A Handful of Ashes

by Janet Woods

  ‘The name Daisy is so plain,’ she said to nobody in particular as they neared their destination. ‘Perhaps I should choose a better name? Charlotte perhaps, or Adelaide.’

  ‘For goodness sake, Daisy, your name is so very pretty. Just be yourself,’ Pansy urged, rolling her eyes at her father, as the carriage neared the hall. ‘You’re perfectly all right as you are.’

  Prudence nodded to herself when she set eyes on the two younger girls, as if she’d been expecting them. ‘Ah, the children are back with you. I did wonder if you’d bring them, so I instructed the servants to air the bedding and light a fire in the room next to the one Pansy usually occupies. They are too grown-up for the nursery, but I’ve assigned a maid to look after their needs.’

  At which pronouncement Daisy gazed at Goldie with an excited grin. Yet afterwards, overwhelmed by the grandeur of Kylchester Hall, Daisy was suddenly struck dumb. She clung to Pansy’s side, though she managed a graceful curtsy when Prudence swept forward to greet them. It earned her an approving smile, and a kiss on the cheek from the countess, who slanted Pansy a sideways glance. ‘I do so like a girl who has graceful manners.’ She turned to peer closely at Goldie. ‘You look pale, girl. Have you been ill?’

  Dumbly, Goldie nodded.

  ‘Goldie has suffered from pneumonia recently. She is improved, but is still recovering her strength,’ Francis told her.

  ‘Goodness, how unfortunate. I do hope she’s strong enough to join in the jollity.’

  ‘She is stronger than she looks. She must rest, of course, but I wouldn’t have brought her if she wasn’t up to it. The change will do her good, too.’

  ‘Allow me to dose her up with some blackberry tonic while she’s here, then. It will soon bring the roses back into those cheeks. Come, give me a kiss then, my dear. We don’t stand on ceremony here, especially at Christmas.’ Which wasn’t exactly the truth.

  When Pansy moved off with the girls Prudence turned to him. ‘My dear Francis, you look so much better than the last time we met. Your grief is lessening, I think. Such a shock to all of us. Rest assured, though shock made me speak hastily at the time, I have not mentioned Maryse’s unfortunate episode to anyone.’

  Maryse’s unfortunate episode? How neatly the crime and the agony had been packaged, so it rolled off the tongue in a civilized manner without causing distress. Just as Siana had said, his daughter had been a victim. But then, even he, her father, who should have known better, hadn’t seen it that way at the time. Prudence was such an insensitive woman, but he knew she meant well. He stooped to give her a kiss. ‘My grief will never be less, Prudence. Neither will my guilt.’

  ‘Guilt? You have nothing to feel guilty about. Now, we must forget sad events and have a jolly time together as a family. Your stepchildren are welcome, of course. A pretty pair. In fact, I rather like the cut of that Daisy.’

  ‘Daisy is my sister-in-law.’

  ‘Quite so, but because she regards you as her papa, one forgets. I’d assumed she’d been sent to her live with her brother.’

  ‘Daisy brought Goldie home from London, and insists on staying with her. No doubt you will be regaled with her role in the affair once she relaxes, for she admires you.’

  ‘Like her sister, the girl has spirit. In fact, if the girl was quality she would be described as precocious, which is not a bad thing to be, since it gets one noticed by the right people. I was a precocious child myself.’

  ‘Really, Prudence?’ he said drily. ‘One would not believe such a trait ever existed in you now.’

  ‘Training and discipline, my dear. There’s nothing like it. But Daisy’s admiration of me has a dubious foundation. I confess that I’m ashamed of my reaction regarding the tragedy, since Maryse was subjected to an advance not of her making. You know, I would not have hurt the dear girl for the world and will be everlastingly remorseful of my conduct. If only Siana had asked for my advice over the matter I would have given it willingly. It would have been less of a shock for us all, then. The tragedy could have been averted, for the child would have been farmed out and none would have been the wiser.’

  Francis wished she’d stop talking about it. ‘Except Maryse, who was prevented by Siana from taking her own life over the matter at an earlier time.’

