Sumerford's Autumn

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  “Well, it had better hurry up,” objected the Sumerford heir, sucking the ends of his moustache. “I miss Master Shore’s eggy custards.”

  “I shall ask your mother to have a word with the cook,” said the earl, disengaging himself from his son’s earnest clasp. “In the meantime, you might speak to our esteemed chaplain regarding the usual expectations of the seasons. Spring is invariably apt to arrive in March or April. See if Father Dorne will consider bringing it forward, with a timely word to the Almighty on the subject. But for the moment, my boy, I am weary. My excessive age, you know. No doubt I shall see you at suppertime, or hopefully later still. I may have a private supper brought to me in my chambers. In fact, you can report the priest’s reaction to me some time tomorrow. Though come to think of it, I may sleep in. Indeed, I may decide to sleep forever. And if you happen to see your mother, kindly inform her that I am not to be disturbed for any reason whatsoever. Indeed, not for the foreseeable future.”

  The earl disappeared into the upstairs shadows, leaving Humphrey perplexed. He shook his head and wandered off to search for his wife.

  With his lordship’s return, the servants were in uproar, scampering from the kitchens to the hall and from the hearth to the stairs. There were fires to light in the bedchambers, the main fire in the hall to build higher and more candles lit, hippocras heated and jugs filled, extra provisions for a huge homecoming dinner to be brought in from the pantries, ale taken out to the grooms now unsaddling the horses and dragging away the carts, and a mountain of baggage to unpack. Ludovic, in the midst of the noise and disorder, threw his gloves and wet coat to Hamnet, ordered wine, and strode to the warmth of the hearth. Hands behind his back, he stamped the mud from his boots and turned to face the disruption. The unknown young woman he had noticed previously, still stood at the bottom of the staircase, as though waiting for something or someone. She was watching him as he watched her, and seeing his regard, curtsied very low.

  Ludovic smiled. She was not dressed either as a servant or in the plain green serge beneath white Holland aprons of his mother’s female attendants. Nor did she appear to be a guest, since no one had acknowledged her or showed surprise at her presence. Her curtsey was too low for any lady of rank considering herself his match, but he welcomed it, since its depth showed off her cleavage to remarkable advantage. As she looked up again, her smile was certainly not obsequious or even entirely proper for a subordinate.

  The lady was very dark. Her hair was pulled severely back from an elegant and high plucked forehead, then glowed thick around her ears, and was pinned into a small headdress of white gauze. She wore expensive silks, powder blue over pleated white, and the low neckline was trimmed in otter against the swelling curves of her breasts. Her sleeves were not as ostentatiously flowing as fashion dictated, nor swept the floorboards as a lady of the court would have ensured, but they were embroidered in deep blue and trimmed in sleek grey fur. Her stomacher, wide and stiff, further accentuated her breasts, and her skin in the candlelight was soft and creamy with a faint glow of reflection. She was not, perhaps, as classically beautiful as the Lady Jennine, but her face was charming and full of character with a remarkably kissable mouth. Her narrow hips and full breasts were distinctly alluring. Then, peeping up at him, she rose from her curtsey and Ludovic saw her eyes.

  “Good God,” he said.

  “You didn’t even recognise me, did you?” said Alysson, skipping over. “Admit it.”

  “No.” Ludovic laughed, taking her hand as she practised her curtsey again at close quarters. “I’ve been away a month, and didn’t see you for more than a month before that. In two months you’ve changed a good deal.”

  “Good food, and a good mistress,” Alysson nodded.

  He held her at a slight distance, looking her over. “Are kindness and sustenance so miraculous?”

  She grinned. “Miraculous? Did I look that bad before?”

  It was a challenge Ludovic chose not to accept. “Is my sister-in-law spending all her inheritance on your clothes, or have you stolen one of her gowns for the day?”

  “Her things don’t fit me.” Alysson shook her head. “We tried once but she’s much bigger than me in all sorts of places, and I just looked silly. So she had this made especially for me and gave it to me for Epiphany. I chose the pale blue to make my hair seem blacker. Do I look nice? Do you like it?”

  “A most improper question,” smiled Ludovic. “But you look delightful.”

