‘I don’t think it’s that,’ Hope said thoughtfully. ‘She isn’t one to bear a grudge, and besides, she’s far happier now as Angus’s housekeeper. It’s more to do with me. She doesn’t seem to like the idea of me seeing your mother.’
‘Nell’s just stuck in the old ways,’ Rufus said lightly as the horse broke into a trot. ‘She can’t quite deal with the idea of her young sister taking tea with her ladyship.’
‘Then I must be very careful not to offend her ladyship with unseemly behaviour, and you must report back that I struck just the right note of gentility and respect,’ Hope replied with laughter in her voice. ‘Oh, Rufus, it’s so good to be out in the fresh air. I am well again, but Nell is not entirely convinced of that.’
Hope’s memory of what Nell tactfully referred to as ‘when she wasn’t quite herself’ was very hazy. She had been told bluntly by Dora that she was completely mad, that she refused to feed or even hold Betsy, and that Nell had been in despair. Looking down at Betsy swaddled in shawls in her arms, Hope found it difficult to believe that she could have done such a thing. But she could recall a feeling that she was drowning in some kind of all-enveloping black swamp.
Strangely, she was aware that it was Rufus who pulled her from that swamp with his confidences about his childhood, for she could recall most of what he had said that day. She had always perceived him as being so fortunate that it was something of a shock to discover he had felt unloved and cast off, and that his years at school had been so miserable. Later, when she came to think about how hard he’d had to work to make a new life for himself and his mother since his father’s death, she felt very ashamed of herself.
Her fears for Bennett hadn’t diminished; if anything, they’d grown stronger each day without word from him or about him. But when she felt most wretched she would think about all the soldiers who were killed in action, buried up by the river Alma and at Balaclava in unmarked graves.
She knew none of their widows would have the comforts she had, but she was quite sure that however desperate their circumstances they would not abandon their children. She could count herself fortunate to have so many friends and family around her to support her, and for Betsy’s sake she must keep up a brave front.
Yet even with the best will in the world it wasn’t possible to be brave at night when the fear that she might have to live without Bennett washed over her like a scalding flood. Often it was so bad she would stuff the sheet into her mouth to stop herself crying out. She might have the security of knowing Nell and Uncle Abel would never see her and Betsy homeless, but it was Bennett and his love she needed to survive.
Every single day she waited with trepidation for the post. There had been two more letters from Angus, but they were full of the news of Sebastopol falling, of riding into the city and the sights of devastation he’d seen there, for he hadn’t yet received any of her or Nell’s letters asking about Bennett.
She had written to the Rifle Brigade barracks at Winchester to ask if they could tell her anything, and to Dr Anderson at the Balaclava hospital, asking him if could enlighten her about what had happened. She had also penned several letters to Bennett too at Scutari, hoping they would reach him. They were so difficult to write, for if he was alive but very sick, she couldn’t worry him by showing her fears and anxiety. But to be forced to write bright breezy notes about his beautiful daughter and the mundane news of home when in her heart she felt he’d never read them, was almost impossible.
There were times too when she felt like raging at the normality all around her. It didn’t seem right that while her mind was tormented with whether he was alive or dead, Nell was asking her what she’d like to eat for dinner, or should they go into Keynsham and buy some material for a newdress?
The newspapers continued to report on the progress of the war. Sebastopol had fallen on 9 September, which indicated peace would soon be declared. Yet it riled Hope that all anyone seemed to be interested in was who would be commended for valour, or promoted. The government didn’t appear to be making any plans for the wounded, who might never be able to work again, or for the wives and families of the men who had died out there.
She knew Uncle Abel was lobbying anyone he could for information about Bennett, but even he had told her quite sharply that he also had patients to attend to.
She silently cursed the time it took post to reach England; the restraints of motherhood had prevented her from going to Winchester and demanding an explanation from the regiment in person. She told herself it was only three months since the date Bennett last wrote, which in reality wasn’t so very long, but it seemed like eternity to her.
