by Sandra Heath
She poured the coffee and handed him the pink and white cup and saucer. “I don’t know, Mr. Dodswell. I know only that something has happened to turn him against both myself and Daniel.”
The agent shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat, for he too had heard the rumors, although he gave them no credit. “No doubt, Lady Grenville, his moods are caused by his state of health and we must make allowances—”
“Yes. Of course.”
“It is unfortunate that he has been set back like this, for I was hoping to be able to speak with him. I have received a visit from Christie’s man, and the arrangements are well in hand, but I need Sir Nicholas’s signature.”
“I do not think he is able to deal with anything at the moment, Mr. Dodswell.”
“Then I must ask you.”
“Me?”
“You still have power of attorney, Lady Grenville.”
She nodded. “I suppose I do.”
“There is more than the matter of Christie’s and the auction, my lady. There is also the matter of cutting back on the number of staff employed here. There are already far too many, and when the hounds have gone and the surplus land sold—well, there will be an army where a mere company will suffice.”
“But where will they go? They must have employment, Mr. Dodswell.”
“That is not my concern. Oh, do not think me heartless, but my duty is to King’s Cliff, not to every man, woman, and child employed here.”
“How many must go?”
He took a paper from his pocket and handed it to her. She stared at the list of maids, grooms, gardeners, and so on.
“So many?”
“I fear so.”
Her glance fell on one particular name: Frank Roberts, Kitty’s father. She folded the paper again. “Is there no way we can keep them all, Mr. Dodswell? I will find it very difficult to do this to them.”
“If I thought it practical, my lady, then of course I would not come to you like this, but it simply isn’t practical. Or sensible. King’s Cliff is in difficulties and those difficulties are too great to be foolishly lenient. Costs must be cut.”
She handed him back the list, thinking of the shy gardener handing her the bunch of red and yellow tulips. “I don’t want Frank Roberts to have to leave, Mr. Dodswell, because he is my maid’s father and because he has shown kindness to me.”
He nodded. “I understand your feelings, my lady, but in Roberts’s case there will be no difficulty. He is already assured of employment with the Countess of Bawton, whose penchant for tulips and other spring flowers is well known.”
“You are sure?”
“Positive. There is a position for Roberts with the Countess of Bawton.”
“Very well. But what of the others?”
“Some of them will naturally have difficulty finding work, but there are others who will step into other posts.”
“We must do what we can to see that they all have posts to go to, Mr. Dodswell.”
He stared at her. “But that is not possible.”
“I cannot go ahead with this unless I do all I can to place them elsewhere.” She was thinking of her own terror at having to find a position, of the desolate and humiliating knowledge that unless she found work she would starve….
“If that is what you wish, Lady Grenville, then of course I will do all in my power to see that your wishes are carried out.”
“I will speak to the servants myself; I at least owe them that. I must explain as best I can why all this must be done.” She smiled a little. “They probably know already, but it is only right that they should be told properly.”
“You will be taking on more responsibility, Lady Grenville, and this time there truly is no need.”
“But there is, Mr. Dodswell, there most certainly is. I know only too well the importance of finding employment. They are not merely names on a sheet of paper, they are people.”
He smiled. “You have a soft heart, Lady Grenville.”
“So, I must sign the whatever it is for Christie’s and I must speak to the servants. Is there anything else which requires my attention?”
“Nothing urgent. Arrangements for the auction will go ahead, notices will appear in the major publications, and soon the whole realm will know what is about to happen at King’s Cliff. There will be a considerable stir.”
“And, I trust, considerable interest—sufficient to bring them here intent upon paying a goodly price.”
“I trust so too. Oh, there is another matter. Mr. McDonald, the engineer I spoke of, will be here either today or tomorrow.”
“How long do you think he will need to stay?”
“Possibly a week, my lady.”
“I will see that a room is made ready for him.”
The agent nodded and stood. “If you will just sign these papers for Christie’s, I will be on my way.”
“Of course.” She went to the escritoire in the corner and put her name to each one, while the agent held sealing wax to a candle flame and dropped a blob on each sheet. She pressed Nicholas’s signet ring into each one. As she handed him the completed papers, she decided to tell him that she intended leaving King’s Cliff. “Mr. Dodswell, I think I should tell you that I do not expect to be here for much longer.”
“Not be here?”
“No. It must be as obvious to you as it is to me that my marriage to Sir Nicholas is one of convenience. Until yesterday it was bearable, but now my position has become intolerable. I have decided to take up my life again, as if I had never met him and so as soon as he is out of danger, I shall go.”
“Does he know?”
She smiled a little. “Mr. Dodswell, I do not think he will particularly care.”
“I am sure you are wrong.”
“No, sir, I am not. My husband wished all along to marry Miss Townsend, and that is still his wish.”
“But where will you go?” he asked, half expecting to hear her say she would go to Daniel Tregarron, but her reply surprised him.
“I hope to take up a position as companion to Lady Mountfort, if that position is still open to me.”
His eyes widened. “Companion? But you are Lady Grenville!”
