At that accusation, she turned and fled the room, her kirtle sweeping the floor. Frances closed her eyes for a few seconds. She hated any reference to her romantic life; realising that a relationship was most unlikely. Although getting on in years and probably unable to conceive, there had once been a young man she had fallen in love with. He had married someone else which not only had soured her life but made her distrust men. She had decided instead to be married to her work at the manor. Anne was desperate to marry and blindly smitten. She didn’t see the greed or quickness of temper.
Chapter Eight
December 1597
When the earl’s father, a rich yeoman, had died some five years earlier, he had left most of his estate to William, being the eldest son. He had owned a vast amount of land bordering Yorkshire and Derbyshire and passed on the title of Earl of Becton, which he had inherited from his own father, originally earned for military duties completed during the Wars of the Roses.
Gilbert Harrison, Esq was the earl’s younger brother. Although he had married a woman from a wealthy family, he coveted the land and wealth of his older brother. Gilbert, however, had invested in new lands and buildings and thus now collected rents from many tenants in nearby Barlow and Brampton.
The two brothers generally shared the same views; except that Gilbert Harrison was a willing convert to the Anglican Church. He was also a more efficient business manager than his elder brother and, over time, Gilbert had grown resentful of the debts that the earl was incurring because of poor management of his estate. His visits usually centred on finances.
One frosty morning in early December was one such visit. The earl was not at his best. The dominant Gilbert enjoyed a confrontation; the earl would rather avoid one.
On hearing the heavy knock on the front door, Frances nervously straightened her coif. Gilbert Harrison was greeted with a small curtsey.
‘Please enter, sir, the earl is waiting for you.’
The tall, flamboyant figure briskly entered, swept off his large hat and cloak to reveal a thick green studded doublet. He handed the discarded items to Frances, who always admired his elaborate clothes . He marched into the front parlour, just as the earl was rising wearily from his chair.
‘Ah, William, you look tired and brow-beaten. Life is not treating you well, brother? It may be you need a rest.’
To try to establish a stronger footing, the earl straightened his back and looked directly into Gilbert’s eyes. ‘Not so, brother. I am well and busy.’
‘I don’t think busy enough, William, if your accounts are not growing. You still have not invested in your land, have you? What in God’s name are you doing with the income from the Sovereign, if I might dare to ask? Has the building of this new house cost you more than you expected? You should have kept father’s existing one and not listened to the wants of your wife. You should be comfortable, brother, with no debts.’
‘Enough!’ As always, the earl felt intimidated when his brother lectured him and now the anger he felt triggered an irritating pacing up and down. His brother was clearly of a mood to wear him down: not really seeking answers to his questions, merely wanting to vilify him. And now here he was, smugly watching him with a stern gaze, waiting for a reaction.
‘Well, brother, to which question do you want a reply?’ asked the earl. ‘In truth, it was such an onslaught, that I can barely recall the detail in each one. But I will endeavour to explain, yet again. My share of the land, as you well know, is only fit for pastoral purposes and farmland.’ He raised his chin ‘I have fewer tenants than you and they manage their own smallholdings. You know we have suffered greatly from more than one year’s bad weather and poor crops. It is easy for you to be smug, with your unfair rents, even from the poorest who can hardly feed themselves after you have had your greedy share!’
Gilbert had not expected this, but he relished a fight. He stood and raised his voice so much he was heard in the scullery by all. The servants were not the only ones listening in doorways, suitably ajar; Master Griffin, lurking nearby, noted every word, some already resonating in his head:
‘You have never been a great overseer of your finances, William. Father affirmed this to me on his deathbed. Your agent is obviously not astute. You need someone to have the foresight to further increase your yield! Why are you so unable to see this? If your land had been given to me, I could have made it profitable, but you, YOU…have no perception to move forward. Furthermore, another matter, there are those who suspect you still adhere to the Old Religion. You are seen to some, brother, as a Papist. The whisperings of the locals have come to my ears. It is a good thing at least that I hear you have rid yourself of that priest!’
Lord Becton had started to pace again. Why would his father discuss him on his death bed? That was a lie; and who actually suspected that he maintained his old faith?
Suddenly the frosty cold wind blew in through the scullery window and a door slammed shut with a loud bang, which stunned the two brothers into silence. The earl was the first to break it. ‘I must ask you to leave my house, talking in this manner.’ Both glared at one another before the earl continued: ‘You can rest assured that my accounts are not in as bad a state as you think they are.’
‘Very well, I will leave, but heed my words, William: Charlotte and the children as well as this house will suffer unless you gather your wits.’
Master Griffin, his ear turned towards the closed parlour door, raised his eyebrows at this last comment, his devious thoughts running wild. This fantasy of acquiring wealth and position for himself possessed him, and he was rooted to the spot. He was slow to slink away when Gilbert Harrison’s rapid strides and the swift opening of the door caught him unawares.
‘Who are you?’ Gilbert demanded. ‘Are you eavesdropping, sir, on private meetings?’
