, but I
would
object to an ex-privateer or a retired highwayman.’

‘Good gracious, yes!’ said Mama, settling herself in her chair in the parlour. ‘Why can Acre never be normal! Surely John, you could have found a manager who was not a criminal? Even if he is a retired one?’

‘A poacher turned gamekeeper is the best man to guard the game,’ Uncle John quoted with a smile. ‘Acre has always been an eccentric sort of village, my dear. I fear it will continue that way. And when it is set to rights, it may be that some of its finer sons come home again. There was an exile back today, wasn’t there, Julia? The man who had come all the way from Petersfield for the dinner.’

The guilty look on my face was as clear as a bell to Richard. I knew it as soon as our eyes met. But I was sitting at Mama’s feet at the fireside and I could not hide my face.

‘Who from Petersfield?’ he asked, seeming to care very little.

‘I don’t recall the name,’ Uncle John said. But then he remembered. ‘Tayler, Dan Tayler, was it not, Julia?’

‘Yes,’ I said, monosyllabic, my eyes on the fire.

‘Who is he?’ Richard asked blankly.

‘Don’t you know?’ Uncle John asked. ‘I should have thought you two knew Acre inside out. Julia seems quite expert. Who is he, Julia?’

‘He is…he is…’ I could improvise nothing with Uncle John’s guileless pale eyes on me and Richard’s gaze darkening with suspicion.

‘There is no Tayler family in the village,’ Richard said.

‘There is!’ I said quickly. ‘In the shanties, the cottagers.’ I knew Richard knew nothing of the families who lived on the outer limits of Acre, scraping a living off the common land. No one could ever say with certainty who was there. Only the gypsies who lived further out on the common were more wild.

‘Never heard of them,’ Richard said stubbornly. ‘Who is this man, anyway?’

Mama’s eyes were on me, and Uncle John’s. Richard was sharp and alert. I had told one lie and then another, and now I was being forced into a whole string of untruths. If they discovered the identity of the man who had nearly bumped into us with his saucepan, Richard would never forgive me for a lie and that would be bad enough; but Dench would be taken.

I might brave Richard’s anger, or even Mama’s mystified disapproval. But if I let slip Dench’s name, Uncle John would order his coachman (a London man with no local loyalties) down to Acre to arrest Dench. And at the next quarter sessions he would be tried and hanged. I could not let that happen.

The lie I had already told that day to protect Mr Megson had been weak enough. I leaned my head back against my mama’s knees to draw some strength from the feel of her satin gown on the back of my bare neck. Richard saw my fatigue and pressed me for answers.

‘Where did you meet a cottager, Julia?’ he asked. His tone was concerned and his eyes went to Mama, as if to remind her that I should not be let free to wander in the most notorious village in Sussex. ‘Did he approach you when you were walking after having left me at the vicarage? Is he a friend of that common little village girl you keep going to see? Why did you never tell us?’

‘I met him when I was walking with Clary, and Matthew Merry and some of the other Acre young people,’ I said. Uncle John held his hands to the fire and nodded, but Richard could smell a lie like a hound smells blood from a fresh wound and was hot on my trail.

‘When was this?’ he demanded. ‘You never told me. And why were the Acre children talking to one of the cottagers?’

‘Oh, I don’t know! I don’t remember!’ I said in sudden impatience and in real fear that they would get the truth out of me. I had to get myself out of the room. I jumped up from my seat at Mama’s feet and took a hasty few steps towards the door.

‘What is he doing now, this mysterious cottager?’ Richard harried me. ‘And how did he get to Acre so quickly?’

‘Can’t we just forget all about him!’ I exclaimed with as near a tone of petulance as I could manage when my heart was in my mouth to hide Dench’s identity from Mama and Uncle John. My courage nearly failed me when I saw Mama’s astonished face and then caught her look at John, as if she were ashamed that I should be so rude in front of him. But I was trapped and I could see no way to go but forward.

‘Honestly, Richard! You and Mama treat me as if I were a child! I won’t be cross-questioned! I met the man in Acre, where I know many people. Mama! Please excuse me!’ I said and I whirled towards the door.

Stride was coming in with the tea-tray in his hand and he stood on the threshold and gaped to see me striding from the room in temper. He hesitated, not knowing whether to put down his burden to hold the door for me or to let me push past him in defiance of good manners.

‘Miss Julia!’ he said in a reproachful undertone. I flashed an angry glance at him and saw his friendly face full of concern.

I grabbed for the door-knob and swirled out of the room and shut the door behind me.

Then I stood still as still and leaned my head back against the closed parlour door, and stared blankly at nothing. I had never in all my life spoken thus to my mama and I felt I had hurt myself in complaining of her to her very face. And the angry tone which had come to my lips was one she had never heard before from me! And the claim that she gave me no freedom which was nonsense! And the rudeness before Uncle John! I sighed.

I did not stand there on purpose to eavesdrop, but I heard the silence in the room. And then I heard Richard say so kindly, so gently, ‘Please don’t be upset, Mama-Aunt, please don’t be offended, sir. Julia is never like this usually. Mama-Aunt will tell you that, and indeed it is true. There never was a sweeter-tempered girl than my cousin. I have never seen her like this before.’

I let out a silent sigh at Richard’s loyalty. He was defending
me in the next breath after I had raged at him. Then I remembered that I should not be standing there, within earshot, and I moved away from the door.

I could have gone to my room, or gone to sit in the empty dining-room, but I needed to see the sky over Wideacre and needed the wind from the woods to blow away my temper and my confusion. I opened the front door and slipped out into the late afternoon.

