by May Burnett
“You like their meat well enough,” Paul said. “They are useful animals.”
“Let’s not talk of butchering pigs,” Gertrude said, shuddering theatrically, “when we are about to eat.”
“I wonder how you will get on with Sir Charles as your closest neighbour?” Melissa speculated. “He is universally rude, even to Lord Pell on the rare occasions they meet.”
“Yet he is a frequent guest of your parents, I gather?” Jonathan thought back to the dinner party. “I noticed that everyone simply ignores his jibes.”
“Nothing else to do, unless to cut him completely, and we cannot do that for the sake of his family,” Paul explained. “Patch, Prune, Cherry and Matt are old friends. Besides, our father believes in universal charity.”
“That is admirable. Though it would be better if some way were found to make the man behave more politely.”
“At his age, and with his wealth? Too late,” Melissa Selbington said. “Manners and character must be formed in youth. It is interesting that his atrocious behaviour has not prevented Sir Charles from making a fortune in munitions, and being knighted. Apparently courtesy is not a necessary ingredient for commercial success.”
“No, but neither is it an impediment, in most cases,” Jonathan defended his profession.
“Until he sold the works,” Paul recalled, “he spent most of his time there, and the family was not so much harassed.”
“Poor Patch and Prune,” Melissa said, daintily patting her lips with the napkin.
“I understand that he only very grudgingly gives them money for clothes, or anything else,” Gertrude observed.
“Patience looks beautiful no matter what she wears,” Paul Selbington said. “It is really not our place to speculate on the internal economics of our neighbours, Gertrude.”
“Maybe not, but one cannot help doing so. What else is there to do in a small town like ours? I would hate to be dependent on a pinch-purse like Sir Charles. That he is so rich must make it even harder to bear.”
“Does the younger Mr. Spalding not have any profession or income of his own?” Jonathan asked, since the girls were talking so openly.
“Matthew studied in Oxford. Since he came down and married Prune he oversees some of his father’s properties, and the tenants,” Miss Selbington said, “but Sir Charles has threatened to disinherit him and the children, if he should move away from our town, or strike out on his own. Since there are few chances to do so here in the neighbourhood, and prospective employers would hesitate to offend Sir Charles, he is kept at his father’s beck and call. And of course, there is his stutter.”
“Sir Charles did put me in mind of a certain Sheridan phrase,” Jonathan said.
“A damned disinheriting countenance, you mean? Yes, that’s Sir Charles all over.” Paul signalled to the waiter for more ale.
***
Selbington arrived at the inn as promised, and together the two men walked towards Spalding Hall just before five.
“Can I assume that your family matter will not bring any trouble or sorrow on Miss Trellisham?” Paul asked Jonathan.
“That is certainly not my intention.”
As Selbington had predicted, the ladies were all assembled for tea, and to Jonathan’s relief, Sir Charles was not in sight. He had no desire to discuss his parents’ negligence in the hearing of that sarcastic old man.
Jonathan’s eyes flew to Cherry, sitting primly on a stuffed chair, as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. She blushed under his regard, but showed no other sign of discomfort as they all greeted each other politely. All the ladies of the household were present; Matthew Spalding, they were told, was out checking on some tenants with his father.
Lady Spalding hospitably offered the visitors tea and refreshments. Jonathan accepted a cup, but declined the small sandwiches and miniature scones.
Selbington had chosen a seat close to Patience, and from the heated glances they exchanged, Jonathan could not doubt that theirs was a mutual love match.
“This is not merely a social call,” Selbington told the five ladies. “Mr. Durwent – Jonathan - tells me he has a particular matter he would like to discuss with you.”
Five pairs of feminine eyes turned to Jonathan in polite, puzzled or apprehensive enquiry.
“My parents lived in Lancashire at the time of my birth, not quite thirty years ago,” he began. The ladies looked askance at this unasked-for information.
