Shadow of the Past

by Judith Cutler

  ‘How will she receive the news that initiates this journey?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, I will write – I will disguise my usual hand. Between you, surely, you can devise some excuse. You may even wish to escort her to her destination, as she is so fond of you; probably my dear Maria will. When you have settled where it will be, Jem and I will convey Hugo and Bess there, and I will find a doctor skilled in such cases to treat him. And we will all return to our normal village lives. All of us. Even Lady Chase. Do I make myself clear?’

  Willum and Bess had chosen some respectable artisans’ gear for Hugo, and for Bess something she clutched tightly to her. We withdrew, waiting on the landing as Hugo would go no further without her, while she carried out the ablutions we insisted on. She swore fluently and audibly as the chilly water met her flesh.

  At last she presented herself for our inspection. She wore a silk dress almost fashionable but for its cherry and apple-green stripes: no doubt some old gown had been unpicked and reshaped. Her bonnet bore a startling array of fruit, and her battered velvet pelisse was a green that did not begin to tone with the green of her gown.

  ‘I told you you’d look like a bleedin’ tart,’ Willum moaned.

  ‘Well, that’s what I bleedin’ am,’ she responded.

  ‘But you’re not supposed to look like a bleedin’ tart. I told you. You’re supposed to look respectable, like.’

  ‘It’ll do till tomorrow,’ Jem intervened. And then you may take her out again, Willum, with the same reward for yourself, and trick her out like a decent servant girl. As for you—’

  ‘You don’t need a tiger, do you, sir? Always wanted to be a tiger.’

  Jem laughed, but very kindly. ‘Working with me would take you a long way from home, Willum.’

  ‘I ain’t got a home, have I? I’d scrub up good, too, you know.’

  He sounded eager rather than pleading, but my heart was wrung. Dear God, how had I forgotten to include him in my largesse? ‘How long would it take you to get kitted out – nothing fancy, mind?’

  His eyes lit up. ‘I could do it on the way to the Bear, your reverence? Only take a tick.’

  ‘Then a tick it shall be. But Jem—’ I stopped, my face aflame with embarrassment. ‘But I will hold you under the pump myself when we get to this Bear of yours – understand?’

  In the event it probably was Jem who applied himself to the task of sluicing the lad. Edmund returned with me via the Franes’ home, where we collected all our property and what little Jem had left there. They were handsomely reimbursed for their minimal and – it seemed to me – grudging trouble.

  As we hunted down a hack, I said quietly, ‘It seems we have given too little thought to poor Bess. She has lost her brother after all. Her protector—’

  ‘Or possibly her pimp. Jem and I will have the opportunity to speak to her this evening. I, for one, would like to know how Lord Chase came to be there – indeed, how long he has been with them.’

  Once back at Berkeley Square, Edmund wrote a letter for me to deliver to Maria; then he took all his things and the rest of Jem’s to the Bear. ‘We will make an interesting supper party, my dear Tobias. I wish you could be there.’

  Wilfred applied himself to packing for all three of us, eyes bright with questions he steadfastly did not ask. Even as I kept silent, I wondered what it must be like to be so vital to others’ affairs without being considered important enough to know what they were.

  All too soon I waved Edmund off in the hack Wilfred had procured and returned to the house. Wilfred closed the door silently behind me.

  ‘We put you to such trouble,’ I said with a smile. ‘And yet you never complain, or demand the explanations that are due to you.’

  ‘Not at all, my – Mr Tobias,’ he said woodenly.

  How could I argue? That was how we behaved, how they accepted their lot. I said, ‘Believe me, Wilfred, your tact and discretion are valued more than you know. And when I can explain what has passed, believe me, I will. Now, while I make my farewells to Mrs Tilbury, I want you to do one more thing. I must needs return to Leamington this very night, and it is too late to catch the Post, is it not? I want you to hire me a swift team of horses, with postilions. Spare no expense. I shall set forth in an hour.’

  The trouble with grand words such as those is the need to follow them up with a grand gesture, the casting of a full purse upon the servitor’s shocked hand, perhaps.