  ‘Such a solution at the time would have been preferable to prolonging the difficulty. Now you have the child to deal with.’ Francis only just restrained himself from placing his hands around her scrawny neck and choking the life from her. She must have sensed his anger, for she said lamely, ‘Not that it was something I’d have wished to happen, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Pity came into her eyes. ‘You must allow your brothers to advise you while you’re here, for the matter of the child cannot be delayed any further.’ She took his arm and lowered her voice. ‘But first, I wish to talk to you about Pansy and Alder. It is not too late, you know. Alder has held back on offering for the hand of Justina Parsons. Although I should tell you that he intends to accept her parents invitation to visit over Christmas. If he’s turned down by her, although an affirmative answer is a foregone conclusion, of course, for the girl is quite gone on him, then Alder will take up a commission in the army. His patience over the affair is now quite at an end.’

  So was Francis’s. ‘You should advise Alder to offer for Miss Parsons right away, then. Pansy is now promised to Joshua Skinner.’

  ‘Joshua Skinner?’ Prudence exclaimed with a dismayed gasp. ‘That young man trounced Alder in a public park.’

  ‘I understand Alder was both inebriated and aggressive at the time, and was arrested shortly afterwards,’ Francis said. ‘His conduct towards my daughter was ungentlemanly.’

  ‘Be that as it may, Alder was defending his cousin’s honour against a man who was trying to remove her from the bosom of her family.’

  ‘Alder’s plan was to abduct her. It was Josh who defended Pansy. He prevented her from being compromised and forced into a marriage she has never wanted. Moreover, he behaved perfectly properly by informing the earl of the unsavoury event and placing my daughter under the chaperonage of Miss Edgar, until he could bring her home. Which he did as quickly as possible. Joshua Skinner is a fine young man, of whom I thoroughly approve. They love each other, Prudence. I will not stand in the way of their happiness.’

  ‘Does Pansy realize that many doors will close to her if she weds beneath her?’

  ‘But surely not the doors of those people who are worth more than a damn to her, Prudence. You, for instance, wouldn’t be unpleasant to a girl you’ve always professed to love. I’ve always considered you to be more generous in spirit than your bluff manner indicates. Ryder wrote and told me he’d informed you of what had taken place. You do understand that a marriage between Alder and Pansy is completely out of the question now, do you not?’

  Colour seeped under her skin as she flustered, ‘Yes, of course. Ryder has already counselled me on the matter.’

  ‘Good. Then I hope you will heed him, for if Pansy is caused any embarrassment I will remove my family from your hearth forthwith, and will never return.’ With his head slanted to one side he regarded her, hating to be obliged to put her so firmly in her place. ‘I hope we can remain friends, for I have never regarded you as being deliberately vindictive.’

  ‘Dearest Francis, you above all others know that I have always done my best for your girls, even though I may have been thoughtless at times.’

  ‘And I’ve always appreciated it.’ He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Good, we understand each other, then. Now, where can I find Ryder?’

  ‘In his study with Augustus. The pair were being disgracefully unruly, so I sent them packing from the drawing room.’

  As he set off up the staircase Francis smiled at the thought of his two eldest brothers being sent from the drawing room in disgrace. No doubt, they’d have instigated their departure deliberately.

  He heard the exchange of laughter before he found them. They were comfortably ens
conced in leather armchairs at either side of a roaring fire, a couple of glasses and a half-empty bottle of brandy standing on the table between them. It was late afternoon, the lamps had not yet been lit, firelight licked at the panelling and shadows danced across the ceiling.

  ‘Ah, Francis. Nice to see you this Yuletide, we missed your presence last year. Fetch yourself a glass and pull up a chair. Gus and I were just discussing how the conspiracy to turn you into a parson fell by the wayside, despite being christened with the name of a saint. Luckily, I have a son who leans towards the pious, and who will redeem the family honour in that profession.’

  ‘Hmmm, he obviously doesn’t take after his father, then. How are you finding married life?’ he said to Gus, pouring a small amount of brandy into a glass and warming it between his hands.

  His brother’s smile had a contented edge to it. ‘A man can get comfortable, but I must admit, marriage takes the excitement out of the chase. Still, I’m to become a father in May. Constance is hoping for a son.’

