Knight's Acre: Till Death Do Us Part

by Margaret Brazear

  “I am not my cousin,” he said. “I have no title, no wealth, no estate. Besides, you seem like a girl who would know how to behave, who would work to better herself. Robert will marry someone of his own class, assuming he marries at all.”

  “I thought you said he had wedding plans.”

  “I did,” he said. “But that was because your mother asked a question to which I felt I ought to know the answer. I have no knowledge of him planning to marry and I asked him about it, that very evening. He didn’t seem to know what I was talking about. He cannot marry and he knows it.”

  “Why?” demanded Catherine. “Why can he not marry?”

  “There is madness in the family,” he replied. “Not in my branch, I might add, but there is definite madness and he is afraid to pass it on to any offspring.”

  Catherine tried to suppress a laugh. Madness was no laughing matter, but a thought tiptoed across her mind which she found amusing.

  “Does my mother know that?” she said.

  “I haven’t mentioned it,” he said. “And I should not have done so to you. I hope I can trust you to keep it to yourself.”

  “Of course,” said Catherine. “I have recently found myself the keeper of many secrets, none of which are my own. Or, perhaps one.”

  “Can I know what it is?”

  “It will be known soon enough,” said Catherine. “Who will inherit the Earl’s estate?”

  “He has a closer relative than me,” said Paul. “Enough about him. Am I to take it that my love is rejected.”

  “Love?” said Catherine. “You do not know me well enough to say you love me.”

  “Don’t speak to Mr Jameson like that, Catherine,” came the voice of her mother.

  “Why not?” said Catherine.

  Paul got to his feet and grabbed his hat.

  “I think I had better leave,” he said quickly as he opened the front door. “This sounds like a private conversation.” He turned to Catherine before he left. “Please consider my offer, Miss Simmons,” he said. “I am assured it is your parents’ dearest wish.”

  “No, Mr Jameson,” said Mary. “Please, stay. You have not yet finished your tea and Catherine was but taken by surprise.”

  “No, Madam,” he said. “I should leave you to discuss the matter with your daughter.”

  Catherine watched him leave, then turned to her mother with her arms folded.

  “Well?” she said. “Why should I not speak to Mr Jameson like that?”

  “He might change his mind if he thinks he’s marrying a shrew,” she replied.

  Catherine stood up, and began to clear the table. She was pondering her answer, trying to decide the best way to reply. Was there anything that would stop her mother’s matchmaking for good; Catherine knew of only one.

  “So, it’s all arranged then, is it?” she said. “You and Father have decided I am going to marry Mr Jameson, no matter what I might want.”

  “He is a nice man,” said Mrs Simmons. “He has a nice house on the Earl’s estate and what’s more, he is related to him. You couldn’t do better.”

  She was wearing that satisfied smile again, the one that made Catherine want to disown her as her mother.

  “I can do better, Mother,” she said. “I can marry the man I love, the one who hasn’t got a nice house, who is not related to the Earl and has a criminal record to go with it.”

  Mrs Simmons sank down into an armchair and stared at Catherine.

  “How many times do I have to tell you?” she demanded. “You are not going to marry Michael Kimpton; you are going to marry Mr Jameson. He will arrange with the vicar today to have the banns read.”

  “I’ll not marry him, Mother,” said Catherine. “I’ve told him so.”

  “Well, he won’t expect you to mean it, I daresay,” said Mary. “I’ll not have you throwing your life away on that wastrel. Nearly two more years before you’re twenty one and you will marry whoever your father and I tell you to. Now, is that clear? I’ll discuss it no further.”

  There was no reply she could make. Catherine took her coat from the hallstand and slipped her arms into the sleeves as she left the cottage. She strode along the road, feeling a mixture of fury and disappointment and assuring herself that Mr Jameson wouldn’t want to marry her now she had refused him. But she couldn’t be sure. She didn’t know him well enough to know and she had no wish to hurt his feelings.

