by Dilly Court
Toby was openly amused. ‘Do as your sister says. I don’t want you falling into the grave dead drunk. If you do, Jeffries and I might decide to bury you instead.’
Tom looked as though he would like to argue, but he stuck his tongue out instead, and retreated hastily in the direction of the stable yard, swinging the flagon at his side and whistling a defiant tune.
‘That boy will either end up a rich man or a jailbird,’ Toby said, chuckling. ‘He needs a firm hand.’
‘I can manage him,’ Effie said firmly. ‘I won’t allow Tom or Georgie to fall foul of the law.’
‘The boys need a father. It’s hard for a young chap to grow up without a man’s influence.’
Effie shot him a glance beneath her lashes and she realised to her surprise that, for once, he was deadly serious. ‘You did,’ she said softly.
‘And look at me now. I’m a case in point, aren’t I, Jeffries? You’ve known me since I was a nipper; what d’you think?’
Jeffries swallowed a mouthful of bread and cheese. ‘You’re a chip off the old block, master. I’ll say no more.’
Toby frowned. ‘You knew my father, but you won’t speak to me of him. Why?’
‘That’s for me to know and you to find out, if you’ve a mind to know the truth,’ Jeffries said mysteriously. He leaned back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes. ‘I’m going to have forty winks. I can’t work on a full belly. Give me half an hour and I’ll be ready to start again.’
‘You do know,’ Effie said gently. ‘You know, but you won’t admit it, and neither will he. When are you two going to face the truth?’
Toby’s expression was not encouraging. He met her questioning look with a blank stare. ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Effie. You’re making up fantasies in your head, and I want you to stop. That wreck of a man in the house is nothing to me, and I am nothing to him.’ He threw off his shirt and seized the pickaxe, attacking the ground with renewed vigour.
Effie walked slowly back to the house, her tired mind in turmoil. Perhaps she had it all wrong. Maybe she just wanted a happy outcome for Toby and the master of the house who was scarred both physically and mentally by a long lost love.
The grave was dug by sunset. Effie’s concern that Owen’s father was to be buried in unconsecrated ground without the benefit of a clergyman to say prayers for his soul was overridden by the need to inter his corpse before putrefaction set in. Champion had been harnessed to the farm cart and Tom led the horse to the edge of the orchard with Effie holding Georgie’s hand, followed at a respectful distance by the others. The air was pleasantly cool and filled with birdsong. The tangled branches of the apple trees were heavy with unripe fruit, and the grass around their roots was cropped to velvet smoothness by the sheep that roamed freely. The sky to the west was streaked with livid gashes of purple, orange and scarlet and overhead was an infinite arc of pale turquoise. As Toby and Jeffries lowered Jacob’s body into the dark maw of the grave, Effie looked upwards, hoping that his soul was reunited with those whom he loved the most. She could not grieve for a man who had shown her little kindness in life, but she could give him the respect due to a father-in-law. She looked round at the bent heads and solemn faces and she was lost for words. Toby met her eyes with a questioning glance, but all she could do was shake her head.
The silence was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps, and glancing over her shoulder Effie was both startled and amazed to see Seymour Westlake striding towards them. His long robes flowed out behind him and his head was bare. There was something majestic and almost biblical about him; he might, she thought, have been Moses about to part the Red Sea. He stopped at the foot of the grave and in his hand he held a leatherbound Bible.
‘Would you like me to say a few words, Effie?’
She nodded her head. ‘Thank you, Mr Westlake.’
In a well-modulated voice, Seymour read a passage from the Bible, followed by a simple prayer. There was a moment of silence when he finished speaking, and it seemed to Effie that even the birds had stopped singing in deference to the occasion. A murmur from Georgie brought her to her senses and she tossed a handful of dry earth onto the body, which was bound tightly in a winding sheet. There could be no coffin for Jacob Grey, but at least he had had a burial ceremony of sorts. Georgie tugged at her hand and she picked him up, wondering at his resilience. He seemed perfectly happy and had taken everything in his stride so far; but how much a child of twenty months understood of the situation she had no way of knowing.
