Elinor sighed and agreed to buy at least a new gown and some sandals, but refused to purchase anything else for herself. Jane needed new sandals, and shawls and parasols and reticules for the month William was taking her away. Neither of them had close relatives, indeed Jane could not think of any her parents had still been in contact with, and William said his only relative apart from his parent, brother and sister was the Dowager, and that merely by marriage.
'So we are not going to pay the normal round of wedding visits,' Jane said, 'and I suspect William is planning to take me to London, though he is so provoking he will not tell me. He has frequently been there, and knows it well. It is the Season, and we will be able to attend the theatre and the Opera, and go to Vauxhall, even, perhaps Almack's. William has many friends there, so I expect we'll be invited to some of the ton parties, even some balls!'
'You will enjoy that after living here in the lodge,' Elinor said, pleased to see her sister's excitement.
'Yes. And I will be able to buy as many new gowns as I wish! Mrs Craven told me there are warehouses where I can obtain muslins and silks and all the necessary ribbons and trimmings quite cheaply, so I can bring them home and have them made up. I expect having a London modiste make up a gown will be expensive, but I will have to have a few made. And think, Papa always said he would take us one day to see Westminster Abbey and other sights, and now I will be able to see them. I wish you were coming too,' she added.
Elinor laughed. 'Perhaps I should become your maid.'
Jane shook her head, but she looked a trifle wistful.
'I am not to have a proper dresser to begin with, William says,' she said, 'and one of the housemaids is to look after me for the time being. That won't be for long, just a few weeks until I can persuade William I need someone more experienced, who knows the work.'
Elinor had to admit Jane would look delightful in the gown she had chosen. It was of pale blue silk, with a silver gauze overdress and silver spangles scattered over it. She also bought silver sandals and would carry a bouquet of simple spring flowers. Her own gown was a plainer muslin, also blue, but she had resisted Jane's wish to give her silver sandals too, saying brown kid would be much more practical.
'I will not be going to balls, so silver ones for me would be wasted.'
'Not yet,' Jane said, and laughed. 'We'll have parties at the Court now, and I mean to find you a husband.'
Elinor shook her head. She admitted to herself she would be happy to exchange the lodge for life at the Court, and forget the endless baking of the past few months, but she did not wish to plunge into matrimony. She had sometimes dreamed of a handsome husband, someone who loved her and whom she could love, but knew it was only a dream. Unless William had friends who came to stay, where would she meet anyone suitable? Jane might talk of hosting parties and attending balls and Assemblies in Plymouth, but they did not know many people apart from the villagers, and it was just too far for driving to Plymouth and back for a ball. They would have to stay in an hotel, and she could not see William being happy to take her too. He had never been more than icily polite to her, and she thought he sometimes regarded her with a suspicious dislike.
Jane had admitted she did not love William, and was marrying him for position and wealth. After the past few months Elinor could not find it in her to blame her sister, who hated poverty and their present existence, but she knew she could never do the same. In the weeks since Jane's betrothal she had come to know William and his mother and sister a little, but after one dinner party at the Court she had received no further invitations, and she had met them only at church or at the lodge when they came to discuss the wedding with Jane. Or, she amended her thoughts, to give Jane orders. His mother seemed proud and condescending. She clearly deplored William's betrothal, but had said nothing directly to her or Jane. Elinor suspected she was slightly in awe of her son.
Mattie was presenting another problem. Jane said she was sure William would permit her to live at the Court, but William himself had not mentioned it. She was really too old to be expected to take on any responsibilities, and since her illness had been much weaker than before. Elinor was certain Mrs Tremaine would not be willing to house Mattie unless she was working. Nor could Mattie be left on her own at the lodge, which is what she maintained was her preference. The house might soon be wanted for one of the estate workers, and it seemed as though William intended to employ more gardeners. Jane came home one day full of his mother's plans.