  Twilight was falling. The nights were drawing in and Catherine hated being out alone after dark. She could go and see Michael; his parents knew about them and approved, and they had kept their secret, but then it wasn’t Catherine who had the criminal record.

  She had nowhere to go and, after sitting on the wall beside the old well for ten minutes, she felt in control enough to return home and face her mother. She had always got on with her and that made this whole thing even more hurtful. She would have thought her mother wanted her to be happy, but perhaps status was more important to her.

  Her father was also home when she arrived and now he looked up from his newspaper and his eyes met hers.

  “So,” he said. “I hear Mr Jameson’s made you an offer of marriage.”

  “He has,” said Catherine. “I have refused him.”

  “Well,” said Tom, “It’s not up to you. You’ll accept him, or you’ll leave this house and fend for yourself. See how far you get.”

  Catherine shook her head in a gesture of denial.

  “You don’t mean that,” she said.

  “I do, my girl,” he said. “While you’re under my roof, you’ll do as you’re told.”

  Catherine made no reply, only made her way up the stairs to her own, tiny bedroom, where she lay down on her bed and considered her future.

  ***

  Jack Milligan had dressed and come down for supper for the first time. He was growing stronger, that was for certain, and Pauline still hadn’t told him about Jessica’s disappearance.

  The Earl hadn’t come round to see what had happened to her, so Pauline could only assume he knew where she was. She might well be in the Castle, hopefully not doing anything she shouldn’t be. But it was all very strange.

  This day, she watched Jack mop up the gravy with a slice of the bread she had baked that morning, then he drank his tea, pushed his plate away and looked up at her.

  “Where’s Jess?” he said.

  She had been dreading this question, but at least it meant Jack was recovering his strength.

  Gazing at him across the table, she timidly reached for his hand. She didn’t want to appear too forward, but she needed to soothe him.

  “I’ve been frightened to tell you before, Jack,” she said. “You were so ill and I thought I might make you worse.”

  “Tell me what?” he demanded. “What are you talking about?”

  “Jessica,” she said. “She’s gone.”

  “Gone? What do you mean, gone? Gone where?”

  “I don’t know. She left here when you were still so bad, and she hasn’t been seen since. Her friend next door doesn’t know where she is either, only that she said she needed some time to herself.”

  “What for?” Jack demanded. “And what’s the Earl had to say about it?”

  “Nothing. I haven’t seen him.”

  “What?” said Jack. “He hasn’t been round to ask after her? That’s not right, now is it? You don’t think he’s done away with her, do you?”

  “Of course not,” said Pauline. “But I don’t know what to think. Perhaps she’s decided not to marry him.”

  Suddenly he seemed to forget Jessica as he frowned at Pauline.

  “You ain’t been staying here, have you?” he said. “Cos if you have, we’ll have to get married sooner rather than later.”

  Pauline hid a smile.

  “I stayed one or two nights,” she said. “I didn’t think you ought to be left alone at night. I slept in Jessica’s bed.”

  “Well, that settles it, then,” he said. “You was wanting us to get mar
ried, weren’t you?”

  She blushed.

  “Well, yes, but we ought to wait for Jessica’s wedding,” she said. “We don’t want to take the limelight off of her.”

  “Don’t you worry about that,” he said. “We’ll go and see the vicar, have the banns read, then I’ll go and see the Earl and see what he has to say about Jessica.” He paused thoughfully. “Or I could get a special licence,” he said. “If you’ve been staying here, people’ll already be talking.”

  “There’s no call for that,” she said. “Those things are expensive and now you’re fit, I shan’t stay again, not until we’re wed. But you should go and see the Earl, see what’s what there.”

  She began to clear the table, her mind busy with ideas of what she would do if Jessica had decided not to marry the Earl. She wouldn’t have the cosy retirement she was hoping for, that was for certain, but even so, now she’d stayed overnight a couple of times, she’d have to marry Jack. It wasn’t a bad match; he was well set up with his tied cottage and his job.

