“Is there no village nearby? Or a farm where immediate needs may be met?”
“The nearest village is very small, no more than a church, manor house and a few cottages,” Judith said, her voice subdued. “There is a farm across the river which provides our basic needs, such as milk, eggs and plain meats, and the kitchen garden and orchard here provide most of our fruit and vegetables, but for game or fish or dried goods, Salisbury is the nearest source.”
“Across the river?” Annie said. “What river is that?”
“The River Durran,” Mr Huntly said. “It loops around the estate, and the willows fringing it give the manor its name.”
“I shall look forward to exploring it,” Annie said. “I shall suggest eight o’clock to Mrs Cumber. Mr Huntly, what are your plans for tomorrow? Do you require my presence for anything, or may I ask Judith to show me over the rest of the house?”
“I reserve to myself the pleasure of showing you around Willow Place,” he said, with one of his sudden smiles. “I should relish the opportunity to learn more of it myself.”
Annie had a mouthful of strawberry tartlet, but she swallowed hastily and said, “But this is your home, sir! Surely you know it well?”
The smile widened. “Not so, to my regret. My mother… went away from Willow Place when I was but five years old, so my aunt’s house in Grantham was my only childhood home, as it was also for my sister Rachel.”
“You have a sister?”
“She died in childbed many years ago.” His face closed up, and she saw that the subject was painful for him and resolved to ask nothing further. After a moment, he went on, “Herbert was old enough to go away to school, and in the holidays he returned here, so he always knew the house well, but I—” He took a long draught of wine, then said in more sombre tones, “I knew only what my brother told me of it. I never came here again until word reached me that he had perished. So I know almost as little of it as you, Mrs Huntly.”
“Then we shall learn its ways together,” she said.
“Yes!” he said, his face softening. “That is exactly my plan.”
Judith applied herself assiduously to her plate, saying nothing further.
In the evening, Mr Huntly insisted Annie play the instrument. “I always remembered your playing with such fondness,” he said with a soft smile. “I loved to watch your face as you concentrated on the performance.”
“I had to concentrate because I was not very skilled,” Annie said, laughing. “Nor have I played since we left the vicarage. My aunt and uncle have no instrument. I am greatly in need of practice, but I will undertake to do so diligently if you will but give me a little time to improve before asking me to perform in public.”
“This is hardly public, with only myself to hear, and I shall not be a critical listener, you may be sure of that. Indulge me tonight, if you please.”
Reluctantly, she followed him into the music room, every wall hung about with huge tapestries, and began to look through the box of sheet music beside the pianoforte.
“I have already chosen a piece for you,” he said eagerly, showing her one already resting on top of the instrument. “It was such a favourite of mine when I used to visit you, all those years ago.”
Her heart sank when she saw it. “This is not an easy piece, Mr Huntly. I never quite got it right, even when I practised every day. May I not begin with an easier piece?”
“Try it, to please me.”
“Very well, but pray accept my apologies in advance for all my mistakes.”
“I shall notice none, I assure you.”
And he drew up a chair and sat right beside the pianoforte, positioned so that he could watch her face. At first, this flustered her, but after a while, as her unaccustomed fingers began to recall to some degree their former proficiency, her playing became smoother. The result was not anything of which she could be proud, but neither was it so dreadful as she had feared.
Mr Huntly never took his eyes from her face. “That was wonderful, Mrs Huntly,” he said, and immediately urged her to play another piece. Pleased to have found some occupation for the evenings that gave him pleasure and required no speech, she played on until her hands ached, and Judith had long since retired. By the time supper had been served, Annie was longing for her bed.
Leaving Mr Huntly to make a final round checking that the doors and windows were secure, she made her way to her dressing room. Betty was already there, her nightgown and robe laid out awaiting her. Through the open door, the bedroom lay in near darkness, only the deep red of the bed hangings a pool of colour in the gloom. The dressing room, by contrast, was bright with candles. A fire burned merrily in the hearth, making the room unpleasantly stuffy. Annie crossed the room, pulled aside one of the shutters and threw open the casement.
