Brook did not object to his wife’s fondness for her maid. He was aware that Bessie thought the world of him. She seemed unusually intelligent and had imitated Harriet’s lady-like manners. He also approved of the fact that the cheerful girl never, to his knowledge, forgot her position, and had made the transition to lady’s maid with very little difficulty. She was popular with all the other servants, even the meticulous housekeeper, Mrs Fraser, whose habit it was not just to find fault but to look for faults in those beneath her. It was partly Bessie’s cheerful company as well as his own which Harriet had needed to help her recover from her grief at the loss of her third baby.
The sunshine on this beautiful spring morning had raised Harriet’s spirits as, with Brook’s hand holding hers, they strolled down to the rose garden. Brook, however, was far from carefree as he tried to find the courage to tell her what must happen in the near future. It was news he had no doubt would wipe the contented smile off her face. She had discarded the bonnet that females wore when the sun shone as it did now; her dark curls tumbled about her pink cheeks, and the loving, happy smile on her pretty face caught at his heart. He loved her so very much, and had been even sadder for her obvious suffering than for his own when she had lost their third unborn child. Now it was he who was obliged to distress her – something he would have avoided at all costs had it been possible.
‘Sit here beside me for a moment, my love!’ he said as he seated himself on the stone seat near the fountain. The roses newly in bud were, he thought, at their loveliest. He drew Harriet down beside him and, putting his arm round her waist, said gently, ‘I’m afraid I have something to tell you that will not please you. I am going to have to leave you for a little while.’
Harriet’s face paled, and her heartbeat quickened as she asked, ‘But why, Brook? Tell me quickly before I become even more anxious.’ She reached up and touched his forehead. ‘That frown frightens me!’
Brook tightened his arm round her waist and drew her closer against him. He knew it was unseemly to be having such thoughts in the daytime in such a public place, but he felt the customary rush of desire for her and it was all he could do not to carry her up to their bedroom and make love to her, he thought to himself wryly. There were very few occasions when seeing her, touching her, even watching the smile light up her face, that he did not thank the good Lord for allowing him to find her, and for her willingness to marry him. He had no doubt that they were the most blessed and happiest of couples.
‘As you know, I was in London last week,’ he said, ‘and I suppose I should have told you on my return that things are not going well with my plantations. It seems the sugar cane is not producing as it should; but, even more worrying, there is ongoing trouble with the workers. My London agent told me that the fellow he’d despatched to look into the trouble last autumn returned saying the fault almost certainly lies with Herbert Banks, our estate manager. He feels unable to take responsibility for what is occurring.’
He paused for a moment, unhappily aware of the look of distress on Harriet’s face. ‘My father wishes me to go out there as soon as possible,’ he resumed quickly. ‘Much as I shall hate leaving you, my dearest, I cannot refuse to do so. I hope very much that it will not be for long. The sea voyage will be ten days, and I trust I shall be able to deal with the problems within a month.’
He paused once more before taking Harriet’s hands in his. ‘I hate the thought of our separation as much as you do, but as the only son who will one day inherit the properties, I have no alternative but to take my father’s place as he has requested.’
Harriet’s expression was one of dismay as she whispered, ‘Oh, Brook, I shall miss you so much. I miss you even when you go to London for a few days!’
‘And I you, but every cloud has a silver lining, as my old nanny so often said. Father intends to increase my allowance again on my return. We live quite happily on what I now receive, but if we are to have the large family we both desire, then we will have many more expenses, will we not?’
Too close to tears to trust her voice, Harriet nodded.
‘The time will pass, my darling,’ Brook continued. ‘Perhaps you could arrange to stay with one of your sisters? Or might you invite your father to visit you here? I do not like to leave you here entirely on your own.’
