White Water

by Pamela Oldfield

  ‘My thanks,’ he whispered and, moving softly to the door, left her alone with her dreams.

  *

  Three days later Felicity returned to Dorothy’s. After greeting her sons and seeing to their welfare, she sought out Lucas and told him all that had befallen.

  ‘So Hugo is dead too,’ she concluded. ‘’Twas his heart failed him. Melissa says the shock and grief were too much for him.’

  Lucas shook his head. ‘There’s no luck in that family, seemingly. ’Tis like a curse — ’

  ‘Don’t say that!’ she cried.

  ‘But ’tis one thing after another.’

  ‘Aye … And Piers and Lorna. They are so young and now they have lost their father.’

  ‘Mayhap Maria will wed again.’

  ‘Maria? No, no. She’ll never wed again. Hugo was the only man in the world for her. Poor Maria. She will stay alone. She lived for him.’

  ‘A death at a funeral, eh? ’Tis a terrible thing, that.’

  He watched her closely, hoping that the news would distract her thoughts from her own loss. The death of Martin had thrown her into a deep gloom but she had made strenuous efforts to dispel it, for the sake of the twins.

  ‘So there were two of us widows in one week,’ said Felicity.

  Lucas frowned. ‘You was never wed.’

  ‘Not in the world’s eyes, no. But I told myself we were wed in God’s eyes.’

  ‘Not in his eyes, neither.’

  ‘No. ’Twas just a comfort to me. Maria said she will come to Kent as soon as she is recovered from the shock. Romney House is to be sold by auction.’

  Lucas tried to hide his satisfaction. He wished no man harm but his feelings towards Martin had not been charitable. He planned to marry Felicity as soon as he could win her affection and he had not relished the idea that Martin Kendal would be living so close, having as he did a father’s claim on the children. Now he had gone and, Lucas thought, a good riddance. A man who could abandon a woman with two small boys was no great loss. And now, if Romney House was sold, all Felicity’s old memories would be swept away and she would settle more easily into her new life. She still had not agreed to wed him but he felt certain it was only a matter of time. These sad, unexpected events might well hasten her decision. But he would not press her for an answer. She must come to him in her own time. Lucas was a patient man.

  ‘’Twill fetch a good price, a house that size,’ he said.

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Shall you go to the sale?’

  ‘I don’t rightly know. ’Tis as well the mistress is in her grave, God rest her soul.’

  ‘And old Harold.’

  ‘I never knew him but Maria did, of course. Change — always change. How I hate it. I am faint-hearted, I know. Say it, Lucas. ’Tis true enough.’

  He laughed. ‘’Tis no crime to be afeared of change,’ he told her. ‘Sometimes ’tis for the better, sometimes worse. There’s no saying.’

  ‘No — but Romney House!’ she protested. ‘’Twill hurt Maria. She had such plans for Martin. Frank Innly said he would make a good shepherd.’

  Lucas did not answer. It did not please him to know that Felicity had talked with Innly about Martin.

  One of the babies cried out in his sleep and Felicity rocked the wooden crib with the toe of her shoe.

  ‘’Tis a fine crib that,’ said Lucas, ‘though I say it as shouldn’t!’

  He had made the crib large enough for two babies.

  ‘The finest,’ Felicity agreed.

  ‘So,’ said Lucas, ‘they had a double funeral.’

  ‘They buried him next day — in the same grave. All the mourners stayed on. It was very hurried.’

  ‘Sad to be hustled into eternity, like that.’

  ‘’Tis all very sad. There’s only Allan and Piers left now. Only two Kendal sons. I wonder if Allan will wed again? He must, I think. Piers is still only a child.’

  She sighed heavily.

  ‘You’ve nowt to fret about,’ he said. ‘If there was not a single Kendal left you’d be cared for. You know that. You know I’ll care for you and the boys. You’ll never lack a roof over your head and food for your belly while I’m caring for you. If they was all to die tomorrow — ’

  ‘Don’t say such a thing!’ She crossed her fingers hastily. ‘I mean, if they was,’ he persisted, ‘you and the boys would still be safe. I swear to you I’ll love them like my own. I do already.’

