White Water (36 page)

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Authors: Pamela Oldfield

BOOK: White Water
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It was Maria’s turn to sigh. ‘We must pray for a change of heart,’ she said. ‘But we were speaking of Eloise. What will you do? Will you write to her?’

‘I think I must. I owe her an apology and she shall have it. But I shall not ask her to come back. What of her dowry?’

‘She has taken it.’

‘That must have been hard,’ he said.

She shrugged. ‘Thank God we were able to raise it.’

‘Then ’tis really all over,’ he said slowly. He had toyed with his food, not eating it. Now he pushed the tray away. ‘And Martin?’ he asked. ‘Is he still at Romney House?’ Maria nodded. She had told no one of Felicity’s pregnancy. ‘He is spending a year with Frank Innly, studying to be a sheep farmer.’

‘So — if he thrives mayhap
he
will win the beautiful Eloise.’ He spoke bitterly.

‘I think not,’ said Maria as lightly as she could. ‘But I must go now and leave you to your thoughts. Think on it calmly, Allan, I beg you. ’Tis finished. A chapter in your life. Today is the first page of a new one. Meet it with hope, Allan, for ’tis all we have left.’

*

Maggie and Melissa rode side by side, conversing in a desultory fashion. The pack pony followed behind them, snatching a mouthful of grass or a few leaves from the hedgerow. It was laden with the day’s purchases — provisions for the coming months. The two women enjoyed their outings to Ashburton. Melissa met friends in the town and Maggie took the opportunity to call in on the bakery and see that all was well. They had bought flour and spices, lemons and tallow, silk and braids and were well satisfied with their joint efforts. Now, as they frequently did when the weather was fine, they rode the long way home past Maudesley. It was Maggie who noticed it first. She broke off in the middle of a sentence about the bakery and pointed through the trees.

‘The old house! There are men working on it.’

They stopped so abruptly that the inattentive pack pony nearly collided with Melissa’s mount.

‘So they are! But — why did they not tell us?’

‘Who?’

‘The Tuckers,’ said Melissa. ‘If they are moving back — ’

‘It may not be the Tuckers.’

‘But Maudesley belongs to them. It has always been theirs. Mayhap ’tis for one of their sons. Let’s ride a little closer. How very strange.’

They turned off the road and made their way through the sparse hedge and out on to the other side. From there they had a clear view of the house and could see that, indeed, a number of men were at work on it. Two men were on the roof tearing the thatch apart and throwing it down to the ground, where another man swept it up and carried it some distance away to a fiercely burning bonfire. A wagon loaded with bricks stood in the courtyard. There were several piles of newly cut timber and a stack of what looked like roofing tiles.

Maggie whistled. ‘The Tuckers have come into a fortune by the look of it. A new roof — and what is all that timber for?’

‘And the bricks! Mayhap they are going to enlarge it? Oh, I wish we knew what is happening. I’ve a good mind to ride up and ask one of them. What do you think?’

‘There’s nothing lost by it,’ said Maggie. ‘I doubt they would tell me but they will doubtless recognize you. Aye, do that, Melissa. Ride over and ask them. I’d best wait here with the pack horse. ’Twould be nice to have neighbours.’

‘If ’tis the Tuckers, aye. If they have sold the house — then only time will tell. We must hope they are congenial folk. Then I’ll ride down and find out whatever I can. I’ll not be long.’

She urged her horse down the gradual slope until she reached the outskirts of the garden. There she tethered her mount to a gate post and went through the gate and into the courtyard. Several of the men glanced at her but no one spoke and for a moment she looked round at the scene of feverish activity. To her left the bonfire blazed and spluttered and wisps of charred straw floated in the air. Two men sawed wood over a newly dug pit and another was measuring the ground floor windows. The front door had been replaced with a new one, ornately carved. Two men were breaking out the infilling between the timber framing and a fine white dust hung in the air, making one of the men cough and curse. All the shutters had been removed from the windows. Melissa’s astonishment grew. Surely they were not putting in
glass
! The cost would be tremendous. A new roof — she saw that the stack by the door
were
roof tiles. The Tuckers mine was also going through a difficult time financially. They could never afford such luxuries, she told herself. But if not the Tuckers, then who was responsible for the restoration, or conversion, of Maudesley?