Harriet sighed. ‘Have you forgotten, Brook? Papa is now confined to his bed. As to my sisters – Hope, as you know, is married to an army officer and has accompanied him to India. My sister Charity has been forbidden by her doctor to have visitors – not even the vicar – because her three children have scarlet fever. That letter which arrived last week was from her. The children are being given quinine and mutton broth and beef tea to swallow, as well as twice daily baths and a mixture of ammonia and ether. Richard, the eldest, is recovering slowly but the youngest, Vaughn, is very ill. As you can imagine, the last thing she would want was a visitor – even a sister.’
‘I’m sorry to hear of this,’ Brook commented, ‘but did I not meet your other sister at our wedding? Una, is it not?’
Harriet nodded. ‘Yes! She is married and lives in Ireland. But I would not want to travel so far lest you could return earlier than you now expect.’
Much as Brook wished to comfort her, he was honest enough to say that there was very little – indeed, no hope – of that happening. The sea voyage to Kingston would take at the very least ten days; the journey up into the hills another day. If, as he suspected, he would have to replace Herbert Banks, he might even have to go back down to Kingston to find a suitable fellow who would be better able to cope with the problems. Even the English newspapers had referred to the severity of the unrest in Jamaica, and not a month passed that his worried London agent did not warn him that the situation was worsening every day.
Longing to comfort his young wife, he said, ‘Then why not invite Una to enjoy a sojourn here at Hunters Hall? If she cannot leave her children, I would suppose that Bessie could manage to look after them. Did you not tell me once that she looked after a large number of her younger brothers and sisters?’
Not wishing him to consider her deliberately negative, Harriet nodded silently rather than reminding him that, unlike herself, Una had successfully given birth to yet another baby a few weeks previously, so would not consider a journey to England.
Ignoring the fact that one of the gardeners might come upon them, Brook kissed her and said, ‘You can be sure, my love, that I shall not stay away from you for one single day longer than I must.’
Harriet kept her tears at bay until she was alone in her bedroom with Bessie, who did her best to comfort her, saying, ‘Hush, now, Miss Harriet! Was it not one of your poets you told me of who said, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder”?’
Harriet smiled through her tears. ‘Yes, but Shakespeare, the greatest poet of all, wrote that “parting is such sweet sorrow”. Not that I can think of any sweetness in it lest it be the prospect of Brook’s homecoming.’
‘Happen you should go with him,’ Bessie suggested as she ran a brush comfortingly through Harriet’s hair before starting to prepare the dinner gown her young mistress would wear that evening.
‘Dearest Bessie, even if it were possible, Brook would not want me with him on such an occasion. I do not want to remain here in this big house, lovely as it is, without him here. I wish it had been possible for Una to visit me with the children as my husband suggested.’
Bessie sighed, and then her face brightened. ‘So why do you not visit her?’ she enquired. ‘Happen it would be a fine adventure for you to travel to Ireland!’
Harriet smiled and then sighed. ‘My sister wrote last summer that she would so enjoy our company if we could pay them a visit and her husband, Sir Patrick, said that the journey was not hazardous.’
‘Then you should go, Miss Harriet. What better way to pass the time whilst the master is away?’
Appealing as such an idea was, she hesitated. There was the faint possibility that she might be pregnant onc
e again. If it proved to be so and she undertook the journey to Ireland, and were to have yet another miscarriage, Brook would not forgive her for taking such a risk; nor, indeed, would she forgive herself. It was not just to please him that she had been so desperate for a child, but for herself, too. She had always – even as a young girl – looked forward to the day when she would be a mother, and her adoration for Brook had added to her need to have a child – his child.
Their family doctor had once told her after one of her miscarriages that irregularity of the monthly cycle was by no means uncommon so, although this had been the case, she had no other reason to suspect she was with child again. She was neither sick nor faint, as had been the case on the last three occasions that she’d been carrying. She felt so well and always ready for Brook’s lovemaking. In these past months since her last miscarriage she’d felt no tiredness and was happy to walk for hours with Bessie in the woods and lanes whilst Brook worked in his study writing letters. She and Bessie would watch the new-born lambs and calves in the fields; watch the trout rise in the river flowing through the meadows, the ducklings and cygnets following their parents, one behind the other. Sometimes she would take her shoes off like the farm children and paddle in the shallow water amongst the beautiful dragonflies darting amongst the water lilies which had spread from the beautiful lake in the garden.