  Something squeezed painfully at Francis’s heart. ‘My congratulations, Gus. Obviously there’s life in the old sea dog yet. I hope you get your wish. How’s the rheumatism, Ryder?’

  ‘In this weather, painful.’ The earl grinned. ‘It helps enormously when the new maid massages my knees with warm peppermint oil. Unfortunately, Prudence hovers over her giving instructions. Lord, the countess is a martinet. Still, she was a good breeder of sons, for which I’m grateful, even though one of them is a fool. Is the delightful Siana with you?’

  ‘My wife is still in Van Diemen’s Land.’

  Ryder leaned forward in surprise. ‘After all this time? Surely you do not intend to leave her there in that isolated place, Francis? It would be such a waste.’

  Staring into his glass he murmured, ‘I have reason to believe she’ll be returning to England before too long.’ He changed the subject. ‘Will Beckwith and Raoul be here for Christmas?’

  ‘They intend to travel down from London together. Beckwith’s wife and children arrived yesterday.’

  The muscles in Francis’s haunches bunched to lift him from the chair, for had a sudden urge to rush upstairs to the nursery to see if Bryn was there. With an effort, he managed to relax them again, said carelessly, ‘Did they bring the boy with them?’

  The earl’s eyes sharpened. ‘Of course not. While he’s waiting to be apprenticed to the Royal Navy, he’s been farmed out to a former servant, Lucy Tisk, who lives in Christchurch. The Marine Society’s naval school will have a place available for him in the new year. I did write to you about this.’

  ‘So you did. It slipped my mind.’ Which was an outright lie, for he’d deliberately put it from his mind as soon as he’d filed the documents away out of sight.

  ‘It’s a respectable society of which the late Lord Nelson was once a council member. I arranged the placing myself,’ Gus informed him.

  ‘But Bryn is only five years old.’

  ‘The boy’s nearing six. By the time he’s fourteen he’ll be educated, and will have been taught seamanship to a high level of proficiency on board a training ship before being signed on as a midshipman. It’s an ideal solution for boys such as Bryn. As his guardian, all you need to do is sign the papers. Did you bring them with you?’

  ‘Unfortunately, no. I meant to, of course.’

  The earl sighed. ‘Ah, yes, of course, I do not doubt that for a minute. Beckwith thought this might happen, so he intends to bring another set with him.’

  Francis felt as if a noose was being tightened around his neck. Although he knew he’d already prevaricated too long over this matter, he prevaricated a bit more. ‘When he died, Reverend White left money for Bryn’s education, enough to take him through university later in life, or invest for his future.’

  ‘Did he, by God! That was good of him. It will compensate you for the cost of his apprenticeship. He will grow up to be independent, but grateful to his benefactor, you’ll see.’

  Nearly two years ago Francis had been Bryn’s father, not his benefactor. He sipped at his brandy, feeling the darkness of his grief hovering at the edges of his mind. All the while, he wondered if Bryn would remember him if they met. He tried to squash the recollection of the love and pride he’d once held in the boy.

  There came a knock at the door, then Raoul and Beckwith slipped inside, bringing with them the smell of horses and an aura of the winter cold outside the house. Long-legged Beckwith, the tallest and quietest of the five brothers, chaffed the cold from his hands. Raoul grinned from ear to ear at the sight of his brothers. The pair helped themselves to a brandy apiece and slipped to the fore to warm their backsides in front of the fire.

  Once his father’s study, now Ryder’s, the room hadn’t changed since Francis’s childhood. There was a contented feel within it as the brothers chatted companionably together, as they always found time to do when they were together. Francis couldn’t remember ever being unhappy during his upbringing, for his brothers were always there for him, as they were now.

  The room was familiar to them all as a place of punishment. He could remember his late brother, William, hanging over the very chair Ryder was now seated in, having a birch laid across his rear, while he himself waited with great trepidation for his turn. Neither of them had cried out in front of the other, for that would have been to show weakness. He grinned as he remembered his backside being on fire, and guessed William’s had been the same.

  As if he read his thoughts, the earl chose that moment to lift his glass and murmur, ‘To our brother, William.’

  They drank to William’s memory, then Ryder said, ‘This Christmas, brother William’s ghost has the fair Siana to keep him company.’