The cool night air was pleasant against her face, heated as it was from the effort of playing music after such long neglect.
“Goodness, it is warm in here!”
“Master’s orders, madam,” Betty said. “Doesn’t want you to catch a chill. He’s very thoughtful that way, isn’t he? Looks after you so well.” And she sighed with sentimental fervour. “And isn’t this grand, having a whole room to get dressed and undressed in?”
“Is everything to your satisfaction?” Annie said, as she allowed Betty to unfasten her gown and stays. “You have a pleasant room, I trust?”
“Oh yes, madam, my room is wonderful.” Another sigh. “It’s so much better than that tiny attic room I shared with Della. I have a room to myself, and there’s a little place off the servants’ hall for taking care of your clothes. I have to share that with Mr Sheffield, the master’s valet, but he’s been ever so helpful. He has such a clever way to get candle grease off things.”
“And the housekeeper?”
“Mrs Cumber? Oh, she’s lovely! I thought she’d be a bit… you know, looking down on me, what with me being so much younger than the others, but she’s been ever so kind to me. Barbara — that’s the under-housemaid — she’s been set to look after me, and show me where everything is. She said she thinks we’ll be great friends. It’s lovely to have a friend here already, like you have Mrs Herbert. I’m sure I’m going to like it here. Well, who wouldn’t, when everyone’s so kind? They wanted to know all about you, but I’m not to tell, am I? Your ma said a lady’s maid keeps all her mistress’s secrets.”
Annie slipped her nightgown over her head, and let Betty to fasten the robe around her, then sat down at the dressing table to allow the maid to loosen her hair and brush it out.
“I have no secrets to keep, Betty, so you may tell them what you know of me, by all means,” she said. “I hope they will tell you something about my husband, in return, for I know little enough of him. He has so much natural reticence that he never likes to talk of himself.”
“No one knows much about him, madam. He was never here until his brother died, and then only briefly, and then he came back to say he was getting married and give orders about that. He’s never lived here at all, not since he was a tiny boy, and his brother never mentioned him, which is odd, isn’t it? Everyone’s very interested to know what sort of master he’ll be and whether he’ll go away as much as his brother did. Off in Ireland with his mother half the year, he was, and his poor wife left here alone with the babes. Poor lady, to be widowed so young! Mrs Hewitt said that it was a blessed release for her, but I don’t know about that. She must have been prostrate with grief, losing her husband all of a sudden, that way. I remember when you and your ma first came to Castle Street, madam, and Lord, she was bad, your ma. You showed it less, but she never stopped weeping for weeks and weeks, and even after that, the least thing would set her off. Grief’s a terrible thing, isn’t it?”
Annie murmured some response, but Betty was in full flow and she had not the heart to stop her. It was pleasant to have someone to talk to who knew her history, who remembered the Guildford house and her family there, a last tenuous link to her old life. There was a little m
ore freedom here, too, where Mr Huntly had his own room, and there was not the delicate dance to dress or undress without inconveniencing the other.
It was a surprise, therefore, when Mr Huntly came through the connecting door into the dressing room, already in gown and robe ready for bed, before Betty had half unpinned Annie’s hair. Betty froze, hands poised to remove another hairpin, and fell silent.
“I am not quite ready yet,” Annie said, with what composure she could muster.
“No matter,” he said. “I am perfectly happy to watch while your maid attends you. There is a draught in here… who opened this window?” He strode across the room, and closed the window firmly.
“I opened it,” Annie said quickly, in case he thought to blame Betty. “It was a little warm in here.”
“The evening air is most injurious to the lungs, Mrs Huntly, especially after the warmth of the drawing room. I must insist that you not expose yourself to any risk to your health.”