  “I’ll go and see the Earl in the morning,” he said. “I’ll walk you home, then I’ll have an early night.”

  The following morning Pauline came in time to make Jack’s breakfast and clear away and once that was done, he went upstairs to change and returned wearing his only suit with a clean shirt, starched collar and tie.

  “Oh, you do look smart,” said Pauline.

  “Well, can’t go and see His Lordship looking scruffy, can I?”

  With that he grabbed his cap, the only headwear he possessed, and left the cottage. It took him twice as long as it normally would to reach the Castle; his muscles had weakened through so many weeks of disuse and he found himself struggling on the hill. He had to stop and sit on a wall on his way there, just to catch his breath. It wouldn’t do to turn up looking ill and weak. He was the bride’s father; he had to look like a strong man, even if he had lost that strength.

  As usual when anyone approached the Castle, the Earl opened the door and stepped outside. Nobody knew how he always managed to know when people were there, but he did; he never allowed anyone inside the Castle, except on that one day a year when he opened up the great hall for the villagers.

  “Milligan,” said Lord Harrisford. “You have recovered?”

  Jack whisked off his cap and stood straight and still.

  “I’m getting there, My Lord,” said Jack. “It’s been a long haul and that doctor didn’t seem to know what was wrong. It seemed like it was the same thing as killed my wife.”

  “Well, we don’t want you coming back to work too early,” said the Earl. “I’m happy to go on paying you until you’re up to the job.”

  Jack felt sure this was a hint, that thanking him for his support should have been the first words out of Jack’s mouth. But he had too much on his mind to even think of it. He knew what he was going to say when he set out, but now he was face to face with his landlord and employer, a titled member of the nobility, his carefully prepared speech had abandoned him.

  Silence lingered for a few awkward moments, until the Earl turned back to the Castle and Jack realised he had to speak up before he was gone.

  “I’ve come about Jessica,” he said at last.

  The Earl turned back to him with a frown.

  “Jessica?”

  “Yes, Jessica,” said Jack.

  “Oh,” said the Earl. “Your daughter. What about her?”

  Jack was getting angry now; he could scarcely believe the Earl’s dismissive attitude.

  “She’s gone missing,” said Jack. “I thought you might know where she is.”

  “Me?” said the Earl. “What makes you think I would know what has become of her?”

  “Well, she is engaged to you, isn’t she?” Jack demanded.

  The Earl only stared for a few minutes, causing Jack to move from foot to foot, to hold his breath in anticipation. But, damn it! He was the girl’s father. He was entitled to ask questions.

  At last Lord Harrisford spoke and it was the last thing Jack expected to hear.

  “I’m afraid you’ve been misled, my friend,” he said. “Whatever makes you think she is engaged to me?”

  Jack thought at first that he was lying, but he looked genuinely surprised.

  “I saw her getting in your carriage,” said Jack. “She was wearing your ring, the same ring I saw on display when you opened up the hall. And the brooch, she was wearing that as well. I saw you kissing her hand, right here, almost on this very spot.”

  Robert Harrisford sighed. He knew that act of sympathy would come back to haunt him.

  “She was distressed,” he said. “She seemed as though she needed some comfort and I was the only one available at the time.”

  “What’s she got to be distressed about?” demanded Jack.

  His confidence was waning now and he wasn’t quite sure where to go from here.

  “I allowed my then estate manager, Simon Swinburne, to borrow my carriage,” said Robert. “He left very suddenly, leaving a note for Miss Milligan to tell her that he was ill and had to go away. She was distressed about that and it was not until then that I realised she was wearing the ruby ring that had been in my family for generations. Swinburne stole it, along with the brooch.” He paused to allow Jack to collect his thoughts. “Miss Milligan was honest enough to return them to me,” he added.

  “So, she was engaged to your old estate manager?” said Jack in a feeble voice.

