Polly complained of feeling ill for most of the journey and Annie had implored her not to be sick on any account on the fabric seats or moroccan cushions in Mr Blythe’s stately carriage. Henry was curled up in a corner, his box of lead soldiers on his knee and Charlie at his feet, watching the world go by as casually as if he regularly travelled in such a fashion. Annie gazing at the shimmering heat haze across the tranquil hills, worried about leaving the shop, even though she had arranged for two more assistants to come in and help Robin, for Rose was getting near her time of confinement and was becoming very slow and ponderous as her weight increased.
So, too, as they drew nearer to Staveley Park did her anxiety increase. She felt her confidence falter and apprehension over her position return. Then mentally she drew back her shoulders and lifted her chin. Tha’ll not get ’best of me, Squire Linton, she thought, even if I am a nobody. I’ll tail it back to York, me and my son, if tha as much says a word out of place.
Then she laughed at herself. There was no reason why he should treat her disdainfully, he was perfectly charming the last time she had met him. She fingered her pearls as she pondered, then smoothed down her gown and shook out the creases and saw the glint of gold on her third finger.
She twisted it around, until the seam, where she had had an extra piece of gold inserted into the earring by the goldsmith, came to the front. Matt’s father doesn’t know, of course, she brooded, that his only son had married a woman without rank or distinction, a woman of no worth who could never be a lady – and had married her in a dockside ceremony by a reprobate priest.
Lowson slowed the horses as they entered the iron gates to the long sweep of drive which led to the handsome house at the end of it. Annie peeped out of the window. Strange how she hadn’t really looked at it the last time. She’d been so anxious for food and a bed that she had gone straight to the back door of the kitchen, with barely a glance at the once imposing entrance, where now the paint was peeling from the long windows and the stone steps were chipped, with weeds growing in between the cracks. The windows, as before, were shrouded by heavy concealing blinds as if the occupant had neither desire to look out nor a welcoming invitation for a visitor to look in.
The horses stamped their feet and blew whinnying gusts of breath as Lowson lowered the steps and helped her down, and as she thanked him, one door of the double doors opened and Mrs Rogerson was standing there, a look of incredulity on her face as she took in first Annie and then Henry as he jumped down from the carriage.
She bobbed her knee. ‘Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m afraid t’master is away at present, though he’ll be back in an hour or so.’ She hesitated and screwed her hands together and looked into the distance over Annie’s shoulder. ‘He didn’t say as he was expecting—’
‘No.’ Annie interrupted. ‘I didn’t write. I was in the district and thought I would call.’ I could get back in the carriage and be gone in minutes, she thought, and all Mrs Rogerson would tell him was that a visitor called and declined to stay.
The housekeeper seemed to be keenly observing her, her eyebrows raised. ‘Ma’am? You’re very welcome to wait and take some refreshment.’
Annie blinked and realized that the woman had asked her a question. ‘Oh, yes. Thank you; if you’re sure that Squire Linton won’t object?’
‘There’s no knowing, ma’am.’ Mrs Rogerson opened the door wider and muttered, half to herself. ‘We’ll have to see what humour he’s in when he gets home.’
Jed appeared from a doorway beneath the stairs and touched his forehead. ‘Shall I help t’coachie with luggage, ma’am?’
‘No,’ Annie decided after a second’s hesitation. ‘We may not stay. I – erm, I have another call to make. If Squire Linton is a long time I may have to go on.’ And if he decides he doesn’t want us, she mused, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of throwing our luggage down the steps after us.
Mrs Rogerson led them through an inner hall and into a small dark sitting-room on the left of the entrance. ‘If you’d like to wait in here ma’am.’ She went to the window and pulling on a cord drew up the blinds. The late afternoon sun poured in, filling the room with warmth and lighting up the polished floorboards and highlighting the colours of the Persian carpet.
‘Ah.’ The housekeeper took a breath of satisfaction. ‘This room allus is good in the afternoon and early evening. This was the late Mrs Linton’s sewing-room.’ She swept off the sheets which were covering the chairs and folded them under her arms.
‘Have you been here long?’
