by Lady Rascal
Madeleine took her time in washing up the dairy utensils and scrubbing the floor. Deprived of the older woman’s company, she was at a loss. She had always felt shy of using her English to talk to the staff, who only had to set eyes on her to start grinning. The thought that little Bella now knew something worth grinning about made Madeleine far too wary to venture near the kitchens at all.
Even if Philip Adamson could be found about the estate, Madeleine didn’t want to force herself into his company. She had decided to tread carefully after the early-morning encounter in the orchard. If he wanted her love it was there for the asking, to be given unselfishly without any demands on his future. Madeleine knew that lay with a proper young lady, and not with someone like her.
The thought pained her. As she pegged freshly washed cheese cloths on the rosemary bush to dry, Madeleine wondered whether he would choose the flighty-looking Kitty, or plain and sensible Leonora. She decided that Leonora would be the best choice, as far as peace of mind was concerned.
When Madeleine could spin out her work in the dairy no longer she wandered out into the sunshine, idly wondering what to do with all her free time.
At one side of the yard lay the walled kitchen garden and beyond that the orchard. Madeleine found her steps drawn towards it. She crossed through the kitchen garden, where Higgins was busy among the raspberries, and went out by the little iron gate on the far side.
She had been too engrossed in Philip Adamson to pay any attention to the orchard before. Now she saw it as the pretty little refuge it was, decorated with her own thoughts of a hopeless romance.
Rows of ancient apple, plum and pear trees leaned this way and that, knee-deep in lush grass speckled with wild flowers. From one of the trees a swing had been suspended, and it swayed gently in the afternoon air. Separating the orchard from the nearby watermeadows was a laid hedge of thorn and sloe, spiky with new growth and rustling with life.
Madeleine strolled along, wondering at the ancient grey lichens dripping from the apple boughs. She hadn’t gone very far before a strange feeling began to steal over her, more persistent even than the fragrance of the late honeysuckle.
She was sure she was being watched.
The orchard was deserted. Betsy and Cook should have been busy in the house, Higgins in the garden, and the Adamsons were both out.
Madeleine tried to stifle the feeling, but it would not be denied.
There had been reports of French aristos being kidnapped by bounty hunters for return to their homeland. Hadn’t Philip mentioned reading just such a thing in the newspaper? Both he and his mother had warned her then to be careful. Now Madeleine wished she had taken more notice of their words.
I’m being silly, she thought. There’s no one about. I’m imagining it. Who would want to kidnap me?
The swing was suspended by ropes from the stoutest apple tree. Gingerly she stepped on to the seat to test it.
As she did so, the faintest rustling came from behind the thorn hedge. Madeleine knew all the cattle were now in fields on the far side of the house. What could it be? Although the noise had been slight, no mouse ever born was so heavy-footed.
The swing seemed strong enough, and this gave Madeleine an idea. Swinging might give her a better view of whatever was beyond the hedge. She could see who or what had been making the disturbance.
Kicking off in a scuff of grass, Madeleine and the swing rose and fell. Swaying and bending to increase height, she wondered if the creaking ropes would hold.
They did, and Madeleine soon caught a welcome glimpse of what had alarmed her.
‘I can see you, Master Philip! It’s no use trying to hide!’
He did not emerge at once, but when she continued to call and giggle in her relief he finally stepped into the orchard.
Brushing at his jacket with detachment, he avoided her eyes.
‘You were spying on me!’
‘I was not!’ he snapped, but his manner was decidedly furtive.
‘I saw you—creeping about in the hedge and spying on me!’
‘I was merely checking the hedgerow for gaps. Get down from that swing at once, mademoiselle. Such violent activity is unseemly in a young lady!’
‘It’s all right. Bella’s nowhere to be seen!’ Madeleine teased softly, swinging higher.
‘Indeed she is not. I’ve just walked her over to Sir Edwin Pickersgill’s house.’
Madeleine let the swing slow, then wobble to a halt.
‘What on earth for?’
