The Gilded Fan (Choc Lit) (20 page)

He took a room at the Chain and Anchor and then headed for the tap room, where he ordered a tankard of ale to help his thought processes. He didn’t want company and found an empty table in a corner. His scowl saw to it that no one approached him at first, but after a while a group of men sat down at the table next to his and they seemed oblivious to his bad mood.

‘Pardon me, but you haven’t by any chance come from London?’ the man closest to Nico asked, staring at him with curious eyes. ‘Only, you have the look of a traveller about you and we’re eager for news.’

‘No, I’ve just arrived from Amsterdam,’ Nico replied. ‘Haven’t been to London for years.’ He deliberately kept his answer short and terse, to discourage the men from further questions, but they didn’t notice. Instead they moved closer to include him in their conversation. Nico swallowed a sigh and decided not to make an issue of it.

‘So are there any rumours going round Amsterdam about us, then?’ another man asked.

Nico frowned. ‘No, not as far as I know. Should there be?’ He hadn’t been paying attention to gossip since he’d had other things on his mind while in Holland, but now he began to regret it. He normally kept his ear to the ground and any talk of England would catch his interest.

‘Well, we hear all sorts of things, conjecture mostly, I reckon. Some say there’s a civil war brewing.’

‘In England? Really?’ Nico forgot all about his own dark thoughts. This was serious.

‘Yes, perhaps. King Charles
has
made poor work of ruling, choosing his councillors badly and not listening to his Parliament, and that’s a fact,’ someone with an authoritative voice stated. ‘It didn’t bode well, we all knew that.’

‘I’ve also heard tell he favours Papists,’ another man added.

‘A pedlar was saying only this morning that Parliament has taken charge of London, but whether it’s true or not I’ve no idea. He claimed the King has gone north somewhere to raise an army.’

Nico was listening intently now. He’d heard this kind of talk before, in Holland, and it sounded to him as though a civil war
was
imminent. If that was so, he’d brought Midori into danger.
Damnation!

‘What are we to do if it’s true?’ The first man was looking worried. ‘Will we have to fight?’

‘No, it’s bound to blow over soon. The King’s been at odds with Parliament for years, nothing new there.’

‘I heard the Earl of Bath is trying to rally people to the King’s side here in Devon.’

‘He’ll not have much success.’ Someone guffawed. ‘Leastways not here in Plymouth.’

‘It’s still a damnable mess, I tell you,’ the first man insisted. ‘We may be forced to choose sides.’

‘That won’t be a problem.’ Another guffaw. ‘We’ll have no truck with suspected Papists, to be sure. But like you said, it’ll probably all be over in a trice.’

Nico wasn’t so sure. If the King was raising an army, he must mean to use force.
That’s if the rumour is true.
He took a large swallow of ale and sat back to look around the rest of the tap room. He became aware of other conversations around him, many of which centred on the subjects of either the King or religion. He also noticed he was almost the only man in the place dressed in anything other than very plain clothing. His indigo-coloured jacket and breeches of finest wool made him stand out like a gold coin in a handful of pennies, despite their simple cut.

‘Puritans?’ he murmured to himself.
The whole damn lot of them? Surely not!
He’d come across some of them in Holland and knew a bit about their beliefs and customs. He decided to keep his eyes and ears open during his stay in Plymouth. Puritans held extreme religious views and he doubted everyone here followed their thinking. The people in the tap room were probably mostly dressed in this way because it was practical and the cloth cheaper if not dyed in gaudy colours. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to find out more, he thought.

He suddenly remembered Marston had been dressed in black and he almost groaned out loud. Jacob had always been inclined to piety, but if he’d gone over to full-blown Puritanism, Midori would find it even harder to fit in than Nico had imagined.
Bloody hell, I’ve got to get her out of here.

But how?

Jacob ushered Midori out into the hall and up the wooden staircase to the first floor, then entered a large room at the front of the house. It was the one with windows along one entire wall and obviously the finest room in the building. Beautifully carved dark wood panelling lined the walls and there was a huge fireplace, although not a great deal of furniture. Midori couldn’t see any other embellishments either: no hangings or paintings, no cushions to sit on. It was also very gloomy despite there being no shutters on the windows. The glass in the tiny panes was thick and cloudy for the most part, making it difficult to see out and distorting the vision.