  “Improper? Is it so different now I work in the household? I suppose I’m respectable now, and you can’t just – well, not the way you did before.”

  Ludovic smiled, but did not answer her questions specifically. He murmured, “You have a great deal to thank your mistress for.”

  “To thank you for,” said Alysson. “So that’s what I wanted to say. I don’t usually come down here, but I had to see you. To say I’m sorry, and I’m grateful, and if I don’t see you ever again, I hope you’re – happy. It’s funny living in the same house as other people but never seeing half of them. At home we could even recognise the beetles, we saw them so often. Here I can’t remember most people’s names.”

  “I presume you remember my name.”

  “Don’t be silly.” The firelight reflected the lights in her eyes, making them dance. “And I hope your shoulder doesn’t hurt anymore, and your leg is all healed up. Should I speak about men’s legs? Probably not, but I hope it’s better anyway. And I hope you’re – enjoying – things. Did you have fun at court?”

  Ludovic regarded her for a moment. “No,” he said.

  “Oh. Well, Christmas was really nice here. My lady sent me home for two whole days, with meat and pies.” Ludovic kept his attention firmly on her face and tried not to let his gaze slip to her cleavage. “Didn’t you have big feasts and meet interesting people?” she continued. “Mistress Tenby is positive that everything wonderful instantly happens at court.”

  Ludovic laughed again. “And who is Mistress Tenby? Another of your strange collection of nurses?”

  “You ought to know who she is,” Alysson informed him reprovingly. “She’s worked for you for years. Mistress Tenby is manager of all the female staff, even the dairymaids and the wash-girls. But she’s not more important than me, not anymore. I’ve been promoted.”

  “I’m naturally impressed.” Ludovic snapped his gaze back up again from the depths of her neckline. “Though I must apologise if I’m a little vague about hierarchy. I’m afraid I have no idea about staff promotions.”

  “I started as a common maid. Bottom of the midden heap,” Alysson explained. “Latest come, lowest in rank. Now in just two and a half months I’m the highest; the principal lady’s maid and personally in charge of all the Lady Jennine’s private possessions. I suppose that doesn’t mean much to you. I expect it sounds – rather pathetic. But it’s awfully nice for me.”

  “My congratulations,” Ludovic murmured. “I can guess the likely benefits.”

  “And you must appreciate my dress too,” noticed Alysson happily, “since you keep peering at the trimming. It’s real otter you know, and very soft, and these skirts are so nice to walk in. This is the first time since I was very young that I’ve worn a gown anything like this and it feels very special. I suppose you wouldn’t know how wonderful it feels to walk in silk skirts, but it makes a big difference.”

  Ludovic reluctantly snapped his attention back up to her eyes with a grin. “I’ve always been partial to – otter trimmings,” he said with a slight bow. “And though my experience of skirts may be somewhat limited, my imagination is not. I’m glad you enjoyed your Christmas.”

  “Well,” Alysson frowned momentarily and hung her head, “apart from missing my brothers. But – I know you tried to help about that too.” She smiled again; golden veins in hazel green depths. “Now I’d better get back to my duties, but – thank you for everything. And if I don’t ever actually see you again, I hope you always have good luck.”

  Ludovic
raised an eyebrow. “As it happens,” he said very softly, “I think I shall ensure that we do meet again. It would – please me. I might arrange something.”

  “What did he say?” demanded the lady.

  Alysson began to unpin her hair. She sat at the huge mirror, a candle mounted either side; the pale scattering of light washing her reflection from wan to flushed. She shook her head and the black curls tumbled free. “He liked the dress. He said I looked – delightful. That’s an interesting word to use, isn’t it? I don’t think he was just being polite. People don’t say delightful unless they mean it.”

  “Silly child. Of course he meant it. Why would he not?” The Lady Jennine, wearing only a chemise so fine it was almost transparent, stretched across her own bed. She curled her bare feet beneath the coverlet. The chamber was stifling, the flames roaring up the chimney, a fire huge enough for a hall. Propped by pillows, she watched the nervous intensity of her personal maid. “Now, be precise. What did he look at most?”

