Stolen Lives (The Alice Chronicles #3)

17

T here’s a baby, Alice!’ Sam shouts across the bed at her.

Alice pushes herself up on one elbow. ‘What?’ Last night when she returned from Cazanove’s chamber, Sam was spread out in the middle of the bed, and she had to ease him aside to get in herself. This morning he has risen, dressed himself after a fashion, and been out and around the house before she is awake. Too much wine after all, she thinks, combined with a hefty nocturnal curiosity. I’ve slept late.

‘The lady that’s staying here,’ he tells her. ‘I went round the rooms and I found her with a baby!’

Sam, on a journey of discovery. His natural curiosity, she thinks, could have offended Luella Goldwoode. I must find out what’s to do. She pushes aside the coverlet and sits up. ‘And what did you think of the baby?’

‘She’s so pretty,’ he says. ‘Ruth let me hold her.’

Ah yes, Robin Harker’s daughter placed by Ursula as nurse to Luella’s baby. Another of the Harkers given the opportunity to help support the family. She will earn more as a nursemaid than she did making nettle cord. ‘Sam,’ Alice says, ‘what’s holding up your breeches?’

He looks down, lifting his shirt to peer. ‘Oh, those point things, I tied them together.’

‘Let me see. Climb up here on the bed.’ The laces – points – that are supposed to be threaded through eyelets in doublet and breeches to hold them together, he has instead threaded through two eyelets on the breeches, pulled tight and knotted. Several times. She sets to, working at the knots with her fingernails, but Sam quickly tires of holding still.

‘Come and see the baby,’ he says. ‘She’s got a brown bit here,’ pulling aside his shirt and pointing to his shoulder. ‘My mammy had one like it on the back of her neck.’

‘You’ve got one on the back of your neck too,’ she tells him. It is the first time in many months he has mentioned his mother, victim of last winter’s plague. He seems to have absorbed and accepted her departure, and Alice is glad of it for his sake. ‘That’s a beauty spot, Sam, a birthmark.’

‘Am I beautiful, then?’ he asks her.

‘Sam,’ she says, clasping him to her, ‘if you had a hundred beauty spots or none at all, you would always be beautiful to me!’

‘You must be very beautiful, Alice. You’ve got them all over your face.’

She laughs. It would take too long to explain about freckles. She gives up on the knots and says, ‘Let me get dressed and we’ll go and see the baby.’

It takes Alice only minutes to don her gown and Sam dances ahead of her down the passages. As with all the rooms in the mansion, Eleanor’s little chamber is well appointed, its plasterwork ceiling boasting painted roses at intersections of the strapwork, its limed panelling stretching to full height and fitted with bright pewter sconces. The hooded wooden cradle has its own feather mattress and tiny worked coverlet. The embroidery is recognisably Ursula’s, possibly stitched in the early days of her marriage when she hoped for the blessing of children.

Luella is only too pleased, she says, to have Sam and Alice take an interest in her child. ‘I have felt the lack of society,’ she admits, ‘since my cousins and I had that falling out over my husband’s estate. I don’t feel comfortable in their company. And they spend the day closeted in the heat of the solar when I want to be out in the gardens.’

They stand looking down at Ruth seated on a low three-legged stool alongside the cradle as she finishes changing the baby’s napkin. Sam, keen to assist, hinders more than he helps but Ruth is gentle, encouraging him with kind words as she picks up a fine lawn shift and fits it over Eleanor’s head.

‘There, Alice, see?’ Sam says, pointing at the baby. ‘It’s the beauty spot.’

‘So it is,’ she agrees and turns to Luella. ‘Sam thinks my freckles are beauty spots too!’

Luella says nothing as she leans across Sam to help Ruth fit Eleanor’s arms into the sleeves, and Alice feels herself blush. Does she think I was angling for a compliment? Luella tugs the shift smartly down her daughter’s body. ‘Lay her back into the cradle now, Ruth.’

Having seen Eleanor settled, Luella addresses Alice. ‘We shall leave her to sleep.’ She retreats into the adjoining chamber. A deep feather mattress and soft pillows adorn the large canopied bed, with curtains, headcloth and coverlet in crewel-worked linen. Not only a coffer but also a set of drawers is provided for clothes and linen.

