Melissa waited until luncheon before bringing up the subject of Fletcher Tuke. She had only seen his back that day last year as he’d walked down the drive next to Harriet, but today she had known instantly who he was, and was extremely disturbed. Christopher hasn’t told me everything about Ellen Tuke, she thought as she sat in the sitting room waiting for the luncheon bell. I suppose that young men are expected to sow their wild oats, which I think is extremely unfair, for if society women should do so they would be considered slatternly and vulgar, and ostracized by their peers and family.
But women like Ellen, what of them? Was she willing? Surely Christopher wouldn’t have forced her. He is the kindest, most gentle man, but now I wonder if I really know him. What worried her most of all was why Ellen Tuke’s son might have come here. Was he a potential threat to her unborn child?
When they had finished dessert and were sitting drinking coffee, Melissa casually asked, ‘Who was that who called this morning?’
‘Mmm? When?’ Christopher seemed vague. ‘Did someone call? Oh, you mean young Tuke? That was a coincidence, wasn’t it, when we’d been talking about Marsh Farm? I’d been discussing it with Thomson, too.’
He lifted the pot to offer Melissa more coffee but she shook her head and he poured himself another cup. ‘Strange business,’ he said. ‘It seems that he’s only recently returned from America; his mother hadn’t told him about his father and brother being drowned. He learned the news from someone else.’
‘I said she was odd,’ Melissa muttered. ‘Any normal woman would have wanted her other son to be with her, unless of course her daughter-in-law was a comfort to her.’
‘No,’ Christopher said. ‘Seemingly that’s why she’s moved out. They don’t get on.’
Melissa pressed her lips together; she wasn’t interested in the minutiae of Ellen Tuke’s life, only in the plans of her son. ‘So why did he come to see you?’ She watched Christopher’s expression closely for signs of guilt or anxiety, but there were none as he replied.
‘Hah! He’s saved me a good deal of bother. He came to tell me he wouldn’t be staying on at Marsh Farm and wouldn’t want the tenancy. He wanted to ask if I would accommodate his mother in another cottage when he moves out. And there’s another odd thing.’ Christopher put down his cup. ‘He didn’t know that the tenancy was in his mother’s name. He’d always assumed it was in his father’s.’
Melissa gave a small sigh; perhaps it was going to be all right after all.
‘He seemed like a good sort,’ Christopher commented. ‘Honest and reliable, the kind of man you could trust. I wouldn’t mind him working here, maybe as bailiff if ever Thomson moved on. Anyway, he asked if I would give his mother the news about Marsh Farm. He seemed to think she would take it better from me than from him, and he’s yet to tell her that he’s moving out.’ He paused, and then stood up. ‘I got the feeling that he has other plans which don’t include her.’ He bent to kiss her forehead. ‘Must go. Don’t overdo things, my darling. You look a little pale.’
‘It’s because I’ve been in bed all morning,’ she said crossly. ‘That’s why I’m pale!’
When he had gone, she put on a warm cape to cover her, for it was a cold though sunny day, and walked into her garden. She had been delighted with her roses, the perfume from them suffusing the air, and although the flowers were almost finished some of them clung on and she stooped to admire their velvety petals and rich jewel colours. I must ask the gardener to bring a seat here for next spring, she thought, so that I may sit and enjoy them; and she thought too that she wouldn’t be alone, but would have a child and a nursemaid with her. There would also be guests, for Amy was to be married in May and the reception would be held at the manor.
She heard the crunch of gravel and looked up to see Harriet walking away from the servants’ entrance towards the drive. Melissa called to her.
Harriet looked up and came towards her. ‘Ma’am.’ She dipped her knee as she approached.
‘No baby with you today?’
‘No, ma’am. Mary’s looking after him. We’ve, erm, made an arrangement. I’m – I’m staying with her at present.’
‘I see.’ Melissa knew this already, but not from Harriet’s lips. ‘Do come over here,’ she said. ‘We can’t have a conversation when we’re twelve feet apart. Or are you in a hurry to be off?’
‘No, ma’am.’ Harriet stepped on to the grass and came towards her. ‘I know he’s well looked after while Mary has him.’
Melissa frowned, nonplussed. ‘Mary? But what about feeding him? Or does he take a bottle?’
Harriet flushed slightly. ‘I feed him afore I leave and Mary has a bottle o’ goat’s milk to last him till I get back.’
‘Oh,’ Melissa said thoughtfully. ‘That’s how it’s done.’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘I’ve read in books about all the different ways to manage, but it’s still rather a mystery to me.’
‘Perhaps you should talk to Mary,’ Harriet suggested. ‘She’s a midwife as well as a washerwoman. She delivered Daniel.’
Melissa thought that she wouldn’t be expected to feed her child herself, but would perhaps employ a wet nurse. ‘Did she? Well, perhaps I might,’ she said, adding, ‘She wouldn’t think I was terribly ignorant, would she?’
Harriet smiled. ‘No, ma’am. She’s very kind; and we’re all inexperienced wi’ our first babby. Ma’am,’ she said quickly. ‘Could I speak confidentially?’
‘Now?’ Melissa was startled and somewhat apprehensive. ‘It’s nothing personal, is it? I wouldn’t want …’ What if she wants to discuss the question of her brother-in-law’s origins, she thought uneasily. What could I say?
‘It’s about my husband’s parentage, ma’am. I need some advice.’
Melissa was confused. Her husband’s parentage? Not her brother-in-law’s? What a very strange family the Tukes were, so much mystery.
