Nell could not have imagined, in the immediate aftermath of Jude’s death, that just three months later she could be so contented. Her money worries were resolved for the moment, she had congenial company, Louis was happy and letters from Maria assured her that all was well at home and her little scheme for gentlemen’s suppers was working out to everyone’s benefit. Only one occurrence marred Nell’s pleasure, and that was a letter received from Mr Willerton-Forbes. Captain Edgerton had made exhaustive enquiries of his Irish acquaintances, and all agreed that there was no family of note in that country by the name of Caldicott.
‘Capt. E. Is very willing to travel to Ireland to pursue his enquiries amongst the less prominent families, if that would be of help,” the lawyer wrote. ‘Such a family could not be of any material assistance to you, but it might comfort you to know of their existence.”
Such news threw Nell into gloom. She no longer needed direct aid from Jude’s family, and she had no wish to discover that he had originated with a clan of poor farmers and had thoroughly misled the world regarding his origins. There had been enough shocking discoveries since his death, and she had no inclination for more. Accordingly, she wrote to Mr Willerton-Forbes to express her gratitude, but to declare herself satisfied with the results of Captain Edgerton’s enquiries and to desire him not to pursue them further.
In every other way, however, life was more than satisfactory. Within two days of their arrival at Percharden House, the younger Lady Harbottle had thrown a troop of industrious housemaids at the long abandoned schoolroom, and created a miniature paradise for Louis. There were books galore, and although many of them were too simple for him, he read them all with great glee. There were chalk boards and globes and an abacus, which fascinated him, when Mr Harbottle had shown him how to use it. Nell wished she had thought to provide him with one before. There were toys, too, of a kind which made Nell nostalgic for her own childhood but which Louis had never encountered before.
Now everything was made available to him, and a schoolroom routine established. Before noon, Nell and Lady Harbottle were to share teaching duties, Nell instructing Louis in reading, writing, ciphering and music, while Lady Harbottle taught him Italian, French, Latin and Greek, at all of which she was fluent. At noon, Louis was to rest in his room for an hour. There were times allotted for walks in the garden, too, or on the covered terrace if it should happen to be raining, and a time each day when he would read to the dowager.
Whenever Nell protested, or talked vaguely of moving on, Lady Harbottle would say, “Oh, but you cannot leave just yet. Why, you have only just arrived. We are so enjoying your company, and Louis is a delightful boy. You can stay another week or two, surely?”
“You are all kindness, Lady Harbottle.”
“Do, please, call me Jessica. And may I call you Nell? I look upon you quite as a friend already.”
“I should be honoured,” she murmured, although it puzzled her. There was more than matchmaking behind Jessica’s affability. Was it because of Louis? Her affection for him was obvious, and he basked in her constant devotion, his attachment to her growing with every day that passed.
These arrangements gave Nell a great deal more spare time than previously. Often she found her way to the music room, where there was a pianoforte almost as fine as the one in the saloon for her to practise upon, as well as a clavichord, a spinet and two harps. With paper and ink always at her disposal, she wrote often to Maria, and encouraged Louis to write to James, now that he was the boy’s guardian. In the evenings, after Louis and the dowager had gone to bed, she would read a book while Jessica worked at her complicated embroidery, the two sitting in companionable silence. Hour by hour, day by day, her contentment grew. It was, in some queer way, as if she had come home.
Then there was Mr Nathan Harbottle, who somehow found a reason to visit every day, bringing papers for Lady Harbottle to sign, or looking for a particular document from Sir William’s study. He would usually stay for the whole day, seeking Nell out for quiet conversations, or walks in the garden, sometimes with Louis and sometimes just the two of them. She was careful not to make more of it than friendship. There was admiration in his eyes, it was true, but that did not mean anything, and besides, she had made it as plain as could be that a second husband was not in her future.
One day they were walking in the gardens, strolling sedately up and down the rigidly straight paths, while Louis raced along the cross paths to intersect with their route before tearing off again.