She couldn’t help but compare this room to the parlour in Nico’s newly inherited house in Amsterdam, and decided she much preferred his. With its homely clutter and bright colours it had seemed welcoming, whereas here the room was totally devoid of warmth. Several people were sitting on benches along one wall and they all stood up as Midori entered with her uncle.

‘Ah, there you are, good, good. Come and welcome a new member of the family.’ The others moved closer, Kate at the head of the group. She’d obviously not taken her brother’s advice to go and rest. ‘Midori, this is your Aunt Hesketh, my sister Kate, who you’ve met.’ The plump woman looked Midori over again, and the latter remembered to curtsey rather than bow, something Nico had taught her at the last moment.
‘Put your elbows on your hips, fold your hands in front of you and look down modestly.’
She followed these instructions, but this didn’t seem to find favour with her aunt, who only nodded curtly. Midori suddenly remembered where she’d heard the name Hesketh before and frowned.

‘Did you say Hesketh? But I thought …’ Midori was sure her mother had told her she’d initially fled England in order to escape marriage to someone of that name; a man she had disliked intensely. That was before the ill-fated union with Rydon, who she’d also detested. Hannah had said her sister, Kate, had married the son of a baronet, so why wasn’t her aunt a ‘Lady’? Hannah had explained that being a ‘Lady’ was something to be proud of, like being the wife of a Japanese
daimyo
.

Her uncle ignored the interruption, and continued with the introductions as if Midori hadn’t spoken. ‘And here is my dear wife, Emma.’ A thin woman with white-grey hair, smoothed back under her white coif, came forward and took Midori’s hands between her own.

‘Welcome to our home, my dear. I hope you’ll be happy here. I was sad to hear of your mother’s demise. I knew her slightly as a young girl.’

‘Thank you, Aunt, you’re very kind.’ Midori’s spirits lifted at this friendly greeting, which served to counter-balance the reception given by her other aunt. ‘Should I call you Aunt Emma or Aunt Marston?’ She’d forgotten to ask Nico about the correct way of addressing relatives.

‘Aunt Marston, if you please.’

‘Very well.’
So perhaps Jacob should be Uncle Marston.

‘Now here are our children,’ Uncle Marston said, indicating a young man and a girl who stepped forward next. ‘This is my son Daniel and my daughter Temperance.’ Both were fair, Temperance with hair of a silver-blonde hue, while her brother’s was red, although not as vivid a colour as Midori’s mother’s had been. ‘Kate’s children and stepchildren have all grown up and live elsewhere,’ he added.

‘You have a strange name,’ Aunt Hesketh commented with a pursed mouth. ‘Couldn’t your mother find a Christian one to her liking?’

Midori stared at the woman, surprised at her rudeness. ‘I believe my father chose my name. I have green eyes, which is unusual in … his country, and Midori means green. There’s nothing strange about it where I come from.’

‘You should have a proper name, like Mary, for instance,’ Aunt Hesketh insisted.

‘If you don’t mind, I’d rather keep my own.’ Midori felt very strongly about that and she knew instinctively if she gave in to her aunt on this point, she may be giving up a lot more than her name.

‘Perhaps this is not the time to discuss such things?’ Uncle Marston suggested gently.

‘Hmph, well at least she taught you to speak properly,’ Aunt Hesketh muttered.

Before Midori had time to reply to this, her uncle’s wife put an arm around her shoulders and led her towards the door. ‘Come, my dear, I’ll show you where you are to sleep, and then it will be time for dinner. We eat our main meal at noon, you see. Is that what you’re used to? You must tell me how these things were arranged where you come from …’ Chattering on, Aunt Marston shepherded Midori out of the room.

Midori threw a glance over her shoulder at the assembled company, but no one moved or spoke. Her last glimpse of them was another malevolent look from her Aunt Hesketh.

The aunt who should have been a Lady, but obviously wasn’t.

The bedroom was on the third floor, directly under the roof, and very small. It contained nothing apart from a plain clothes chest – a coffer, Aunt Marston called it – a single bed and a tiny fireplace. A narrow window let in some light, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Combined with the low sloping ceiling and dark furniture, it only served to make the room seem more sombre. In a thin ray of sunshine dust particles rose and fell in a sinuous dance and there was a musty smell which made Midori want to sneeze. She followed her aunt inside and stared at the uneven floor boards, which looked as if the carpenter who laid them had been unable to fit them together properly. She was astonished such shoddy workmanship was tolerated.