Brook had promised to take her to Paris for a holiday as soon as she felt strong enough and, laughing, she had told him he fussed too much about her and assured him that she was quite back to normal good health.
Because of his protectiveness, she had refrained from telling him of the vague suspicions she nurtured very occasionally about her condition. He had been unable to hide his disappointment when she lost the last baby and she had not wanted to give him unnecessary cause for further concern. She knew already of his longing for a son – a boy he could teach to ride, to fish, to shoot, and to whom he could teach country lore so he would one day love Hunters Hall as much as he did himself, the home the boy would one day inherit.
Occasionally a letter from Una would arrive; the last said that she and Patrick were delighting in the safe delivery of yet another male baby. Brook had laughed at Patrick’s somewhat ribald postscript that if they could keep up the good work, they might manage a whole platoon! Una always ended those letters saying, I so wish you could see our brood, dearest Harriet.
Harriet always wrote back saying she would indeed love to meet her nephews and nieces but it would not be easy to drag Brook away from his much-loved home and the many sporting parties which took place both at Hunters Hall and on their neighbours’ estates.
‘It will be so lonely here without him!’ she said sadly to the older girl who was now laying one of her several trousseau evening gowns on the bed. ‘I wish I were going away too, and that I did not have to live here without him.’
‘Hush now, Miss Harriet!’ Bessie said as she placed a pair of long evening gloves beside the dress. ‘If you go down to dinner with a doleful face like that, you’ll upset the master and no mistake! Like he said, you should visit Miss Una as surely you’d enjoy being with them.’
Harriet nodded. ‘I know I would, Bessie, but Dublin is a long way across the sea.’
‘Is it so far away then?’ Bessie asked as she removed Harriet’s day dress and slipped the deep magenta silk dress over her head and her arms into the puffed bishop sleeves.
‘Indeed it is!’ Harriet said. ‘It would mean a long coach ride to the port of Liverpool, with a stop overnight on the way, and then maybe another night in Liverpool before sailing across the Irish sea in a ferryboat to Dublin. Then there would be a further coach journey to Ballsbridge Street where my sister lives. That means travelling for at least four days!’
The colour on Bessie’s round, rosy cheeks deepened. ‘And what is wrong with that, surely!’ she said, using her mother’s Sussex dialect. ‘How many times did you use to tell me afore you was wedded of all the adventures you was going to enjoy when you’d be grown up! Just because you’m married now, I reckon as how the master would be pleased to hear you wasn’t going to be a-grieving whilst he’s gone.’
As Bessie fastened an amethyst and pearl pendant on a gold chain round Harriet’s neck she was mindful of the fact that it was only a few months since her young mistress had recovered from the depression which had followed the loss of the third baby she had been expecting.
Three months was not really such a long time, Harriet decided. Brook would be back in time for her birthday. Even the thought raised her spirits, and Bessie remarked on her sudden change of mood when, her toilette completed to Bessie’s satisfaction, Harriet went downstairs to join Brook in the drawing room.
He was, as usual, impeccably attired in his black superfine dress coat with velvet facings and black waistcoat. She noticed with pleasure that he was wearing the set of pearl shirt studs she had given him, and his hair, with a centre parting, was brushed flat. He had also fastened a single diamond pin into the folds of his cravat, enhancing his aristocratic good looks. Harriet’s heart missed a beat as he strode across the room to greet her. Regardless of the footman’s gaze, he took her hand to his lips and told her how truly beautiful she looked – especially so this evening, he insisted. The sorrowful look had gone from her eyes and now he had every hope that she had come to terms with his enforced absence.