Luella speaks. ‘I shall ensure Martyn is handsomely compensated for his disappointment. I feel myself the usurper, after all his years of confident expectation.’

‘Wouldn’t your husband have made sure Martyn and Helena are looked after?’

‘Apart from the business, I have no idea of any provision he made for them.’

‘Was he not generous?’

Luella hesitates. ‘The pin money he gave me was difficult to stretch for Eleanor’s needs. When I told him, he said it was over half what he had as a boy, and a woman doesn’t need so much. He didn’t seem to understand that prices have gone up since he was a child. He saw no reason to change when he married me, and charged me to adapt to his habits. I did not oppose him, and I strove to be obedient to his wishes. He had a sharp tongue when roused but for the most part I have no cause for complaint.’

She has said no word of love or even of mild affection, Alice thinks, intrigued by the nature of this marriage. Common as it is for an old man to choose a young wife, Alice’s knowledge of such spring and autumn joinings suggests that they sometimes merge into a summer of content. But in this case, the man who was seemingly patient enough to wait for Luella to accept him appears to have displayed no particular fondness or generosity once he had secured her. And Luella is not “watering her chamber round” with tearful regrets, rather she seems compensated in her widowhood by the knowledge that she was dutiful. Alice reflects, I was not a dutiful wife to Henry, but I did have the seeds of love for him, and I ache still for what might have been… She pulls herself away from thoughts to which she is too prone and asks Luella, ‘Have you heard much of Helena’s intended?’

Luella shakes her head. ‘Only what I overheard when I first met them in the hall, that she would like to marry. But there is Martyn to consider. My husband told me his injury happened when they were children, a game of tag, and he ran into the path of a cart. Now there is only Helena to look after him. I do not believe she will ever leave Martyn. How can she, when she attends him all the time, and tolerates his bile?’

‘And Martyn is very good at bile!’

‘Several times I sent him funds out of my pin money, but Martyn’s letters which he calls “letters of welcome” only spoke of how pinched he is, how I must be enjoying my riches. I felt bad about it, and as I told Martyn, I did talk to my husband about it but he shrugged it off, and I really could not send more.’

‘Whatever Martyn says, I imagine inheriting the business must considerably ease his situation, and thus Helena’s too.’

‘I should like to see this man who wishes to marry Helena, all the same,’ Luella says. ‘I should like to assure myself of his affection.’

‘What would you do if you felt he did not bear her the affection she believes?’ Alice asks her. ‘Withhold the money you plan to settle on them?’

‘I couldn’t do that. I see what you mean,’ Luella admits. ‘But I don’t want him to take her money and abandon her, as Martyn thinks he will.’

‘You are a free woman now, Luella. You may engage an attorney to draw up a contract, such that her portion is given the best protection the law affords a woman.’

Luella gasps. ‘Can I indeed do that?’

‘You can,’ Alice tells her. ‘You could also engage a messenger to carry a letter inviting him to meet her at the inn, perhaps?’

‘Is that permitted? Would it not be forward?’

‘She would need to be accompanied, of course, for form’s sake. A family relation would be best.’

‘Oh.’ Luella’s shoulders droop. ‘Martyn, I suppose.’

‘But Martyn so dislikes the trouble of shifting himself.’

Alice and Luella, with Sam, have stopped in the village after attending church, to agree with Margery Patten on a suitable chamber at the inn as a parlour for Luella and Helena to meet Master Devenish. They emerge into the warm sunshine and Alice suggests a walk up to the bridge at the Woodley end of the village, before they return to the mansion.

‘Can we go to the smithy, Alice?’ Sam asks.

‘I don’t think Daniel is there today,’ she tells him. ‘He’s cutting the hay. Come to the river and you can tell me if you see any fish.’

They stand on the little stone bridge, leaning over to gaze into the clear water. Alice explains to Luella how it sometimes turns different hues, depending on what is being rinsed at the dye works. Sam, seeing no fish, and not overly absorbed in the colour of water, looks around for something interesting. ‘Alice!’ He tugs at her skirt. ‘Look, horses!’ Riding in from Woodley, Sir Thomas sits relaxed on his fine mount. Next to him, Abel Nutley bounces on a shaggy brown cob, as ill at ease as a fish on a feast day. Every now and then he drags his eyes from the track ahead to nod his rapid agreement with Sir Thomas, clutching at the reins to regain balance as his gaze fixes once more straight ahead. He ignores the two women and the child on the bridge, trotting past with white knuckles and locked knees.

