The Other Countess (13 page)

Diego laughed with delight. ‘You are most generous, O High and Mighty Lord of Dorset.’

‘Enough of that,’ said Will as Tobias sniggered. ‘“My lord” is quite sufficient, Diego. And Tobias, about that bet.’

Tobias began to edge away. ‘What about it, Will?’

‘What were the odds?’

‘Ten to one.’

Will grinned. ‘Glad you had the brotherly loyalty to back the underdog. Go claim your winnings, but next time, remember that I could easily have lost.’

‘You didn’t though, did you?’

‘Not this time.’ Will’s eyes shifted to where the Lady Jane was sitting quietly, waiting for her champion to approach. ‘Not this time.’

10

Over the course of the next few days, Sir Arthur decided he rather fancied the idea of a period of study in seclusion.

‘Like Our Lord’s time in the desert before taking up His ministry,’ he suggested to Ellie.

She made a non-committal sound, though to her the sentiment sounded blasphemous.

Sir Arthur had repacked the horses so he could ride a few miles and was now enjoying the sights from the saddle.

‘This is a lovely valley, isn’t it, Ellie? We lived here once, do you remember?’

Ellie remembered all too well. Lacey Hall was only a short ride away and all this land probably belonged to Dorset’s estate.

‘I have very fond memories of this place. I did some of my best work while I was living with the old earl. Shame the new one is so blinkered in his views. I think we should look for our cottage around here; the atmosphere is conducive to scholarship.’

‘I think we’d best ride on, sir. The earl does not want us anywhere near him.’

Sir Arthur waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘Pish! Does he own the air we breathe now? What would it matter to a great man like him if we lodge here? He’s not likely even
to notice. Besides, he’s at court, his mind on other things than two poor travellers seeking temporary shelter.’

The harder Ellie argued against it, the more her father stuck to the idea of finding a cottage in this stretch of Berkshire along the Thames.

‘The villagers of Stoke-by-Lacey were always very kind to you,’ he continued. ‘They paid proper respect to a man of my rank. I would have thought you would see the sense of returning to a place that we know will treat us well.’

‘But we don’t know that, sir. The earl threatened to run us off his lands if ever we returned.’

‘He meant his estate, Ellie. We are free to pass along the Queen’s highway through the village, I am sure of that.’

‘But, sir –’

‘Enough, Eleanor. I am your father; you will obey me in this.’ Sir Arthur frowned at her.

Ellie put her knuckles in her mouth and bit down on her riding glove to stop herself giving vent to a scream of frustration.

‘There was a lady there – a widow. Dame Holton, her name was. She always showed great interest in you, Ellie, and she has a fine house, plenty of room for lodgers. Let us start there and find out if she is still in the village.’

Stoke-by-Lacey had changed since she last saw it; the cottages looked in better repair and the villagers wealthier than under the neglect of the old earl. The grey tower of the church had a new weathercock and some fine glass in the west window; the inn bustled with people; wagons stood fully loaded in the yard on their way to London. A bakery was doing a good trade in buns and pies, the enticing smells reaching Ellie as she rode by. Turning off the road, Sir Arthur led her down a winding lane
bordered by garden plots. He stopped outside a timber-framed house, the walls a chalky white, the roof a thick thatch topped by a straw bird, giving the dwelling its name of Partridge Cottage. Blossom festooned the apple trees in the orchard; the kitchen garden flourished with herbs and neat rows of vegetables. A brood of chickens scratched about the yard.

‘Wait here,’ Sir Arthur told her, dismounting. ‘Let me first ascertain if Dame Holton still lives here.’

Ellie slid to the ground, her muscles protesting after two days of riding. She felt even worse for it was her monthly terms and her stomach was aching, yet she was too shy to explain the problem to her father. He could relate to her brain but not to the demands of her female body, leaving the handling of such matters to her, embarrassed beyond belief when she mentioned such things.

Ellie sat on a log seat under the shade of a tree, remembering back to the first time she had been visited by the terms shortly before she turned fourteen. For all his learning, her father had failed to teach her that this was natural and for a terrifying few days she had concluded she had contracted some horrible disease. When she had whispered her fear to Sir Arthur, he had blushed scarlet and paid a female servant to explain it to her and show her how to cope with the monthly inconvenience. They had never mentioned it again.

