The Other Countess (14 page)

‘Her gowns were exceedingly fine.’

‘Even worse,’ muttered Sarah.

Tobias took pity on the females. ‘When I saw her, she wore a ruff of Flanders lace, projecting about a foot on a delicate frame. She prefers white and doesn’t wear any of the coloured ruffs that some of the younger ladies favour. Pink is definitely out of fashion as she believes it clashes with her hair.’

Sarah gave her youngest brother a delighted smile. ‘And beads?’

‘Glass ones, sprinkled like dew across a web.’

‘There!’ Sarah rounded on Will. ‘At least someone in the family uses their eyes.’

‘What news in the village?’ Will asked his mother, quickly changing the subject.

The countess sighed. ‘Well, the miller lost his eldest to a fever. I sent our condolences. The baker has asked if he can extend his ovens.’

‘I’ll ask Turville to look into it but I can’t see why not.’ Will felt happier now he was on the firm ground of matters he understood.

‘Mistress Newburton and Farmer Jacobs were ordered by the bawdy court to stand at the crossroads last market day for …’ she glanced at Sarah, ‘the sin of … um … intimate congress.’

‘Mother, there’s no need to be so coy.’ Sarah smirked at Tobias. ‘Who would have thought Mistress Newburton could attract an admirer? She’s so old.’

‘She’s only thirty-five,’ the countess pointed out.

‘That’s what I mean.’

Will cleared his throat. ‘I hardly think this is a decent conversation for the table, ladies.’

‘Probably not, but you must admit it is more interesting than ruffs,’ quipped James.

Will decided he was fighting a losing battle for decency with his family and gave up.

His mother laughed. ‘We are a sad trial to you, aren’t we, Will?’

‘I believe there is no safe answer to make to a comment such as that, madam.’

‘At least I’m not as much of a trial as Dame Holton. She scolded the vicar for his treatment of the church fittings in full view of the congregation. I saw her carting home the old arras of David and Goliath last week, which he had seen fit to throw out. By the time he has finished, we’ll all be staring at blank walls.’

‘That was my favourite tapestry!’ wailed Sarah. ‘Now what am I going to do during the sermon?’

‘Listen?’ suggested James.

The countess grasped her daughter’s wrist before she could throw a morsel of bread at her brother. ‘And she’s taken in a most peculiar lodger. I’m afraid you’re not going to be pleased, Will.’

‘As long as it isn’t the Pope in Rome or one of his priests, I can’t see that it is of any concern of mine,’ Will replied. He steered clear of Dame Holton as much as possible.

‘Not a priest, thank the Lord. Not as bad as that. Do you remember that terrible old fellow who lived with us when your father was alive? Hutton, the alchemist?’

Will dropped his knife; James stopped mid-chew.

‘I certainly do,’ Will said coldly.

‘He’s taken a room with her. Writing up his life’s work, according to the dame.’ The countess leant forward and added confidentially, ‘I think she’s smitten with him – an autumnal romance is in the air.’

Her attempt at humour fell flat.

‘Does Hutton have his daughter with him?’

The countess looked worried at whatever she was reading from his face. ‘You remember her? Yes, she’s with him too.
Quiet little thing. Very pretty with nice manners. They speak well of her in the village.’

Will shoved his chair from the table. ‘Excuse me, madam, but I seem to have come home to a problem with vermin. I must expel it from my lands before any more damage is done.’

Ellie felt as if she had tumbled into her own little plot in paradise staying with Dame Holton. She had a motherly woman to gossip with as they went about the household chores; a warm bed in a lovely room she did not have to share with others; a large garden that she was free to roam. She was spending this sunny afternoon in the orchard, sitting on a blanket under the apple trees, reading from the dame’s prized collection of saints’ lives. For once she did not have to worry, knowing that her father was cloistered in the small back room of the cottage that the Dame had let him use as his study, all his equipment still packed away, his thoughts turned to summarizing his knowledge, rather than furthering it with any more dangerous experiments. If only she could stop time and live like this forever, she would be truly happy.