‘Bella has a new position. I rode over to Neighbour Pickersgill first thing this morning to see if he had work for her.’
‘Mr Adamson!’
‘Don’t look like that!’ He helped her down from the swing then began tugging at the sleeve of his jacket as he always did when agitated. ‘I couldn’t afford to pay so many staff any longer. Bella was the last to join, so she was first to leave. That’s only fair. I couldn’t risk losing Betsy or Cook.’
‘Not to mention the chance of your mother finding out about certain things...?’
The glance he gave Madeleine was sharp and direct. ‘Yes. That was part of it, too.’
Madeleine raised her eyebrows, unspoken dismay clear in her dark eyes.
‘It wasn’t only shame at what Bella saw, mademoiselle. I owe—’
‘Oh, no!’ Madeleine jumped in, and Adamson looked even more downcast.
‘I was only going to say that I owe Sir Edwin a favour, mademoiselle.’ Then he sighed. ‘No—you are far too astute for me to conceal the whole truth. Yes, mademoiselle. I owe him money, too, in addition to the sum that I borrowed from Mr Pettigrew.’
All thoughts of romance fled from Madeleine’s mind. She knew only too well what it was like to have creditors snapping at her heels.
‘Can I ask...how much?’
Adamson stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down at the grass tangling about their feet. ‘Why not? I’ve told you virtually everything else.’ He cast a glance towards the orchard gate as though to check that no one was within earshot. ‘Two hundred and fifty pounds—’
Madeleine gasped. Mistress Constance had told her how to convert English currency into proper money, but this figure was vast, and quite beyond working out.
‘—and that’s only the capital amount.’
Madeleine shook her head in bewilderment. ‘I don’t understand...’
‘I pay what I can, while the sum that remains outstanding acquires a premium.’
‘You took it up on the drip.’ She understood that sort of thing well enough. Nearly everyone lived on tick in the Grève—hiding from the tally man was part of the natural order of things.
‘At least I’ll be saving on Bella’s wages. That will provide a little more towards the total.’ His eyes showed that rare hint of amusement, even in such awful circumstances. For once Madeleine was the more practical.
‘It isn’t going to save you the two hundred and fifty pounds you need to get out of this hole,’ she said glumly.
‘Eight hundred and fifty.’ He pulled a face as Madeleine gasped again. ‘With the six hundred I owe to Mr Pettigrew.’
‘What?’
‘It’s not as though I spent it on myself!’ he hissed savagely, still apprehensive about Higgins. ‘All the boundary fences needed renewing, accounts had to be settled all over the county and Willowbury needed a new roof if we were to survive that first winter.’
‘Couldn’t you have raised the money on the house?’
Adamson shook his head. ‘It was left to Michael, and Mother wouldn’t have countenanced borrowing money in any case. That’s why I couldn’t risk going to our bankers. She would have found out. This way I managed to concoct some story about using my own money. It’s not exactly a lie, and should be quite safe as long as Pettigrew and Pickersgill don’t let anything slip.’
‘It’s really worrying you, this, isn’t it?’
‘No.’ He spoke evenly, but Madeleine could tell that he was lying.
; ‘More than our little excursion out here for the dawn chorus?’
‘I wish you would not continue to refer to that matter, mademoiselle.’
The words were short and sharp, and Madeleine was crushed. She opened the orchard gate and walked back into the kitchen garden. It was one thing to give her love unselfishly, with no thought for the future; quite another to have it continually thrown back in her face as his error of judgement.
She walked through the garden, but not too quickly. That might have attracted the attention of Higgins. As it was he barely raised his head as she strolled back towards the house.
Once inside, Madeleine went to wait by the library door. She knew that Adamson escaped there at every opportunity, and true to form he was not far behind her.
‘I didn’t mean to appear rude, mademoiselle,’ he began as Madeleine pushed the library door open with a long-suffering look at him.
‘You’ll be appearing in a debtor’s court if you don’t pay off that money.’ Unbidden, she walked into the library and sat down on the sofa, much to Adamson’s surprise. ‘What’s stopping you?’