  Alysson turned to gaze at her mistress, slightly perplexed. “I don’t understand. He looked at me.”

  Jennine sighed. “What part of you, ignorant brat?”

  Alysson thought a moment. “He said he’d always liked otter trimmings,” she admitted. “I thought that was an odd thing to say, but it must have been true, because he kept looking at the fur around my neckline. I like otter too.”

  Her mistress giggled. “This is never going to work, my dear, unless I explain a few things and you listen to me carefully. Did your mother teach you nothing?”

  Alysson coloured. “My mamma died when I was still very young, my lady. I was brought up by my nurse, and she’s extremely timid. I suppose I’m very – ignorant.”

  “You’re a positive freak,” decided the lady. “Now, take off that good gown and hang it on the peg before the silk becomes too creased. Delicate materials should never be brushed or steamed too often, it ruins the colours. You can fold it back into the chest later. Now – where was I? Oh yes, witless ignorance, bashfulness and breasts. You need an education, my girl, and though I say it myself, I am positively the very best person in the world to give it to you. But I shall be frank. And you must not be embarrassed.”

  Alysson stood bare toed beneath her shift, reaching for the dark green broadcloth of her work gown. “I expect I shall be embarrassed,” she said. She slipped the fine pleated shift off over her head and quickly pulled on the more practical linen. “And to be honest, I’m not sure I want to do this at all. I don’t think it’ll work. And I don’t think I want it to work. It feels rather shameful, and even dishonest.” She came back and stood, a plain maid again, before her lady’s bed.

  “Stupid child.” Jennine sat up and leaned forwards, speaking crossly. “What other future do you have? Can a woman ride to battle and come back a hero, cloaked in glory, expecting to be knighted by her king? Can a woman study science and write books on astronomy, or invent a printing press? Can a woman preach and become a famous bishop, or a king’s Chamberlain? Can a woman travel the world, have adventures and discover new lands? All we can do is decline into obedient old age in a convent, or marry a powerful man. But you can’t do either of these things, and you know it. You are a nobody, an orphan, and the daughter of a man who fought for the wrong king. You don’t even have brothers to look after your interests anymore or arrange a respectable marriage for you. As for the convent, you’d shrivel up and die in a year. So this, my girl, is your only option. Don’t be so squeamish.”

  Alysson sat and tugged on her stockings, fastened her garters, pulled her skirts back down and began to re pin her hair. No gauze this time, but a neat white cap with every sleek black curl severely hidden away. Aware of being watched, she blushed slightly. “I’ll be a bad pupil. I’ll let you down, I’m sure. It’s horribly frightening. And of course, it’s terribly kind of you to try and help, but I can’t at all see why you’re doing so much for me.”

  “Because I want to,” said the lady. “And my motives are my own business, but I have my reasons, and they seem good to me. So don’t argue. Do you want a miserable future in abject poverty? Or do you think working for me all your life to be a fine ambition?”

  Alysson stood up again, neat, tidy and invisible. “Well my lady, it seems all my family die young. Perhaps I will too. I have very little respect for life anymore.”

  “Pooh.” Jennine stretched, becoming bored. “And stop calling me ‘my lady’. It’s quite irritating. You know who I am.”

  “If I call you Jenny in private,” Alysson objected, “I might forget and do it in public.” She bobbed a curtsey, smiling suddenly. “So you’re my lady, and you’ve told me nothing about your past.” She rebounded from the curtsey with a small skip, and sat abruptly on the side of the bed beside her mistress. “So I believe you’re a grand heiress, daughter of a merchanting family from the north, and utterly, utterly respectable.”

  The lady sniggered. “And if I truly was all that, I certainly wouldn’t be able to keep my dear Humphrey in check. Keeping him quiet is what I’m here for, and I’m very well qualified. Otherwise he’d be chasing you again, my dear, or something far worse. But my qualifications make me an excellent teacher as well, which is just what you need. Trust me.”

  Alysson stood again and crossed to the window. The Lady Jennine’s quarters were high in the eastern tower, looking down across the main courtyard to the cold grey moat, and the sloping farmlands beyond. She stared out, eyes blurred with memories. “Of course I trust you. But as if anyone would look at me, when you’re there.”

