Emeralds & Ashes

by Leila Rasheed

  “It’s not true!” Rebecca’s shock was replaced with anger. Color flooded into her face, and she felt on the brink of tears, which only made her more angry. “It’s a barefaced lie; you should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “That’s enough.” Thomas barely raised his voice, but the note of authority quietened everyone. “I won’t have Rebecca accused like this, with no evidence. She’s been a very good worker here, better than you two put together, Annie and Martha.”

  Martha opened her mouth, but Thomas raised a hand.

  “I’ve had enough of all these rumors and gossiping. If the spoons have been stolen, that’s a serious crime. I’m not just talking about being dismissed without a reference; I’m talking about the police, and prison.” He waited for his words to sink in. There was dead silence. “So it’s no small thing to make these accusations. I am going to get at the truth once and for all.”

  Rebecca tightened her grip on the basket.

  “I am going to search the servants’ rooms—all of them.” He glanced around. “Does anyone have any objections?”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Roderick looked as if he might want to object, but no one spoke.

  “Very well. I shall do it now. Cook”—he turned to her—“I want you to make sure no one leaves this room until I return. And I want no talking, either. No more bullying of Rebecca, and no more accusations. We’ll know the truth soon enough.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Cook. Rebecca noted that it was the first time she had called him sir. She gave Rebecca a cold glance, and Rebecca knew that she in particular would be watched.

  She slid into a seat, still clutching the basket. She knew she wasn’t guilty, and yet she was still afraid. Annie and Martha were out to get her. She wouldn’t put it past them to have planted the spoons in her room.

  Palesbury

  Ada walked down the High Street from the railway station to Mr. Bradford’s offices, which were in the shadow of Palesbury Minster’s tall bell tower. The road curved gently, and through the gaps between the stone cottages and the slate-tiled roofs she glimpsed countryside that was sunny, though the cobbles underfoot were still slippery with the morning’s rain. A few passersby glanced at her, and she knew she looked out of place in her London-purchased clothes: the scoop neck and her daringly short skirt, skimming her calf. Some recognized her and tipped their hats or smiled a welcome. Others raised an eyebrow. In London it had become normal for well-bred young ladies to walk around alone wherever they liked. War work demanded it. But here in Palesbury it still seemed to be something out of the ordinary. Ada found herself resenting the glances. She walked faster, her hands buried for warmth in her muff.

  It was a bitter feeling to think that she had given Ravi up to stay here in England, where everyone would turn their backs on her if they knew the truth. Oh, how I hate this country sometimes, she thought. With its small-minded hypocrisy, its smug self-satisfaction. Even the weather hasn’t the moral courage to commit to rain or shine. The thought made her smile for a moment, but her smile died as she remembered the passion of the monsoon and the uncompromising heat of the Indian sun. She had given that up forever.

  She arrived at Mr. Bradford’s offices just as the clock was striking one, and saw her father’s motorcar drawn up outside it. It caught her throat to think that he would not be stepping from it. Instead she saw black-swathed figures getting out. One was the countess, though hardly recognizable. She seemed to have lost weight, and leaned on Michael’s arm. There was something fragile about her that Ada had not seen before; clearly the loss of her husband had hit her badly. Ada felt sympathy; she had never gotten on with her stepmother, but she did not deny that she had loved the earl in her own way, and that the disappearance of Sebastian must be plaguing her mind.

  Georgiana followed them. Ada was startled, but pleased, to see how grown-up she looked. As Georgiana approached, she noticed the new strength and gravity in her face. Georgiana had had none of the usual coming-out, and yet she seemed to have grown into herself, grown into a young lady, without the benefit of the London round. Ada was glad to see it—but she couldn’t help feeling guilty that she had not been there to help Georgiana over the past months.

  She redoubled her pace and met them at the door.

  “Ada, I am so glad you are here,” said Georgiana. “For once.”

  Ada’s own greeting died on her lips. She swallowed down the hurt as Georgiana walked past her into Mr. Bradford’s chambers. His secretary showed them in, bowing deeply. Ada hung back before going into the office, and held Georgiana back too.