‘Aye, I have ma’am. A long time. There’s onny Jed and me left of the old staff.’ Annie felt uncomfortable under her probing gaze. ‘Will I bring wine, or tea or chocolate?’
‘I’ll take tea,’ Annie said firmly, ‘and my son will have chocolate. Polly, what will you have?’
Polly dragged her awestruck gaze away from the gilded frames of the watercolours on the wall and the Chinese vases on either side of the French clock above the carved fireplace. She stroked the striped damask covering on the chairs. ‘Chocolate please, Mrs Hope, but I hope I don’t spill.’
Mrs Rogerson glanced at Annie. ‘She can come with me into the kitchen, ma’am. She’ll be more comfortable there. Young master too,’ she added, ‘if he wants.’
Annie smiled. ‘Off you go, Polly – but you can stay with me,’ she said, drawing Henry towards her as he was about to move off after Mrs Rogerson. Polly only knew her as Mrs Hope and Annie knew that she would be dumbstruck in front of strangers, but Henry she was sure, would give the game away to those in the kitchen by telling them that Henry Linton was his grandfather.
She took a chair by the long side window which looked out over parkland and beyond towards a thick copse. She sipped her tea when Mrs Rogerson brought it and watched as cock pheasants, their irridescent feathers glinting, strutted around the grass followed by a string of plainer female birds, while from a meadow around the back of the house she could hear the low of cattle and a gentle bleat of sheep.
‘Isn’t it lovely here, Henry?’ she said, glancing down at him as he stretched out on the floor placing his toy soldiers into marching order. ‘It’s so peaceful.’
‘But is there anyone to play with?’ He looked up. ‘What do boys do?’
She shook her head and answered quite honestly that she didn’t know. ‘When Squire Linton comes in, I want you to stand up immediately,’ she said. ‘And don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. I have to explain a few things to him first.’
‘About my father?’ he asked, looking at her with blue eyes so like Matt’s that she could have cried.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, then she drew in a breath. She had heard the sound of boots on the gravel and the sound of a man’s voice roughly calling for Jed.
‘Who’s called?’ she heard him say. ‘There’s been a carriage here by the look of it. Was it Blythe?’
There was an inaudible reply and then silence. She heard the swish of Mrs Rogerson’s skirt across the stone-flagged hall and the sound of the outer door being opened and a soft murmur of voices.
‘Master will be down directly, ma’am. He’s just changing.’ Mrs Rogerson brought in a tray and removed the crockery. She nodded her head and gave a tight little smile. ‘He’s had quite a good day, I reckon.’
Annie sank back on the chair and closed her eyes. She didn’t know how to approach him. All the planning she had done, the things she had decided to say to him, the explanations, simply vanished and her mind was a blank. She got up from the chair and went to the window and stood with her back to the room looking out.
The door opened quietly and she heard a sharp exclamation, an intake of breath, and she turned to see Henry Linton standing by the door, one hand on the door knob, the other pressed to his lips, and her own Henry, his eyes wide, rising from the floor.
‘Oh. Mrs Hope!’ Henry Linton recovered his composure. They said it was a Mrs Hope, but I didn’t expect – didn’t dare to think that it was you.’
‘I startled you. I beg your pardon,’ Annie began.
‘No, no, it was nothing.’ He dismissed the idea; then: ‘yes, but only for a moment. My late wife used to use this room and for a moment I thought – it was stupid – seeing you by the window – you know how the mind can play tricks! Please, won’t you be seated?’
He glanced down at Henry and observed him for a moment, fingering his neck stock as he did so. Then he put out his hand and Henry with barely a glance at his mother put out his own to shake.
‘Mrs Hope.’ Henry Linton leaned towards her as he eased his long frame into a chair. ‘Forgive me if I don’t immediately conduct formalities and ask how you are, for I can see that you are very well indeed; but have you news of my son? I have had no word from him for nearly twelve months, and although he doesn’t visit as regularly as I would wish, he doesn’t as a rule leave it so long. I’ve not had so much as a letter or a message, and with this war—’
‘Yes.’ Annie’s voice was husky with nerves and emotion. ‘I have. It isn’t good I’m afraid. He’s been pressed into the navy. I don’t know which ship or where in the world he will be, but he was waiting to be put aboard a tender in Hull the last time I saw him.’