‘I beg your forgiveness, sir, but I was on my way to meet with the earl myself and about to knock on the door. I am Master Griffin, the boys’ tutor.’
‘Ah yes, I have heard of you. I trust you are not a Papist, sir?’ He glared at Griffin suspiciously as he waited for the reply.
‘Indeed not, sir. My aim in its entirety, is for the young Oliver to excel and to be ready for university, as my position dictates. I myself am an excellent mathematician.’
Gilbert Harrison looked surprised and wondered how much of the discussion with his brother had been overheard.
‘Indeed…perhaps you should discuss your talents with the earl, Master Griffin.’ At that, he gathered his hat and left the house.
Imaginings of taking over Becton Manor ran wild in Master Griffin’s head: Yes, I can manage the household accounts and gain a higher status, even the house itself, perhaps.
He had already started to plan his next moves and knew he must do so while the earl felt threatened and vulnerable by his brother. He must not hesitate.
Lord Becton however, was in no mood for another meeting. He looked up as his brother left and saw Griffin in the doorway.
‘Oh, can it wait, Master Griffin? I have much to attend to.’
‘Of course, my lord.’ Griffin sighed and walked away, disappointed but not beaten.
*
That evening, unaware of the incident with her brother-in-law, Lady Charlotte asked to speak with her husband concerning Master Griffin and the report from Frances. She had decided to act upon this when she realised it might be affecting her son. When the evening meal was over, the earl was still not in a good frame of mind, the recollections of his brother’s confrontation going round and round in circles. He could not shake off the nausea of intimidation, but now Charlotte disturbed his reflection.
‘I have heard from Frances and also Mary that Master Griffin is a hard taskmaster and has given Jack the birch many times. Mary is pleading with me to request that you dismiss him.’
Wanting to be strong, but feeling irritated by another issue of concern, he quickly responded, ‘Madam, that is what Jack is here for. Griffin can treat the boys as he thinks fit, as lo
ng as my son obtains a sound education.’
Lady Charlotte was taken aback. It was not a good time; her husband was in no mood to discuss Jack.
She tried once more. ‘Forgive me, husband, if you wish the schooling to go on…’
The earl raised his hand to silence her, but she was insistent.
‘You must listen, husband. Master Griffin has to limit the number of lashings Jack receives. I have thought about it. It is not a good thing that our son is witness to such harshness. Frances has told me the schoolroom floor is often stained with blood and Oliver is seldom in high spirits but pining as a boy should not do. He will not tell me what upsets him but Mary has noted this too. This will not make him strong.’
The earl sighed. ‘Yes, yes, very well. I do not want to hear any more of that matter, is that understood? I will speak to him in due course. You can tell him that I will meet with him.’
Charlotte said no more as she left the parlour. Something else was troubling him, she knew, and she always feared conflict within the household.
The next day, she sent for Master Griffin before lessons commenced and told him her husband wanted to discuss a matter of great importance. Then, fearing that discussion may be some time off and worried about her son, she added, ‘In the meantime, Master Griffin, my husband requests that you reduce the thrashings to Jack. This is causing distress to more than Jack, you must understand.’
‘Of course, my lady. I apologise for any distress that I may have caused. The boys are already becoming more robust in their characters so I see this as a reasonable option at this stage.’
Lady Charlotte found his smile surprisingly beguiling and she could see why Anne might be infatuated. Realising she had been looking at him for longer than might be considered suitable and slightly embarrassed, she turned to leave. Griffin slowly stepped between her and the door.
‘There is something, my lady, but perhaps I should discuss it with Lord Becton, if I may?’
‘Does it concern my son’s education? In which case you may speak freely with me.’
‘Thank you my lady. I am concerned that Lord Oliver’s learning in mathematics is not all it could be. I wish to try alternative instruction methods. I would like to discuss these with Lord Becton. I am of course, of keen interest for him to succeed in his studies.’
Charlotte very much doubted that her husband would care one way or another regarding Griffin’s teaching methods.
‘Very well, I will remind his lordship of the need to meet with you.’
Master Griffin bowed his head, thanking her, and hurried up the stairs to the schoolroom. The thought of not giving so many lashes of the birch irritated him; in truth, Jack irritated him. The whipping boy had only just returned to sessions since Kathleen’s outburst, following reassurance that her son would not be harshly treated, but to secure his plan for wealth he must try to control his urges and bide his time.
After a subdued morning of lessons the boys appeared relieved; but not comfortable enough to run off, hiding and playing games, as they had done when Father Peters’ lessons had ended.
It was seven o’clock in the evening when Master Griffin was putting away his books. The senior maid, Frances, knocked at his door.
‘If you have finished for the day, sir, the earl wishes to speak with you.’ It was a command, rather than a request, and Griffin found it distasteful.
He sensed she had an interest in him, even desire, and that amused him. He wondered if she had ever been with a man. She was prim, too pedantic, but he had a mind to tease her.
‘Ah, indeed. But may I say, Mistress Frances, you look quite becoming this evening. It is a shame you have to hide your hair under that cap.’ His eyes wandered across her face, before lowering to her full bosom. He smiled; her blush was the response he wanted.