Careless of my gown, I sat on the stone steps and welcomed the chill of the damp air. Evenings had been pearl-light this spring, but today had been as dark as winter all day and the afternoon was grey and shady from the fog of the morning and the lowering clouds. I gulped in the damp air and felt it wet as mist against my cheek. Across the drive the woods of Wideacre were hazy with green growth, and invisible birds in the wet paleness were singing and singing with boundless energy, not to be distracted by the cold or the darkness, knowing in their little leaping hearts that it was spring and time for loving and courting and mating.

I sighed. I felt the anger and the confusion drift away from me like blossoms tossed on the floodtide Fenny. It was all right. I had told a lie, a set of lies. But I had done it to protect an Acre man who looked to the Laceys for help. There had been enough arrests and threats in Acre in the past. Neither Richard nor I would add to it. Ralph Megson had returned with the promise of new hope for Acre, and if a little lie, or even a set of little lies, could keep that prospect safe, then I would tell those lies.

I could forgive myself for the lie about Dench, and the secret told to me by Mr Megson I would not consider at all. Like the young girl they expected me to be, I would trust Uncle John’s judgement and make no judgement of my own. He thought Mr Megson a fit manager for the estate, and he knew something of his past. He had praised Mr Megson’s character and he was prepared to ignore the turbulence in the man’s youth. I could not betray Mr Megson, and I would not judge him. I let that lie go too – I let it melt from my mind like frost in the mornings. I took a deep breath of Wideacre air and let it out in a sigh.

I must have appeared a rude ill-bred spoiled little miss; and that before the man my mama most loved and respected in the world. But it was a small enough thing for a Lacey to do for Acre. I would apologize to my mama, I would apologize to Uncle John and I might be able to tell the truth to Richard. I thought Richard might understand. And if he was not angry with me, then I could face anything.

And thus I sat, while the rooks cawed hoarsely and tumbled home to their straggly nests, swaying at the very tops of the trees. Thus I sat and let the peace of Wideacre wash over me, until I was a Lacey on Wideacre again, knowing my home.

The door behind me opened with a click and Richard came out. He nearly stumbled over me, not seeing me in the gloom.

Oh, there you are,’ he said abruptly. ‘You’ll have to face them and apologize sooner or later, you know.’

‘I know,’ I said comfortably. I smiled up at him. ‘Wasn’t I a shrew?’ I said ruefully. ‘But I didn’t know what to do.’

‘I knew you were trying to tell some plumper, but I couldn’t think what you were saying,’ Richard said. He dropped down to sit on the step beside me and his shoulder brushed mine. I leaned slightly towards it and felt warmed with the comfort of his presence.

‘Who on earth is the mysterious Dan Tayler?’ he said. ‘You were trying to lead Mama all around the house on that taradiddle, Julia. But anyone who knows you could have seen you were fibbing. What were you trying to hide?’

‘Oh Richard,’ I said. ‘I know, it’s no good trying to lie to you. And I wouldn’t want to lie to Mama either, or Uncle John. But I was afraid to tell them!’

Richard took my hand in his warm clasp. ‘Afraid to tell them what?’ he asked mystified. ‘What great secret have you, little Julia?’

‘It was Dench!’ I said in a rush. ‘John Dench, the Havering groom. He had obviously been hiding in Acre or near by all this time, perhaps Midhurst. And when they had the party, of course he came to it. We nearly bumped into him in the village street! It
was quite awful. I didn’t know what Uncle John would do, but I could not have borne it if he had ordered Dench’s arrest.’

Richard put his arm around my shoulder and I laid my head into the warm crook of his neck and sniffed at his warmth like a little sensual animal.

‘But Grandpapa Havering put out a reward for Dench’s arrest,’ Richard said softly. ‘You are a little criminal yourself, Julia, to help hide him.’

I nodded. Richard’s gentle hand came up from my shoulder and caressed my cheek. I nearly purred like a stroked kitten.

‘I know,’ I said, ‘I cannot explain it, Richard. I just thought how kind he had been to you when he was teaching you to ride, and how anxious he was for you on that awful day when you had your accident. And I know Clary Dench now, and he is her uncle and she loves him so much, you know, Richard. I just couldn’t have named him to Uncle John and watched them take him away.’

‘So you lied,’ Richard said. His voice was still gentle.

‘Yes,’ I said, and I was no longer melting with his touch. I could hear an edge of anxiety in my voice. ‘It was all such a long time ago,’ I said, but I was less confident. ‘It was years ago. I could not have borne for the new start for Acre and Mr Megson’s first day here to be spoiled by an old, old score.’

‘You deliberately told my papa a false name. And then you lied to Mama-Aunt and to me?’ Richard’s voice was as smooth as silk.

‘Yes,’ I said again. ‘But I knew you would understand, Richard. I was sure you would understand. I was not lying to you, for see, I have told you as soon as I could. This is the first moment we have been together and I have told you at once. I was not lying to you, Richard.’

‘No,’ he said judicially. ‘You have told me the truth as soon as you could. But you have not told me something that I find very strange.’

‘What is that Richard?’ I asked. My voice was as thin as a child’s. ‘I will tell you anything, Richard. You know I never keep secrets from you.’

Richard’s hand on my shoulder was no longer a caress. He was holding me to his side so there was no chance that I could get away. His voice was as soft and as gentle as ever. But I felt like a foolish rabbit hopping towards a snare.

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