Nantes, Rennes, Padua, Assisi, Venice, Santiago de Compostela and Zaragoza, where Our Lady was transported to heaven by the angels. Father Pelé had told her of the street processions, the crush of the crowd as they shuffled along, the sweet smell of burning beeswax from the votive candles, the statues that wept real tears. And Father used to sigh and his face turned sad. ‘We had all that once here too,’ he used to say, ‘until that hatchet-man Henry dragged it down.’
Now Zachary would be part of it, would see first-hand the stuff of her childhood dreams, be able to pray in frankincense-scented air, beneath soaring vaulted arches. She snapped the book shut. And she, Elspet, would be left reciting the empty words to the walls of the bare cellar downstairs. Still, it would soon be over. She exhaled a ragged sigh of relief. Zachary would take passage in a few weeks and the house would return at last to normal.
Chapter 9
Miracle of miracles, Hugh Bradstone had invited Elspet to the theatre. When the letter came, she could hardly believe it. He said he was staying with a friend in London for a few days and wished to have the pleasure of her company. Martha dressed her in her second-best tawny silk and spent a long time braiding Elspet’s hair under a jewelled cap – the only one she owned. She wore Mother’s twisted gold and pearl drop earrings and for once she felt herself to be quite the lady.
The theatre was packed and the noise and stench of so many people was astonishing. She picked her way over the detritus of the previous afternoon’s performance: plum stones, and nut shells and discarded crumpled rags and papers. Mr Bradstone led her to a jute-curtained box overlooking the rabble, where they might enjoy the atmosphere and leave the noise and bustle below, where pie sellers and chapmen hawked their trade. She was on view to the crowd, and was proud to be in the company of such a good-looking man. The play was Dekker’s Mad Monk of Tomorrow and very droll it was too. After checking that Mr Bradstone also found it to his liking, she laughed until her sides ached.
‘Oh, look at that girl selling comfits,’ she said during an interlude. ‘She can hardly lift the tray.’
He did not offer to purchase any sweetmeats. ‘They will be tainted,’ he said, wrinkling his nose. ‘I will take you afterwards to dine at a more reputable place.’
And so he did. He took her into an alcove out of view of the rest of the customers who were all men. The serving wench winked lewdly at him, and he told her not to be so impertinent.
As they dined on a simple meal of oysters and shin beef served on pottery plates, he talked of how much he was away, and of his estate. She had to do nothing but listen and smile and nod. He did not leave room for her to talk at all, so she listened, fascinated, to his descriptions of the hard life his trappers had, combing the frozen wastes of Quebec, and the easy lives of his men harvesting his acreage of barley in Tockton.
When they parted, he kissed her hand and then pressed it between his own. It amused her that Martha had watched them like a mother bird over her chicks. Martha remarked afterwards that he was ‘quite the gentleman’ and it seemed a very apt description.
She had almost forgotten all about it until a few days later, when Father told her that Mr Bradstone had asked for her hand.
It was such a shock that she had to sit down.
‘Now isn’t that good news, Elspet dear? It is good to know you will be settled with such a suitable match.’
So soon? But she had met him only twice! She scarcely knew him. It gave her the most odd sensation, as if it were something happening to somebody else.
Eventually she said, ‘Have you agreed it, Father?’
‘Don’t worry, of course I have.’
She nodded, amazed. A man such as Hugh Bradstone actually wanted to marry her. Why? She could not work out what possible advantage it gave him – except, of course, a share in Leviston’s Lace.
For the rest of the day her heart seemed to flip in her chest whenever she thought of it, and everywhere she went folk smiled and bowed and offered their felicitations. Thanking them made her feel strange – as if she was thanking them for something to which she was not entitled. She had found Mr Bradstone an amiable enough companion, but she had expected a longer, more intimate courtship. This felt too quick, as if she was a basket of laundry to be handed over.
Father was, of course, delighted. He even broke open a dusty bottle of Malaga sack to toast her health, and she had to endure Zachary’s smirking face as they raised their glasses to her good fortune and the alliance of Bradstone and Leviston.