Luckily, the servant had also concluded that Ellie might be ignorant of other matters to do with childbearing and filled in the blanks in her knowledge with detailed and unembarrassed descriptions of what transpired between men and women. She had told the wide-eyed girl of the pleasures and pains of being a wife, concluding with some lusty advice on
how to please her husband. Ellie smiled now to recall how her ears had burned at some of what the woman told her. It had been so hard to imagine that she would want to do any of those things with a man; but recently she had found herself daydreaming, speculating as to what it would be like.

Mind drifting, she pictured how it would be to be kissed by a lover, the feel of his hands around her waist, drawing her close, the brush of lips on hers. It would be so splendid to be cherished – protected by someone who had the strength and means to solve all the problems she faced daily. He would be handsome, of course, kind, caring, considerate of her needs; he would know how to heat her blood with his touch; he would be just like the Earl of Dorset …

Ellie sat up with a snap.

‘You idiot.’ She thumped her knees with her fist. ‘The earl is none of those things – and certainly not for you.’ Annoyed that her imagination could have betrayed her into thinking of him in such a way, she got up and paced. Better than indulging in fantasies would be to remember how he had treated her two days ago, leaving her to fight off unwanted advances.

‘Ellie!’

She spun round, seeing her father coming down the path with a matronly woman on his arm. Dame Holton was a large, square-jawed lady with fading brown hair tucked under her coif. Her efficient firm movements declared her one of those people who wrestled with life and usually made it succumb to her will.

Ellie dipped a curtsy.

‘Hasn’t she grown into a lovely young lady!’ exclaimed Dame Holton, giving Ellie a firm pat on the cheek. ‘Of course, you can stay. I’d welcome the company, truth be told. My girls have
married and moved away. The plague took my dear boy with my husband, as you might remember, Sir Arthur.’

‘Ah yes, Madam. Holton was a good man.’

She smiled, tears glinting in her eyes. ‘And Gregory was a beautiful son. God’s ways are mysterious; we all have our crosses to bear.’ She sketched a sign of the cross over her breast. ‘Come in and take your rest. Your daughter can help me arrange your rooms while you set up your study, sir.’

Ellie found the house intriguing, unlike any other she had visited. It was crammed with little statues of saints, religious pictures, or fragments of paintings, and ornate crucifixes. There was not a ledge or wall that was free of the decoration. She studied a stone carving of the Virgin Mary, running her finger down the smooth cheek, while the dame took fresh linen from her press.

‘Lovely, isn’t she?’ said Dame Holton, emerging from the chest with an armful of bedding. ‘I rescued her from the parish church. Lying in the gutter, she was.’

‘And the others?’

‘All orphans, thrown out by the ignorant. I started collecting them and now the tinker knows to bring me bits and pieces he comes across in his travels.’ She pointed to an ebony cross hanging over the window. ‘That came from Blackfriars monastery, he said.’

‘They’re beautiful. You have so many.’

Dame Holton nodded. ‘That I do. I keep them for the day when error is corrected and people ask for them again. The vicar won’t look down on me then – he’ll be knocking on the door begging for her to come back.’ She patted the Virgin on the shoulder, one woman consoling another.

‘Error?’

Dame Holton clucked her tongue. ‘Best we don’t speak about that, my child. Come, let’s set your room to rights. I’m giving you Gregory’s. It has a lovely view over the orchard and good light for sewing and reading.’ The lady chattered on about the small matters of the household, the chores Ellie could help with, the neighbours. Ellie let the tide of information sweep her away. She had enough trouble with her father without worrying about the religious inclinations of her hostess. The word was not said aloud, but it looked like they had fetched up in the house of that most suspect of characters: a Catholic.

Will rode home to Lacey Hall buoyed up by his success at his first appearance at court. He’d won the joust, made allies in Burghley and son, and begun tentative negotiations for Lady Jane’s hand in marriage with her brother. The next step had been agreed – a visit by the Percevals to his home; all he had to do now was check that his estate looked in a fit state to receive his prospective bride.

‘Pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you, Will?’ smiled James, urging his horse alongside.