‘You’ll have to share with Temperance, of course,’ Aunt Marston was saying, and Midori looked up, startled. The room had seemed small for one person, but for two? Her aunt caught sight of Midori’s face before she had time to mask her expression, and added kindly, ‘But you can have the bed and Temperance will sleep on the truckle bed, if you prefer. I take it you’re not used to sharing?’

‘Truckle?’ Midori felt as if her brain had gone numb from being bombarded with too many new experiences at once. She stared at the bed, which looked barely wide enough for one. The thought of sharing it with someone made Midori’s insides clench.

‘Yes, it pulls out from underneath this one, like so.’ Aunt Marston half-pulled out a tacky old mattress on some sort of frame from under the other bed.

‘Oh, I see. Well, er, thank you, if you’re sure she won’t mind?’

‘Not at all. I’ll find you some sheets and a blanket after dinner. Temperance will help you and she’ll put some wormwood among the bedding to discourage the bed bugs.’

Midori shuddered.
Bed bugs?
She’d had to live with those on board Nico’s ship, but had hoped to avoid them on land.

‘
Where are your possessions?’ Aunt Marston asked.

‘Captain Noordholt said someone from the ship would be bringing them this afternoon.’

‘Captain Noordholt?’ Aunt Marston looked confused.

‘Er, Nico, I mean Nicholas,’ Midori amended. Had he lied about his name as well? The thought made her furious. She supposed if her other aunt’s surname was Hesketh, his must be as well, unless she’d married twice. So why was he known as Noordholt?

‘Well, good,’ Aunt Marston was saying. ‘You can settle in later, then. Did you bring much in the way of clothing?’

‘No, I left in something of a hurry and thought to acquire more when I reached England. I bought some material in Amsterdam, though.’

‘Excellent. We’ll all help you to make something suitable.’ Her aunt glanced at Midori’s
kimono
. ‘Perhaps you could borrow clothes from me until we have a chance to make some for you? We are of a similar size, I think.’

‘I … thank you.’ The thought of wearing the kind of garments her aunt had on was not an appealing one, as they looked extremely ugly compared to Midori’s lovely silk
kimono
, but she resigned herself to her fate. She had to blend in after all, if she wanted to belong.

‘One moment, I’ll fetch them now.’

A short while later Aunt Marston returned and helped Midori to dress.

‘This is a shift. You wear it at all times, to sleep in as well.’ A shapeless white linen garment, which reached almost to the floor, was flung over Midori’s head. ‘Tie the drawstring at the throat and I’ll help you with the wrists,’ Aunt Marston said kindly.

Midori was then handed something called a ‘bum-roll’, a sausage-like item stuffed with something soft – ‘horse-hair, dear,’ Aunt Marston explained – and strings either end, and told to tie this around her waist.

‘The roll goes at the back, to give you a more, er … womanly shape, shall we say. Tie it at the front, please. Then put the petticoat on over the top.’

A skirt of very thick wool in an unattractive sludge brown was fastened around Midori’s waist. ‘It’s a little big,’ she commented, as it would easily have fit a woman twice her size in girth.

‘Oh, don’t worry, it has several fastenings.’ Aunt Marston smiled kindly. ‘I wore this when I was with child and I needed it bigger. It was some years ago now, of course, but it’s still wearable.’

Midori tried not to frown at the thought that she was wearing a garment that must be positively ancient.

‘Now here’s the bodice. This one is sleeveless, as it’s summer, but we’ll make you one with sleeves for the winter. Lace it up at the front, if you please.’ Midori began this process, but was interrupted. ‘No, no, not criss-cross. It should look like a ladder, that way you can pull it tighter.’

‘Oh, I see.’ The bodice, a slightly more attractive russet colour, was snug around her torso and waist, with small square panels flaring out below. Laced up, it kept her bosom in place, but still allowed her to move freely. It would have felt quite comfortable if it hadn’t been made of itchy wool. Midori could feel the material through the linen of the shift and tried not to scratch.