‘So this is Georgie,’ Seymour said, smiling. ‘He’s a fine boy.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Effie shifted Georgie to a more comfortable position on her hip. She felt slightly at a loss in the strangeness of the situation and the deepening twilight. Seymour seemed to sense it too as he gazed thoughtfully into the lengthening shadows that turned the fruit trees into ghostly shapes. ‘I haven’t been out of the house for years,’ he said more to himself than to anyone else. ‘I’d forgotten how pleasant a summer evening could be. It’s a long time since I smelt the salt tang of the sea brought upriver by the tide and felt the warmth of the earth beneath my feet. I didn’t realise how much I missed all this.’
‘Why don’t you join us for supper, Mr Westlake?’ Effie asked impulsively. She could see by the look he gave her that Toby did not appreciate her boldness, but she was determined to bring father and son together. Standing side by side the likeness between them had been startling. The clean cut of the jaw, the high forehead and the thick tangle of dark hair were clearly passed down from father to son. Their eyes were almost exactly the same shade of periwinkle blue and they were both as stubborn as mules. She held her breath, waiting for his answer, but it was Nellie who broke the tension. She had been silent during the whole proceedings but now she nudged Seymour in the ribs with a cheerful grin. ‘Aw, c’mon, master. Join us in the kitchen for a slice of game pie and a tankard of ale. Jeffries has been out shooting wildfowl and the snares have caught some fine rabbits. We’ll feast like royalty tonight.’
Seymour hesitated and then shook his head. ‘I think not, Nellie. I’ve had enough excitement for one day, and I’m tired. I’ll take dinner in my room as usual.’
Effie cast a pleading look at Toby. ‘Won’t you try to persuade him?’
‘Mr Westlake is master in his own house,’ Toby said stiffly. ‘I still have work to do.’ He inclined his head in Seymour’s direction. ‘If you’ll excuse me, sir?’
‘Of course, you must do what is necessary. I’ll say goodbye, Tapper. I assume you’ll be on your way now.’
Effie could have cried with frustration when Toby nodded his head and turned his back on them, picking up a spade and tossing soil into the grave. She wanted to bang their heads together in order to make them see sense, but Seymour was already striding off in the direction of the house.
‘Come on, ducks,’ Nellie said briskly. ‘You won’t get them together not even if you was to tie them back to back and leave them for a month of Sundays.’
‘You know, don’t you?’ Effie fell into step beside her as they returned to the house. ‘You’ve always known.’
‘Of course,’ Nellie said with a careless shrug of her shoulders. ‘I’ve worked here since I was a girl of eleven. Servants always know what’s going on above stairs, and I worked alongside Mirella. She was a wild one, but I’ll say this for her, she might have been free with her favours before she took up with the master, but she never looked at another man after they got together. She was true to him and there’s no doubt in my mind who was Toby’s pa. I think the master knows it too, but he couldn’t bear to be reminded of her, and it’s no use having a son and heir born the wrong side of the blanket. He sent the boy away, and he’s too proud to admit that he was in the wrong.’
Later that evening Georgie and Tom were in bed. Nellie had also retired for the night and was in her cupboard-like room off the kitchen with the door firmly closed. Effie sat in the chair by the range, grateful for its warmth as th
e darkness enveloped the old house and a cool wind from the marshes sighed around its walls like a lost soul. Toby had gone to the stables to check on the horses, and she waited patiently for his return. He had said that he intended to leave first thing in the morning, and she needed to speak to him before he disappeared from their lives yet again. She needed to find out where the fair might be found and that was something only Toby would know for certain. It was a slim chance and she doubted whether Frank senior would take her back, but it was worth a try and the alternative was homelessness or, horror of horrors, the workhouse. She would have to convince him that there was not and never could be anything between herself and Frank, but she was willing to go down on her knees and beg if it was the only way to put a roof over their heads and provide food for the table. She did not have long to wait. Toby strolled into the room, but he came to a sudden halt when he saw her.