‘What!’ He rose to his feet. ‘A son of mine? Good God! Why didn’t he contact me or Blythe?’
Annie said nothing but watched him as he paced the room, his face florid. Henry came and stood next to her and she put her arm comfortingly around him.
‘He’ll be holed up with criminals and convicts and drunkards. The scum of the earth! This is all because he wanted to be a seafarer and have his own ship, you know.’ His voice rose. ‘He should have gone into the navy as an officer if he was so damned fond of the sea!’
He stopped his pacing and ranting and looked at them as if he had suddenly become aware that they were there. ‘I’m so sorry. Forgive me. It’s come as a shock you see. I’ve lost one son. Now it seems as if I might lose another.’
Annie saw Henry open his mouth as if about to speak and she lifted a finger to silence him. ‘Perhaps it would still be possible to have him exempted, sir. If you could speak to the magistrates at some of the ports?’
‘Indeed I will.’ He sat down again. ‘I’ll do even better. I’ll write to the Admiralty immediately. Did they have a warrant do you know?’
Annie almost laughed. If he had seen, as she had, how the gangs of press-men took their victims, he would know that regardless of whether the lieutenants had a warrant, there were always bands of lawless tyrants ready to round up any man, sound or not, in the name of the king and the price of a bribe.
‘I don’t know, sir. I only know that his ship was taken on a false charge by the Customs at the same time as he was caught by the navy. Some of his men were caught also.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Hope. I’m much obliged for your information.’ He looked at her keenly and stroked his beard. ‘Did you see much of Matthias, er, before his impressment I mean?’ He glanced at Henry who was still standing by her chair. ‘I wondered how you came by this knowledge?’
She took a deep breath. ‘I came across him by chance when I was visiting Hull again. We – we’d lost touch. My fault I have to say.’
‘Hmm. I said he’d let you slip through his fingers didn’t I?’
She gave a weak smile, now he would start to remember.
He put his head on one side and then shook a finger. ‘I’ve got it! I knew there was something different about you!’
Annie waited, a slow flush suffusing her cheeks.
Your accent! You can speak English now. You had hardly a word when Matthias brought you to Mrs Burnby’s place.’ He glanced again at Henry. ‘I can’t recall him saying you had a child though, but then—.’ He seemed to do a mental calculation. ‘Perhaps you hadn’t?’
Annie turned to Henry. ‘Go and wait outside the door please. Don’t wander around but stay where I can find you. I want to talk privately to Squire Linton.’
Henry obediently went to the door, but turned and said, ‘I might get lost, Mamma. It’s a very big house.’
‘So it is, young man.’ Henry Linton followed him and went into the hall and bellowed. ‘Rogerson! Mrs Rogerson. Ah, there you are. Take this young fellow with you and give him some cake, and bring him back in ten minutes.’
He returned and sat down again so that he was facing her. ‘Yes. Annaliese, wasn’t it? I remember thinking what a delightful name. You were a widow if I recall?’
Annie stared down at her lap and twisted the small gold ring round and round her finger, then she looked up and stared into Henry Linton’s eyes. ‘No, sir. Not a Dutch widow. A widow, yes. But not Dutch. It was a jape, sir.’
‘A jape! Oh, good heavens; my sons were always playing games and jokes. You’d think they would have grown out of it by the time they were adults.’ He sounded quite humorous, she thought. Not angry. Not yet.
‘But why? Was it because of that damned silly masquerade? Thought you’d go a bit further did you?’
‘Before I explain that, sir, I’d like to tell you something else first. You might not be very pleased, but it’s done now.’
She tipped up her chin and gazed defiantly at him. Where she came from it was no sin to be pregnant out of wedlock. But she knew that the rules were different for his class. A lady, no matter how high born, would be turned out of her home and deprived of any possessions if she should fall in such a manner with no man willing to marry her.
‘Your son and I were lovers.’ She hadn’t meant the statement to be delivered so tersely; she had wanted it to be soft and gentle and emotional. But, he had a twinkle in his eye. He wasn’t shocked.