'Mrs Tremaine wishes to tear up the gardens close to the house and build a terrace, with several statues surrounding it. Then the river is to be diverted so that it flows closer to the house, and a lake formed. She wants some kind of Chinese house to be built, I think she called it a pagoda, on the far shore.'
'Destroy the gardens?' Elinor asked, horrified.
'Well, I know they are very pretty, but the Dutch style is no longer fashionable,' Jane said. 'His mother says they will replant the roses elsewhere, but it is the prospect she wants to improve. There isn't enough room for the kind of landscape she would really like, such as Capability Brown devised, but she once visited Croome Court and was taken with all the grottos and temples and statues there. She says she can contrive something like that here.'
'Statues on a terrace? Lady Tremaine would be horrified!'
Jane giggled. 'I know, but she won't come back, she will never see it.'
*
Paul obtained another temporary position as a tapster in one of Amiens' biggest taverns. He had spent as little as possible of his money, just on food as he travelled, but he was aware he would need far more if, by ill chance, he had to pay for a passage back to England. He would stay here and earn what he could, for it was better paid than many jobs and there were occasional tips. The English Army of Occupation was not garrisoned further along the route he must travel, so the chances of casual work at suddenly busy taverns would be fewer.
He was serving one of the English soldiers one evening, handing him his change, when the man caught hold of his left hand.
'Here, what's this?' he demanded. 'How comes it a man of your sort has a gold ring? Stolen, is it?'
He tried to tug it from Paul's finger, but Paul was stronger and resisted.
'What business is it of yours?' he asked.
'It's my business if it was stolen.'
'It wasn't, I've always had it.'
The soldier stared at him in disbelief, but then shrugged and walked back to his companions. Paul thought no more of it, and the group of soldiers soon left the tavern. It was much later, when he was making his way across the stable yard to his bed in the loft where the ostlers slept, that he met the soldier again.
There were two of them, and they converged on him as he stepped out of the back door of the tavern. Before he was fully aware of them one of them swung a punch at his head which rocked him backwards. Paul managed to dodge the punch aimed by the second man, and returned the blow, sending him staggering out into the yard. His first assailant was moving towards him, and Paul, leaning sideways, caught his arm as he swung it again and dragged him further forwards, then aimed a blow at his chin, causing him to fall on top of the first man, lying breathless on the cobbles.
Paul swiftly positioned himself against the tavern wall, and waited. The first man was struggling to push off his friend, cursing him for a fool. Paul recognised the voice, it was the soldier who was interested in his ring. So they wished to steal it, did they? Were the soldiers of the British Army so badly paid they would risk trying to thieve a single gold ring? Or had the man seen the engraving on it, which meant something to him?
The rest of the fight was short and effective. Afterwards Paul realised he had, at some time, been taught to box, for his punches were far more effective than the wild blows aimed by the soldier. He was soon lying beside his friend, groaning, and trying to stem the blood flowing from his nose, complaining it had been broken.
'Be thankful it's not your head,' Paul said, and crossed the yard to
the ostlers' loft. He was not afraid they might follow him. The one was still unconscious, and the other too busy with his broken nose.
A lantern was burning at one end of the loft, and the other men who slept there were asleep and snoring. Their day began and ended earlier than Paul's, but they left the lamp for him, saying they didn't wish to be woken by him stumbling about in the dark. He sat down by the lamp and realised something which he had not had time to think about. He was certain, somehow, that his name was Tremaine. Had that first blow to his head, which he was now beginning to feel, brought about this sudden return of memory, in a similar way to how he suspected he had lost his memory on the battlefield?
He slid off the ring and looked carefully at it. He had puzzled over it many times, and tried to decipher the ornately engraved and entwined letters. Now he was sure one of them was a T. The other might be an E or an F, he couldn't decide. But neither letter aided his memory. He was now certain his name was Tremaine, but the blow on the head had stimulated no further recollections. At least it would help him when he reached England, he thought, and began to strip off his clothes before he turned out the lantern, slid onto the straw pallet provided for him, and settled to sleep beneath the rough blanket.