‘Effie! I thought you’d gone to bed.’
‘I wanted to talk to you, Toby.’
‘If it’s about the old man . . .’
‘No,’ she said hastily. ‘I’ve said my piece and the rest is up to you.’
‘Then what is it that’s so urgent it couldn’t wait until morning?’
‘I need to ask you a favour.’
‘Go on. What can I do for you, Mrs Grey?’
‘Now you’re laughing at me, and that’s not fair.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease you. You’ve had a rough time, and I should be more sympathetic.’
Effie felt her throat unaccountably tighten, but she was determined not to allow emotion to cloud her judgement. ‘I wanted to ask if I might borrow the mare for a while longer. I want to leave here tomorrow and go in search of the fair.’
Toby’s smile faded into a frown. ‘You mean to go back to Frank Tinsley, despite everything you know about him?’
‘I was happy with the fairground people,’ Effie said, staring down at her tightly clasped hands. ‘The caravan was home and I had work. I could support myself and Georgie, and I’m sure that Mr Tinsley could find something for Tom to do. We would have a life, Toby.’
‘You would have heartbreak. Frank is promised to a girl from another travelling family. His father wouldn’t allow him to break with tradition, and you would end up as his mistress.’
‘That’s a horrible thing to say. It’s insulting to me and Frank. He’s not like that.’
‘If you believe that you’re a fool,’ Toby said angrily.
‘I have friends amongst the fairground folk; good people who made me feel that I belonged. Where else am I to go, Toby? I have a child to consider and Tom, who needs a proper home and a way to earn his living.’
Toby paced the floor, running his fingers through his hair so that it curled wildly around his head. ‘What will you do if they don’t want you? Have you thought about that? With a baby and a young boy in tow you would be forced back into the workhouse.’
Effie sprang to her feet. ‘Never,’ she cried passionately. ‘I’ll never set foot in that place again. I don’t care what I do but I’ll keep my son and Tom out of the workhouse, even if I have to scrub floors or sell bootlaces on street corners.’
‘And that’s just what you will end up doing.’ Toby came to a halt in front of her and he grasped her hands. ‘I feel responsible for you and your little family, Effie. I won’t stand by and see you ruin yourself, and there’s still Salter. Have you forgotten him?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I’ll never forget that man, but what would he want with us now?’
‘Revenge, my love. And there’s something that he wanted which Mr Grey intended to give you and Georgie. Salter would sell his own mother for less.’ Toby released her hands and went to fetch his jacket from a peg behind the door. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a leather pouch. ‘When I went through the old man’s clothes I found this on him. I think he intended to give it to you.’
Effie took it gingerly, feeling the soft leather with her fingers. ‘It feels like something metal. Is it money?’
‘Look inside.’
Effie untied the cord and tipped the contents onto the table. A gold half-hunter watch and some sovereigns rolled out onto the scrubbed deal. ‘I never saw this,’ she murmured, holding up the watch. ‘And there must be seven or eight sovereigns here.’
‘It’s yours, Effie. It won’t make you rich, but you can live for a year or more on that much money. It will give you time to look around and decide what is best for you and the boys.’
‘I could rent the caravan,’ Effie said, breathing a sigh of relief. ‘I can go back to the fairground with money in my pocket and start all over again.’
Toby’s smile froze and he stared at her in disbelief. ‘You still intend to do that, after everything I’ve said?’
‘I know you mean well, but you’ve got it all wrong as far as Frank is concerned. He told me everything. It was all a big mistake and he won’t make things difficult for me. I trust him, Toby.’
‘Good God, girl. Have you lost your wits?’
His shocked expression brought a smile to Effie’s lips. ‘I think I may have, but I know what I must do and I need the mare. Please will you lend her to me, just until I get back on my feet again?’
‘You are a stubborn woman, Effie Grey.’
