Makepeace awaited his guest in the Queen’s Parlour. His black clothes were relieved only by his shoulder-wide white collar. Although he could have modified his style, even chosen sombre shades of brown, dark green, grey and blue as many Puritans did, he kept to black attire as a form of self-discipline. It might be safe enough for the Lord Protector to have braiding down his sleeves, deep lace cuffs and fringe at the hems of his breeches, but for himself the change of a plain bone fastening on his coat to one with a self-pattern could be the first step towards the sin of vanity. That in its turn could lead to many more pitfalls. He would have liked a glass of wine while waiting but that in turn, if taken too often, could lead to self-indulgence and drunkenness. He glanced at the clock. One minute to eight. He could not endure tardiness, for it preceded laziness, and he hoped Mrs Pallister would not be late.
He strolled into the entrance hall as she appeared by way of a corridor, which he saw as strict obedience to his wish that she and her family should not use the main stairs, and she was exactly on time. She looked remarkably fine. His inborn appreciation of colour took in the splendour of her gown, but filling his gaze more was her delicate beauty, the soft grey eyes and, through the gauzy bertha, the pale shoulders and the shadowed cleavage.
He bowed. ‘Good evening to you, madam.’
‘And to you, sir.’ She rested her hand on the wrist of the arm that he raised to escort her in to supper. As she entered the Great Hall with him it caught at her heart to see the long table laid again with silver plate after years of pewter replacements of all that was looted. She noted some tapestries that he had had put up, new only to Sotherleigh, for they were medieval and quite exquisite. Makepeace was a man of taste. At least Sotherleigh would never be vandalized by alterations during his charge.
She sat in a chair at his right hand, he at the head of the table in what she had always thought of as Robert’s place since Michael had never had the chance to preside there. His cooks were skilled, which she knew already from the meals served in the apartment, and she had the feeling that he had personally selected the dishes for this supper.
In that she was correct. Makepeace, since receiving her note, had been looking forward to entertaining her. There was nothing worse than eating alone and her request for a meeting had opened the way for him. As yet he was not even on nodding acquaintance with his neighbours, for the estate occupied all his time. He thought the ample compensation he had instructed his lawyer to offer to those giving up the parkland should sweeten the business with them, but until that was settled he did not expect any social exchanges.
‘Where was your birthplace, Mr Walker?’ she asked him after they had discussed the weather, the Knot Garden and a fire in Chichester that had burned down two houses.
He told her, adding that the family estate was smaller than Sotherleigh and was being managed for him. He visited it once a year.
‘You have no children, sir?’
‘None survived infanthood. You are fortunate to have a son, even though he did not keep to the right path.’
‘That is your opinion and not mine,’ she stated with quiet firmness.
He eyed her thoughtfully for a few moments. Even the mildest of women became tigresses in defence of their children. There was the question of her daughter’s disobedience that he intended to raise, but he decided to leave that until later. He was enjoying her company too much to want to spoil the atmosphere. It pleased him to see her taking generous portions from the dishes offered her. He could not abide fussy eaters and his second wife had always picked at her food, leaving most of everything on her plate until he kept a riding whip by his own and compelled her to eat what he deemed the right amount. She had gagged, but she had had to learn that food should never be wasted and there was a limit to the amount of scraps he was prepared to give to the poor.
‘The bell-ropes all over Sotherleigh are very colourful in design and finely worked. Who embroidered them?’ he asked her.
‘I did.’
She had given him the answer he had expected. ‘They must have taken a great deal of time.’
‘I never notice the passing of time when I am embroidering. My mind draws on many contented thoughts and memories.’ She was not quite sure why she had told him that. She supposed it was because the frieze had been a bone of contention between them and, since he believed it to have been destroyed, she was embarrassed by even an oblique reference to embroidered items in the house. To change the subject she went on to say she also liked to ride and read and listen to music. As soon as she mentioned music she wondered if he considered it to be a sinful waste of time. But it appeared he did not, for he asked her if she played any musical instrument herself, a certainty with any lady whether talented or not, and at her affirmative answer asked if she would play the spinet for him after supper.
‘How was Mistress Katherine today?’ he enquired when they had both helped themselves from a dish of Sotherleigh asparagus. It was the best he had ever tasted.
‘I’m thankful to say that my mother-in-law makes a little progress every day.’
‘You believe she will recover?’
‘Not to any strength. Tomorrow she will be sitting out of bed for the first time. Naturally when it comes to moving out she will have to be carried downstairs, because in any case it is a considerable time since she has been able to go up and down the stairs on her own.’
‘My servants will oblige you there. A stretcher can be improvised.’
‘That is obliging of you.’
‘Have you decided where to go?’
‘Not yet.’ There was a difficult pause.
‘Were you from this county of Sussex originally, Mrs Pallister?’
‘No, I was born in the neighbouring county of Hampshire. My parents moved to Chichester when I was twelve.’