*
William said he had no friends who lived near enough to be able to come to the wedding, and Jane said she did not wish to invite anyone. The Cravens and some of the other gentry in the neighbourhood would have to be invited, Mrs Tremaine said. She had visited the lodge to tell Jane what she proposed doing for the wedding breakfast.
'We need to show them some consideration, I suppose, since they have known you all your life, Jane,' she said, sighing. 'We will invite them back to the Court, but I am not ordering a special banquet for them. Perhaps your sister will bake some of her raspberry tartlets. Mrs Craven tells me how delicious they are.'
'Raspberries are not in season, Ma'am,' Elinor said. 'Nor strawberries, as Lady Tremaine did not keep the succession houses going after Edmund joined the army. She said she thought fruit was injurious to the body, and did not see the need to grow it out of season.'
'That woman did not do her duty to her son, the Court has been left to go to rack and ruin!'
Hardly, Elinor thought, and suppressed a grin. This comment was, she was sure, a ploy by his mother to persuade William to loosen his purse strings for redecorating her own rooms.
'Well, what else could you bake for us?'
'If you could obtain some lemons I could make lemon tartlets,' Elinor offered, though she did not really see why she should be expected to do the work of the Court's cook.
'Lemons? They are far too expensive! And I'd probably have to send to Plymouth for them. There are still some apples in store, I believe.'
'Very well, I will make apple pies,' Elinor said. 'But I will need the money to buy flour and butter.'
'What? For something as little as a few pies?'
'Jane has spent most of our savings on her wedding finery.'
'Then if you cannot afford to help a little, I would not wish to trouble you.'
On Easter Sunday, after they came home from church, Elinor assisted Jane to wash her hair and tie it up in papers ready for the following day. Elinor guiltily thought she would be highly relieved when this wedding was over. The problem of what was to become of her and Mattie she would leave until Jane was back from her wedding trip.
They may not have invited any relatives, and only a few village friends, but it seemed as though the entire village had turned out to see the new Viscount wed a girl they had known all her life. Jane looked fragile and beautiful. William was dressed in a new blue long-tailed coat, a waistcoat striped in blue and grey, and skin-tight pantaloons in a pale yellow, which did not suit his rather skinny legs. His valet had clearly made a special effort to give a gleaming shine to his hessians. He sported several fobs and two rings with huge stones, one a diamond, the other a dark red ruby. He had more jewellery than Jane, who had only a simple chain and locket that held miniatures of their parents.
William was supported by his young brother George. His coat was modishly tight, and the shoulders had been padded, for the boy tended to slouch. His shirt points were so high he could not turn his head. His legs, unlike William's, were short and fat, but he was wearing tight lavender pantaloons and a neckcloth twisted into some elaborate style, which seemed in some manner to be a problem, for he was continuously fingering it as though to straighten it.
The ceremony was conducted with due solemnity by Reverend Leamore, the happy couple accepted the congratulations of the villagers while the children scattered flower petals in their path, and the favoured few mounted into carriages for the journey to Tremaine Court.
The wedding breakfast had been organised as a buffet, with small tables scattered around in the dining room. When Elinor first saw the sparse amount of food, and the limited choice, she thought the servants had not yet laid out all of the buffet. It seemed they had. She saw Mrs Craven glancing with raised eyebrows at one of her village friends, and blushed for Jane. Even though her sister had not been involved in the preparation she would suffer from the inevitable gossip in the village. There were none of the lobster patties or ices Elinor had expected. Instead there were thin slices of fowl, from the Court's own chicken run, Elinor assumed; rabbit pies, the rabbits presumably caught on the estate; eel pies, the eels also available in the river that skirted the estate – the river Mrs Tremaine wished to divert – and some apple pies Cook had baked.
