My Lord Tremaine

by Oliver, Marina

  'What do they say in the village about the new family at the Court?' Jane asked one evening as they sat sewing.

  'They have not seen them, except on Sundays at church. Mrs Craven says none of the ladies in the village have ventured to pay morning visits. They feel that Mrs Tremaine ought to make the first move, and call on them, but with her being in mourning still it is rather difficult to know what is best.'

  'Have you seen Jonah? Apart from on Sundays?'

  'I see him occasionally. Why do you ask?'

  'Does he know what is to happen to us? May we stay here?'

  Elinor shook her head. She had been afraid to ask, she confessed to herself, in case it forced Jonah to take some action, to mention the situation to Lord Tremaine.

  'I don't know. I feel it is best not to mention it, and save as much as we can in the meantime.'

  Jane sighed. 'It's all so unsatisfactory! And we can scarcely move while Mattie is so ill. It could kill her to have to go outside, however comfortable Mr Craven's coach, and however many hot bricks and fur rugs she has.'

  Elinor was thinking about this when she returned to the lodge the following day, after taking her loaves to the village. She saw to the donkey, tethering him on a cleared patch of the garden where he could graze on the remaining vegetation, the outer cabbage leaves Elinor had stripped from the ones she had taken to sell, and turnip tops.

  She went into the lodge by the kitchen door, and called out to tell Jane she was home. There was no reply, and the parlour was empty. Jane's sewing was neatly folded on a small table, but she was not there, and the fire had burned low.

  'Jane!'

  It was Mattie, calling from upstairs, and frowning, Elinor cast another log onto the fire before she went upstairs.

  'Mattie? What is it? Where is Jane?'

  'I don't know, my love. I've been calling for an hour or more. Please can you fill my water jug? I'm parched.'

  Elinor took the jug, and glanced into their bedroom in case Jane was there, but the room was empty. Where on earth could her sister be, and why had she left Mattie alone for what seemed to have been a long time?

  She took fresh water upstairs, made Mattie comfortable, and went to heat up some soup. Jane normally did this while she was in the village, but this morning the soup kettle was standing on the table.

  By the time Elinor had fed Mattie and had some soup herself she was becoming seriously concerned. Where was Jane? Had she gone outside for some reason, and had an accident? But there was no cause for her to step out of the house. It was a bright, fine but cold day, and Elinor had strung the laundry on lines tied to the apple trees. It was not time to bring it in, Jane could not have been trying to do that. Nevertheless, before she began to mix the pastry for her pasties Elinor went to make sure Jane had not fallen anywhere in the garden. She ought to have done this earlier, and if Jane were lying injured, on a cold winter day, she would blame herself bitterly.

  There was no sign of Jane, but as Elinor turned back towards the house she saw her sister walking across the park, accompanied by a man leading a horse. Jane saw her and waved.

  'Elinor, how fortunate. You may meet his lordship. My sister Elinor,' she added, smiling up into Lord Tremaine's face.

  He bowed his head, and uttered a few words, but Elinor was so surprised she did not comprehend them. Then he turned to Jane, raised her hand to his lips, nodded to Elinor, and swung himself up into the saddle.

  Elinor watched him canter away in the direction of the stables.

  'What have you been doing?' she demanded as she and Jane walked back to the house.

  'Securing our future,' Jane said. 'I could not tolerate the uncertainty any more, so I decided to take matters in hand. I have been walking in the park every morning, while you were at the village, hoping to meet him. Well, today I did, and explained our situation to him. He has agreed we can remain here.'

  'You left Mattie alone! How could you?'

  'She sleeps in the mornings. She doesn't need me.'

  'She was calling you when I reached home.'

  Jane pouted. 'Well, because I met his lordship, I was out for longer than normal. Surely that was more important?'

  Elinor fumed silently. She was angry with Jane, but had to admit her sister had been successful while she had done nothing but wait and hope.