‘Mistress Benet, isn’t it?’

She turned to find a tall elderly man beside her. He had piercing brown eyes and she recognized the voice instantly. He gave her a steadying hand as she stumbled.

‘Henry Bullen!’ she cried. He had worked on Ladyford when it was restored for her and Thomas to move into. ‘I might have known you’d be here. Won’t you ever stop working?’

He laughed. ‘Not while there’s breath in me body. And this place is a fair old challenge. I couldn’t say no, tho’ my old woman ranted at me when she knew. You’re nigh on seventy, Henry, she says. You should give up while there’s still time. Put up your feet and tell stories to your grandchildren. But I can’t bear to be idle, that’s my trouble. And Maudesley! Why, there’s plenty of younger men’d give their right arms for this job.’

‘And you got first offer,’ said Melissa. ‘They know they’ve got the best man. Trust the Tuckers to come to you. They know a — ’

‘Tuckers? ’Taint the Tuckers,’ he said. ‘They sold it, the Tuckers did. Nigh on a month ago.’

‘Sold it? Who to?’

He shrugged. ‘Can’t tell you,’ he said, ‘’cos I don’t know. A foreign gentleman, ’tis said, but then I don’t listen to rumours. We started work a week ago.’

‘Foreign!’ Melissa’s face fell. ‘French, d’you mean, or German? Don’t you know anything about them?’

‘Not a thing.’ He broke off for a moment to bellow at one of the workmen on the roof above them. Then he took Melissa’s arm and led her in through the new doorway into the house. Here more work was in progress. The stairway had been demolished and the earth floor was being raked up and carted away in barrows.

‘’Tis all a mystery,’ he told her eagerly. He kept his voice low and she had to lean towards him, straining her ears to hear.

‘All I know is a lawyer from Exeter offered me the contract and gave me a free hand. He sent me a list of work to be done and, except for the men doing the glass windows, I chose the men myself.’

‘But if you don’t know who owns it, do you know who’s paying for it?’

‘No. I don’t know nowt about it. The lawyer fellow sends me money as I present my accounts — and a good payer, he is, too. Prompt, he is. I’ve no complaints. I chose the best tiler and these tiles are worth a tidy sum. Hand-made of terra cotta, they are, and baked in a charcoal clamp. Local tiles, they are, last forever, I’m telling you and so they should at the price. But he can afford the best, this gentleman, whoever he is. And the floor — look at it.’ He waved an arm. ‘Three days it’s taken them and they’ve another day’s work afore they’re done. Earth floor’s no good, you see. Chestnut planking, it has to be, on wooden rafts, like upstairs. Much warmer, of course. And no need to straw it. They’re having one of the upstairs rooms panelled in oak!’

‘Panelled?’

‘Aye, linen fold. That’s going to look a treat. The old fellow that’s doing it is tied up at the moment, finishing a rede loft at the church. But he’ll be here before the month’s out.’

Melissa shook her head in amazement. ‘But why all the secrecy?’ she said. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘No more do I,’ he said, ‘but I’ve learnt to live with it. I get my money and that’s all I care about. He can be from Timbuctoo, for all I care, and black as the ace of spades! He pays and I work.’

Melissa looked round. ‘’Tis certainly going to look very different,’ she said. ‘Sad in a way, for I liked the old place. I only recall it as a young girl but I’ve heard tell of it in the old days.’

‘Aye. One of the Tuckers wed a Kendal, I believe.’

‘Aye. Joseph wed Elizabeth — a long time ago. And the windows? I see the shutters are all gone.’

‘Glass, as I’ve told you already, but upstairs he’s having oriel windows.’

‘Oriel?’

‘Aye — they project from the wall, so.’ He described it with his hands. ‘And inside a seat under the window.’

‘In the bed chambers?’

‘Ah, no. The largest bed chamber is to be a withdrawing room for entertaining or receiving visitors. Oh, ’twill be very grand, I can tell you. Did you see them pulling out the old wattle and daub? ’Tis to be filled in with bricks set in a pattern. Aye, ’twill set a few eyes popping when ’tis all done, I can tell you. Oy!’ he shouted. ‘Mind how you go with that barrow. You’re not ploughing a field, you know!’ He tutted. ‘Some of the youngsters! Not got the same dedication to the job as we had.’