  ‘Siana’s still abroad?’ Raoul drawled. ‘You should bring the girl home before she takes a fancy to some other fellow. She’s too young, and too exquisite a creature to be neglected.’

  Francis couldn’t ignore the stab of dismay he experienced. He was about to protest that his and Siana’s was not a marriage arranged for convenience, but a true love match, when Ryder turned to Beckwith and said, ‘Did you bring the papers from the Marine Society with you?’

  Beckwith nodded, throwing the satchel he was carrying into Ryder’s lap.

  Francis demurred when the earl opened it. ‘I’d like a little more time to think about this, Ryder.’

  ‘Only two hundred boys a year are taken into the Marine Society naval school, so you cannot afford to lose the place reserved for him,’ Gus pointed out. ‘The papers must be signed while we are here, so you might as well do it now. Once the unpleasant business is over and done with we can enjoy the festive season and Ryder’s hospitality without the question of the boy’s future hanging over us.’

  The desk lamp was lit, the papers were spread out in the circle of its glow on the table. The seal had a pair of comical sea dogs supporting a circular plate, within which a woman gazed down at a young lad. The design within the circle reminded Francis of the window on the stairs at Rivervale House. His train of thought brought Siana into his mind, not that she was often far from it. If she’d been with him she’d have fought him tooth and nail over this issue, for where the children were concerned she allowed her emotion to cloud her good sense.

  She’d told him she was expecting an infant before she left!

  He shook his head. Surely it had been a ruse to soften him? If she could lie about an issue as important as Bryn, a smaller lie would mean nothing to her. He hardened his heart. ‘Do we have pen and ink?’

  Writing implements were brought. Ryder and Beckwith flanked him, Beckwith saying, ‘We’ll witness your signature, then Ryder will affix the Kylchester seal.’

  Francis felt under pressure. He wasn’t usually so indecisive about issues, but this one had been put aside while he’d grieved for his daughter. ‘I would like to read the papers first.’

  ‘There’s really no need, Francis. I’ve examined every word. All is in order and you have already delayed the matter to
o long.’ Beckwith handed him the pen. The nib glistened. The ink was the consistency of blood and the colour of the berries on the deadly nightshade. ‘All you need to know at this point is that there’s no room for negotiation and the contract is legally binding. Sign there.’

  Bryn Matheson. Birthplace. Wales. Parents unknown. Benefactor: Francis Matheson.

  All this to lift the stain from his dead daughter’s character, when she’d been an innocent victim of the affair. Nothing could hurt Maryse now, but wasn’t Bryn an innocent victim too?

  Thinking about it was painful, much better to let his brothers do it for him. Francis placed the pen against the space left blank for his signature. Suddenly a line from the letter Siana had left him came into his mind, so vividly he could almost hear her voice whisper it accusingly against his ear.

  I hope you can find the charity in your heart not to withdraw from Bryn, for the only possession of real value a parent can offer a child is the feeling of being loved.

  But he wasn’t Bryn’s parent, he told himself with a certain amount of anguish. He was the boy’s grandfather. Damn Siana and her deceit! Damn her to hell! How dare she bring this child into their happy home and pass him off as his? No wonder she’d called Bryn her cuckoo child.

  As he angrily applied pressure against the pen a globule of ink rolled from the nib on to the page, like a shining, black teardrop.

  Flinging the pen in the direction of the fireplace, Francis swore.

  Marcus was having a comfortable journey.

  His fellow passengers, having lost their earlier pretensions as seasickness robbed them of their dignity as well as their stuffing, had withdrawn to their cabins until they improved. They’d emerged one by one, whey-faced, to amuse themselves with cards. The majority were bad losers, becoming boorish and unpleasant when they lost to him.

  There was one exception, a young woman travelling unaccompanied to join her brother in Hobart Town. Her name was Julia Hardy, and her brother was a parson. She was no great beauty, being tall for a woman. Her straight brown hair was drawn severely back from her brow in a style that was unflattering. But neither was she plain. Her nose was neat and her brows well-shaped. When she smiled, her brown eyes sparkled and charming little dimples appeared in her cheeks. Her mouth formed a pleasant curve, too, with no lines of discontent.