  'We still need to do the sewing,' she said. 'I can see why you have not been producing as many as we planned. Now you need not leave Mattie alone during the mornings.'

  *

  On the following day Phyllis came to see Mattie. She sat with her for an hour, and when she came downstairs she went into the kitchen where Elinor was rolling out pastry, and perched on a stool.

  'You'll never guess what's happening up at the Court!' she said, laughing.

  Elinor smiled at her. While she deplored gossip, Phyllis was an old friend, and it was only through her they could hear the news that concerned them so closely.

  'Not unless you give me a hint.'

  Phyllis laughed again, then sighed.

  'It's my lady,' she said. 'I'm fond of her in a way, but she can be very annoying at times. It has been quite uncomfortable since the new Lord Tremaine and his family arrived.'

  'It must have been difficult for her, first losing her son, then having to give way to a woman she would feel supplanted her.'

  'She and Mrs Tremaine have been at daggers drawn for weeks now. The very first day they were here my lady went to her normal place at the head of the dining table, but Mrs Tremaine asked her, in what Gooch, Edmund's butler calls her schoolmarm voice, to take her proper place at the side.'

  'Oh dear! I suppose she was entitled to take the head of the table, but it seems rather insensitive.'

  'My lady told me she simply forgot, it was instinctive to go there. She was so surprised she moved down the table. Then, when she had considered it, she decided to have all her meals in her room. She said she could not endure to be given orders by an upstart who was not even a Viscountess, just the mother of one. Her rank, she said, ought to have had precedence.'

  'Oh, how difficult for her! But insensitive of Mrs Tremaine, too. Surely they must expect her ladyship to remove to the Dower House soon, and then it will be resolved?'

  'Well, I'll come to that. Then after a few days his lordship begged her to forgive his mother, so she agreed. I think she was feeling she was missing things. You know she has always had a good appetite, and of course the trays they brought up did not have all the choices she has been used to. As she no longer had the ordering of the meals she did not know what they were having, and whenever she did ask for a favourite dish it was not being made that day. That she did not believe. She was sure it was done to spite her. And she heard they always have two courses now, so there was much more choice than before. She did not enjoy feeling she was missing out, so she has graciously said she will dine with them in future.'

  Elinor laughed. 'I saw Cook in the village a few days ago, and she was complaining how many extra dishes the new people want.'

  'Yes, more work, and no extra help in the kitchens. Cook is threatening to leave unless they employ another kitchen maid.'

  'I don't understand why Lady Tremaine does not remove to the Dower House. Does it need work?'

  Phyllis shook her head.

  'No more than some painting, but she refuses to go. She says she cannot endure being relegated to live there, for ever being sneered at by upstart newcomers.'

  'Then does she mean to stay where she is made so uncomfortable?'

  'No. That is really what I came to tell you. She means to go to live with her sister, Mrs Holt, in Truro.'

  'Will you go with her? I suppose you will.'

  'I've been with her since she married the late lord. I don't want to leave you and Mattie, but I can't face looking for a new position at my time of life. And living in a town will be a pleasant change.'

  'I suppose it will. When do you go?'

  'My lady has been planning it for some time, writing to he
r sister to make arrangements. My own opinion is she was setting down her conditions. Her sister is ten years her junior, so I imagine my lady will have things much her own way, even in her sister's house. But I will be writing to Mattie, never fear, so I'll let you know how we go on.'

  *

  Paul decided he would walk to Cambrai before he tried to find casual work. He estimated it would take him three days, and he would try to avoid any of the villages where detachments of the army of occupation were posted for fear they challenged men on the move. Freija had given him bread, cheese and sausages which, if he were abstemious, would last for the three days. He wanted to conserve the few coins he had in his pocket, so he planned to find barns or haystacks where he could sleep. At the last moment Gervaas, looking embarrassed, had thrust an army greatcoat into his arms.

  'Take this,' he'd muttered.