Melissa said, ‘I won’t ask you to show me upstairs!’

‘Ah, the missing staircase! All wood, the new one’s going to be, and very grand with a pierced balustrade, whatever that may be. An old fellow’s coming from London ’specially to make it. Arriving any day now.’

They walked out again into the sunshine and Melissa remembered guiltily that Maggie was waiting for her. She made a hasty farewell and rode back to pass on the fascinating details to her friend and the two women rode back to Ladyford in a state of great excitement.

*

Minnie accepted the letter from the messenger because Hugo and Maria had ridden over to Maudesley, on hearing Melissa’s news, to see the transformation for themselves. Allan was resting and Ben and Ellie were busy — Ben in the garden and Ellie gathering in washing which lay drying in the orchard.

‘From where has it come?’ she had asked and been told only Appledore. But that was enough! She thought she recognized the handwriting as Martin’s but could not be certain for he wrote so rarely, much to Maria’s disappointment. It was
not
Felicity’s. Of that Minnie was convinced, for she had written frequently while old Ruth had been alive. The question was — if it was from Martin — did it concern Felicity?

Carefully Minnie eased up one of the corners and ‘hollowed’ it out so that she might read a word or two. She saw the words ‘ — without too much’ and beneath them ‘ — not to one but’ and again below that ‘and good spirits’. Did that mean what she thought it meant? It was very frustrating to hold the letter in her hand and know that it contained news of great import, or else why was he putting pen to paper. She took a knife from the box and separated the sheets further — ‘this fifteenth day of’ was quite distinct but not very illuminating. Cursing under her breath, she took the letter to the window and held it, hollowed, to the light, and peered closely at it. Was that a capital ‘F’ for Felicity or was it February? Hardly the latter, for it would soon be June. Turning the folded paper and squinting horribly, she made out the words ‘has asked for’ and before that it looked like a word beginning with capital ‘L’. Gently she prised the corners wider, but she put a little too much pressure and to her horror the seal parted and the letter fell open in her hands.

‘Holy St Katherine! They’ll slaughter me!’

She was now faced with a dilemma. If she stopped to read the letter there might not be time to repair the damage — if there
was
a way to make good the seal. If not, she must concoct a convincing story that would explain how it came to be opened.

The temptation was too great and she unfolded the letter and began to read. She was not a fluent reader, having been taught late in life, but she could manage most of the words. Certainly enough to understand the content to her own satisfaction. Felicity had given birth to twin boys! Someone called Lucas had offered to wed her. Martin had gone to visit her, so she was obviously no longer living at Romney House. The reason for that, Minnie concluded, was equally obvious. They were Martin’s children. She refolded the letter clumsily, her fingers trembling with excitement. And Martin would be arriving within a few days of the letter. Phew! Minnie rolled her eyes expressively. Heron was in for a shock — unless they all knew already. Yet she was sure she would have overheard a chance remark here or there. No, there was a shock coming, she was certain of it. But now what was she to do about the seal. She would have to reheat it and press it down again — and quickly. She would have a lot of explaining to do if she was caught. Thrusting the poker into the fire, she tapped a foot anxiously while she waited for it. Then carefully she touched the seal. To her immense relief it softened but not enough. Back went the poker into the fire and this time she allowed a little longer for it to heat up. This time she was lucky and the sealing wax melted. She dare not let it bubble or the impression of Martin’s ring would warp and there was no way to put
that
right. With a quick movement, she pressed a forefinger on to the seal, closed her eyes and prayed.

From outside she heard the distant clatter of hoofbeats and knew that Hugo and Maria had reached the stable. The letter was closed! Thankfully she ran through into the Hall and laid the letter on the table then hurried back to the kitchen. She was dismayed to smell burning wax and snatched up a cloth and fanned it frantically in the air to disperse the smell. I never will again, she vowed, if only they don’t notice. Never again, as God is my witness. She tossed the cloth down as Ellie came in with the washing and dumped it on the table. The girl wrinkled her nose.

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