She said nothing, unconvinced, but unwilling to argue the point. He chose not to sit, but stood behind the dressing table where he could watch her, never taking his eyes from her face. His intensity was unsettling, but she imagined her charms would lose the appeal of novelty in a few weeks and he would be a more relaxing companion. Betty brushed and then plaited Annie’s hair as quickly as her fingers could fly, tidied away the discarded clothing and scuttled out of the room.
“Your maid is very young,” Mr Huntly said, once she had gone. “Too young, perhaps, to know how to take proper care of you.”
“She is young, it is true, but she is a quick learner and manages my hair cleverly. She has always helped me look after my clothes, even though she trained as a housemaid.”
“Let us not talk about housemaids.” He moved round to stand behind her. Even then, he still watched her reflection in the mirror, his eyes dark pools as the candles threw shadows across his face. “Come here.”
Obediently she rose and turned towards him, and he rested his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs stroking her neck, regarding her with a little smile. “How do you like your new home, Mrs Huntly?”
“I like it very well indeed! How could I not? I am sure I shall be very happy here.”
“Naturally you will be. I did not know, that day when I first saw you, that we should spend our married life here at Willow Place. I knew we were fated to be together always, but I assumed it would be at Grantham. Sometimes I would walk about the streets there looking for the perfect house for us, or attend the auctions so that I might determine the right setting for you, to show you off to best advantage. Yet somehow, none of them pleased me. There was some deficiency in every one — too small or too inelegant or on too mean a street for Mrs Rupert Huntly. But as soon as the solicitor’s letter arrived to tell me of Herbert’s death, I understood. This is where you are meant to be, this is the only possible setting for so perfect a jewel as you are, wife of mine.”
Such words were delightful, of course, but she had to demur. Blushing, she said, “I am very far from perfect, sir.”
He gave a rumble of laughter that made him shake. “Let me be the judge of that, Ann. To me you are perfect, like the first rosebud of summer, all delicate pale beauty so tightly furled. Ah, there it is! That way you dip your head… so shy, hiding your charms, just like the dainty rosebud. You bring me so much joy, my little one.”
“Do I?” Diffidently, she lifted her eyes to meet his, and saw a warmth there which made her glow. His tenderness gave her the courage to ask, “Do you love me, Rupert?”
“Of course I do! What a question! Would I have dreamt of you for eight long years if I had not? Would I have married you? The love I bear you is so deep, so all-encompassing that I cannot imagine my life without you. I was not truly alive before… but now, at last, I have you and my life is complete. I want for nothing when I have my dearest, my only love with me. I shall take the greatest care of you, my very dear wife, you may be sure of that. I shall protect you from every ill in the world, and we shall live in perfect bliss together for our whole lives.”
Thrilled to the core by such words, she lifted her hand to stroke his face. To her surprise, he removed it at once, with a grunt of disapprobation.
“Too forward, Mrs Huntly. Do not allow your sense of obligation to lead you into unseemly error. A wife must always be submissive to her husband.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” she said, lowering her eyes.
He chuckled. “You will get into the way of pleasing me soon enough, and when you are dutiful, you please me very well.” Again his thumbs rubbed her neck, up and down, up and down.
The warmth had returned to his voice, but all her pleasure in the moment had gone.
~~~~~
Annie awoke hot, her head heavy. Pushing aside the heavy bed hangings, she slipped out of bed. The morning light seeped around the shutters, illuminating the room in a pale glow. Beside her, Mr Huntly was fast asleep, his face gentle in repose. He was not a handsome man, his face often stern or lugubrious. Only the smiles when he looked at her gave him some softness in appearance at times.
She crept across the room to the door to the dressing room, which creaked slightly as she opened it, but her husband did not stir. The dressing room was brighter, for the shutter she had pulled aside the previous night had not been repositioned, and the room was flooded with golden morning light. Once again she was struck with how pretty the room was, and felt a pang of guilt for Judith, surrendering her so-carefully decorated room to a stranger. How horrible it must be, not only to lose one’s husband, but to lose one’s familiar rooms and even one’s position within the household. Poor Judith!