“Oh, for the energy of youth!” she said, shaking her head. “If only I had so much myself.”
“But consider how tedious it would be if the urge to run everywhere never left one. The streets would be full of people tearing about in the most distracting fashion, and no one would stay still long enough to conduct a rational conversation.”
“True, but a ball would be the most entertaining spectacle,” she said. “Just imagine if everyone leapt and twirled and bounced so enthusiastically. I should love to be able to dance all night and not feel the least bit tired. Whereas today a simple walk at a snail’s pace has exhausted me. Shall we sit down on that bench for a rest?”
He agreed to it, and for a while they sat in silence, watching Louis run about, while a couple of gardeners worked in the distance, and a pair of orange butterflies danced together in fluttering harmony. There was a pool with a tinkling fountain playing. Nell felt as if she could sit there for ever, listening to its gentle music.
“I have brought you a letter from Meg,” he said eventually. “Will you read it?”
“Of course.”
“And consider the invitation it contains?”
“I shall consider it carefully, and very likely accept.”
“Even though you have not been introduced?”
Nell laughed. “Even then. It would be perverse of me to insist upon an introduction first when we cannot easily meet. As to any other concerns I might have had about staying with a single man and his unmarried sister, I asked Jessica about it, and she said that your sister lives with a pair of formidable matrons who are the epitome of respectability, and I need have no scruples about staying under your roof with them. The word ‘dragons’ was used, as I recall.”
“Ah yes. The two Macs. Mrs MacMorran and Miss MacKinnon. They were Meg’s governesses, many years ago, and now they bring an air of respectability to our ramshackle household.” He added in a whisper, “They are dreadfully strict, and do not scruple to express their opinions of any lapse in propriety in the most robust terms.”
“I look forward to making their acquaintance, and shall try to be on my best behaviour so as not to incur their censure,” Nell said. Then, on impulse, she added, “Everyone in your family is so kind to us, Mr Harbottle. I am quite at a loss to understand it, when we are complete strangers.”
He was silent for such a long time that she began to wonder if she had said something to offend him. But then he sighed. “May I speak plainly, Mrs Caldicott?” She nodded her assent. “When I first met you, I could not help but notice that…” He stopped, taking a deep breath before ploughing on. “Forgive me, but there were signs that your husband did not treat you kindly. It was beyond my power to remedy, but… it made me angry that someone like you — a lady, a person of refinement and good breeding — should be dealt with in such a way. I regret to say that my anger still burned when I returned home, and I spilt my thoughts to many people. All Jessica’s sympathy was aroused, and when you arrived here by chance, naturally she took you to her heart. My sister desires to meet you for the same reason. Believe me when I say that only an earnest care for your welfare drove me to reveal your secret to my family. I wished with all my heart that I could do something to alleviate your suffering.”
“But you did,” Nell said quietly. “You brought me tea, and a book for Louis, and you offered us your friendship. You cannot imagine how much those gifts meant to me. To both of us.”
“If only there had been more I could do! You shoul
d not have had to suffer so!”
“But I should,” she whispered. “Who else should suffer but myself? It was my punishment, and a just one, for it was all my fault. Everything that happened, all the evil that befell us — the blame was entirely mine.”
He looked shocked. His face was so expressive that he could never dissemble. Before he could speak, however, Louis came running up.
“Mama! Come and see. There are fish in the pool.”
They both rose to follow him. As he ran off again, Mr Harbottle whispered fiercely, “It was not your fault!”
But it was.
18: A Visit To York
Nell had one more member of the immediate Harbottle family to meet. Mrs John Drabble was the dowager’s only daughter, and a widow of some years’ standing. She was a bustling woman with a loud voice and a straightforward approach that was not ill-mannered but bordered on brusque. While Jessica was occupied with Louis, Mrs Drabble took Nell out into the garden for a little exercise and a lot of gossipy chatter.