‘I really don’t know how Mother will hold up this winter,’ Rufus said as they drove through the village of Corston. ‘Last year she was crippled with rheumatism and stayed in bed a great deal, and I can only expect that it will be worse this year.’
‘It must be a very bleak life for her,’ Hope said in sympathy, thinking back to the days when Nell dressed her and arranged her hair, and she went out visiting in her carriage most afternoons. ‘Does anyone call to see her?’
‘Not really,’ he sighed. ‘Reverend Gosling does, and the Warrens, but their visits are becoming less frequent. I can’t blame them, for she can be so very odd and difficult. I feel I ought to stay in with her more than I do, but how can I when there is so much to do on the farm?’
He turned his head and smiled at Hope. ‘But let’s not talk about gloomy things. We must make the most of today, and I can hardly wait to show you my plans for the stable block. It will make a good-sized house, and as the roof is good, and the pump right outside the door, it won’t cost too much. Matt, Joe and Henry have all offered to help me, and Geoffrey Calway will do the carpentry.’
‘He must be getting old now,’ Hope said, remembering the man who made her parents’ coffins. ‘How is his wife? She was very kind to me when Mother and Father died.’
‘Still as funny as ever,’ Rufus said. ‘You were probably too young then to appreciate what a character she is – seeing her is like getting a dose of sunshine. But then, the village is full of good people. When Bennett returns I think you should come back. There is no doctor now, everyone is always complaining about it.’
Hope liked the positive way he said ‘when’ Bennett returns. ‘I’d like that,’ she said, imagining living in a little cottage on the common, close enough to walk to Matt and Rufus, and Betsy growing up doing all the things she did as a child.
‘Nearly there now,’ he said as they went past the signpost to Hunstrete. ‘Let’s just hope Mother is in one of her better moods today. She seemed very pleased when I left that she was going to see Betsy today, she had even put on her best dress. But her moods are like the weather, I never know when they are going to change.’
Rufus’s fears that his mother might be difficult appeared ungrounded when she came out of the gatehouse door and greeted them warmly. Hope could see she’d taken a lot of care with her appearance. Her hair was arranged almost as well as Nell used to do it, and she had a cream lace collar on her mourning dress to enliven it a little.
‘You can’t imagine how excited I’ve been at the thought of seeing your baby,’ she said, as she ushered them into the warm by the fire. ‘May I hold her?’
Perhaps because this time Hope was prepared for how prematurely old and thin her former mistress had become, she felt more comfortable. She was touched too that the woman was so eager to hold Betsy. And she took her in her arms with all the care and delight that Nell and Dora did.
Hope offered to make some tea while Lady Harvey nursed the baby, and they chatted easily while Rufus went off for a while to take Flash up to the stable and attend to some small jobs.
‘I am so sorry to hear about your husband,’ the older woman said, her lined face showing real sympathy. ‘But you mustn’t worry, my dear, I’m quite sure you’ll hear from him very soon.’
Hope told her about the letters she’d written and everything Uncle Abel had
done. She avoided mentioning Angus for fear that might open doors in Lady Harvey’s mind that were better kept closed.
On this visit Hope even felt able to put aside the shocking events which had taken place in the gatehouse. Lady Harvey pointed out various bits of furniture, pictures and rugs which had been sent up from Sussex by her sisters.
‘Sometimes I find it quite hard to imagine that I ever lived in a big house,’ she said quite cheerfully. ‘The last few years up there weren’t very pleasant. We were often very cold; at least this cottage is warm and cosy.’
She showed Hope the new kitchen with pride, and it seemed absurd that this woman who had rarely set foot in the kitchen up at the big house could be so delighted that the new stove had two ovens, or that she should boast she had a stewcooking in one of them that she’d made completely by herself.
‘I’m not a bad cook now,’ she laughed merrily. ‘Mrs Webb from the village used to come and give me lessons when I first came here. I put a rice pudding in the very hot oven one day and it boiled over and made a terrible mess. But I get better at it every day. I can even make cakes.’