She talked on and he listened, relieved there were to be no more awkward moments in their conversation. With a sharp rise of interest he learned that she was of basically Puritan stock and saw at once that this lovely woman had been corrupted away from the path of righteousness by her husband into the Anglican Church. She had not heard for a long time from her relatives who had gone to the New World and he was able to enlighten her as to how their lives would be in Plymouth, for he was acquainted with a sea-captain who had sailed his ship to Cape Cod many times. This set him on a still firmer footing with her and they were still in a good flow of talk when they left the table to retire to the Queen’s Parlour.
‘Captain Crowhurst shall come to dine next time he is in port with some days to spare,’ he said, leaning forward in the chair where he sat opposite her. ‘You will be able to meet him. He may well know your relatives.’
It gave her the opening for which she had been waiting and it had come when she judged him to have reached a mellow mood from the wine and good supper. ‘Nothing would have pleased me more, but I think you are forgetting I have barely two weeks left here at Sotherleigh.’
This reminder that any further evenings with her were limited jarred him through. ‘Of course,’ he said somewhat abruptly. ‘Momentarily it had slipped my mind.’
‘Nevertheless, it is an opportunity that I would not want to miss and there is a means left by which I could meet the sea-captain.’
He sat back in his chair, watching her warily. There should be no more extensions. ‘What might that be, Mrs Pallister?’
‘There is an empty house in the village.’ She managed to keep her voice steady, it is the brick one in Briar Lane. If you would rent it to me, it would solve all my problems for the time being.’
He did not answer her at once as he considered what her possession of that place would mean. There was not a house or cottage in the village that did not stand on Sotherleigh land and he had visited them all, occupied or empty. The Puritan preacher, living in the rectory, had met him by arrangement at the little Saxon church and given him information about the villagers. Most of them had been Royalist in the war and the preacher’s milksop attitude to
wards them had not been to his liking. The soft-hearted fellow would have to go. He himself had no patience with those Puritans — and there were many — who thought of all men and women as their brothers and sisters. In common with many Parliamentary land-owners and business men, he was wary and watchful of the rising radicalism of the lower orders and their sects, fearing a state of social anarchy. Even if such ideas had not reached rural Sussex, to have the Pallisters in the Briar Lane house would give a monarchist rallying point to local people who might resent him as their new master and landlord.
‘Why should you prefer that house to accommodation in Chichester?’ he wanted to know.
She saw how his eyes and jaw had hardened, but still pressed on. ‘There are important reasons. It would ease the break for my mother-in-law to remain on Sotherleigh land and the same applies to my daughter. The rent is modest and I have to admit I shall be in impoverished circumstances with no income at all. To obtain the same kind of property in Chichester would be out of the question.’
This time he did not hesitate before he answered her. ‘What you ask is impossible, madam. I have no idea how long ago the Sotherleigh rents were set, but I have raised them all to an economically acceptable level. Briar House is too good a property not to be extended and sold at a handsome price to a gentleman while retaining the freehold of the land. There must be a number of vacant cottages scattered about in isolated areas that you could obtain for a peppercorn rent.’
She knew those cottages. There would be thatch in need of repair, poorly glazed windows and nowhere to stable Julia’s horse, which should not be left behind. In more prosperous circumstances she could have taken the coach and the other horses, but she would not be able to afford to keep them and they would have to remain at Sotherleigh. Robert had drawn what gold he had needed before riding off to join the King prior to the battle of Worcester and a generous quantity had been given to Michael when he had been forced to leave the country. She had what was left and Robert had left untouched the valuable plate still buried in the kitchen garden, having expressed his hope that one day it would grace the table again in the Great Hall. But both the remaining gold and the plate were legally Michael’s. She had no right to draw more than was absolutely necessary, although she knew he would not begrudge anything to her or to those in her care.
Any thought she had had of pleading with Makepeace was gone. It was useless. His mind was made up. She rose to her feet, scarcely able to focus her thoughts on saying good night to him. ‘It has been the most pleasant evening.’ She spoke automatically, unable to recall afterwards what else she had said.
‘Your taking supper with me has cemented my coming to Sotherleigh in a charming manner I shall not forget, madam,’ he said as he saw her to the foot of the grand staircase.
As she took the first tread she remembered something that had been left undone, ‘I forgot to play the spinet for you.’
‘I know, but I’m counting on that for another evening if you would be so obliging.’
She nodded vaguely. ‘Good night to you, Mr Walker.’
‘May you sleep well, madam.’
It was as if her feet had heavy weights to them as she dragged herself up the stairs. By the flower screen she rested her hand on a carved rose and let her forehead droop into her arm. She had failed. If it were just for herself she would not have cared. She had never quite belonged to Sotherleigh, and all the happy, loving hours it had given her were not confined by its four walls, but would go with her wherever she went. When she had come to Sotherleigh as a bride it could not have been easy for Katherine to be usurped as mistress of the house by a simple girl from a strait-laced background that did not match her son’s in any way. Yet Katherine had been gracious and welcoming. It was owing to her training and encouragement that Anne had felt herself blossom into a wife fit to hold the social and domestic reins of Sotherleigh. The only flaw was that Katherine had never really let go of them herself, no matter how much she believed she had. It would have taken her counterpart, which Julia was, to have made Sotherleigh subject to a new personality and a fresh authority.