“Widowhood is not easy,” she told Nell, “but the sable cloud turns forth her silver lining, as the poem goes, and so you will discover, my dear, if you have not already. One loses a beloved husband, but one regains oneself, if you understand me. The days of standing in a man’s shadow are over. And there are other benefits… I loved John dearly and I miss him still, but if he had lived I should have been knee-deep in children. A dozen, at least. As it, the four who survived were more than enough for me to manage after he died. But they are all settled now, the boys in good careers and the girls advantageously married, and so I am quite at leisure to meddle in everyone else’s lives.” She laughed at her own wit, with a merry, musical chuckle that was infectious, and made it quite impossible to dislike her. “How long were you married, Mrs Caldicott?”
“Nine years.”
“Oh. You are so young I had thought it must be less. Why, you must have been barely out of the schoolroom.”
“I was seventeen, and I had had my season in London already.”
“Ah, that is something, at least. One does not quite like to see a girl move directly from schoolroom to altar. It is unseemly, in my opinion, and not in the least necessary. If a woman is to be a helpmeet and companion to a man of sense, then she ought to have a little experience of the world. I was nineteen when I married and that was young enough, for I knew nothing. But I had eleven good years with John, and Jessica almost twenty with William. Jessica does not know it yet, but she is free at last. William was a good sort of man, but he had no imagination. He was the only one of us who dutifully married to please Mama and Papa’s notions of an appropriate match. Andrew, James and I all married beneath us, and Walter never married at all.” She laughed again, then went on more seriously, “Did your parents have the same sort of high-flown ideas for their offspring, Mrs Caldicott?”
“Papa did. My marriage caused an irreconcilable estrangement.” Nell felt no need to offer any reasons for the breach.
“Mine too,” Mrs Drabble said, laughing again. “However, when John died, my brother accepted me back into the family fold.”
“Whereas mine did not,” Nell said, trying not to sound bitter. “Papa made him swear a solemn oath.”
“Ah,” Mrs Drabble said, shaking her head. “So much family pride, instead of family affection. I do not think William wanted to acknowledge me, but I had returned to Sagborough and we moved in the same circles. It would have looked very odd for him to cut his own sister. However, he never forgave me for my marriage, nor Felix for what he did.”
This made Nell deeply curious, but it would have been impolite to ask directly what dreadful offence Felix had committed. Fortunately, Mrs Drabble was not a secretive woman.
“Did anyone tell you about Felix’s catastrophe? Probably not, for Mama never mentions it, and Jessica was not even here then. Felix is the youngest of us by quite a margin — six years younger than I am. Mama was five and forty when he turned up, quite unexpectedly and not entirely welcome, by all accounts. But he was a charming child who could wind everyone around his little finger, especially Mama. He was dreadfully spoilt, needless to say, and he quickly learnt that if he should be denied a wanted treat, he need only make a great fuss to produce a more favourable outcome. You may imagine how the rest of us liked that! We were good and did as we were told and were not even praised for it, and he screamed and kicked and yelled and was given whatever he wanted. Heavens, but he had some rages! He pushed a footman down the stairs once and broke his arm, poor fellow, and the nursemaids had a dreadful time with him. Mama could never deny him anything he wanted, and then all would be sunshine again. He never learnt self-restraint or generosity, but he did imbibe some sense of the family honour, which only made it all the worse when the crisis came.”
Nell was too interested now for polite dissembling. “Whatever did he do?”
Mrs Drabble laughed once more. “He married the housemaid.”
“No!”
“Indeed he did. He said nobly that he had dishonoured her and therefore, as a gentleman, he was obliged to marry her. There was the most almighty fuss about it, as you can imagine.”
“Oh yes! I have never heard of a gentleman marrying a servant before.”
“It is simply not done. In such circumstances, one pays the girl off, sets her up in a little cottage somewhere, or perhaps marries her hastily to one of the gardeners, or the gamekeeper’s son. One does one’s duty by her, but as for marrying her… well!”