Hope was impressed; she’d imagined that Lady Harvey could do little for herself, but this clearly wasn’t so.
She fed Betsy a short while later and was just tucking her into a laundry basket to sleep when Rufus came back. He grinned delightedly to find everything was going well, and Hope guessed that he’d been convinced it wasn’t going to be so.
After they’d had the stew, which was every bit as good as anything Hope could make, Rufus said they must go and look at the stables. It was already half past two and he wanted to get her home before darkness fell.
‘You will come again soon?’ Lady Harvey asked, lifting Betsy from the laundry basket and tucking her into her mother’s arms. She arranged Hope’s hat more carefully too, and patted her cheek like a fond aunt.
‘Yes, of course I will, m’lady.’ Hope kissed the older woman’s cheek. ‘It was such a lovely dinner, and so good to see you again. Maybe Rufus could bring you to Willow End for the day. I know Nell would love that.’
Lady Harvey beamed happily, for a moment or two looking just the way she had when Hope was a girl. ‘Bennett will come home,’ she insisted. ‘I know he will. Try not to worry, my dear.’
‘That was quite remarkable,’ Rufus said as they walked up the drive. ‘I fully expected that Mother would go on and on about her ailments, or complain about how dreary her life is now. I can hardly believe she could show such concern for you and Betsy. She has never shown much sympathy for anyone before.’
‘Did you tell her I went mad for a while?’ Hope asked teasingly. ‘Maybe that made her feel we have something in common.’
Rufus chuckled. ‘No, I didn’t, and anyway you weren’t mad, just in the doldrums. And it was quite understandable given that you’d so recently given birth.’
Once at the stables, Hope decided to leave Betsy in the buggy while they looked around. Under the hood, bundled up in a rug, she would be warmer and safer than in her arms, and if she woke Hope would be only a few feet away.
So many memories came back for her as she looked at the green-painted stable doors, now blistered and blackened by the fire. When she was scouring pans at the scullery sink she overlooked the stables, and she’d watch James grooming the horses or mucking out. She could recall feeding Merlin and the other horses with Rufus, climbing up to sit astride Sir William’s saddle when James had slung it over the wall of one of the stalls, and playing hide-and-seek with Rufus up in the hay loft.
‘Remember that hot summer when mother was away in Sussex and just before I went away to school?’ Rufus asked. ‘We had a table and chairs out here in the yard because it was too hot in the kitchen and Martha made that raspberry cordial for us.’
Hope smiled. That summer was one of her best memories for the days were so long and languid and everyone so good-natured. Some nights they all sat out here in the stable yard till well past ten, and she and Rufus would look up at the stars above and try to count them.
Many of the cobblestones in the yard were broken and dislodged now, and all that remained of the big house was one layer of brick and stone. But the step up to the kitchen door where she’d so often sat that summer shelling peas or peeling potatoes was still there, like a monument to the good times.
‘Was nothing saved from the house?’ she asked, unable to take in that the drawing room had been where the chicken run was now, or that the magnificent staircase had been burned completely.
‘Pots and pans, that was all,’ Rufus said ruefully. ‘And the statues from the rosebed out the front. I sold those to a man in Bath, and much of the stone from the outside walls of the house I saved. But the furniture, books, paintings and china were all destroyed. But don’t let’s think on that, come on inside and I’ll showyou what I’ve got in mind.’
He was only using the first stable, for Flash and his plough horse. In the other two larger ones Rufus had already stripped out the stalls and made a vast space.
‘I’ll have the kitchen here,’ he said, pacing out an area some fourteen feet square. ‘Then a passageway with a staircase up to the bedrooms, and the parlour beyond that. I’ll build fireplaces and chimneys on the back wall.’
They had just climbed the old ladder inside the stable which led to the loft above, when they heard a bell ringing.
Rufus groaned. ‘That will be Mother. It’s the old bell on the gatehouse wall. I wish I’d never suggested she ring it if she needed me; on her bad days she can ring it three or four times a day.’