Will’s lips curved in response. ‘Even you can’t say I did badly.’

‘No, I have to allow that you weren’t a complete disgrace to the family name.’

Tobias jogged alongside, his hired hack no match for his brothers’ mounts. ‘When you marry Lady Jane, then can I have a new horse?’

James lightly clipped him round the ear. ‘Can’t you find something else to moan about?’

‘You’d be the same if you were in my shoes,’ Tobias grumbled.

‘You mustn’t assume the match is going ahead,’ warned Will. His brother’s reminder where this was leading lodged in his stomach like a badly digested meal. ‘The Percevals are rich enough to have their pick of any family. The brother may be convinced, but the lady is not.’

Lady Jane had been friendly but cool towards Will, initially refusing the suggestion that she visit his home; she had only accepted this invitation after Sir Henry had persuaded her she should go. Will wondered what threat or promise her brother had used because her agreement was very clearly a reluctant one.

‘Won’t she do what her family says?’ asked Tobias.

‘I’d prefer her to agree to the match because she wants it, not because others tell her to marry me.’

‘That’s very enlightened of you, Will,’ chuckled James. ‘Remember that when it comes to arranging Sarah’s future.’

Will grimaced. ‘Don’t – it was hard enough handing Catherine over to my most trusted friend; I don’t want even to think about our little sister.’

‘Any husband has to know that if he doesn’t treat them right, then he’ll answer to us.’ James’s voice dropped to a threatening growl.

‘Anyone who marries Sarah will need our protection from her,’ laughed Tobias with all the loyalty of the brother closest to her in age. ‘She’s got a nasty punch.’

‘Only when provoked – and you’re the only one who provokes her.’

‘She’s sweet to you because she knows you and Will are silly when it comes to girls.’

‘We don’t throw apples at her friends when they visit – or dress her cat up in her nightcap and call it Mistress Bagley.’

‘You have to admit it did look like the vicar’s wife.’

‘That’s not my point.’

‘So you think it did!’ crowed Tobias.

‘Maybe. Possibly.’ James frowned. ‘But what I mean to say is that you roundly deserved any punch Sarah directed at you.’

‘You always take her side,’ grumbled Tobias.

‘That’s because you are always in the wrong.’

Will held up his hand. ‘Enough, please. My head is beginning to ache.’ They turned in to the long drive leading to the house. Will paused to take stock: this was the first view of his lands the lady would see. Would she be impressed? Elm trees lined the way, the roof of the house just visible over the rise. The deer park was well fenced, the herd healthy. They couldn’t yet see the formal gardens by the house, but they too were much improved, thanks to his mother’s hard work with the gardeners. She had saved them much money by propagating most of the plants herself in the glasshouse he’d had built for her.

‘It’ll do,’ said James, following his brother’s thoughts. ‘She knows we need money. What she’ll see is someone managing as best he can.’

‘I hope so. I could do so much more with even a few thousand pounds to invest in the land.’

‘A new horse?’ interjected Tobias hopefully, then ducked as two hands reached out to box his ear.

The countess was delighted to have her boys home with so many good things to report. She grilled Will for every detail, then moved on to gossip and fashion, a subject on which he
did far less well, having no head for such things. It made him realize how much she missed the interest of a life at court; a good marriage would benefit her enormously, allowing her to mingle with ladies of her own rank again.

Taking a late dinner well after noon, Lady Dorset made sure she milked them for every drop of news they could remember. Sarah had been allowed out of the schoolroom to listen and she was trying to behave, sitting between James and Will, her eyes sparkling.

She was growing up too fast, thought Will. Her hair the colour of old gold with hints of bronze was still worn down under her coif, but it wouldn’t be long before she was putting it up and demanding to be shown at court herself.

‘How did the Queen wear her ruff?’ the countess asked Will.

‘Um, it was big,’ he ventured.

Sarah rolled her eyes as her mother smiled into her napkin. ‘What kind of lace, Will? Coloured or white? With beads or plain? Larger than last year, or smaller?’

Will threw a frantic look at his brother but James was suddenly absorbed in carving his meat.

‘Her Majesty looked very splendid,’ he managed.

‘As if that tells us anything.’ Sarah tweaked her own ruff, a very small affair by court standards.