She was still hot, so she padded noiselessly across the plush carpet to the window and pushed open the casement. There was a fine prospect over the park towards a line of trees, morning mist making the air hazy in the early light. Nearer to the house lay a wide shrubbery, half hidden in the mist, dark and mysterious.
A movement…
She looked more closely, saw nothing. No, there it was again, a flash of white… a man! As her eyes adjusted to the distance, she saw that it was indeed a man, wearing a white shirt and perhaps a waistcoat. His trousers were invisibly dark, or perhaps they simply disappeared into the encroaching mist. He moved… perhaps he waved an arm… and then he vanished. No matter how her eyes strained, she could not make him out.
“Ann? Are you well?” Mr Huntly stood, barefoot, and clad only in his nightshirt, just as she was, in the doorway.
“I am perfectly well, but I was hot when I woke, and came here to get some air without disturbing you. Rupert, there was a man down there, just in front of those dark bushes.”
“A man? The groom, perhaps?”
“He did not look like a groom, or anyone with any business to be there. He was just… standing there.”
“I expect it was the gamekeeper. Really, Mrs Huntly, it is not good for you to be exposed to the morning air so soon after rising.” He reached past her and closed the window. “It is not yet time to leave your bed. You must take a proper degree of rest each morning, or you will be vulnerable to all manner of chills and noxious airs.”
“I am never ill, Rupert. Pray do not concern yourself on my account.”
“But I must do so, my dear, since you are so careless of your own health. Go back to bed now, and perhaps you will sleep a while longer. Your maid will rouse you at the appropriate time.”
Wordlessly she went, for there was no point in arguing about so trivial a matter. Perhaps in a few months his excessive anxiety for her well-being would diminish.
5: Adjustments
When Annie woke again, her husband was gone and she could hear Betty moving about in the dressing room. When she went through, two gowns had been laid out ready for her to choose from, and a tray of tea and cake awaited her. She went about her ablutions, and sipped her tea before beginning to dress.
Her morning routine was swift, but even so, Mr Huntly appeared, dressed for the day, while
she was still pulling on her gown.
“Mr Huntly?” she said, rather startled, and trying not to be offended that he felt at liberty to enter her dressing room without invitation. At night, perhaps, there was some excuse, but not in daylight hours.
“I have ordered some chocolate brought up to us here,” he said.
“I prefer tea to start the day, as we did in Bath,” she said, bewildered.
“Tea is watery pap,” he said. “Chocolate is far more nourishing. Your health is a great concern to me, Mrs Huntly, and I prefer you to drink chocolate when you rise. You must keep up your strength.”
Annie suppressed a certain irritation. It was high-handed of him, but it was done with the best of intentions. There would be time enough to order matters to her wishes whenever the excessive care of a new husband should mellow somewhat. Betty finished dressing her in silence, the chocolate arrived and Annie dutifully sipped it as her husband watched her, cradling his own cup. She would not have minded the chocolate so much if she could have eaten some cake, but Mr Huntly had instructed Mrs Cumber to remove the tea tray.
Once Betty had withdrawn, her husband said, “Now, Mrs Huntly, we shall begin our tour of the house, and then see the housekeeper at eight o’clock, after which—”
“We?” she burst out. “You wish to be present when I discuss domestic arrangements with Mrs Cumber?”
“Do you object to that?” He raised one dark eyebrow in surprise.
“No, but—” Flustered, she struggled for the right words to express how intrusive this felt to her. “It is not usual. A gentleman does not normally care how his dinner arrives at the table, so long as it is cooked to his liking.”
“Ah, you are jealous of your rôle as housewife,” he said, in amused tones. “I understand. But you mistake me, my dear, if you imagine that I take much interest in soup and ragoût. However, I know very little more of the servants than you do, so it will be beneficial for me to meet Mrs Cumber today.”
The Apothecary (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 3) Page 4