  Paul suspected Gervaas had been on the battlefield along with the scavengers, before he had sought employment digging graves. He welcomed the coat, which had served him as a blanket. Still wearing just the shirt and breeches he'd been given when he had been fit enough to rise from his bed, he would have been very cold if he'd had to sleep in the open. With this greatcoat wrapped round him he would be warm enough.

  There was no work to be found on the farms at this time of year. A town would offer more possibilities. A town suddenly host to many soldiers would be in need of extra workers, especially in taverns and inns.

  Skirting the many villages took time, and he reached the town of Cambrai late on the third day. It would be too late to try and find work now, so he went into a small wood, found a hollow beneath an oak tree, wrapped the greatcoat around him, and settled to sleep. Walking, he had discovered, was a different matter to the work he had been doing. It was steady, monotonous, and made him feel more tired than had a whole day chopping and stacking logs.

  He woke early, ate the last crumbs of bread and cheese, found a stream where he could drink and wash, then set off for the town. Afraid he might be challenged for possession of an army greatcoat, he turned it inside out, rolled it into a bundle, found some long strands of a creeper to bind it, and slung it over his shoulder. He dawdled when he reached the town, especially when he was near groups of soldiers. They were infantry, he discovered, and he was certain now he had been in a cavalry regiment. No one here was likely to know him, apart from the mischance of an officer recognising him. Whether that would be an advantage or a problem he did not know, but he was determined to get to England before trying to establish his identity. It would, he thought, prove less difficult and he had no desire to be detained for questioning in France.

  At the first tavern he asked there was a woman in charge, and she looked him up and down, then nodded.

  'You look strong enough to heave barrels of ale,' she said. 'My man's suffering from the ague. You can work here today, and if you give satisfaction you can stay a while, until he's better.'

  He remained there for a week, until the tavern keeper recovered. He was fed and housed in an old stable. The tavern was popular with the soldiers, but to Paul's relief the officers who might have known him patronised better-class inns.

  He put the money he earned with what Gervaas had given him, bade the tavern keeper and his wife farewell, and set off towards Amiens, another three days, he judged. But there were more soldiers there, he was told, and again by avoiding the villages he added to the length of the journey. He would be fortunate to reach the coast by the end of March.

  *

  Mattie was now well enough to come downstairs and sit beside the fire. She fretted at not being able to do any work.

  'You have enough to do, Elinor, you should not have to do my laundry as well as all the rest,' she said one morning when Elinor was helping her to dress.

  'It's not a problem.'

  'But Jane doesn't do enough.'

  'She does the ironing, which is a big help.'

  'She doesn't do much sewing now. We're not making these smocks quickly enough. I could do the straight seams, it's easier on these smocks than on the nightcaps.'

  Elinor smiled at her. Mattie had never done a great deal of sewing, but she ought to be able to manage a straight seam, and if it made her feel useful, it would help. And Jane found these the most boring, was always complaining she wanted something interesting to do. It was true they were not producing the smocks quickly enough to make much profit. Perhaps Jane spent too much time on the fancier detail, especially on the ones for children, which she insisted made a difference to how attractive they were to mothers.

  'Only if you really feel well enough. Promise you will stop when you become tired?'

  Mattie nodded. 'It will give me something to do while you are at the village.'

  'But Jane is here then, you can gossip with her.'

  'She's off out whenever it's a fine day, gone for hours.'

  'What is she doing?'

  Elinor was both surprised and annoyed. Jane had never mentioned this, but it accounted for the slow production. She had no time to demand an explanation now, she had to go to the village, but she would certainly ask Jane later that day.

  Jane, when questioned, tossed her head and said she could not endure to be indoors all the time, especially now the weather was improving and there were fine sunny days to enjoy.

  'Don't fuss, I will sit up later to do all you consider is my share. Be so good as to set out precisely how many yards of sewing you expect me to complete each day!'

  Elinor was tired. The extra work with the laundry meant getting up earlier, and doing some of the sewing kept her up late. She had tried hard not to be impatient with her sister, but finally her temper overcame her.