‘That’s rich, coming from a man who refuses to acknowledge his own father.’ Effie met his angry gaze with a lift of her chin. She had left the fair without giving Frank a chance to apologise or to explain himself. She had been so intent on finding Tom that she had allowed Toby to convince her of Frank’s duplicity. She knew there could be nothing romantic between them but that did not mean she had to cut Frank out of her life altogether. Maybe, in the fullness of time, his fiancée might change her mind and release him from the promise that locked them into a loveless match.
Effie laid her hand on Toby’s arm, regretting her hasty words. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, even if it is true. I know you are only trying to help me, and you’ve been a true friend in all my troubles. I don’t know why you are so good to me, but please let me do this my way.’
His expression softened and he covered her hand with his. ‘I didn’t want to tell you this, Effie. I’ve done my best to keep it from you, but Frank is married. He wed the girl that his family wanted him to marry.’
Effie snatched her hand away. ‘You’re lying. You’re just saying that to make me change my mind.’
‘No, my pet. I swear it’s true. I traded some horses in Waltham Abbey last week. The fair was there and the wedding party was in full swing. Frank married his sweetheart.’
Chapter Sixteen
THE NEWS THAT Frank had married had dealt Effie a bitter blow. She had been furious with Toby for keeping the truth from her, although in her heart she knew she was being unfair and he was not the one to blame. She had stormed out of the kitchen and had spent a sleepless night, tossing and turning in the bed she shared with Georgie. Tom’s snores had echoed round the room as he lay on the palliasse where Toby had once slept.
Next morning, Toby was gone. Nellie showed no sign of surprise when she discovered that he had left, taking the mare as well as his own horse. That was the way he did things, she told Effie. He came and went as the spirit moved him, but he would turn up again sooner or later, drawn back to his birthplace by invisible silken cords that could not be broken. Effie had been left in a quandary, not knowing what to do for the best. She had money now; not a fortune, but enough to keep them for a year if she was thrifty, but they only had Champion as a means of transport and nowhere to go.
She kept putting off the inevitable, making excuses for not moving on, and as the days went by Tom struck up an unlikely friendship with Jeffries. He worked alongside the old man, helping him in his vain attempts to keep Marsh House from falling into an even worse state of decay. They cleared the overgrown vegetable garden where they discovered raspberry canes bearing fruit beneath a tangle of wild convolvulus, and late strawberries hidden f
rom the birds by a mat of brambles. They dug the soil in readiness for planting winter cabbage and potatoes.
Nellie seemed to have come to terms with the fact that Georgie was not her long lost Bertie, and was only too pleased to keep an eye on him when Effie was busy. The summer days passed pleasantly and Effie slipped comfortably into the daily routine of cleaning, doing the laundry and cooking their meals. Georgie had no fear of the animals and he loved to help her when she fed the hens and milked the goats. He grew chubby and healthy on the good food that Effie cooked in the now spotlessly clean kitchen, and his fair skin glowed with a healthy tan. When the housework was done, Effie enjoyed the peace and quiet of the dairy where she made butter and cheese. Nellie proved to be adept at brewing ale, and she was only too happy to pass her skill on to Effie.
Using part of the dairy as a makeshift brew-house, Effie and Nellie worked hard to keep Seymour supplied with a less harmful alternative to the brandy and opium for which his body constantly craved. At night, they could hear him pacing the floor above them when the torments grew too much for him to bear. He cried out for relief and flew into rages, throwing things at Nellie when she took him his food, but gradually these fits grew less frequent and he became, as she said, more like his old self. He ventured out into the grounds on sunny days, taking long walks and scaring the occasional traveller by his strange and exotic appearance. He seemed to take pleasure in gaining a reputation as an eccentric rather than a madman, and he would sit in the kitchen and recount his experiences with relish and a wry sense of humour. Effie was beginning to quite like the master of Marsh House, and, to her intense relief, he seemed to have forgotten that he had ever mistaken her for his beloved Mirella.
She knew that they must leave Marsh House eventually, but each day there was something urgent that needed to be attended to: the cheese had to be salted, or the excess of goat’s milk churned into butter, and then the ale might be ready to be strained into wooden kegs. Effie was kept busy from dawn to dusk.