“It has recently come to light through a diary my mother wrote, that she had two children at the time. Me, and a girl they baptised Mary Rose, my twin sister. It seems that when we were three weeks old, for reasons I cannot understand or imagine, they gave my sister away to Mr. and Mrs. Trellisham.”
“Oh, God!” Cherry exclaimed. “Surely it cannot be!”
“At last we learn something about our past!” Prune looked at Jonathan in wild surmise. Patience shook her head in wonder.
Lady Spalding and Miss Spalding exchanged glances, but chose not to comment.
“Good Lord. Then you two have a problem,” Selbington said, looking from Jonathan to Cherry. “If only I’d known about this earlier, - there could be a tremendous scandal, if this leaks out.”
“Who are your parents? Were they too poor to keep their child?” Miss Spalding asked.
“They both came of perfectly respectable, if impoverished county families. My father was a clergyman, still a curate at that time. Two years later he obtained preferment, and was Vicar in a small town until his death. My mother is also deceased.”
“So the child would have been Mary-Rose Durwent?” Lady Spalding said. She was holding her cup in her hand, but had forgotten to drink. “I take it you are trying to find your sister?”
“Indeed. That was my purpose in travelling to this place. I have also bought the Lobbock Estate, but that was merely a fortunate coincidence.”
“Neither Prune, Cherry nor myself look like you, myself least of all,” Patience said doubtfully.
“No, but my younger sister Emily – my only other surviving sibling, - does not look much like me either.”
“I cannot tell you which is your sister, but I know who it isn’t,” Miss Spalding said to general surprise.
“Please, Aunt, what can you mean?” Cherry exclaimed, as Prudence and Patience were staring at the old lady.
“I have known from the first that Patience is the true daughter of the Trellishams,” Miss Spalding said. “There are so many clues that everyone should have realised it years ago. Your features are almost identical to the older Mrs. Trellisham, your paternal grandmother, Patience. Then the interest in religion, in music, the stubbornness, - it could not have been clearer. Besides, we had written proof. When Patience was born, your mother wrote to us. Anna specifically mentioned the name and your fair curls.” She looked challengingly at Lady Spalding.
“You also knew?” Patience asked, eyes wide.
Lady Spalding hesitated, nodded. “Well, yes, but we destroyed that letter long ago.”
Jonathan frowned. “Why did you destroy it?”
“Sir Charles, of course,” Selbington said in a disgusted voice. “Had he known which girls were not related to his wife, he might have got rid of them.”
“Sent us to the poorhouse, most likely,” Prudence Spalding said. “Even as things stood, he threatened to do so more than once.”
“We could not allow that to happen,” Miss Spalding confirmed.
“No, indeed.” Lady Spalding finally put down her cooling tea. “My sister had sworn to treat her three girls exactly the same, they were her daughters in all ways but one. It would have betrayed her memory to tell what I knew.”
Prudence got up, and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Mama-in-Law.” Jonathan noticed uncomfortably that there were tears glimmering in her eyes.
“But once Prune married Matt, and Cherry had married Max,” Patience said, “you could have spoken. Sir Charles could not have done anything more at that point.” She was graspin
g Selbington’s hand in hers.
“After keeping a secret for so long,” Lady Spalding said, “one does not easily betray it. And remember all those aspersions my unlamented mother-in-law used to cast on your birth. On balance it seemed better, even then, that Sir Charles not learn for certain that Prudence was adopted.”
“Either you, Mrs. Spalding, or your sister Cherry must be my twin sister,” Jonathan said, looking from one to the other. “Do you have any idea, which is more likely?”
Everyone in the room looked from the two women’s features to his, trying once again to make out a family resemblance. “Prune’s chin, maybe?” Miss Spalding said, without conviction. “Both have brown hair.”
“But Prune has brown eyes, and yours are blue,” Patience said to Jonathan. “Does she look like your other sister, perhaps?”
“In some details, but I cannot tell for sure. It would be best if there were written proof, but the chances of that are slim at this late date.”
“What of Serena Mills?” Miss Spalding suggested.