  “I sometimes think,” Jennine lay back again, crossing her legs, hands behind her head, “you must be blind, my dear, as well as ignorant. I may be more voluptuous, which works well with most men, but you are a good deal younger and almost as pretty when you smile, which you don’t do often enough. Your eyes are quite remarkable, and your mouth is positively adorable. I am twenty nine years old and well past my first blush. I am ageing. No, don’t try to deny it, I’ve no illusions and I have a well silvered mirror. My skin is tired and I need ever more honey and paint to hide the marks. You are the future, my pet, and prettier every day. And now I shall teach you how to use it.”

  “I don’t want to learn how to – flirt.”

  “Flirting wouldn’t work with that young man,” frowned Jennine. “I tried it when I first arrived, but he saw through me as clear as water. He’s far too experienced. He is also mightily arrogant, and way too confident. But I know more subtle tricks to pull him down.”

  Alysson turned in a hurry. “That sounds horrid.”

  “You already do it without even realising.” Jennine pursed her lips. “You think he admired your otter trimmings? How absurd. He was staring at your breasts, my dear, and spent half an hour undressing you in his mind.” She kicked her legs from the bed and stood, strolling over to Alysson’s side at the window. The brittle icicles still frosted the glass outside. Jennine put her arm around her maid’s shoulders. “It’s a shame I can’t have you hide behind a screen and watch what I do with Humphrey. You’d learn a great deal.”

  Alysson pulled away at once. “You couldn’t. I couldn’t.”

  “I know,” Jennine said, somewhat wistfully. “Never mind. I shall find another way to teach you. I’ve tutored others in the past, far less beautiful and far more stupid. You’ll be a joy to educate, my pet.”

  Alysson had walked away, sitting again on the rumpled bed. The bed curtains, half pulled, hid her blushes. “But I’m still not sure I want to be anyone’s mistress, Jenny,” she said. “I’m not like you. I’m not the type to be someone’s lover.”

  “Even his?”

  Alysson shook her head, starched cap primly in place. “Especially his.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The cabin was suffocating. Although ice was forming on the mizzen mast and the poop deck was slippery with salt sprigged snow, below decks it was airless. Ludovic sat on the low straw mattress, boots up on the desk, head back against the wal
l. The space allowed little movement, the desk the only other furniture apart from the bed and one tiny stool. Two paces in either direction would have met with walls or door. The candle was a stub and it smoked. The stench was stale and heady with reminders of untanned hides, unwashed wool, untreated canvas, boiled cabbage, vomit and urine. The sour smells mixed with brine and sweat, and Ludovic found it increasingly hard to breathe.

  Captain Kenelm had managed to squash himself onto the stool and was regarding his business partner with complacent affection. “Welcome aboard, my lord, but then, seeing as this ship is more yourn than mine, you knows you’re always right welcome, and this time as much and more. T’were a mighty profitable trip, my lord. Best ever, p’raps. I’m right sorry if it must be the last.”

  “Legal trade already recommences, I’m afraid Kenelm,” Ludovic sighed. “We righteous smugglers must abandon our more lucrative commerce and turn tediously honest once more.”

  “Don’t know wot the country’s coming to my lord,” objected the captain. “Nuffing left for a decent sailor to earn his keep no more, ‘cept suffer them piratical attacks and risk our miserable lives for a few rotten pence.”

  “I hope we shall make a little more than a few pence, Kenelm,” said his lordship. “But certainly the wealth we’ve amassed over the last couple of years is likely to be at an end. I’ll still finance your next trip to Flanders of course, though it’ll be a normal cargo, and no need to bribe the customs. But I’ll reduce my profit percentage if you’re nervous of pirates.”

  “Them dirty little buggers is always around, specially through the Narrow Sea,” said the captain sadly. “But I ain’t scared of them. I knows how to handle mesell. We’d a bit o’trouble on this trip, as it happens, and aboard my own cog it was, which is wot I don’t expect nor don’t allow. Not pirates this time, but one bastard in my crew picks a fight just six mile out of Antwerp, and murders one of my best men. I was proper peeved, as you might imagine.”