  'If you are so anxious to enjoy the fresh air you can take the donkey to the village. That would allow me both to rest and to do some of the sewing you say you find so tedious!'

  'Oh, Ellie, don't scold! I'm not so strong as you are, I could never walk all the way to the village and back.'

  'Not even once a week? The exercise would be beneficial for you.'

  'There is no need. His lordship has agreed we can stay here, there's not the compulsion to slave every hour of the day!'

  The use of her baby name had softened Elinor, but she was firm.

  'We may not need to pay rent for the cottage, but we have other expenses. You have had few new clothes since Papa died, and you will not endure that for long! And though the doctor did not ask us for payment when he came to see Mattie, she could be ill again, or one of us might need him.'

  'No, we are both healthy, and Mattie is getting stronger every day, she will not need the doctor to visit again.'

  Elinor was not to be placated.

  'And would it not be a pleasant change to have some good meat to eat? Though I am grateful to Jonah for the occasional rabbit and pigeon he brings us, I admit I would occasionally like some good red beef, or a leg of lamb.'

  Jane smiled, a secretive smile that made Elinor suspicious. What was her sister up to now?

  'Don't fret, my love. We'll have some good red meat soon.'

  She would say no more, and Elinor did not press her. Jane had always loved secrets as a child, and the more one tried to discover what they were the closer she hugged them to herself.

  It was two days later, just after Elinor was back from the village, that Jane danced into the kitchen, grasped her round the waist, and twirled her round until she was dizzy.

  'Jane, stop it! Let me go! What in the world has happened?'

  Jane laughed, and sank down onto a kitchen stool. She was breathless, and grinning with delight.

  'Look at the new Lady Tremaine!' she gasped.

  'The new – ? Jane, what on earth do you mean?'

  'William has offered for me! I am to marry him, just as soon as the banns can be called. There, do you not think I'm a clever girl?'

  'But, how does this happen?'

  'While you have been so cross with me for neglecting my tedious sewing, I have been making sure of our future! I h
ave been walking in the park, and meeting William almost every time. He's hot for me.' She laughed in delight. 'He thought at first he could treat me as I am sure he does the prettiest maids, but he soon discovered he could only have me when there was a ring on my finger. There, have I not been clever?'

  'But – Jane, do you love him? You have been mourning Edmund for the past nine months. How can you fall in love with another man?'

  'Pooh! I'm not in love with him. Nor was I in love with Edmund, but he was a good catch, the best available. I was going to be Lady Tremaine, and you must admit that was a step up from plain Miss Darwen from the Parsonage. Then he was killed, going back to fight in that silly battle, and he ruined my future too as well as losing his life. I've been given a second chance, and I could see from the first time he saw me, that first Sunday, that William admired me. Don't worry, my dear sister, you and Mattie can come and live with me at the Court.'

  *

  CHAPTER 4

  Easter that year was in the middle of April, and Jane and William were to be married on the following Monday. Jane had begged so hard Elinor had at last given way, and resigned herself to Jane's spending a great deal of money on her wedding gown and other fripperies. William lent Jane his chaise and they went to Plymouth where Jane thought the shops would be better than the local ones.

  'How fortunate you saved all this money. I have nothing suitable for the wedding,' Jane said, 'and I don't wish to let William down! Besides, we don't need to save the money now, we will be living at the Court, not trying to obtain posts as governesses! And you are to be my maid of honour, so you must have a new gown too.'

  'I have all the gowns I have not worn since Papa died,' Elinor protested. 'I do not need a new one, it would be too extravagant.'

  'You will need new ones later when you come to live at the Court. I wonder,' she went on almost to herself, 'whether William's Mama and sister can be persuaded to move to the Dower House. Now Lady Tremaine is in Truro, she doesn't need it, and really, Mrs Tremaine is like the dowager, even though she was never the mistress at the Court. But I insist you buy new clothes,' she went on, returning to the main point.