‘There, now all you need is a collar and a coif.’ Aunt Marston handed her a linen triangle and showed her how to arrange it round her neck. ‘Probably best if you plait your hair so we can pin it up. My, but it’s very long and thick, isn’t it! Here, let me help you.’ This done, she placed the cap on Midori’s head. ‘Perfect! You’ll have to wear your own shoes for now. I don’t have any spares.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Now then, let us eat. I hope Nicholas has returned by now. Your uncle does dislike tardiness so.’

Midori followed her aunt back downstairs and stood by her place at the table in a smaller room at the back of the house on the first floor. She waited for everyone to sit down on the benches either side of the table, but her relatives remained standing, including Nico, who came sauntering in at the last possible moment. He blinked at the sight of her in her borrowed clothing, but quickly hid his surprise. Everyone bent their heads piously, except for him, as Uncle Marston began to speak. Midori hurried to follow suit.

‘Dear Lord, we thank you for the blessings you have brought us today and for the food we are about to receive. We also thank you for restoring to us our long-lost kinswoman, Midori, …’ Nico shot Midori a quizzical look at the mention of her name, but she averted her eyes. ‘… and Nicholas, whom we had almost given up hope of seeing again. We also ask your blessing, dear Lord, upon …’ Jacob went on praying for what seemed like hours to Midori. Her stomach growled since she hadn’t eaten much that morning, but fortunately the noise was drowned out by her uncle’s droning voice.

At long last he finished and everyone sat down. Food was brought in by two serving girls and placed on the table, and strange aromas teased Midori’s nostrils. Aunt Marston stood up to serve everyone and Midori passed her pewter plate over when asked to do so. It came back with a yellow, glutinous mess on it and a piece of coarse bread. Midori looked at the food with interest.

‘What is this dish?’ she whispered to Temperance, who was sitting next to her.

‘Pottage,’ the girl whispered back. ‘It’s made of peas, milk, egg yolks, bread crumbs and parsley. Sometimes Mother flavours it with saffron or ginger. It must be saffron today – see the colour?’

Midori did indeed. The list of ingredients sounded strange, but she was very hungry and had become used to eating just about anything on board Nico’s ship, once the food she’d brought herself had run out. Besides, it would be impolite not to eat what she’d been given, so she bravely sank her spoon into the food. She took a mouthful, quickly followed by a bite of the hard bread. It wasn’t bad, but a longing for rice and fish ripped through her, making her catch her breath. She suppressed it.
I have to accustom myself to English ways now, and that includes the food.
Nico had told her they didn’t grow rice here, which was a huge disappointment.
I’ll never eat rice again!
She pushed the thought out of her mind.

‘So what have you been doing with yourself since you left?’ Jacob asked Nico, as soon as everyone had been served.

‘I’ve been at sea,’ Nico replied curtly.

‘For thirteen years? You must have been to many places of interest then.’

‘Yes.’

Midori frowned at Nico. He wasn’t even attempting to answer Uncle Marston in a civil manner and she wondered what had caused such a rift between them. It wasn’t her place to step into the breach, however, so she kept silent.

‘I don’t suppose they had writing implements where you went?’ Aunt Hesketh put in, her tone waspish.

‘No,’ Nico agreed, as if trying to infuriate his stepmother on purpose. It had the desired effect.

‘Well, if you’ve forgotten how to read and write, I’m sure you could have sent word by way of another seaman.’

‘As I said earlier, I would have done if I’d thought you cared. The last time I saw you, you told me you’d be glad never to set eyes on me again.’

‘You provoked me! Of course I didn’t mean it.’

‘Really? You could have fooled me. In fact, you did.’ Pointedly, Nico turned to Aunt Marston, who he seemed to like as he addressed her in a much gentler voice. ‘And how have you been? You look well.’

‘I … er, thank you.’

The meal progressed mostly in silence after that, although Jacob discussed some business matters with his son. Midori assumed he was training Daniel to follow in his footsteps as a merchant. Nico, meanwhile, didn’t take any further part in the conversation, but spent the entire time glancing in Midori’s direction. She turned away each time she caught him staring though, as she was still angry with him. She wanted to box his ears, but at the same time she took comfort from his presence. At least he wasn’t a complete stranger, even though she obviously didn’t know him as well as she’d thought she did.
He was right about that.