  As it was, Wilfred replied with no drama at all, ‘If speed is vital, Mr Tobias, then why not send round to the stables for your brother’s post-chaise?’

  I was a mere whipster, but Charles was a nonpareil, whose horses were always matched thoroughbreds.

  ‘His lordship’s team of greys are eating their heads off, with the grooms and postilions doing likewise, I make no doubt, and no one calling on them these six weeks. There are no better bits of blood in the whole of London, I’ll wager.’

  I regarded him quizzically. ‘So it is a choice of hiring an unknown equipage with an unknown team, or setting out in immediate luxury with a hand-picked team of men and horses.’

  ‘Outriders, too, Mr Tobias.’ He permitted himself the ghost of a grin, to which I gladly responded.

  ‘Would you be kind enough to ask them how soon they can be ready?’

  Mrs Tilbury looked aghast at the news of my precipitate departure, and more to please her than anything, I ate a scrap of the chicken she’d hoped I might fancy for my supper – alongside a great deal else, I would wager.

  ‘Now you’ve found your way back to us, pray, Master Tobias, don’t leave it so long before you come again,’ she said, pressing me to her as if for the last time. And indeed, it probably would be the last time she saw me, Edmund having sadly confided to me that the condition was so advanced that no surgeon would be able to cure her poor eyes.

  I made a rash promise. ‘I will come again, very soon. And give you better warning, dear Tilly.’ It must be kept. And I must see her regularly after my mother persuaded her to retire. I wondered where she would be accommodated. I could trust mother to see that she had every comfort, every attention – but I must do my share.

  And so I set forth in a style that would have rounded little Willum’s eyes. Something must be done for him, too – an apprenticeship, or even that job as a tiger. And for Bess. Try how I might, however, I could not imagine her donning the demure garb of a servant or even a milkmaid.

  Somehow, with thoughts such as these swirling about my head, I let my head fall back on the luxurious squabs and to my amazement passed most of the night asleep, woken only by the changes of horses. Having sped at something like ten miles an hour, we were able to wheel at last into Leamington in time to bespeak breakfast at the Angel.

  I was so keen to follow Edmund’s instructions to the letter that, using the rough paper, vile pen and muddy ink that the landlord provided, I wrote to him confirming my safe arrival in Warwickshire, my note returning with my brother’s team. Then, to ease my unaccountably aching limbs, I walked about the town to do a little shopping before returning to a hired hack, on which I jogtrotted easily home. I went via Langley Park, knowing how anxious Mrs Hansard must be.

  It was my good fortune to find her in the garden, in conversation with the gardener. She soon abandoned him, and, tucking her arm in mine, was ready to return to the house. I bent our footsteps towards their pretty wilderness, however, lest we be overheard. Pressing Edmund’s note into her hand, I attempted in the privacy of the grove to tell her all our adventures.

  At length she nodded her understanding of my garbled narrative. ‘And Edmund wishes me to accompany her ladyship on this journey?’

  ‘He thinks you might prefer to. But cudgel my brain as I might, I cannot think of the reason you might give for doing so. Certainly she will need a lady’s support when she sees her son, and loyal as we must believe all her household must be, Edmund was reluctant to let any of them into the secret.’

  ‘I will speak to her and see how it may
be arranged,’ she said firmly. ‘And you want the same discretion in our household, too?’

  ‘Absolutely. And even in mine. Though Edmund did not explain how three of us should suddenly take it into our heads to travel to the same far-flung part of the kingdom.’

  She squeezed my hand. ‘Lady Chase and I can ponder the matter. Meanwhile, I suppose you must go post haste to the Hall?’

  ‘Indeed no. My orders were quite explicit. I was to be seen going about my normal tasks, making my morning call tomorrow.’

  ‘And will you retain your locum? Alas, poor Mr Rogers cannot be easy with the villagers, nor they with him.’

  I laughed. ‘But, as Mrs Powell would say, he has only been here five minutes. How long did it take me to acquire a decidedly grudging respect? And I am sure it was Edmund’s sponsorship of me as a friend that tipped the balance. They like and respect him, so they must try to do the same for me.’