  “She was,” said Robert. “I am sorry for the confusion and even more sorry that your daughter has disappeared. Perhaps you ought to inform the police.”

  The two men stood with eyes locked for a long moment, then Jack turned and walked away, as quickly as he could without running. His thoughts were a muddle of memories, memories of himself, boasting to the whole village that his daughter was going to be the next Countess of Harrisford. And that woman next door! The Simmons woman is going to love this. He had really lorded it over her.

  He felt his face grow hot as his anger grew. Why did Jessica not tell him? Why wait until he had made a fool of himself all over the place? He’d never be able to face them now, never lift his head up among his colleagues. And what about Pauline? She was expecting a suite of rooms in the Castle and a nice fat pension, not toiling away as a farmer’s wife until it killed her, just as it did Amelia.

  By the time he reached his cottage, all he wanted to do was lock himself in and never see another soul, ever again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Banns Are Read

  Catherine had not uttered a word to either of her parents all week. She had always been given the liberty to speak her mind, as long as it stayed civil, and now to be told she was to be married whether she liked it or not, was just too much to cope with. She felt like she’d been kicked by a horse and bruised inside.

  She had told Michael about Mr Jameson, about her mother’s attempts to throw them together, but she hadn’t yet had a chance to tell him of his proposal and of her refusal. She hadn’t seen him since last Sunday and now she was itching to do so; she had so much to tell him.

  That Sunday morning she sat in church in between her mother and father, her mind so far away from the sermon she might as well have been on another planet. That afternoon, she would see Michael and talk to him about her predicament.

  In the past they had discussed eloping to Gretna Green, but it had seemed a pipe dream, much harder than simply waiting until she was of an age to decide for herself. Now they would have little choice. She had no doubt that Michael would agree with her and his parents would give them the money to go with, to get a train across the Scottish border to Gretna. It wasn’t what she wanted and the idea was very scary. It also meant she would not be here to support Jessica during the birth of her child, which was imminent.

  Perhaps she could persuade her father to realise that it was her life, not his. She felt sure they thought they were doing their best for her, that Paul Jameson would give her a better life than Micha
el Kimpton, but she also knew that her mother was a terrible snob and social climber. That was why she had spent all this time trying to persuade her to flirt with the Earl.

  Her thoughts were interrupted sharply, forcing her to pay attention, when she heard her own name, spoken loudly by the vicar.

  He was reading the banns! He had just read out the name of Paul Jameson and Catherine Simmons and now everyone was turning round to look at her. Most of them were smiling and nodding, but she saw on the other side of the aisle Michael and his parents. They were not smiling and nodding; they looked concerned and Michael raised an enquiring eyebrow. He also looked angry and that was something she had never seen before. Catherine shook her head, but there was nothing more she could do until the service ended.

  As soon as it had and people started to get to their feet, she hurried past the outstretched hands of people wanting to congratulate her, to ask her about her supposed betrothal. Outside she rushed to wait behind a mausoleum in the churchyard until the Kimptons came out of the church. Her mother was busy smiling and simpering to the congregation as they came up to congratulate her and tell her how pleased they were about her daughter’s engagement.

  Catherine wanted to talk to her, wanted to set her straight, but seeing Michael was far more important. He slipped out of the church with his parents, carefully avoiding the group around the Simmonses, and Catherine ran after them.

  He turned and frowned, a dark frown she had never seen before and had no wish to see again. His parents scowled at her and she felt like screaming.

  “Michael,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm. “I knew nothing about that. I swear it.”

  “How can the Reverend call banns without your knowledge?” demanded Mrs Kimpton.

  “I don’t know,” she said desperately. “Mr Jameson asked me on Sunday if I would marry him. I told him I wouldn’t, then Father said he’d turn me out if I didn’t. I was going to explain all this to you this afternoon.”

  Michael smiled and pulled her into his arms, something he had never before done with so many people about. Everyone was staring, the Simmonses eyed her furiously, and Catherine caught back tears.