‘Tell him I will come directly.’
Frances was not used to being told what to do by Edward Griffin, but oddly, for reasons beyond her judgement, she was unable to confront him. She wanted to linger and watched him tidying the schoolroom.
‘Oh sir, I would have thought you would have made the boys do all the tidying.’
Master Griffin grinned at what he perceived to be a flirtation. He strolled nearer, now very close to her. He lifted her chin high with his finger and then held it, his large thumb indenting her soft skin. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek. Why did she suddenly feel like a small insect trapped in a spider’s web? Why was she afraid of him? He released his grip and continued to tidy.
‘Is there anything else, Mistress Frances?’ She shook her head and turned to leave.
As she walked down the stairs, she contemplated the reasons for men’s behaviour. Some men could indeed be charming, intelligent and kind, but there would be an ulterior motive; the devil lurked in their thoughts and deeds, provoking them to use evil to achieve their desires. The devil lurked in Edward Griffin.
. *
The meeting with the earl went well for Griffin; his demeanour remained calm and he succeeded with what he sought to do: bewilder the earl with mathematical jargon. Griffin had presented the earl with his own accounts from his late father’s estate. He chose just the right moment as the earl’s eyes were glazing over.
‘Forgive me, my lord, I assume you understand the keeping of my ledgers? After my father’s death, I took on the farm accounts. Thereafter I showed that the farmland was making profits from which my mother benefitted until her own death. It was not an easy task but, as you can see, they are impeccable.’ There was a pause. He watched the earl reading them, knowing he had little idea of the figures before him, especially those additional ones that Griffin had added to deliberately snare the earl. He waited almost impatiently for a response and was not disappointed when it came.
‘If you are a good accountant, Master Griffin, I may have need for you. I have not had the time to monitor mine as carefully as I should. It has come to my attention that my agent, a rather old fellow who passed away, was rather weak. I hope you will improve upon that, Griffin. I will of course increase your pay, to support this extra duty.’
Griffin was delighted. ‘I am most honoured, my Lord and I assure you: I will make you profits that mean you will not lose this house.’
The earl was a little perturbed. Since when, during their meeting, had he mentioned fear of losing his house? That was what his brother had said. So this man must have been eavesdropping that morning. But profits were, after all, what he needed; for now, he would say nothing.
‘Very well, but you must keep me informed at all times.’ He paused again before changing the subject. ‘There is another matter; reports have come to my attention of your harshness when punishing Jack. My son’s future is of the utmost importance to me, Master Griffin. He and Jack are good companions and the priest believed they learned from each other. He assured me the birch had never been necessary. ’Tis of benefit when both are free to seek counsel and speak out: do you not agree, sir?’
Griffin frowned. How did these reports come to the attention of Lord Becton? Could it have been the precocious young Mary? He would need to be careful of her watching him. For now, he chose a diplomatic response, keeping the emphasis on Lord Oliver’s progress.
‘It was only one occasion, my lord. I agree that I was rather hard on the boy, but it had the desired effect of sharpening the wits of both of them. Lord Oliver is beginning to excel in languages and literature and now we will also make good progress with the mathematics. You have no need to concern yourself, my lord.’
The earl now faced Griffin squarely. ‘If my son reports any disparities, sir, I will not hesitate to dismiss you, profits or not. Is that understood?’
‘You need have no further fears, my Lord.’
‘Hmm… Well, I will consider all that you say, Master Griffin. I have other matters now to attend to. I will make necessary arrangements for the accounts ledger to be passed to you.’ The earl stood and Griffin bowed his head before departing.
Then, as an
afterthought, the earl called him back.
‘Master Griffin, the help you give me is only privy to ourselves.’
‘Aye, my lord. I would not have considered otherwise.’
Master Griffin smiled. The day had ended well. He did not want others to be aware that he was helping with the accounts, but more importantly, he wanted no one to learn of his future plans. He immediately thought of Mary. She didn’t like him but, furthermore, he sensed she was waiting for him to do something wrong. Whenever they passed each other, she looked at him suspiciously. If she got wind of his ambitions of owning land and property, she would not hesitate to report to her beloved father.
Chapter Nine
September 1957
After nearly breaking my neck in the secret passageway I got rid of my torn trousers, shoving them right down at the bottom of the kitchen bin. They were too short now, anyway. I’d recently had new ones and with a bit of luck, she’d never notice.
On the first morning of the new school term, breakfast was a quiet event. Despite our dislike of the house, neither Annabel nor I wanted to go to school and it was to be a long bus journey before we arrived there. I wanted to tell her about my narrow escape, but a voice kept saying no, just leave it…so I did. I guess I couldn’t face any more accusations of having a wild imagination and she could be so bossy. I stared out of the bus window, missing my old friends, even the teachers.
Would this new school be strict, with different rules? Would anyone actually speak to me? The bus turned into the school grounds and I was swept along with others as they eagerly chattered and marched into the school entrance. Everyone knew where to go, except us.
The Curse of Becton Manor Page 6