  ‘You do not do yourself justice. However, you do not answer my question.’

  ‘I fear he must go home, or it will look as if my journey is premeditated. Poor Rogers – he needs both the country air and the money.’

  ‘You can always summon him back again?’

  I shook my head. ‘In truth, I trust it will not take us long to reach whatever estate Lady Chase selects. Then we are to return immediately – I, at least.’

  ‘Ah, ha – you do not like to be away from Lady Dorothea.’

  ‘I wish I could keep her out of my thoughts, dear Mrs Hansard. I do during the day when I can keep my mind occupied. But who can control their dreams? Emphatically she would not make a clergyman’s wife – but when her bright eyes gleam with amusement at something I say or do…Yes, I confess, I still carry the tiniest of torches for her. Were she to know where I stayed in London, how I travelled to Leamington – but that would mean she loved my family and its accoutrements, not me, would it not?’

  ‘Come and have a glass of wine, Tobias. And then everything will seem much better.’

  As I had promised, I did not make my morning call at the Hall until the following day, having sent Rogers on his way with many thanks, two baskets of fruit and vegetables from my cottage garden, one of Mrs Trent’s matchless cakes, a fine ham, and, though he did not know it, a couple of extra guineas folded into a scrap of paper at the bottom of his valise.

  I was shown directly to her ladyship’s private bookroom, where she was going through her accounts with Furnival. We exchanged commonplaces, and I was able to reassure her that my relative’s illness had been much exaggerated. Since this personage’s very life was an extravagant fiction, it could scarcely be otherwise.

  At last, with almost a girlish flounce, she pushed away her papers and declared that she had had enough of tedious figures. Furnival might present himself, should he think it necessary, the following day, but she would take a turn about the knot garden. Since the day was sunny, despite what the locals called a lazy wind, blowing not round but straight through one, such a decision was hardly likely to raise the most suspicious eyebrow. Accordingly the old man bowed himself out, and Lady Chase gripped my hand almost painfully.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘With respect, your Ladyship, I think we should put your plan into operation. The day is cold, but a turn in the fresh air never did anyone any harm.’ I kept my voice as even as I could, my face bland.

  ‘How dare you keep me thus in suspense?’

  I touched my finger to my lips. ‘Pray ring for your maid and ask for your pelisse and bonnet. Perhaps even a muff.’

  We were scarce out of earshot of the house when I said, very quietly, ‘You must walk and talk as normally as if we were discussing the black spot on that rose.’ I pointed. ‘Do you understand?’

  At last she bent towards the same plant.

  ‘Your son lives, your Ladyship. But he is far from well.’ I gave the briefest explanation.

  ‘Bring him here this instant! I can nurse him back to health.’

  ‘Alas, no. Dr Hansard believes – we all believe – Hugo to be in great danger should anyone discover his whereabouts. Think of the fate of the mere messenger.’

  I thought she would faint, as she staggered almost drunkenly. But I took her arm and held her upright. ‘Is there a stone in your shoe, your Ladyship? Let me assist you.’

  She looked at me blindly, but at last realised what I was trying to do, and, still leaning heavily on my arm, slipped her shoe from the patten she was wearing and shook it vigorously.

  ‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘Now this is what Edmund proposes we should do…’

  It was not to be expected that she take everything in immediately, and I had to repeat details several times before she was able to absorb everything.

  ‘You fear that Hugo will never be himself?’ she asked bleakly at least.

  ‘Your Ladyship, I am not the one to ask. Even Dr Hansard confesses himself unsure. But he will seek out the finest medical man in the land for you, if that is your wish – nay, I do not need to ask. The finest and the most discreet, of course. He warns that you may have to turn whatever is your choice of estates into what may be virtually an asylum for him.’

  ‘He has – had – happy memories…’

  ‘And may have them still, my Lady, simply waiting to be aroused. He has suffered injuries to the head, I know not how severe. He seems to have lost his power of speech, but not of understanding. He is anxious but biddable. My apologies – you were about to speak of a place he loved.’