“Who?” Jonathan told himself to be patient.
“I never heard of her,” Prudence said. Patience and Cherry also shook her heads.
“Serena Mills, as she then was, was your mother’s best friend since they were about twelve,” Lady Spalding told the young women. “They had no secrets from each other. After Serena married a squire over Trepsham way, they kept up a frequent correspondence.”
“Is this lady still alive?” Jonathan asked.
“As far as I know. She would only be in her fifties. Her married name is Bolston – Mrs. Oliver Bolston.”
“I remember Mother writing letters to a friend in Trepsham,” Patience said. “And she was always glad when a letter came back from there. Don’t you recall, Prune?”
Prudence shook her head. “No, but I do hope this lady knows which of us is which. And maybe she’ll know where the third child came from, as well. It is high time this mystery was cleared up.”
“So my next step is obvious,” Jonathan said, “I will visit Mrs. Bolston and endeavour to find out what she may know about my sister.”
“I shall come with you,” Prudence said immediately. “This concerns me more than you, Mr. Durwent, though I thank you for the information you have provided.”
“I will come also,” Cherry declared. “My interest in the information is as urgent as yours.”
“I will send to Mrs. Bolston at once,” Lady Spalding offered, “asking for her assistance in untangling the family history, and announcing your visit tomorrow morning. We need more tea,” she realised, and rang the bell. “And none of you have eaten anything. Do so now, please, we have much more to discuss. Mr. Durwent, tell us more about your parents, family, and yourself. Whatever the outcome of your search, it is gratifying that the new owner of Lobbock Manor is a family connection. I gather you are in easy circumstances?”
Jonathan took a sip of the now tepid tea, cleared his throat, and set himself to satisfy his new-found family’s curiosity.
Chapter 22
“So, Mrs. Randolph,” Jonathan said after enduring more than an hour of relentless if friendly inquisition, “would you grant me an interview, to discuss our situation?”
“Yes, we have to talk,” Cherry replied, rising and putting her hand on his arm. “Let’s walk out in the gardens, since it is still light, and see if we can find a mutually acceptable way out.”
“Don’t stay outdoors too long,” Lady Spalding warned, “Mr. Durwent has just been ill, we would not want to overtax him.”
“No danger of that,” Jonathan said quickly. It was embarrassing how a short bout of fever made him appear almost an invalid here in Bellington. Would he ever live this first impression down?
They walked for minutes without saying a single word. He enjoyed having Cherry close, even as he told himself that she might be his sister. The ambiguity of their situation was tying his tongue in knots.
“This muddle is my fault,” Cherry said, before he could find the right words. “I am sorry I gave you a false name, and flirted with you, and kissed you, when you did not even know me.”
“I was just as much at fault. Since I believed you a married woman, I should never have kissed you either, and as I recall I made the first move. You confused me. We men like to know where we are with a woman – is she respectable or not, available or not? You were in no clear category, yet too attractive to simply keep my distance.”
“You will wonder why I donned that disguise. It is hard to explain my frame of mind in that ugly damp house, hiding for over a week already, while I waited for Prune to sell my jewels. With the proceeds I planned to disappear, and live in some remote spot under an assumed name.”
“I still don’t understand what exactly you were hiding from. My only wish is to relieve you of that threat, whatever it is.” Surely now that they were yoked together one way or the other, she could be open with him.
“It is an ugly tale,” she warned.
“I am sure I’ll have heard worse. Is it creditors you were hiding from?”
“Yes, but it’s more complicated than that.” They had reached the end of the path, and turned round, walking among the old-fashioned borders and a shallow pool with water lilies. The sun was very low, and there was a pink glow to the sky in the west. Jonathan said nothing, but indicated that he was listening attentively.