Mr Bradstone, Hugh, himself wrote her a delightful letter expressing his ‘deep happiness’ that her father had agreed to the match. She spent a long time examining his narrow-shouldered writing, hoping it would tell her more about him. After she had read his words, she had a sudden urge to run away, but where could she go to? She could not even go to her sister Joan, for she had given up the outside world altogether.
She reasoned with herself; all young women must feel this. It was just the change of circumstances, that was all. She would get to know Hugh and they would grow closer, like all married couples did. Down in the kitchen, Goody Turner had some scones baking, and the smell drew her there. Such a homely smell. She lingered a while, petting Jakes and Diver and feeding them scraps of scone until Goody Turner looked so cross that Elspet had to slink away.
She did not expect to see Hugh again for a few days, as his letter said that he was going back to his estate in Tockton to make plans with his overseer for the summer planting and to prepare for their forthcoming visit. For now that the marriage was settled, Father had arranged for them all to travel to Tockton to meet Hugh’s parents. She was aggrieved that Cousin Zachary should have to come too, but Father insisted he could not be left behind. Perhaps it was for the best – heaven alone knew what he might do if he were left to his own devices without Father’s steadying hand. So – they were all to go, and she was consumed with curiosity about what her new home might be like. She was both looking forward to it and dreading it in equal measure.
By the middle of June, Father and Zachary were in a veritable lather of preparation. Maps and papers were scattered all over the house, whilst travelling trunks stood open by the back door for everyone to trip over. Their plans had advanced, as one of Father’s ships was making a trade crossing to France the following week, and thank the Lord, Zachary had begged to be on it.
To impress their in-laws, Father had allowed Elspet a bolt of dark blue dimity to make a new gown. In the candlelight it looked almost purple, a right regal colour. So involved in the sewing was she, that when the rap came at the door and Jakes ran to growl at it, she did not get up. Probably the costermonger, she thought.
Martha opened it, and Hugh’s voice greeted the dogs. ‘Get down, boy, get down, I say.’
She jumped to her feet. ‘Mr Bradstone! You must pardon my appearance,’ she said, embarrassed, putting aside her work. ‘I was not expecting you. I thought you had gone home to Tockton.’
‘I delayed departing,’ he said. ‘There have been storms off the north-west coast from Ireland, and four vessels lost. I feared for my own, but thank God, it’s safe. But I’m afraid I’m the bearer of bad tidings.’
‘What’s to do?’ Father appeared from the door to his chamber, his cap askew, and his shadow, Zachary, at his shoulder.
‘My apologies, Mr Leviston, Mr Deane, for this tardy call, but I’ve just heard four ships have gone down in the storm, the night before last. Can you believe this weather? I’ve never known a summer like it. Bainbridge’s vessels were amongst those lost. Fifty-six men lost on his two ships, and two score more on the others.’
‘Oh my Lord.’ Father’s face went white. ‘Does Bainbridge know?’
‘He’s taken it badly. All his Irish linen and hemp. His whole autumn stock lost. He was relying on it, and his trade will not survive another blow like this. He lost one in last year’s spring bluster, did he not?’
‘Is it really that bad?’ Zachary asked. ‘He never struck me as being short
of a silver penny or two.’
‘They say he’d taken out a loan to fund it,’ Hugh said.
‘Really?’ Father’s voice sounded hollow. He swayed slightly on his feet.
‘He was hoping this would make up for the last loss. Now he’ll have to sell his house, like as not, and even that might not cover it.’ Hugh turned to Zachary. ‘Word’s out that his creditors are already circling.’
‘I can’t believe it. Four ships lost, you say.’ Father sat down, but almost missed the chair. Hugh rushed forward to assist him.
‘Poor beggars,’ Zachary said. ‘Could nobody help them?’
‘Elspet, leave us to talk,’ Father commanded.
‘I would rather stay.’
‘Men’s talk,’ Zachary agreed.