  “Georgie, I want to apologize for my lack of consideration at the funeral—and before,” she said quietly. “I know I must have seemed very uncaring, but please believe me when I say that it has only been that…I haven’t known myself. I haven’t known what was important.”

  Georgiana looked quickly into her face, and Ada saw warmth there. Dear Georgiana, she could never stay cross for long. But to her surprise and pain, Georgiana looked away again. “It hasn’t been easy for me either,” she replied quietly. “I don’t wish to think badly of you, Ada, but I cannot help it—I do. You put your own aspirations before your family. That hurts me.”

  She removed Ada’s hand from her arm and walked into the office. Ada stood where she was, feeling hollow. She had never seen Georgiana so upset before. Perhaps, she thought with a stab of guilt, I have taken her for granted.

  She followed her into the office. There was nothing to be said or done for the moment. She only wished that Georgiana could know what she had given up to be here.

  They seated themselves, Ada murmuring greetings to the countess, Michael, and Mr. Bradford. The black satin and lace, the heavy veils of the countess, the dark oak paneling, the smell of old books, and the heavy windows blocking rather than admitting the light—it all made Ada feel as if she were suffocating. She swallowed the feeling down.

  “It is for a very solemn and tragic reason that we are gathered here today,” Mr. Bradford began, with much coughing and clearing of his throat. Ada allowed her attention to wander as he went through the forms of politeness. Her father had been such a loving, permanent presence in her life. The thought of going on without him was hard to bear; it made all other pains seem small.

  Outside the door she heard raised voices. At first she thought it was mere street noise, but the voices continued. She heard Mr. Bradford’s secretary exclaiming—“irregular!”—and then a voice she recognized well, one that made her draw her breath in sharply and sit up straighter. It was William.

  Mr. Bradford paused in his reading. Michael caught Ada’s eye. There was a tautness about his jaw that told her how he was striving to keep his temper.

  “I demand to be admitted,” William was saying. He had a voice like a bull bellowing. “I am the new Earl of Westlake, and I demand to hear the will. On behalf of my disinherited son, my poor wronged Augustus—”

  “Let him in,” said Michael.

  “Are you certain—?” Georgiana began.

  “Yes. I won’t have him going around saying that we are doing things in an underhand manner. Damn him, he’s a blackguard, but we had better let him in.”

  “I must agree with Mr. Templeton,” Mr. Bradford said, adjusting his spectacles nervously. “It is not my personal opinion…but certainly, I think, to avoid a scene…”

  “Lady Westlake?” Ada appealed to her, but the countess, invisible behind her veil, merely shook her head wearily.

  “Very well.” Ada looked to Mr. Bradford. “Please instruct your secretary to allow the Earl of Westlake entry.” She could not hide how much she disliked using the title for William.

  Mr. Bradford pressed the bell, and a second later the secretary appeared at the door, looking flustered. William was behind him, and barged his way in, cane flailing, as soon as he saw a crack.

  “Sir, I apologize! I was unable to—” The secretary was clearly caught between his duty to his employer and his deference to an earl.

&n
bsp; “That’s all right, Simpkin. The Earl of Westlake is welcome here.” Mr. Bradford bowed stiffly. William strode in with a triumphant glance around him. Ada looked coldly in front of her and did not meet his eye.

  “Very good. I knew a little authority would work,” William said, as Mr. Bradford placed a chair for him. He sat on it, cane in one hand, looming as if he was taking over the entire room. Ada detested him, and she could see in Georgiana’s pressed-together lips that she felt the same. “Go ahead, Bradford. Let us see what my uncle has to say.”

  Mr. Bradford read on, nervously. There was a good deal of legal preamble before he came to the main point:

  “…I leave the estate of Somerton Court and its income to my firstborn grandson. My three daughters, Ada, Georgiana, and Rose, are to share my wealth, goods, and chattels equally. My grandnephew, Augustus, shall receive ten percent of the income from the estate for his lifetime. All of this shall be subject to the provision that Fiona, Countess of Westlake, shall be allowed to continue to live in Somerton Court as if it were her own house, until she no longer wishes to. I also request that, for the duration of the current war, the house at Somerton be made use in whatever way my family shall think fit, for the benefit of the nation.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence after Mr. Bradford finished speaking. Everyone was wondering what William would say.