They went back down the ladder and looked down the drive; Lady Harvey had gone back inside the cottage.
‘Sometimes she rings just because she’s lost something,’ Rufus said, frowning with irritation. ‘But I’d better run down there and see what’s wrong. You wait here, I really need your opinion about the windows and whether I should have the front door going straight into the kitchen or the hall.’
‘I’ll give it some thought while you’re gone,’ Hope said. ‘And you’d better hurry, it might be something serious. Ring the bell again if you need me.’
As Rufus raced off down the drive, Hope went back inside the stable and imagined what she’d want if it was to be her house. The first thing that struck her was that there should be windows in the outside wall, to let in the morning sun. She thought too that Rufus should build the chimney and fireplaces up through the middle, with the kitchen stove on one side, the parlour fire on the other, and that way the bedrooms upstairs would be warmer.
She heard the sound of footsteps on the stones outside. ‘You were quick!’ she called out.
All at once there was a rank smell, and she spun round to see a man in the doorway. He was a vagrant, with filthy, ragged clothes. He was so big he blocked out the light, so she couldn’t see his face clearly.
‘Are you looking for someone?’ she said nervously for his stance was distinctly threatening and she was afraid he’d come here looking for food. ‘Sir Rufus will be back in a moment.’
‘I thought I told you never to come back here?’ he growled at her.
She knew who he was immediately and her blood turned to iced water.
‘Albert!’ she gasped. This man didn’t look or sound like him. But only Albert would say such a thing, and no other man could ever have such power to frighten her.
In a flash of intuition she realized this was why Lady Harvey had rung the bell. She must have seen him, perhaps crossing the field or coming out of the woods.
‘Cat got yer tongue?’ he snarled.
‘I’m just surprised to see you,’ she managed to get out. ‘I heard you’d joined the army.’
Her heart was hammering with fright for it was obvious the man wouldn’t risk coming back here unless he had some evil purpose. It was more likely he intended to hurt Rufus or Lady Harvey – after all, he couldn’t have known she would be here. In fact, unless he’d been hanging around all day watching the gatehouse, he could well be
as shocked as she was to come face to face with her again.
‘Shut yer mouth,’ he snapped at her. ‘Get over in that corner.’
He came towards her, and she could see him clearly now. His good looks had gone, his once fine features bloated and ingrained with dirt. His hair, which had always been black and shiny, was now long, matted and grey. A thick greying beard covered all of his lower face, and he had several teeth missing. He looked like many of the brutalized men she’d seen in her time in Lewins Mead.
She backed away, hardly able to breathe for fear. If he’d been on the run constantly since burning Briargate down, he wouldn’t be troubled by killing more people, and Betsy was out in the buggy. If she should wake and cry out, Hope knew he wouldn’t spare her.
‘Go away now, Albert,’ she said as calmly as she could, even though her legs were almost giving way. ‘There’s nothing for you here but further trouble. I have a little money I can give you.’
‘I don’t want yer blasted money,’ he hissed. ‘I gave this place the best years of my life, and it’s all been destroyed. I want vengeance.’
His dark eyes glowed like hot coals and she instinctively knew he’d lost his mind. He hadn’t ever been a man of reason, so she knew that any attempt to cajole or plead would have no effect. She had to either fight him or outwit him – if she didn’t, he would kill her and anyone else who got in his way.
‘I didn’t destroy anything,’ she said, desperately trying to play for time while she thought of a plan. ‘I was just a child caught up in something I didn’t understand. I kept to my word. I never came back here until a few weeks ago. I didn’t tell anyone what I saw that day in the gatehouse.’
Out of the corner of her eye she sawa pitchfork leaning against the wall to her right.
‘You think I give a tinker’s cuss about you or what you said to anyone?’ he said with menace. ‘I never cared about anything but my garden, and it’s all gone now, trees cut down, my flowerbeds laid to waste. But you helped destroy what I had, and for that you’ll pay. Now, get back in that corner so I can tie you up, then we’ll wait till his bloody lordship comes back.’
Hope Page 56