Sir Thomas reins in, sweeping off his hat. ‘Alice, give you good morning. And Mistress Goldwoode, I assume?’ Alice introduces Luella, and Sir Thomas delivers the required words of commiseration before turning back to Alice.

‘How fortunate to meet you,’ he says to Alice. ‘Do you favour me with a moment of your time, my dear.’ He swings a booted leg over the horse’s neck and drops to the ground, while Alice directs Sam to take Luella to the smithy to see if Daniel is there. ‘I shall join you in a few minutes.’

Sir Thomas allows them time to move out of earshot before he turns to Alice. ‘Bunting’s still pretty taken up husbanding your place.’

‘Daniel? He is, and your boys will be kindly helping.’

‘He will soon need to reduce his involvement, now that the smithy is getting customers again.’

‘Is that what he said?’ Alice doubts it. Daniel is unlikely to openly discuss that matter while arrangements for replacement are as yet undecided. Sir Thomas, it seems, has been busy on his own account.

‘I keep an eye to the local doings,’ he says. ‘You’ll be needing to find a man to replace him. Now, Harold would be delighted to be part of—’

‘Sir Thomas,’ she interrupts, ‘before we go further, I should advise you that amiable as your son is, there is no possibility of a closer acquaintance than he and I currently enjoy as neighbours.’

‘I couldn’t agree more, Alice,’ he says. It takes the wind out of her sails, and momentarily she flounders while he goes on. ‘Harold would be flying for the protection of his mother’s skirts before we had drawn the curtains on your marriage bed. No, for a space I thought… but you may save your housewifely skills for a worthier mate, Alice.’

‘Then may I ask why you mention him, sir?’

‘I was going to say that Harold would be delighted to think that he might become the overlord of Hill House Farm. I happened to notice his preference for your company the other night. However, neither Lady Harcourt nor I feel it would be a match of equals.’

Happened to notice? Paraphrased, Alice thinks, Sir Thomas recognises the need to retreat from his unlikely plan. She smiles. ‘Harold will mature to be a credit to you, I am sure, sir.’

Sir Thomas looks his doubt. ‘If he doesn’t, I shall find him a wife who can transport him too far to come running back.’

So some dutiful, distant heiress is like to be rewarded with Harold’s hand.

‘Truth to tell,’ Sir Thomas goes on, ‘my purpose in stopping was to talk with you again about this matter of Wat Meredith.’

‘What can I tell you, Sir Thomas?’

‘Wat Meredith, it appears, has interestingly suggestive connections in Bristol.’

‘I believe, sir, Ursula is writing to you about that very issue this morning.’

‘So she should. And in the meantime, you can tell me what you know, Alice. And kindly remember you are talking now to Justice Harcourt.’

So this is official. ‘What makes you believe I know anything of the matter, sir?’

‘Let us cease this polite measure we are treading, Alice. The law provides me with a little dog to be sent on errands.’ He indicates Abel Nutley at the side of the road on his cob as it serenely crops the grass, indifferent to the yanking on its rein. ‘“Fetch,” I command him, and my little dog has duly fetched.’ His eyes come to rest unblinking on her. ‘Fanny Patten saw Wat Meredith at the inn the other night, and saw Mistress Goldwoode recognise him. Wat Meredith was with you. Would you like to tell me about that?’

‘There’s nothing to tell, sir,’ Alice replies, thinking fast. ‘Wat came to say that the Cazanove coach would be sent for Sam and me the following morning. I stopped at the inn because Sam was unwell. At the time I thought I must have done something to offend Mistress Goldwoode who was in the next chamber to mine. I know nothing of Wat’s background, beyond what Mistress Goldwoode has since told me, which is that Wat was tried for robbery and horse-stealing. Until you told us last night, I did not know how he avoided the death sentence. I only know he came into Master Cazanove’s service last year and was his body servant.’ At least, she thinks, I have managed so suppress any suggestion of Luella’s former feelings for Wat.

‘Hmm,’ he says, regarding her. ‘I shall be speaking with Mistress Goldwoode in a moment.’