  “Very well.” William’s voice was quiet and steady. He was sober, Ada realized, and this was quite a frightening thought. It meant he was serious. “Very well. So the old man thinks he can cheat me, does he? Well, we will see about that.”

  “Don’t refer to my father with such disrespect,” Georgiana spoke out, her eyes flashing.

  William looked at her and laughed. “He’s dead, and I’ll speak of him however I choose, you little brat.”

  Georgiana drew back as if she had been slapped. Ada was aware of a quick, violent movement and saw Michael rising from his chair and stepping toward William, his fist clenched and drawn back. William half rose, but Michael’s punch connected before he could. The countess screamed, as William went flying backward over his chair and cracked his head on the bookshelves. Georgiana jumped to her feet, as did Ada, shocked—and yet wishing she could cheer. Michael stood over William, his collar awry, breathing hard.

  “Get up,” he said, his voice crackling with the effort to control it, “and get out.”

  William struggled to his feet, clutching his nose. Blood trickled down from under his hand, and the look he gave Michael was full of hatred. “I’ll summons you for this,” he told him thickly. “And every one of you, as witnesses.”

  “Get out!” Michael shouted.

  William made for the door. He shoved past the secretary, who had come with the offer of water, and out of the door. Ada saw, before the front door swung closed, that a small crowd had collected and was watching—as William came out, holding his nose, there was an ironic cheer.

  “I’m sorry,” said Michael. He looked shamefaced. “That was foolish of me.”

  “I wish you’d hit him even harder!” Georgiana burst out. “That hateful man—I am ashamed to think I am related to him. I can hardly bear that he should be Earl of Westlake.”

  “It’s unspeakable,” Ada agreed. “He shames our family, and he brings shame on the title.”

  “Lady Averley! The countess—” Mr. Bradford’s voice was panic-stricken.

  Ada turned, and noticed her stepmother slumped in her seat. She ran to her side and saw at once that she was on the brink of fainting. “Some water, please, at once!” she said over her shoulder.

  The water was brought, and Ada gently revived the countess so that she could stand, and Michael escorted her to the motorcar. Ada and Georgiana lingered a moment longer with Mr. Bradford. “Do you think he will really challenge the will?” Ada said to the lawyer.

  “It is hard to say. He may do.” Mr. Bradford looked very worried.

  “I shan’t let him have Somerton,” Georgiana said hotly. “I could never look Thomas in the face if I had to tell him William would be his master.”

  “Never fear, Georgie. It shan’t happen. I will make sure of it,” Ada said.

  Georgiana looked at her directly for the first time. “But what can you do, Ada, to stop it happening? And…do you care enough to try?”

  She turned and walked quickly from the room. Ada followed her a moment later, her eyes brimming over with tears. She had never thought her sister would doubt her so much.

  Somerton

  Rebecca sat on the same chair she had been sitting on since Thomas had gone upstairs to check the rooms. At the far end of the table, Annie and Martha sat in sullen silence. Cook fidgeted by the sink. The other servants had backed up against the wall, waiting. The atmosphere in the kitchen was heavy and sharp with nerves. Everyone was wondering what everyone else had to hide…and no one, Rebecca thought, was under more scrutiny than she was.

  She sat straight-backed, meeting none of the curious glances that she could feel crawling over her skin. Instead she looked at the raindrops glittering on the kitchen window. Never had she longed so much to be back in Manchester. Smoky, dirty Manchester! She had hated it, lived for trips to the countryside. But at least no one had looked at her as they did here. There, in the city, immigrants were not unheard of. The pork butcher was German. The seamstress was Dutch. There was a port, and Africans and Indians often came into the city from the ships, though they kept themselves to themselves. But Somerton was different.

  She started as she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. A moment later, Thomas appeared, framed in the doorway. Everyone looked at him, including Rebecca.