  ‘I know, Lucas. I — ’

  ‘And we’ll have a couple of girls to go with them. How does that sound? You’d like daughters, wouldn’t you? And then I’ll give you a couple more sons. Strapping lads like their father! Eh? We’d be a nice little family and go to church on Sundays. We’d take up half the church! Oh, Felicity, I’ll make you happy, I swear I will. Cut my throat and hope to die — Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean — ’

  ‘’Tis of no matter, Lucas. I know you mean well but — you did say you’d give me a bit of time.’

  ‘I did. Aye, I did. And I will. We’ll speak of it no more. I’d best chop a few more logs. Ma will be home soon and we’ll both get a scolding! There’s nowt you can do about other folks’ grief so put it out of your head.’

  Felicity nodded. What he said was very sensible but it was easier said than done.

  *

  Romney House was almost deserted. Only Jem remained to keep an eye on the property in case vagrants moved in to take up occupation. There were always plenty of homeless people and an empty house, fully furnished, was a great temptation. Maria found Jem in the empty stable — he had sold the horses on her instructions. He was lolling against a bale of hay with a flagon of ale beside him but scrambled quickly to his feet and grinned sheepishly.

  ‘Good morning, ma’am.’

  ‘Good morning, Jem. I’d like a fire in the kitchen hearth, please. Matt is with me but I have sent him to tell Felicity of our arrival. We shall stay for a day or two while I make arrangements for the sale. I’ve written to James Moore on your behalf and will see him while I’m here. I hope he will find work for you. I have spoken well of you and have said you are industrious. If you go to him I trust you will live up to my recommendation.’

  ‘I will indeed, ma’am, and thank you kindly, ma’am. Er, ’tis a sad business, ma’am — the young master going like that and his father with him. I could scarce believe it when Felicity told me. I’m that sorry, ma’am.’

  ‘Thank you, Jem.’ For a moment her lips trembled but she made a supreme effort to control her feelings. There was so much to do. She had plunged into it all with desperate eagerness as a way of forgetting. Nearly a month had passed and she felt Hugo’s loss as keenly as ever. When she felt her grief overwhelming her she thought of Felicity who had lost Martin after so brief and turbulent a love. At least Maria had had Hugo as husband and lover for many years. Now she straightened her back with an unconscious gesture and smiled faintly.

  ‘’Tis God’s will and we must abide by it.’

  ‘Aye, ma’am, but — ’

  ‘When did you last see Felicity?’ Maria interrupted him hastily.

  ‘A fortnight or more, ma’am. When you wrote to her. She came over and read the letter to me so I should know what to do with the horses and such like. I’ve the money safe by.’

  ‘I’ll take it later, Jem. Now I want to go through the house and decide what is and is not to be sold. ’Twill most likely take an hour or so and I shall hope to find a comfortable blaze in the kitchen and some mulled ale.’

  ‘You shall, ma’am. I’ll see to it. The house is ready unlocked.’

  He stoppered the flagon and stuffed it behind the straw before setting off at a quick pace for the kitchen. Maria watched him go then made her way towards the front of the house. She stood well back along the overgrown drive and saw the house exactly as she had seen it when she first arrived as a young bride-to-be so many years ago. Then Hugo had been Hannah’s husband and she had despaired of ever sharing his life. Looking across the
lawn, she saw the tree under which Harold had enjoyed the sunshine. Too weak to walk, they had tucked him up warmly and he had taught Matt to write. She smiled at the memory of Matt as he sat on the grass, bent over his slate with his face screwed up in furious concentration. And Ruth, calling him Matthew instead of Matt. Poor Ruth, thought Maria. How she must have resented Harold’s new bride-to-be — a mere slip of a girl to be mistress of Romney House where she had reigned for so long.

  And Harold, so frail and helplessly in love with Maria. He had adored her. Had felt for her in a way that was new to him even though Maria was his third wife. The others had been wives. Maria had burst into his life like a breath of spring or a ray of sunshine, gladdening his eye and making his heart race for joy. And yet she could not love him in return. She was kind to him most of the time and tried to hide her dismay at the prospect of marrying such an old man.