When she did not go, Hugh looked up at her, surprised. ‘I would do as your father asks, Elspet. These are tales and deeds unsuitable for a gentlewoman’s ears.’
‘Do not fret. I will send Martha to fetch you before Mr Bradstone departs,’ Father said.
‘Very well, excuse me, then, gentlemen.’ She curtseyed reluctantly. Hugh was only trying to protect her, for sure, but it was frustrating to be always on the wrong side of the door when something occurred. She banged it shut more loudly than she had intended.
Martha heard it go, and came up from the kitchen, a question on her face. Elspet put her fingers to her lips, in a gesture of silence.
Martha grinned, putting her hand over her eyes to indicate she would see nothing and went quietly back below. Elspet crept back to the door and, holding on to the brass handle, put her ear up to the crack.
The voices were somewhat muffled but she could hear them well enough. She heard that the sea stood higher than the masts, that Bainbridge’s master saw a light and thought it to be a warning. But the gale beat the ships on to the rocks, and that only three hands survived, clinging to barrels of potash. The light had been a Judas-light, set by the wreckers to lure them there on purpose. That when the sailors’ broken bodies were washed ashore they were given no burial but left to rot, whilst the wreckers filled their sheds with their pickings of tar and cudbear dye, linen and linseed. Bainbridge had lost everything. The sea had claimed it all, and what the sea had not taken, the wreckers had. Bainbridge would likely finish in the debtor’s prison.
She leaned her back against the wall next to the door, lightheaded. This was not some unknown they were talking of, but a friend of Father’s. It had come too close to home, this wrecking. It was the first time she had realized how precarious their business was. Everything lost, at the whim of the sea! She blew quietly through her mouth to calm herself.
‘What of Mistress Bainbridge? How does she fare?’ Father asked.
‘I don’t know. I could not gain admittance when I went to call,’ said Hugh.
‘She has sons to look to her, does she not?’ Zachary’s voice.
‘Yes, but they are not at home,’ came Father’s voice. ‘They are in France. Bainbridge’s whole stock gone . . . I can’t take it in. Poor Margery. I feel duty bound to go tomorrow, to see if there’s anything I can do.’
For once Zachary said something sensible. ‘Leave it a few days. There were probably men on that ship Bainbridge knew and cared for.’
Elspet strained to catch her father’s voice. ‘I cannot bear to think of it. The Irish passage is the worst I know. Someone should go see if he has what he needs. And Margery Bainbridge will be distraught. I’ll go tomorrow. What is Christian charity for, if it is not to stand by our friends in the Faith?’
There was an uncomfortable pause.
‘Without wishing to presume, Mr Leviston, Mr Deane is right. I really think it better to keep a distance,’ Hugh said. ‘We don’t want to be caught up in Bainbridge’s bad debts.’
Another silence. She could imagine her father’s stubborn face. She wondered if he had turned his back on his guest.
The sound of footsteps moving in her direction on the wooden boards. She fled, sitting herself breathlessly before Father’s desk. She swept up the household accounts ledger and pretended to study it. After what seemed an age, Martha arrived in a fluster.
‘Oh, there you are, mistress. I’ve been everywhere! Mr Bradstone is about to depart. They said to fetch you.’
‘Thank you, Martha.’
‘Excuse me, mistress, what’s to do?’
‘Some ships have been lost in a storm, that’s all.’
‘Is it bad news? It’s not the master’s ships, is it?’ Her worried eyes looked into Elspet’s.
‘No. Not ours. One of Father’s acquaintances.’ She was wary of telling Martha too much because the news would spread like wildfire in the servants’ quarters below. Sometimes it was as though the servants were her children, and that she must protect them somehow from the burden of what she knew. She did not like this sensation; it made her feel sly that she could not simply confide in Martha. But Father always said that they must guard their business and keep it out of the servants’ ears and eyes, so she stayed dumb.
Martha bobbed and went, and she hurried to the chamber where Hugh was preparing to depart, ready armed, with his cloak fastened on to his shoulders.