‘Come on to the terrace,’ she suggested. ‘We can sit and speak privately there. I must definitely ask the gardener to bring a seat down here,’ she murmured.
Harriet recounted as succinctly as possible her discovery of Noah’s birth mother and what she had been told about his real father, although she did not mention where he was born. ‘So Noah wasn’t the child of either Mr or Mrs Tuke,’ she explained, ‘which means that Fletcher and I could marry eventually, which is what we both want. The difficulty is, we’ve no proof that Noah and Fletcher are not brothers, because Noah’s real mother told me she won’t admit her story to anyone else; she was very young, you see, ma’am, and he was born out of wedlock, and although she’s now widowed she doesn’t want to lose her respectability.’
‘Of course not,’ Melissa murmured. ‘Poor dear. But would Mrs Tuke not say? She adopted him and brought him up as their own, which was a very honourable thing to do for the child. She needn’t say who the parents were.’
Harriet sighed. ‘It’s not so simple …’
Before she left, Harriet told Melissa that she hoped that she didn’t mind that she had given her name in confidence to Noah’s real mother so that if she should change her mind about disclosing Noah’s true background, she could write to Harriet at the manor. ‘I don’t want any correspondence going to Mrs Tuke,’ she explained.
Melissa nodded. ‘You don’t trust her? Have you thought that you and Fletcher could leave the district and live together anyway?’ she said. ‘Or does that shock you? You would have the same name, no one would know.’
‘That’s what Fletcher said. But I have to think of Daniel. What would I tell him when he asked about his family? Do I lie and tell him that ’Tukes are his grandparents? And then what would he think of us? Of Fletcher and me?’
‘Indeed,’ Melissa said quietly. ‘What indeed?’
Christopher was on his way to tell Ellen of his decision to offer her the tenancy of another cottage. He went over and over in his mind how to break the news that she would have to leave Marsh Farm. Whatever I say, she’s not going to like it, he thought. She can be outspoken when she wants to be; Ellen’s not the quiet shy person she seems. He recalled the days when they were young and used to meet secretly. It was always her idea, he remembered. She was the one who came up with a time and place where they wouldn’t be seen, and he was the one who was nervous of being found out. Mrs Marshall too played a part, covering for Ellen if ever they were late back.
That was one of the reasons why he took care of the old lady, in case at some time she might let slip how he and Ellen used to meet. Not that there was anything really serious, he thought, remembering how sensible Ellen had been when she heard that his parents were inviting eligible young women to meet him. Still, it was a shock when she told him that she had decided to marry Nathaniel Tuke, although in a way it was quite a timely relief. She was becoming a little too passionate, he recalled, which was difficult for a young man, especially one in his position.
The thought that he might have had an ardent liaison with a servant girl would never have entered his first wife’s head, but Melissa, well, she was totally different. That’s why he had been so attracted to her; she was so much more worldly. She would have smelt a rat immediately, and dealt with it.
He hoped that Fletcher Tuke would be at home, but he wasn’t. As he entered the cottage, Ellen greeted him effusively.
‘I’m so pleased to see you, Christopher,’ she said. ‘I don’t see you often enough.’
‘Well,’ he said, embarrassed, ‘I don’t have a great deal of time. The estate …’
‘I know,’ she sympathized. ‘You do far too much, I’m sure. Would you like tea? And cake? I haven’t lost my touch at baking.’
‘I’m sure you haven’t, but I mustn’t stay long. Ellen …’ He paused. ‘I’ve come to tell you something.’ He saw her eyes light up and she put her fingers to her chin. ‘It’s about Marsh Farm. I won’t be renewing your tenancy agreement in November. The property is too big for you now, and I’ve decided to offer you another cottage instead. At a peppercorn rent.’
‘But …’ She stared at him. ‘Fletcher can work it. It’s not too big for him.’
‘I have other plans for the land,’ he explained. ‘I’m going to start warping the bottom field, which means they’ll be digging drains and building sluices; the land can’t be farmed whilst that’s going on.’
‘But that’s what Fletcher wants to do,’ she insisted, her voice rising. ‘He’s allus said that that’s what he’d do if ’land was his.’
‘But it’s not his, nor does he have the tenancy,’ he said gently. ‘It’s in your name, Ellen. It always has been, as you know, and I’m sorry but I won’t be renewing it.’
‘You’re pushing me out!’ Her eyes flared and a flush reddened her thin cheeks. ‘You can’t. A cottage! I need space for hens and a cow. And then there’s Fletcher to think of.’
‘I can,’ he said patiently. ‘And you don’t need more than a few hens. The cottage is nearer to Brough. You’ll know it; old Mrs Hall used to live in it. There’s room for a goat,’ he added, and wondered why he was even discussing it. ‘Do you want it or not?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said stubbornly. ‘I’ll have to speak to Fletcher.’ She glared at him as she spoke and nodded significantly. ‘I’ll see what he wants to do.’
And as Christopher spoke again, no sooner were the words out of his mouth than he regretted them. ‘Well, perhaps I’m wrong, but I understood from what Fletcher said that he had other plans. He told me that he didn’t want Marsh Farm.’
‘What?’ she whispered.
There was no going back. ‘He, erm, he thought that the tenancy was in your husband’s name and was under the impression it would come to him if he wanted it. He was surprised to hear that it was in yours.’ Christopher stood up to leave. ‘There’s plenty of time for you to think about the cottage. It’s very cosy, and not so close to the estuary. I’ll keep it for you until Martinmas. But I’ve nothing else to offer you, Ellen,’ he added. ‘So think seriously about it, won’t you?’