She flipped past the grisly details of a martyrdom to find another tale to amuse her. Maybe she could encourage her father to notice the languishing looks the good dame sent him at the dinner table? Ellie fancied that the widow would rather like the honour of marrying a baronet, even one with her father’s weaknesses. In fact, if anyone could curb his excesses, it would be a woman like Dame Holton. Ellie couldn’t imagine her allowing Sir Arthur to spend the housekeeping money on alchemical supplies. If he dared dip into the pot, he was likely to have his ears boxed – and the shock of that might do
him some good. And if that dream came true, Ellie could venture to think of a better future for herself, even marriage to some local gentleman farmer or man of law. She would have her own house and a good, loving man with whom to pass her days; children maybe …

A shadow fell across the page she was reading. Ellie looked up, then scrambled to her feet, leaving her dreams tumbled with the book in the dust. She bobbed a curtsy.

‘My lord.’ What stroke of ill fortune had brought him home so soon?

‘Mistress Hutton.’

The earl stood there silently. Ellie wondered what he was waiting for: an apology for kicking him on their last encounter? Our Saviour would return before she gave him that, she vowed. Perhaps he wanted her to beg his pardon for her very existence?

He cleared his throat. ‘You are well?’

Surprised, Ellie’s eyes flew to his face. He was looking at her with a mixture of emotions, none of which seemed to give him any pleasure.

‘Yes, I am well,’ she replied quietly.

‘I owe you an apology,’ he continued in a stilted manner, like a cat walking across a hot pavement, paws barely touching the stones. ‘I was inexcusably rude to you on our last meeting. You deserved my protection, but I offered only contempt. That was very wrong of me.’ He dug inside his doublet and pulled out a silk-wrapped package. ‘I wished to find you immediately I came to my senses, but you had already left. I return your favour to you with my thanks and sincere regrets for the churlish manner in which I treated both you and it.’

Ellie took the offered parcel, guessing already what was inside. ‘Thank you, my lord.’

He took a step back, relief evident that this distasteful duty had been done. ‘May I enquire when you will be leaving?’

Ellie squeezed the material tightly in her fist. For one moment she had felt herself softening to the earl but now his intent was clear. He was running them off again – this time with polite words rather than dogs, though those doubtless would come later if they didn’t go.

‘When my father has finished his treatise.’

‘How long will that take?’

‘I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?’

Will waved the idea away as if it were absurd. ‘I refuse to speak to the man. I will not be answerable for the consequences if I am forced into a position where I have to share the same room as him.’

‘Or the same village?’ Ellie remembered her father’s words about the earl not owning the air they breathed, her anger mounting.

‘I see you understand. I trust you will convince him of the wisdom of moving on. You would not want your hostess to suffer for her kindness in offering you lodging.’

Silken words but they were wrapped around a threat. Ellie dropped his parcel on top of her book and started walking away, not trusting herself to reply.

‘Mistress Hutton?’ called the earl, surprised by her dismissal.

Ellie crossed her arms over her breasts. ‘Sir, I am the Lady Eleanor Rodriguez, Countess of San Jaime to you.’ She threw the words over her shoulder without even bothering to look back.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Somewhere where you are not.’

Hearing him approaching, she increased her pace but then he caught her arm, his grip unyielding.

‘Lady Eleanor, I must have your word that you will leave.’

‘I was trying to leave, sir.’ She looked significantly at his hand detaining her.

‘I don’t mean now – I mean from the village.’

She swung round and batted his hand away. She couldn’t help herself: something broke inside, causing her words to spill out. ‘You will not be content until my father and I are quite destitute, will you, my lord?
Drive them off with dogs, Turville! Dame Holton, fear for your life for hosting an old man and his daughter! Sir Henry, she’s only an alchemist’s daughter, and therefore, anybody’s for the taking!
’ She was shaking but she couldn’t stop herself. ‘By all the saints, what did I ever do to you? Why will you not let me rest until you’ve ground me under your boot heel as low as I can go?’

‘Mistress Hutton – Lady Eleanor …’

Tears were stinging her eyes but she refused to cry in front of him. ‘Do you think for one moment that I want to live like this? I hate alchemy – I
hate
my father’s obsession with it – but I am not his master! It is not my choice, you hear me? If you want to drive us out, sir, you’ll have to get your dogs – I’m not doing it for you.’ She pushed him away, gathered up her skirts and ran, leaving the earl alone in the orchard.

11

Will stared after the lady as she ran for the house. With a sigh, he scooped up the book, parcel and blanket that she had abandoned in her hasty flight.

Well done, Will, you prize ass
, he berated himself.