Anne thrust herself away from the screen. The house would let her go as if she had never been and her portrait, which came under personal effects, would be taken from the Long Gallery, to remove the last trace of her ever having been there. But her guilt at having lost Sotherleigh would linger on in its history, down through the centuries, whether anyone ever knew it or not.
She trailed away to her bedchamber. There she lay awake all night and did not sleep until dawn. Only Sarah, who through her duties as lady’s maid had brief contact with the new servants, heard the next day that Makepeace had had company for supper. When Anne did not mention it, Sarah had no cause to reveal that she knew, but she wondered how Julia would have reacted if she had known that her mother had sat at table with the enemy.
*
The packing of the Pallister goods began. Anne went into Chichester and began the depressing search for suitable accommodation. She would not impose on the kindness of the few friends left in the vicinity, for Katherine’s condition in itself would be a burden on any household. She did ask a Royalist couple of long acquaintance if she might store surplus chests of goods in their stable loft and they willingly agreed.
From an upper window Makepeace saw her return from her expedition. One of his own grooms had driven her. She alighted at the side door and he, looking down, caught a glimpse of her downcast face before the width of her hat hid her visage from him. With the last sweep of her skirt, she vanished under the portal into the house.
He turned away from the window. Supper had been a lonely affair yesterday evening after having her company. He would hold her to her promise to play the spinet for him before she left. After that he should be better acquainted with his neighbours and could expect the social side of his life to be pleasantly settled.
Because Katherine was slightly better, it was proving difficult to keep her from being aware of the packing up that was taking place in the rest of the house. Her possessions were to be removed on the last day when the news could no longer be kept from her. Julia was in a permanent state of distress as Makepeace’s servants packed Pallister portraits, pewter tableware, cushions, hangings, Ned’s Chinese bowls and other such items in readiness for the family’s departure.
What upset her most of all, overwhelming everything else, was the effect that the upheaval was having on her mother. Anne’s face, taut and strained, seemed to get thinner and paler every day in her search for accommodation in Chichester, the location on which she was set. Desperate to lift the burden from her mother’s shoulders, Julia rode out daily on Charlie to comb the city’s outskirts, but beyond the walls any of the suitable cottages were tithed to local farms while other available property was beyond her mother’s purse. Refusing to be daunted, she went much farther afield. Had her mother not been so busy and preoccupied, her absence would have been questioned, but as it was she could come and go as she pleased.
She was overjoyed when in the village of East Lavant she finally tracked down a thatched cottage that was in the process of being vacated. A daughter was taking away her elderly mother, who was no longer capable of looking after herself or living alone. The whole place was in a filthy condition, but there was nothing that soap and water could not put right. The daughter, who looked harassed, was thankful to find a prospective tenant so quickly for her mother’s property.
Julia returned to Sotherleigh, eager to talk to Anne about the cottage’s views, its access to a little shop, and the good-sized rooms. Katherine would still be able to see the sweeping Downs, and the garden, presently overgrown, presented a challenge that Julia was eager to meet. She arrived home just after Anne had returned from Chichester. Before Julia had a chance to speak Anne broke her own news, her voice dull and listless.
‘I’ve taken a house in Chichester, Julia. It is in a row of ancient properties just off West Street. I fear it is in a dilapidated state, but it does mean that we
will have a place to ourselves and I managed to secure it at a low rent.’
‘But, Mama! I have found a good place for us in East Lavant!’
Anne looked dismayed at such a prospect. ‘I wouldn’t think of going that far out.’
‘But it’s no distance!’
‘It is when we have to walk everywhere.’
‘We have Charlie.’
Anne’s gaze shifted. ‘All I can say about that is we shall keep him as long as we can, but he may prove to be a greater expense than I can maintain.’ Her eyes filled with tears at her daughter’s stricken face. ‘I hope it won’t come to getting rid of him, but I have to think of everything.’
Julia nodded, beyond speech for a few moments in her distress. Then she managed a wobbly half smile, ‘I understand. But we would find him a good home, wouldn’t we?’
‘Of course!’ Simultaneously they reached out and hugged each other in wordless comprehension of the courage they needed for the uncertain future ahead of them, not knowing what sorrows they might have to face.
The next day Julia went with Anne to see the house. Her heart sank. It had all the gloom of a prison after light-flooded Sotherleigh. The windows were of thick glass, the rooms small with low ceilings smoke-black from the hearth. As for the stairs, they were so narrow and twisting that Katherine’s bedchamber must be a narrow room on the ground floor behind the kitchen with no view but walls outside.
Circle of Pearls Page 27