“Not for much longer, I fancy. Now perhaps you will understand my anxiety about the, servants who will lose their posts here, Mr. Dodswell. Uncertainty about employment is a terrible thing. I speak from experience, not from soft-heartedness.”
He took her hand, raising it to his lips. “I do not know what to say, except to beg you to think again about leaving this house. Please wait awhile and reconsider.”
She did not answer, and he sadly took his leave of her. His heart was heavy as he rode away. She had not been at King’s Cliff for long, but in that time she had impressed him a great deal. She was everything an estate like King’s Cliff needed in its mistress, and she was the wife Mr. Dodswell would himself have chosen for Nicholas Grenville. But it was not meant to be. As he rode down the escarpment, however, he wondered how much Daniel Tregarron had had to do with it all. And Augustine Townsend.
* * *
The vestibule was filled to capacity as Hawkins assembled the entire staff to hear what Laura had to say. They whispered anxiously together, for word had spread and they already knew that many of them had to leave King’s Cliff. They fell silent as she appeared at the top of the staircase, a slender figure in pink muslin, her dark hair almost hidden by a dainty lace day-cap. Her hand trembled on the handrail as she descended, stopping halfway so that they could all see and hear her. They wondered, as they watched her, how much of it was true about her affair with Daniel Tregarron, but this took second place to their own anxieties now. Some of the maids were almost in tears, and the men were pale and tense. Very few of them felt secure.
She looked at Hawkins. “Is everyone here?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Her mouth felt very dry. “I-I suppose that my purpose in calling you all here is already known to you, and I want to tell you that I do not find this
task at all easy, for I understand only too well how you must be feeling. I do understand, believe me, probably more than you can realize. I want therefore to reassure those of you who are to lose your posts here and who do not find employment elsewhere that I will do everything in my power to secure positions for you in the neighborhood. I cannot promise miracles, but I can promise to do what I can. I am deeply sorry that I have to face you like this, especially as I have been here for so little time, but King’s Cliff is in great financial straits and I do not feel that I have any choice. I know what Sir Nicholas’s wishes are and I am trying to carry them out to the best of my ability. Great changes are about to take place here, so that what existed in the past will never exist in quite the same way again. It grieves me, as I know it grieves Sir Nicholas, that you must suffer, but be assured that I will do my best, such as it is, for you. Hawkins has the list prepared by Mr. Dodswell. That will be all.”
Her heart was pounding as she turned and went slowly up the stairs again. She had been sincere, but did they know that? Did they know that she would indeed do as she promised? She smiled ironically to herself, for her own conscience was keeping her at King’s Cliff; she felt responsible somehow, and maybe she was, for she had Nicholas’s authority to act for him. Until he withdrew that, the responsibility for King’s Cliff and its employees rested solely with her.
Chapter 28
For Laura the atmosphere in the house continued to be oppressive, for although Nicholas’s fever began to abate, his manner toward her did not soften at all; he was still an ice-cold stranger. She found herself wishing that Daniel was there, for he could always lighten her mood and make her feel good—and above all make her feel desirable. Riding with him in the afternoons had been such a pleasure, but now she felt totally alone, and although she still rode, it was not the same by herself. She confined her rides to King’s Cliff land, particularly to Langford Woods where she did not feel so exposed, for she still had no riding habit and she knew that she did not present a creditable appearance.
Three days later she received a brief note from Mr. McDonald, informing her that he would arrive by mid-morning. That same morning Dr. Brown returned to see his patient and expressed his satisfaction that the crisis was over and that he would not need to come again. The doctor had not long gone when Augustine and her mother sallied forth to visit the Countess of Bawton, in the secret hope that the Duke of Gloucester would already have arrived for his visit, and so for the first time Laura had an opportunity of speaking to Nicholas alone.
It was not easy to go to his room, but she wanted to tell him what she was doing about the estate, particularly with regard to the servants. She found him much weakened, the recurrence of the malaria having obviously set his progress back, but any hope she may have had that his attitude would change was immediately dashed by his cool greeting. The only way she could salvage her own crushed pride was by adopting the same attitude, and so she was as icily correct as he was. He had expressed his approval of what she had told the servants, for Henderson had already conveyed the content of her speech to him, and he had also approved of the arrangements with Christie’s. He expressed an interest in the arrival of the engineer, and inquired about several minor matters. He did not ask her about herself once; he showed no interest whatsoever in her well-being. And so, the interview limped to an end, the distance between them as great, if not greater, than before her visit.
Mr. Alistair McDonald arrived with his three assistants in time for luncheon. He was a sandy-haired, young man with a long, pale freckled face and slender figure. His hands were small and beautifully cared for, he wore fashionable clothes which would not have disgraced Bond Street, and all in all he looked like anything but an engineer. He did not seem robust enough for the long, arduous hours he undoubtedly worked, and his manner was gentle. He spoke with a soft Edinburgh accent, choosing his words carefully, and she liked him immediately. After her uneasy confrontation with Nicholas, she was determined to ride out with the engineer and Mr. Dodswell, for that would take her away from the house for a while. Mr. Dodswell had protested that a lengthy, uncomfortable ride across King’s Cliff Moor was hardly a suitable activity for a lady, but she had been adamant. Various instruments, including a theodolite, were attached to the saddle of the engineer’s horse, and his assistants rode respectfully behind him as, with Laura and Mr. Dodswell on either side of him, he rode across the park toward the escarpment.