He frowned, shaking his head in disbelief as he followed her into the room and shut the door.
‘I don’t have the money.’ He spoke clearly and slowly, as though she might have difficulty in understanding his words.
Madeleine understood all too well. ‘Only because you’re too mean to sell anything.’
Now it was Adamson who was having difficulty with comprehension. ‘I don’t have anything to sell...’
Madeleine sat back in her seat, looking around at the well-stocked library. ‘Your mother told me that all these books were left to you in your father’s will.’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, then—I bet they’re all good stuff, for a start. Load a couple of yards of them into one of the coaches and take them on a one-way trip to town. Should be easy enough to find a buyer—’
‘Indeed? And exactly which volumes do you consider worthy of sacrifice, mademoiselle?’
Madeleine chose to ignore the sarcastic note in his voice. ‘You can only read one at a time, can’t you? Seems a bit greedy to hang on to racks and racks of the things, in that case.’
‘I must confess I’d never looked upon it in that light, mademoiselle.’’
Madeleine scowled at his amusement. ‘This place is crammed to the rafters with saleable stuff. What about that scruffy old chest in the hall?’
‘That belonged to an Earl of Shipton! It’s over one hundred and twenty years old—’
‘There you are, then—other people aren’t so shy about selling off their goods. And at least it’s not new,’ she added thoughtfully.
Adamson was rendered speechless at this, but there was worse to come.
‘Then there’s that fancy watch of yours—’
One hand flew protectively to his waistcoat pocket. ‘This was a present on my twenty-first birthday—’
‘All right, then—don’t sell it. Take it to Uncle instead.’ Madeleine was unrepentant.
‘I don’t have any uncles...’ Understanding suddenly flooded Adamson’s face with embarrassment. ‘The pawnbrokers? Mademoiselle! How can you think of suggesting such a thing?’
‘Mistress Constance says you’re set fair for a record harvest this year. You’ll only be taking an advance on the money you’d get from selling a bit of that. Instead of owing to both Pettigrew and Pickersgill you could sell some things, pawn a few others, and pay them both off. Then you’d only have to worry about getting your goods out of hock when your luck changes—which it’s bound to, in a few weeks.’
‘That would be a reckless, foolhardy risk, mademoiselle! Anything could happen...’
‘Yes—you could find yourself answering the door one night to the sort of back-street brawler who can scratch his knees without bending down.’
‘Pettigrew wouldn’t resort to those tactics,’ Adamson said, but his thoughtful tone told Madeleine that Neighbour Pickersgill might.
‘Better not put it to the test. Remember—any fool can act the rich man, Master Philip. It takes real talent to be poor.’ Madeleine stood up and went quickly to the door, leaving Adamson with his increasing astonishment. The look on his face told her he would never dispose of anything from Willowbury to save his life. More drastic action was needed. She put on a look of wide-eyed innocence.
‘Mistress Constance recommended her dressmaker to me, Master Philip,’ she said casually. ‘I have some items for repair. I have a fancy to take them there this afternoon. Would you be kind enough to tell me the route to town? I shouldn’t take long about the business—’
‘You surely aren’t considering going alone?’
Madeleine was amazed. ‘Of course!’
‘Out of the question. I can’t allow you to do that. I shall come with you, mademoiselle.’
Madeleine was not so sure. ‘You don’t mind the two of us being seen walking alone together. . ?’
‘Walking? He was incredulous now. ‘You’ll take the coach from the crossroads, mademoiselle. I shall ride along behind.’
Adamson handed the coachman sufficient coins to let Madeleine travel inside the regular coach for the trip to Bath. Only when she was settling herself and her large brown paper parcel did a thought strike her. Perhaps Master Philip could not afford seats in the carriage for both of them. That was why he was going to ride.
If things were that bad she would have to be doubly sure to make plenty of money. The four dresses from her collection that she had chosen to pawn were pretty enough, and expensively fashioned. Master Philip might as well have the use of any money they might raise.