After a short hesitation she went on. “My husband, Max Randolph, was a wealthy wine merchant when we married right here in Bellington. I had met him at an assembly in Norwich, where he was visiting friends, and I was only nineteen. At first all went well. I enjoyed the diversions of the capital, he showered me with gifts and jewels, and we went out a great deal. Eventually there was a reversal – a ship that sank, and Max’s cargo was underinsured – by retrenching for a year or two, and selling my jewels, he could probably have come about. But instead he accepted a loan from an acquaintance, Mr. Buckley.”
“Why not from a bank? I suppose Buckley offered better terms. And somehow the debt still grew bigger than before, I suppose? Until there was no way out?” Such cases were frequent enough in the city.
“Exactly. Not quite five months ago,” she said, with difficulty, “Max shot himself.”
“Suicide?” Jonathan stopped dead. “I did not realise … how could any man married to you put a period to his existence? The debts had become that overwhelming?”
“I had no idea how bad it was. We had been estranged for over a year by then. Buckley sent me a note advising me of the large debt right after Max’s death. I had to let the servants go, and was waiting for him to seize the house. Buckley let some time pass, pretending to sympathize, and even tried to sound consoling. But I knew to distrust him. Eventually he made it clear that he would prefer another form of payment.”
Jonathan’s anger rose, scalding in its heat. To harass a recent widow like that! “What a blackguard! Go on.”
“He sent men to watch the house and follow me each time I went to shop for food. My former friends and acquaintances, the ladies with whom I worked on charitable committees, all abandoned me after Max’s death. Oh, there were a few men who might have offered help, but on similar terms as Buckley himself; or perhaps they would have been too afraid of him to even try. When Max and I first met him, Buckley appeared just another businessman; but by last year his unsavoury reputation was widely established.”
“If only I had known you then,” Jonathan said, not hiding his anger, “I would have made short work of this man’s pretensions.” He suppressed, with difficulty, an overpowering urge to fold Cherry in his arms for a comforting hug. He was not sure he could have kept it brotherly.
“I used that red wig, and an old servant’s cloak, to slip out of a dressmaker’s back entrance, with my jewels sewn into my garments. I could not take any luggage, obviously. I had just enough money left to come here on the stage, but I expected Buckley and his men to track me down any moment.” Her expressive features mirrored the fear and
anguish of that frightening journey.
“At least you had a family to come to. You were not quite alone in the world.”
“Yes, and they have been so good, even though none of them took my fears seriously. When I heard from Matt that there were strangers from London staying at the inn, I had to find out more. Sitting day after day in that abandoned house was driving me to distraction. When you asked after my family that first time we met, you confirmed all my fears.”
“You really suspected me of working for a man like that? That is rather insulting.”
“By the time we kissed, I had almost completely given up my suspicions,” Cherry said. “I found you attractive too, but I should not have done it. It was very wrong.”
“How could it be wrong if it felt so right?” he quoted. “Time will show if it was wrong. I trust it was not, but thank God we did not do anything irrevocable before learning about the possible impediment.”
“You were looking for a completely different kind of bride, admit it,” Cherry challenged. “Even if it turns out that Prune is your sister, as I devoutly hope, we cannot marry. There has to be a way out of this absurd engagement that was forced upon you when you were still half feverish.”
“Not so feverish that I didn’t realise what I was doing, when I asked you to marry me. I have not thanked you, have I, for coming to look after me when I was sick? I believe it was your willow bark tea, rather than the physician’s tincture, that helped me recover. Indeed, I may owe you my life.”
“Your fever was frighteningly intense,” Cherry admitted. “I feared for you, and prayed for you, though I had fallen out of the habit.”
“You were also forced into the engagement, and I did not fail to notice that you were most reluctant to agree,” Jonathan said. “Since you were not aware of our possible relationship, was the idea of marriage to me so repulsive?”
“Not repulsive at all, but if nothing else, my pride would not allow me to accept a man who had to be coerced into offering under such ridiculous circumstances. Considering my age and widowed status, Pell and Paul and Matt overdid the outrage, they were milking the scene for maximum effect. My fear is that they were motivated by the wish to see me suitably established.”