  Always her heart had longed for Hugo, and finally she had confessed her love to him. She left him and went into a nunnery. Poor, dear Harold … Slowly she made her way up to the house and pushed open the front door.

  Already the house smelt damp and empty. She drew a deep breath and went into the dining room. The tableboard lay folded against the wall making the room seem larger than ever. The old straw had been swept up and not replaced, she noted. Jem had done his best. The hearth contained ashes and a half burnt log. There were two benches and a chest stood against the far wall. Above it was the shelf which held ‘the plate’ — Ruth’s pride and joy. A silver gilt salt cellar, two embossed plates and a solid silver sweet dish. They must go, she decided. She had already decided how the money raised should be spent and was determined to get every penny possible. There was no room for sentiment, she told herself. There was a painting on the wall which she had never liked. It showed Ruth and Harold as children, standing with their parents. It would have to go — unless Felicity should want it. Maria had made up her mind that all the kitchen equipment should go to Felicity when she set up home with Lucas. The pans and cutlery would fetch very little if sold but would save Felicity a considerable sum. Upstairs she went into the bedroom where Ruth had lived out her last days, bedridden and blind. The room seemed stiflingly small and air-less and impulsively Maria flung open the shutters to let in light and air. Then she regarded the room as unemotionally as she could. The bed had gone, bequeathed to Felicity. The chest and the stool — on which Felicity had sat reading to the old lady — could go to Felicity. A small piece of tapestry on the far wall caught her eye and she smiled. Ruth had made it as a wedding gift for Harold and his first wife. The second wife had not appreciated it and Ruth had taken it back! Maria decided to keep it. Ruth would not like it to pass into the hands of strangers.

  The chest was unlocked and she lifted the lid. It was almost empty and a smell of musty lavender drifted from it. In the bottom lay a pair of satin shoes, with grass stains at the toes and a pair of walking shoes, well scuffed but clean. There was also a pair of gloves with the fingertips neatly darned. Slowly, almost reverently, she closed the lid and went out of the room.

  The next bed chamber was Harold’s, with its large four-poster bed. Had Martin and Felicity slept in it, she wondered, or had he gone along to her little room? It no longer mattered. And yet — a man and a woman had lain together as lovers and now there was a lonely woman with two small boys and they would grow up to be men. Each one would lie with a woman and more sons would be conceived. What is God’s purpose, she asked herself suddenly? What is His plan? Of course the church had an answer to the questions, but the tragic series of events over the past month had shaken her faith considerably. But no, she would not doubt His goodness. Her earlier religious training would stand her in good stead. She whispered a few words of contrition and made up her mind to set aside a short period each day to consider and renew her beliefs. But now her task was to raise money by the sale of the house and furniture and with it to carry out her own plans. She could not day-dream over every room.

  Felicity’s room was almost bare except for the truckle bed, and a small carved chest which was empty except for a few faded rose petals. There was a rectangular mark on the wall where her tapestry had once hung.

  Upstairs was the cook’s room, downstairs was the kitchen. Jem lived over the stable but he, too, would soon be gone. New people would move in and there would be changes.

  She blinked her eyes tiredly. Tonight she would sleep in Harold’s four-poster. He would like that, she mused. Jem should bring up a few warm bricks to dry the dampness out of the sheets. Tomorrow morning the auctioneer would come to Romney House. It would seem so very final. In the afternoon she would go to see Felicity. They had so much to talk about, yet she dreaded the meeting for Felicity’s grief would compound her own. But that was tomorrow. Now she could go downstairs and sit by the fire and remember Hugo.

  *

  Henry Strobert, the auctioneer, was an efficient man, small and plump and sparing with his words. Their survey of the house and its contents was conducted in a businesslike manner that left no room for sentiment. He went from room to room, listing the articles for sale and noting separately the size of the rooms. From outside he surveyed it from all directions and noted down relevant details which might affect the price. He then conferred with Maria and they agreed on a reserve price below which he would not sell. A date was arranged for interested parties to view and he mentioned two people in the neighbourhood who might wish to buy the property. He made no reference to the previous tenants and if he had heard of Martin’s death he kept the knowledge to himself. If he noticed Maria’s reddened eyes he asked no questions. For Maria it was a relief not to have to speak of her loss and her meeting with Henry Strobert refreshed her.