The coach ground to a halt, and after a whispered conversation outside the door was wrenched open. A heavily built man, surprisingly light on his feet, sprang in as the carriage lurched forward once more. Until that time only two other travellers had been sharing the coach with Madeleine, and they squeezed up among the postal packets to make room on the seat. Madeleine preferred to look out of the window.
When the newcomer took a seat beside her she gave him only the briefest of acknowledgements. She was soon to regret even that.
‘That’s the last time I travel in one of your nasty English coaches.’ Madeleine made a great show of turning away to admire her reflection in the glazed panes of the coaching inn as Adamson hurried to her side. ‘A nasty man squished me into the corner all the way—then, worse and worse, when we get here I find that he is a friend of yours and that you went off with him and left me standing here like an orange!’
Adamson smiled, but didn’t correct her. ‘I’m sorry, mademoiselle, but that was Sir Edwin Pickersgill. I had to make sure he didn’t linger around here—’
‘What you mean is, you didn’t want him to see us together.’ She straightened her bonnet in the glass, then gave Adamson a hard stare.
‘As it turned out, he was rather more interested in making a quick escape from my company, in any case.’
‘Good. I hate him!’
‘Oh, mademoiselle! You don’t know the gentleman!’
‘A funny sort of gentleman who spends his time squishing up against decent girls,’ Madeleine stated firmly as she picked up her parcel.
‘I’m sure that must have been accidental, mademoiselle. Perhaps the coach was short of room—’
‘He soon managed to put plenty of space between us when I asked him to remove his hand from my knee. Very loudly,’ she added with satisfaction. Adamson paled and took Madeleine’s parcel from her.
‘How could you embarrass a neighbour like that?’ he muttered bleakly. ‘Especially when you know how things stand!’
‘How could you borrow money from such a wicked man?’
‘Sir Edwin is a neighbour who offered to help me in time of need, mademoiselle.’
‘He has a nose like a strawberry.’
‘Ssh!’
‘But it’s true!’
‘I don’t want to hear any more, mademoiselle!’
H
Is dismissal was sharp, but a sidelong glance as he walked beside her showed Madeleine that he was still smiling.
‘Perhaps you are right. We should not be seen together, Master Philip. Give me the parcel, and I’ll meet you here later.’
She went to take the bundle of dresses from his hand, but he did not let them go.
‘I’m coming with you,’ he said uncomfortably. They both knew that was the last thing he wanted to do. Madeleine extracted the parcel strings from his grasp with one flick of her wrist and took charge of it.
‘I’m very grateful, sir, but there are certain places that a lady must go alone...’
To her dismay he wasn’t so easily fobbed off.
‘Oh, no, mademoiselle—this dressmaker is most discreet, with a waiting-room for gentlemen. I’ve accompanied Mother on several occasions.’
‘Who says I’m only going to the dressmaker?’ Madeleine smiled archly. Shock tactics would be sure to stop him discovering the real reason for her journey. ‘Mistress Constance said that I wasn’t even to mention the corsetiere in your hearing, but if you insist on knowing where I shall be—’
‘Oh...’
Madeleine continued before he was completely covered in confusion. ‘We’re bound to pass a coffee-shop on the way. You can wait there while I’m busy.’ At this point, she mistook the look of concern on his face. ‘Don’t worry—ask for fruit cup and a jug of water. That’s cheap enough, and you can make one drink last as long as you like!’
When they met again, Madeleine had acquired the vast sum of seven pounds in exchange for her exclusive Paris fashions. She was so overcome by this that she immediately told Adamson the truth, and tried to hand him the money.
To her amazement, he flatly refused to take charge of it.
‘I can’t possibly accept money from a lady!’ he hissed, trying desperately to look as though they were not together as they looked in the window of a confectioner’s shop.
‘What use is it to me, Master Philip? Willowbury provides me with food and lodgings. I’ll keep a bit back for sweets, if you don’t mind, but apart from that it’s all yours. It’ll be a bit off the debt, which will ease you a mite, which in turn makes life easier for all of us!’