  She nodded. ‘My own nurse is retired to the dower house of one of the estates that formed part of my jointure. It is in Shropshire, somewhat south of Shrewsbury. Perhaps its very peace and tranquillity will bring healing.’

  ‘Amen.’

  ‘I will tell my people that poor Mrs Rooke is dying of a painful female complaint. Does Mrs Hansard have family there, and would benefit from a seat in my carriage?’

  ‘I am sure she does, my Lady. And if she does not, we can obtain one from the same source as my relative in Kent.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Edmund once told me that there was an oriental proverb to the effect that travel with hope in one’s heart was often better than what one found when one arrived. So, I fear, it seemed with our various journeys to Ditton Priors, the village in Shropshire nearest to the remote manor house that had formed part of her ladyship’s dowry. As Lady Chase had said, her own nurse, Mrs Rooke, a sprightly dame not much above sixty, lived in retirement in the dower house, but the manor itself had been shut up for years, since the late Lord Chase found it intolerably damp and gloomy.

  We were not surprised. Hardly did it seem that we could ever make it habitable in the short time before the other party reached us, although they were travelling more slowly and, of course, much further. Indeed, at the very sight of it, Lady Chase, for the first time in our acquaintance, succumbed to an attack of the vapours. We had to convey her back to the dower house, where she was bustled into bed by Mrs Rooke.

  ‘For shame on you, bringing the poor lamb here at such a miserable time of year. Well, you have your reasons, no doubt?’

  ‘We have indeed. And her ladyship will no doubt explain more fully when she is recovered.’

  There was very little room at the dower house, which was in truth far less grand than the name implied. Mrs Rooke gave up her own room for her ladyship, accommodating Mrs Hansard in the best guest chamber, and, on my insistence, taking the only other bedchamber herself. Her cook and maid-of-all-work, on whom so much extra work would fall, could not be asked to leave her quarters. Accordingly, rather than share with Mrs Rooke’s outdoor man, I was relegated to an attic, which did not boast a fireplace but was wonderfully scented with the apples she was storing there.

  As we prepared the manor, Mrs Hansard came into her own. Since her marriage to Edmund, she had truly become a lady of fashion, having despite her years retained a neat, indeed youthful, figure. Now she divested herself of her elegant attire, almost literally rolling up her sleeves the bet
ter to work. She began by hiring a small army of local women, paying enough for them to keep their mouths closed even if – in this remote part – anyone might be interested in their activities.

  As for Lady Chase herself, Mrs Hansard reasoned that the best cure for her melancholy was not to sit watching the seemingly unremitting drizzle, but to join in the improvements. Accordingly, the grieving mother was given fabric to cut into curtain lengths. That done, she was to hem them. Although she was reluctant at first, I truly believe that doing something so visibly useful helped restore her spirits.

  Meanwhile I made myself useful by journeying to Ludlow or Bridgnorth to buy anything from paint to clothes pegs. My only attempt at sweeping a chimney ended in so much mess and an equal amount of derision that thereafter my only contribution to the fires was to chop endless quantities of wood so that every room could be aired.

  With all our efforts, when the invalid and his friends arrived late one afternoon, they could be welcomed into something very closely resembling a home.

  There was, alas, no question of a dramatic and touching reunion – Lady Chase must have realised that as soon as she saw her son’s condition, even as she held open her arms and called his name. It must however be said that the combined attentions of Jem, Edmund, and Bess, not to mention the medical man and his assistant whom they had brought with them, had decidedly improved his appearance. But Chase, like all the group, was bone weary; unlike them, he was too weak to do anything other than retire to his room.

  ‘Done to a cow’s thumb, he is,’ Bess declared, shoving him willy-nilly up the fine old oak staircase. ‘So don’t look so Friday-faced, Lady C. I’ll have him tucked up in the twinkling of a bedpost.’

  As they disappeared, Lady Chase’s voice came as no more than a hoarse whisper; she fought with understandable tears. ‘He does not recognise his own mother.’ She added, appalled, even though Willum had found more appropriate apparel for poor Bess, ‘And he smiles at That Woman.’ She sank into a chair by the welcoming fire lit in the great hall.