She had been magnificent in her anger, he had to give her that. And her words? Her words had cut him to the bone. It was easy to hate the alchemist but, as she had so ably pointed out, any attack on him was a punishment of her – a splendid spirited lady who deserved someone much better than her father. If he drove her out, what would be her future? Poverty would make her prey to men such as Perceval and worse. Her father was unfit to look after such a treasure. She needed someone she could rely on.

The temptation to offer his less than honourable protection sneaked into his mind before he could dismiss it. It was what was expected of men of his class who took a fancy to girls like her. But there was something so admirable about her innocence that he would not insult her by tarnishing it. She deserved a chance at a good life, a decent marriage. While she might fulfil all his fantasies of the perfect material for a mistress, her character spoke against such an offer.

And he needed a rich wife, not a pauper.

Alarmed to find his thoughts had strayed so far, Will made himself return to the matter at hand. Sir Arthur. He glanced at the cottage. No explosions or strange smells emanated from the building. Will could not imagine Dame Holton allowing such goings on in her respectable dwelling. For the sake of the lady, could he not stomach the man’s presence for a while, give her the respite she craved?

Gathering her belongings under one arm, he approached the house.

‘Good day!’ he called.

Dame Holton bustled out of the front door, her pleasure evident that the earl condescended to call on her humble home.

‘My lord, this is an unexpected honour! Is there a problem? Has your horse cast a shoe?’

‘No, mistress. My groom has my horse and is walking him in the lane. I exchanged a few words with Lady Eleanor, but she forgot to bring these back with her.’ He held out the book and the blanket.

Dame Holton frowned to see her favourite tome so mistreated. ‘Ellie!’ she shouted.

There was the sound of a door banging inside and Ellie ran down the passage from the kitchen, her face gleaming from the water she had just splashed on it.

‘Yes?’ She caught sight of Will. ‘Oh, it’s you. Have you come to tell us to be gone?’

Dame Holton clucked her tongue. ‘That’s no way to greet the earl, Ellie. He very kindly called by to return my book. What were you thinking, leaving it outside? It could’ve rained!’

Ellie flicked her eyes ironically at the cloudless sky. ‘I apologize, mistress.’

‘And why would he want you gone?’

‘Why indeed. Shall I go pack?’

Dame Holton sighed. ‘Don’t be silly, child.’

Swallowing his prejudice and pride, Will took a step forward. ‘Lady Eleanor, I called by to welcome you to the village. I hope you have a long and peaceful stay.’ He would’ve smiled at her stunned expression if he hadn’t been standing in front of one of the sharpest observers in the village. ‘Dame Holton, I hope you realize you are hosting a man of exploratory science. I pray that you will be careful as to what activities you allow him to pursue while under your roof. I would not like to have to dispatch the fire cart to put out the thatch.’

The dame glowed under his attention. ‘My lord, I assure you I will have none of that dangerous stuff in my house. Sir Arthur seeks only a place to write.’

‘Excellent. Then I bid you good day.’ He gave them both a bow and set off for the lane. Unpalatable though this concession had been, he felt more than recompensed by the deep relief he’d seen on Ellie’s face as his announcement sank in.

Confused by the sudden change in the earl’s attitude, Ellie did not quite trust him to keep his word. She spent an anxious day or two looking for his servants to turn up and force them back on the road, but nothing of that nature occurred. The lane outside the cottage remained quiet with only the shepherd guiding his flock along it twice a day and the farm hands going about their ordinary business.

Tidying her bedroom, Ellie paused over the small chest of clothes that she hadn’t unpacked, fearing that to do so would tempt fate to kick her out of her comfortable home. Could she relax and enjoy their quiet lodgings with Dame Holton? Used to being unwanted, it was hard to get over the cautious habits she had learnt. No, it was too soon. The earl had a mercurial temper. He was all sunshine with the dame, but the next time he met Ellie he might revert to thunder.

Her chores done for the morning, Ellie decided to walk into the village to call on the friends she had made there. She hadn’t gone far down the footpath when she came across a party of men repairing a wall. She stood to one side as a wagon rumbled by, a pile of stones on the back. As she watched, it lurched into a puddle, the weight sinking the axles deep into the mud. The huge toffee-coloured shire horse was having trouble heaving the wheels out of the rut, provoking much cursing from the carter. He cracked his long whip over the creature’s head, seeming not to care that the horse’s flanks were already streaked with sweat.