  He cleared his throat. Rebecca could see that he wasn’t happy.

  “I have made a thorough search,” he said, “and I have found nothing. No spoons.”

  There was a moment’s silence, and then everyone began to speak at once. Thomas raised his hand for quiet.

  “That doesn’t mean that we don’t have a problem,” he said. “The silver is missing. That’s very serious, and I ask you once again—if anyone knows anything, come clean now, and I shall do my best to be understanding. But for now, we have no proof that anyone in this house is guilty of theft. So I don’t want to hear any more accusations.”

  “But, sir—” Martha began.

  “Enough, Martha!” Thomas hardly raised his voice, but the whole kitchen fell silent. “Have I made myself clear?”

  “But sir, she’s a spy!” Annie burst out. She pointed at Rebecca.

  “A German spy,” Martha joined in. “Annie saw it on a letter.”

  Rebecca laughed. She couldn’t help herself. The accusation was so ludicrous, and yet—somehow—she had been expecting it. Something like this had been bound to happen. She felt the pit of her stomach, like a dark hole. It had been going too well. It had to end.

  “Brazen hussy, laughing in our faces!” Cook exclaimed.

  Thomas was looking back and forth between Martha and Annie and Rebecca, the look of astonishment and disbelief on his face showing he was lost for words. Now he found words. “I beg your pardon, Annie? What kind of nonsense is that?”

  “It’s not nonsense. The postmistress knows. Everyone in Palesbury knows.”

  “Have you got any evidence?”

  Annie was silent.

  “Well?” Thomas’s voice was slowly changing from astonished to angry. “None! You have none, have you?”

  “I saw it on a letter—”

  “You saw what? Was it addressed to Miss Freeman, spy, care of Somerton Court?” Thomas said sarcastically.

  “I don’t know about a spy, sir. I don’t like to accuse people without reason. But one thing’s for sure. She’s a German,” Martha said solemnly.

  There was a hiss of shocked breath from everyone.

  “Why, nonsense,” Roderick said. “Anyone can see she’s as English as you or I.”

  Martha gave him a withering glance. “The Germans don’t look different, you fool. They look the sam
e as English folk.”

  “I’ve had enough of this,” Thomas snapped. “I don’t want to hear any more wild accusations against Rebecca. It’s nothing more than jealousy—yes, because she’s a hard worker and a good worker too. It’s bullying, and I will not have it in my staff. The next person I hear spreading lies about Rebecca Freeman can consider themselves sacked without a reference.”

  There was dead silence. Rebecca felt herself blushing with both embarrassment and relief. She blinked back tears.

  “I hope I make myself clear. Now, back to work. The family are due back at any moment.”

  The staff looked at one another, then went silently back to work. Martha looked as if she wanted to protest, but Annie pulled her away.

  Rebecca got up. Her mending hadn’t gotten done after all, she noted dully; she would have to do it tonight. She was almost at the door when Thomas said, “Rebecca, a word, if you please.”

  This was it. She was bound to be sacked. She knew Thomas was a good man, she thought, as she followed him to his pantry, but when he heard the truth there was no way he would allow her to remain.

  Thomas shut the door behind them. Rebecca looked up at him, her eyes aching with the desire to cry. She had already decided what she would do if this moment came. She wouldn’t lie. She was proud of her father, no matter what anyone else said.

  “I am sorry you have been treated this way,” Thomas said gently. He looked at her, and she had to look down; his eyes were just too blue, and it hurt to think that they would never be so kind again. “Martha and Annie have taken a dislike to you.”

  She remained silent.

  “I want to ask you, is there any truth in any of what Martha is saying?” Thomas went on at last.

  Rebecca did not answer for a long moment. Then she looked up at him. She would do this bravely, cleanly, quickly. “Yes, there is,” she said quietly.

  Thomas’s dark eyelashes flickered, the only sign that he was startled. Rebecca swallowed and went on. “My real name is not Freeman. It is Freudemann. My mother decided to change it on the outbreak of war, when we had to move to the country. We were afraid people would take against us if they saw we had a German name. My father is—my father was…”