Augustine lowered the curtain when they had passed from sight. She had returned from a fruitless visit to the Countess’s house to learn that Laura had been to see her husband. Determined not to risk any patching up between them, she had immediately idly mentioned that Laura still rode in the afternoons. To Langford Woods. The implication was quite obvious, and must to Nicholas appear only too apparent. But he had said nothing.
She went to the bedside now, looking down at him as he slept. His reactions to Laura’s supposed infidelities did not please Augustine at all, and she knew that that was because he was deeply hurt. He could only be hurt if he liked and trusted his wife. Augustine’s eyes moved over his face. He was so very handsome, a flame to draw all moths, a man no woman would ever tire of. She knew that she wanted him. She would endure James Grenville’s bed if that was the only way, but it was Nicholas she desired, the more so since she was no longer so certain of her hold over him. Jealousy stirred through her as she looked at him. He was hers, hers alone! But even as she stood there, it was James Grenville’s evil face that she saw, and she was afraid.
* * *
The wind blew freely over King’s Cliff Moor, rattling the stiffly upright reeds and rustling through the delicate fronds of the willows. An old man was gathering reeds and withies for baskets, and neat bundles lay ready nearby. He paused in his work as the horses passed and his gaze was cold as he watched them move up to one of the narrow, raised tracks that had been there since the misty times long ago when the monks had first attempted to drain the lowlands. The rhines and ditches were still now, choked with mud and weeds. The dissolution of the monasteries had seen the end of centuries of work, and now the water had begun to claim its own again.
There were tall spikes of wild iris growing on the edge of the water, and otter tracks crossed a smooth expanse of mud. Laura saw pure white swans and a flight of geese winging northwards across the clear sky. She did not look back at King’s Cliff once, looking only ahead as Mr. McDonald began his work.
He seemed to know exactly what he was looking for, dismounting frequently to clamber down a bank, muttering to his busily scribbling assistants about dikes, rhines, sluices, and cuts. He measured distances with great accuracy and apparently for no reason, but everything was meticulously entered into a book, and a map was beginning to take shape.
They rested in the shade of some trees, and Laura settled herself comfortably, leaning back against a trunk. “What do you think so far, Mr. McDonald?”
“It is too early to say, my lady. I believe that I will not be able to tell you anything for a week. One thing I can say, however, and that is that by my calculations, it would take a lowering of the land level of only ten to fifteen feet to turn these lowlands once again into a shallow bay of the Bristol Channel.”
“But the sea is twenty miles away!”
“Nevertheless, I believe that that is all it would take. Where we are seated now was undoubtedly once beneath the sea, and it would not take much for it to return to that state.”
She shivered a little.
He smiled. “Do not take fright, my lady, for it was not a warning twinge in my big toe which prompted my remark; it was merely an idle observation. In 1703 there was a great flood here, a terrible storm which breached the sea defenses and killed many people as it washed inland. It came as far as King’s Cliff, Lady Grenville, so that I can only warn you that whatever plan I may be able to present to you at the end of my survey, it cannot possibly keep back the sea, should it return.”
Their progress across the marsh did not pass un
noticed. The poachers watched them from the secrecy of the reeds, and although she could not see them, Laura knew they were there. She could tell that Mr. Dodswell was aware of them too, for he kept glancing around. It was an uneasy feeling, not at all pleasant, but not once did they see anybody, although once they saw the Tibdales’ large black gun dog.
* * *
A week later Laura was working in the library. Working was the only way to describe what she did, for it was certainly not an idle passing of the time. Her head ached with reading the household accounts. Not only had King’s Cliff been grossly overstaffed, it was also wasting money very unnecessarily. What point was there in sending to London for the best tea, when there was undoubtedly excellent tea closer in Taunton? And why pay for the services of a fellow from Essex to come to examine one of the brood mares? Surely there were skilled men in Somerset too? Why have this fellow simply because it was fashionable, for that was nonsensical in the present climate. She dipped her quill in the ink again and made another note. Jesu, the list seemed endless. She put the quill down and wearily stretched her arms above her head, wishing that she was out riding with Daniel Tregarron now instead of sitting inside poring over figures and entries that were fast becoming a blur. Maybe she had worked too long. She glanced at the clock. It was half-past four; Mr. McDonald would return soon from what he had informed her would be his last piece of surveying. Today he would tell her what, if anything, could be done.
Her glance fell on another sheet of paper on the escritoire before her. Already there were several servants who were unable to find new positions, and Hawkins had brought their names to her earlier. She had given her word and she stood by that, just as she stood by the word she had given to Nicholas. Now she was set to begin writing some letters to surrounding landowners, asking them to consider employing Bridget Donovan, Frederick Hartley, Joseph Bride, Benjamin Cruickshank, and so on, and so on…. Maybe some would respond favorably, for the servants employed at King’s Cliff had always been the very finest, but there would be many landowners who would tear up her letter simply because it came from her.