‘From my dealings with Wat, Sir Thomas, I have always found him kindly, honest and straightforward. I do not subscribe to this story that he is a thief.’

‘You are strong in his defence.’

‘Because I believe him to be the victim of some error.’

‘What sort of error?’

‘I know not.’

‘The court rolls are coming,’ he says. ‘Yes, I have long since sent for them. Though I did not employ my little dog. He is like to be overly prying.’

‘Why would you not wish Master Nutley to read the rolls, sir? Is he not of the hierarchy of justice?’

‘He’d like to think so.’ Sir Thomas glances casually around. They are alone on the bridge. ‘Under certain conditions, Alice, I might see fit to make the court rolls disappear.’

‘Forgive my ignorance, sir, but isn’t it illegal to destroy court rolls?’

‘You understand the expression, For the greater good ? In one fell swoop, for lack of the record, Wat is no longer suspect. Thus we relieve Mistress Cazanove’s delicate reticence, by showing that there was no crime, no trial. Is that not worth thinking on?’

‘You say this comes under certain conditions.’

‘Hill House Farm.’

‘What!’

‘I’ll give you a good price,’ he assures her. ‘Some respectable land you have there, grain, sheep, the coppice. But it all needs proper care. Daniel does his best but he’s not a husbandman. And it looks as if some money could be spent on stables and barn. And the house too, for all I know.’

He has certainly been busy. ‘It’s not for sale, Sir Thomas.’

‘Not at this moment, perhaps. But when you have considered the alternative, failing to find another like our honest blacksmith to steward the land when you’re not here to oversee, I think you will agree that it would be a pity to leave it to fall into decay through ill usage, obliging you to sell it cheap. I can save you from that.’

She is silent, fighting the rejections that rise.

‘And you would not wish to hold Daniel back from following his true trade, I think?’

Why have I not taken the trouble to start seeking Daniel’s replacement? I have preferred to feel sorry for myself in raw widowhood. I have forgot that the world is full of wolves.

‘I see I have given you much to think on, Alice,’ Sir Thomas says. ‘Come, allow me to accompany you back into the village.’ He leads his mount forward.

As they leave the bridge together, Alice is deep in thought. If I do not arm myself, and quickly, she thinks, I could take the easy route and give in. After all, if I am to keep High Stoke in Surrey, it will demand all my energies for the foreseeable future, and none of the local husbandmen here are sufficiently skilled to turn their hands to all that needs doing at Hill House. Daniel has been a godsend, but God does not send two such. ‘I need time,’ she says.

‘That’s understood. I can give you a couple of days.’

‘A couple of weeks, more like!’ she protests. ‘A couple of months. I need to consult.’ If I did sell to Sir Thomas, I would be collaborating in a crime . ‘There will be attorneys—’

‘I can give you one week, maximum,’ he says. ‘Time is against us, Alice. I shall have to report to Coroner Dallier sooner or later, or he will wonder what I am doing.’

‘But he has not yet held his court,’ she says. Put it off, put it off any way you can, give yourself time to think. ‘He has not yet pronounced.’

‘He likes his pronouncements to take into account what I can discover. Not the usual way it’s done, I know, but he will be unwilling to pronounce an unknown hatted young man on a black horse as his verdict. I may have no choice but to let him have the court rolls.’

‘You don’t believe Wat killed Master Goldwoode, do you, Sir Thomas?’

‘Once Coroner Dallier sees the court rolls, I feel sure he will be powerfully exercised in his mind. So it matters not what you or I believe. I step outside my authority to offer this lifeline to a felon, because his mistress has a soft heart.’

Three birds with one stone. Not only does this plan secure him Hill House and all my land, preferably at a rock-bottom price, but also it enables him to reserve Harold to secure a dowry elsewhere, and – a long shot but worth the effort – use Ursula’s gratitude at his rescue of Wat Meredith to draw her close and win her for Tom. Thus do the Harcourt riches swell.

As they reach the smithy, Alice says, ‘I shall think about your proposal, Sir Thomas.’

‘Do that,’ he says. ‘I shall now have a word with Mistress Goldwoode, if you will favour me with a few moments of your absence?’ As she turns to move away, he warns quietly, ‘One week, Alice.’