  She left Matt and Jem to their own devices and rode, as arranged, to visit Felicity. Lucas waylaid her a few yards down the lane, out of sight of the house.

  ‘She’s over the worst of it I think,’ he told her, his expression earnest. ‘I’ve cheered her along a bit, best I could. She’s a fine girl — woman, I mean. And the boys are that bonny, like their mother.’ Maria opened her mouth to reply but he gave her no chance. ‘I reckon she’ll have me, ma’am, in time. She seems to enjoy my company and we laugh together. Leastways we did until — well, she hasn’t laughed since he died, that is, him from Romney House but that’s natural enough, I reckon, and she’s only human. ’Tis hard to smile and be cheerful when someone like that dies. You’ll understand what I’m saying, I know. And your man dying so sudden, she took that hard, too. He was a good man, she tells me, and I don’t doubt it and my condolences to you … ’

  ‘Thank you — ’

  ‘But she’ll get over it in time. I’ll see to it, never you mind. It grieves me to see her so quiet and thoughtful, but to tell you the truth I’m so taken with her! I’d wed her tomorrow if she’d have me, but she’s not said the word and I can’t hurry her at such a sad time — ’

  ‘Lucas, I — ’

  ‘What I was thinking, or hoping, to tell it plainly, is that you’d put in a word for me if you thought me a proper husband for her. My ma is all in favour, if you should want her opinion on the matter. I love her, ma’am, and I’ll not let a soul hurt her. She’ll be safe with me — ’

  ‘Lucas!’ Maria held up a hand and he stopped abruptly. ‘Oh, ma’am. Forgive me. I was so wanting to tell you how ’tis.’

  ‘I can see, Lucas, that you do indeed love her and have her interests at heart. You are a good man and I see you have a generous heart. If ’tis any consolation, I think you would make her an excellent husband and I dearly hope to see the two of you wed. The boys need a father and Felicity needs a husband — ’

  ‘And I need a wife!’

  ‘Of course. I will speak for you, Lucas, but as you say she is very distressed at present and we must give her time to recover and collect her thoughts.’

  ‘You’ve no objection to me speaking to you then?’

  ‘Certainly not. ’Twas well meant and now we understand each other.
’

  ‘I’ll be on my way then. I’ve work to do. Good day to you, ma’am.’

  ‘God be with you.’

  She watched him go for a moment and her heart went out to him. A kindly, honest man, she thought. Almost another Matt Cartwright but without Matt’s disadvantage. He would be a loyal husband and loving father. Felicity was very fortunate. She forced a cheerful expression and went on to the cottage. There was no answer to her knock so she made her way round the side of the cottage and found Felicity collecting eggs from the hen coop. She straightened up as Maria called her name and, setting down the basket, flew into Maria’s arms. The composure of both women gave way under the strain of the meeting and for a while they wept unashamedly. Each had lost the man dearest to them in the world and each understood perfectly the other’s grief. But after a while, when the worst was over, they stood back and regarded each other and were forced to laugh, albeit shakily, at the dismal picture they presented.

  Felicity said, ‘We must not weep any more. Dorothy tells me that weeping ruins the eyes.’

  ‘Does she indeed?’ Maria smiled briefly. ‘Then we’d best take heed of her advice. We don’t want to ruin our eyes. We have enough problems without adding to them.’

  She swallowed hard and wiped her tears while Felicity did likewise. Then they hugged each other again and drew apart. Felicity picked up the basket, found the last three eggs, and led the way into the house which was empty except for the two babies fast asleep in their crib. Fresh tears welled up in Maria’s eyes as she looked at them and she wished that Hannah could see them — her first grandchildren. Even in sleep, with their eyes closed, she could see the difference between them. One had dark lashes and a fine covering of dark downy hair, the other sandy lashes and no hair. The dark boy was the first born.