There was just enough champagne for a toast to be drunk by the guests, then William made a speech thanking them for coming, and said they were to help themselves to the ale or wine. This wine, Elinor was sure, must have been found in the cellars, and some, such as the brandy, had probably been brought to the Court by the smugglers who plied their trade on the coast.
William, or more probably his mother, had spent as little as possible on this wedding breakfast. Indeed, from what Phyllis had told them, she undoubtedly spent more on one dinner for the family. Had this been because of her open dislike of William's bride? Had William left all the arrangements to her, and if so, did he approve? If he did, Elinor felt certain Jane's expectations of the largesse to be hers might prove illusory.
Elinor was standing by the window when George approached.
'So you are Jane's sister?' he said. 'You must know the house well, so how about showing me some of it?'
He put his arm about her waist and tried to pull her towards the door into the entrance hall. Elinor twisted away from him.
'Now is not the time, Mr Tremaine. Pray release me.'
He tightened his grip.
'Don't be a prude! Your sister's caught William with her easy ways. I've no doubt you are like her. All I want's a few kisses.'
Elinor restrained her desire to slap him.
'You are impertinent, sir! I'll thank you not to slander my sister, or make unwarranted assumptions about me!'
To her relief she saw Mr Craven crossing the room towards them. George saw him, shrugged and released her.
'I'll have you one day,' he muttered as he moved away.
'Has that young cub been annoying you, my dear?' Mr Craven asked.
'He was drunk, but I can't think what on,' she said, trying to laugh.
'If he becomes a nuisance tell me. I'll deal with him. I'm not a Justice for nothing.'
'Thank you. But he'll be back in Oxford within a few days.'
It was soon time for the bridal pair to leave. Elinor helped Jane change into a new walking dress of sea-green cambric she had purchased in Plymouth, and a poke bonnet trimmed with matching green satin ribbons. There were storm clouds on the horizon, and it was growing chilly, so Elinor persuaded her to don her pelisse. It was not new, and Jane was not pleased to have to wear it, but she recognised the need to keep warm.
'I don't wish to contract a cold,' she said, sighing. 'I will write to you from London.'
'Be happy,' Elinor whispered. She could say no more, for her
throat was constricted. She could not imagine Jane being happy with William, for she never could have been, but he seemed to want her, so he would try to make her happy. Elinor hoped so. It would be better when his mother and sister removed to the Dower House.
The carriage which was to take them on the first stage of the journey, to Plymouth for the night, was waiting at the front door. Jane kissed Elinor, hugging her convulsively, then stepped into the carriage. William saluted his mother, lifting her hand to his lips, then did the same to his sister. He nodded to Elinor and the Rector, told George to spend the next term studying, not chasing lightskirts, waved towards the rest of the guests, and climbed into the carriage. It bowled away down the drive, followed by a second carriage containing Rosie, the housemaid who was to act as Jane's maid, and William's valet. The village guests left immediately afterwards. None of them, it seemed, wished to stay. Elinor, feeling her duty had been done, went to find Mattie who was in the kitchen, talking to the cook, and they walked slowly to the lodge.
'I hope she has done the right thing,' Mattie said, 'but I have my doubts.'
*
It was the day after the wedding when Jonah came to the lodge. As Elinor had done no baking on the previous day she had not been to the village. Instead she was busy trying to do twice her normal amount.
Jonah came to the kitchen door and poked his head round it.
'May I come in, Miss Elinor?'
'Of course.'
'I brought you a small cask of ale,' he said as he deposited it on the kitchen floor. 'I'd have brought wine if I'd been able. But you know what a shabby thing that wedding breakfast was. Cook said she'd never felt so ashamed, but she had to provide what was ordered.'
Elinor was well aware she ought not to be gossiping with Jonah, but he had been so good to her, and now Phyllis had removed to Truro she had no other means of discovering what was happening at the Court.
'We enjoy ale when we have an opportunity to drink it,' she said. 'I'm sorry I can't offer you some cakes, but I haven't done any baking for two days.'
My Lord Tremaine Page 6