Sitting down on the sofa with her hand still clasped tenderly in his own, he avoided the topic of his impending departure and said, ‘I am now going to confess to you that, as you know, this evening we were to have had the Reverend Hobson and his tiresome wife to dinner. On coming out of church two Sundays ago, I was cornered by the unctuous Hobson, saying that he and his wife had seen so little of you these past weeks they were really looking forward to calling on us again.’ Brook laughed mischievously. ‘It was an obvious hint to be invited to tea or something! I felt obliged to ask them to dine with us.’
He smiled at her tenderly. ‘However, I have been so concerned about having to leave you – and I was certain you, too, do not feel up to facing their company, so it is to be hoped the good Lord will forgive me for telling the poor fellow that we are obliged to postpone any further invitation because now our cook and three of the staff are indisposed with an infection whose name I had forgotten!’
‘Brook, that is very naughty of you!’ Harriet said, laughing. ‘Just suppose you were married to Mrs Hobson, you would be as bored as he most probably is by her endless complaints about their parishioners. And I, myself, would be even less well able to tolerate his incessant biblical quotations. The two of them were probably greatly looking forward to a change from each other’s conversation. Besides, Brook, sooner or later we shall have to have them here.’
Brook returned her smile. ‘But not for some considerable time, my darling, as I won’t be here with you to receive them.’ His smile faded. ‘You are not too unhappy about my going away?’ he enquired.
Harriet had vowed on her wedding day never to lie to him or deceive him, but now, suddenly, she knew that if she truly loved him, she must do so.
‘Please don’t concern yourself, Brook,’ she said quietly. ‘I have recovered from the shock, and Bessie will help me find a way to pass the time. If the weather stays fine I shall pay calls upon our distant neighbours who all left their cards whilst I was indisposed. That will certainly keep me busy! Twelve weeks is not so very long, is it? You will be home before the summer is over.’
‘You should call on Denning and his sister!’ he suggested. ‘Paul was most concerned for you when I took him to see the new automatic pheasant feeders the other day. His sister sent that extravagant hamper of fruit, most of which I think I ate!’
Hearing Harriet laugh, Brook breathed a sigh of relief. He had been minding Harriet’s distress at his forthcoming departure far more even than his own. As Harriet had pointed out, he would not be leaving her for very long and their reunion would be the greatest joy.
His thoughts were interrupted b
y the footman announcing that dinner was served. Taking Harriet’s arm, he led her into the brightly lit dining room not doubting that the evening would end with him showing her, in other ways, how much a husband could love his wife.
FOUR
1865
Harriet was counting the days until Brook’s likely return but as yet she had had no letter advising her of the date. When at last a letter arrived with the breakfast tray Bessie now always brought her in the mornings, she was so happy to see it she nearly knocked the tray over as she waved the letter in the air. Her eyes shining, she scanned the first page. Bessie’s smiles as she looked at her young mistress’ excited face changed to alarm as she saw the colour leave Harriet’s cheeks and her hands holding the letter start to tremble,
‘The master’s not ill, is he?’ she asked anxiously.
Harriet shook her head. Tears now trembled on her cheeks as she whispered, ‘He isn’t coming home … not yet … not for weeks and weeks …’ She broke off, the tears of disappointment now flowing. Bessie removed the breakfast tray from her lap and handed Harriet a handkerchief.
‘Don’t upset yourself so!’ she said. ‘The master wouldn’t want to see you crying like this!’
Harriet blew her nose. ‘I know, Bessie!’ she whispered. ‘But he won’t be coming home for MONTHS …’ Her voice rose. ‘Not for four months – maybe even six …’
She broke off, the tears flowing again. Bessie regarded her anxiously. Six months – half a year … It was a very, very long time.
She found another handkerchief for Harriet to replace the wet one, wondering as she did so how she could possibly find something comforting to say.
‘Does the master say what’s doing out there to keep him, Miss Harriet?’ she asked.
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