“It is an unkindness to the girl, I should think,” Nell said thoughtfully. “To take her into society and expect her to know how to go on — she would be quite at a loss. Nor would she be accepted, either, not if people knew her origins. Society can be very harsh. I wonder how happy such a marriage could ever be, with so great a disparity of rank and education. Was it a love match?”
“Not that I could tell. I suspect that Eliza seduced him, anticipating a purse of sovereigns for her trouble, and she got a husband instead, but one cut off from his family. It was not much of a bargain on either side. And then a few months later, she died.”
“In childbed?”
“Nothing so mundane,” Mrs Drabble said, with her attractive laugh. “She fell from a high balcony at night. Very strange. Then Felix wrote a long, pleading letter to Papa, asking to be forgiven, but Papa would not, naturally. ‘As ye sow, so shall ye reap,’ he thundered. When Papa died, Felix wrote again, but Mama was implacable and William did not feel he could go against her wishes in the matter. After that, Felix never contacted the family again, except for that one letter a year to Mama. We only found out by chance, through a mutual acquaintance, that he had left the navy. It is all very tragic, and Mama would be very glad to receive him back into the family fold now.”
“Especially tragic for the poor housemaid,” Nell said. “I wonder how she came to fall.”
“Do you know, I have always wondered about that. There was no notice in the paper, or anything of the sort. Perhaps Felix realised his mistake and quietly settled her in the country somewhere so that he could return to the family. When that failed… who knows? He seems to have disappeared himself. Poor Nathan has been trying to trace him for two years, ever since Andrew died and Felix became the heir, but with no success. Personally, I think he must be dead.”
“But the letters to the Dowager Lady Harbottle,” Nell protested. “Surely that proves he is still alive?”
“Those letters are very odd,” Mrs Drabble said. “They are so vague, they could have been written at any time. Years ago, perhaps.”
“Except that the paper is fresh, and the ink has not faded or discoloured,” Nell said.
Mrs Drabble brightened. “That is very true! How clever you are! So he must still be alive, and perhaps, now that William is dead, he will just walk through the front door one day. And who would recognise him after more than twenty years? Hardly any of the servants from those days remain, Mama is practically blind and Jessica and Nathan never met him.”
“You would know him,” Nell said. “He was your brother, so you would know him again.”
“Would I?” she said. “After all this time? He must have changed a great deal. But there is no one else, that much is certain. I am the only one who might conceivably be able to identify Felix, and he fades in my mind with every year that passes. If he is to come home, he must do it soon, or not at all.”
~~~~~
Nell was both glad and sorry when the day came to move to York to visit Mr Harbottle and his sister. She looked forward to it, of course, but she also felt it a pity to interrupt Louis’ growing attachment to Jessica. Her affection for him had been fixed from the first moment she set eyes on him, but Louis was more cautious. Nell was very willing to encourage the friendship, but they could not stay at Percharden House for ever, and each day away from Jessica’s calming presence in the schoolroom was a loss. Jessica managed to drag Louis away from his books better than anyone else, taking him on long, rambling walks through the woods surrounding the gardens to collect leaves and flowers and all manner of interesting objects, which they pressed or painted or arranged in vases.
But to York they were to go. Jessica had lent Nell her own maid, a somewhat formidable woman of fifty or so, whose presence as chaperon would allow Mr Harbottle to accompany Nell and Louis in the carriage.
“Not that I need a chaperon, at my advanced years,” Nell had said gaily, when this point was first raised.
“A lady can never be too careful,” Mr Harbottle had said severely.
So a chaperon she would have, and in truth she was very glad to have the use of a maid of her own, to arrange her hair just the way she liked.
Having had a long spell of fine, dry weather, on the appointed day it rained steadily and very little could be seen from the carriage. Mr Harbottle did his best to point out features of interest as they passed by, but Nell soon gave it up.
“We shall see it on the way home,” she said, and then wondered at herself, to be thinking of Percharden House as home. Two weeks they had been there, that was all, and yet already she felt an ease such as she had not felt for some years, even in her own house in Southampton.
The Widow (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 1) Page 18