‘Mistress Leviston. I know it is not a proper time to ask this of you – but I would be delighted if you would accompany me on a carriage ride tomorrow afternoon. Would you believe it, my servant had an accident in the old gig – a loose wheel overturned it. So before I trust myself to the long North Road home, I have had to purchase a new carriage. What do you say?’
She hesitated a moment, because she knew Father would be grieving for his friend’s calamity. But Hugh pressed on.
‘One of my friends, Mr James, has invited us to dine afterwards with himself and his wife Amelia. Please say yes.’
‘That would be delightful.’ She smiled up at him. She did not dare look at Zachary, who was watching the exchange with close attention.
‘It is chilly, though, for the time of year, so wrap up well. Tell your maidservant to wear her winter cloak.’
‘Never fear, I will.’
‘I will call for you at one, then.’
She looked to her Father for his permission, but he was hovering, a far-away look in his eyes, as if he was not really taking anything in.
Hugh turned to him. ‘Pray do not get involved in Bainbridge’s business. Wait a few days to see how circumstances fall out.’
Father shook his head non-committally.
Hugh sighed, obviously realizing that it was a losing battle, and said, ‘Well, then, I look forward to welcoming you all to Yorkshire soon. Zachary, there is fine hunting and riding there, and a good many birds to shoot an arrow at.’
‘It sounds fine, but I’m afraid my plans for France have advanced. I will have set sail by then. I leave tomorrow on the early tide.’
‘What a shame. Till tomorrow, then, Mistress Leviston,’ Hugh said and took her hand, pressing it to his cool lips. ‘Keep your Father home,’ he whispered. ‘And Mr Deane, I wish you safe travels and a speedy return.’
Zachary barely bowed.
Chapter 10
Well before dawn, Zachary heard Uncle Leviston barking instructions and servants crashing about with the luggage. He had packed the trunk he had come with himself, but Uncle Leviston had supplied him with a good deal more baggage. Last night he crammed a leather case so full of books and papers that it took two men to lift it even as far as the corner of the room. How on earth, he thought, he would be able to shift that leviathan with just a servant boy to help him, he had no idea.
After he had broken his fast as usual, he found his uncle in the hall, coughing and looking grey, but fussing over a further oilskin-lined trunk filled with rolled maps. He was stuffing it with papers about workers and lacemakers in Normandy, the place where Zachary was bound first.
‘Pull harder,’ his uncle told the servant hauling on the leather straps.
Cousin Elspet looked on as Uncle handed him a new cloak, and a purse full of coinage. Levi
ston had hired a coach to take them to the docks where his ship awaited them. The dogs barked and pulled at their leads on the doorstep as the carriage arrived. Elspet took control and handed them to Martha, who stood to attention with the rest of the servants. They waved briefly as he departed, in rain and wind that gusted sideways and blew into their faces.
When Zachary looked back at the doorway, the servants and dogs were gone and the door was shut against the weather. He would miss Jakes’s lively eyes and wagging tail, and Diver’s affectionate licks. Apart from his uncle, the dogs were the only ones who ever gave him a proper welcome. Cousin Elspet always looked disapproving, as though he smelt bad, and the servants whispered about him behind closed doors, but shut their beaks as soon as he entered the room.
Uncle Leviston had been kind enough, but there was no pang of regret at leaving, for it had never felt like home; he was too wary of being caught out. It had made him tense. He had always tried to change the subject when his uncle asked him about his previous life. No, he had not felt at home there. In fact, he had never thought of anywhere as home, he realized, not since his mother had died when he was only twelve.
He sat opposite Leviston, travelling backwards with Elspet beside him; she was pressed against the door as if to put a great distance between them. The servant boy travelled outside with the driver.
‘What a day!’ Leviston said.
They were all soaked just from the journey from house to carriage. The hem of Elspet’s dress was sodden, and her cloak dark on the shoulders. Leviston’s hat dripped into his lap, for it was too windy to wear it. The news about the wreckings off the north coast hung over them like a pall. Today did not seem a good day to take passage.
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