‘I was caught with a child,’ she said softly. ‘I didn’t think Matt would want me, and I ran away. I ran to York and have been living there ever since.’
He stared at her and she couldn’t tell now what he was thinking.
‘I went back to Hull on a business visit for my employer, taking my son with me, and there I saw Matt again.’ She bowed her head and felt the tears flow. ‘He was waiting at the dockside; waiting to be transferred to the naval tender. I think it was my fault that he was pressed. He would have tried to get away if he hadn’t been so unhappy.’
She lifted a tear streaked face to Henry Linton. ‘He’d been searching for me ever since I ran away.’ She brushed away her tears and cleared her throat. ‘There was a priest with him, he’d been pressed too and he offered to marry us before they sailed. Matt wanted to marry me in case he didn’t come back.’ She paused, then uttered in a breathless whisper, ‘He wanted to give Henry his name.’
‘Henry?’ Squire Linton’s face was inscrutable.
She nodded. ‘Henry Matthias. Those were the names I had given my bairn.’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘Your bairn?’
‘Aye, sir. The reason I didn’t speak at Mrs Burnby’s party was because of my accent. My English accent, sir, not a Dutch one.’
‘And so – the boy—?’ He indicated towards the door.
‘Yes, sir. Is Matt’s son. Your grandson.’
Outside the window a song thrush was singing, repeating its clear refrain again and again, while inside the room the silence was broken only by the ticking of the clock on the mantelshelf.
Henry Linton cleared his throat. ‘Why have you waited so long before coming? Before bringing the boy?’
‘I wouldn’t have come at all, sir,’ she said. ‘But Matt asked me to, and I promised Henry – he’s always asking when can he come and see his grandfather.’
He frowned. ‘You wouldn’t have come? Why not?’
‘I wouldn’t have wanted you to think that—,’ she broke off; how to explain that she didn’t want him to feel he was committed to acknowledge them in any way?
‘You felt that I might consider you were wanting money or position? Is that it?’ His eyes seemed to pierce into her.
‘Yes sir.’
A gentle knock on the door disturbed them and he called to come in. ‘You said to come back in ten minutes, sir.’ Mrs Rogerson waited at the door with Henry and a curious Polly hovering behind them.
‘Come here boy.’ Henry Linton beckoned. ‘And bring some tea, Mrs Rogerson.’
‘Stay with Mrs Rogerson please, Polly. I’ll call you when I’m ready.’ Annie made a point of speaking politely to Polly, unlike Henry Linton who bellowed at his servants.
He drew Henry towards him and took hold of both of his hands. ‘Now, young man.’ His voice was gruff as the door closed behind Mrs Rogerson and Polly. ‘Do you know who I am?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Henry shuffled uncomfortably.
‘Well, and who am I?’
‘I think you’re my grandfayther, sir.’
‘Only think? Don’t you know?’
‘Well.’ Henry hesitated. ‘Mamma says that you are, but my friend James has a grandfayther and he’s not like you, and he doesn’t live in such a big house.’
A ghost of a smile played around Squire Linton’s mouth. ‘How isn’t he like me? Apart from the big house?’
‘He doesn’t shout as much as you, sir, and he plays games with James, and with me sometimes.’
‘And you think that I wouldn’t play games with you? Well, I never did play games with my sons,’ he mused. ‘Children were meant to be kept quiet and out of my way, not for playing with. Anyway, there was never time for games.’
He glanced at Annie sitting quietly watching them. ‘But sometimes when we get older,’ he faltered, ‘we have regrets and wish things had been different and that we could start all over again.’
He stroked the top of Henry’s fair head. ‘You are so much like your father and grandmother.’ His voice became low and husky. ‘I would have known you anywhere. When I came into the room and saw you on the floor playing with your toys, and your mother standing by the window, it was as if the years had rolled back and life was as before.’
He stood up and swung Henry into his arms and stood in front of Annie. ‘Perhaps this is my chance to make amends. Perhaps – but please God it isn’t so, I may have lost another son—, but I have gained a daughter and a grandson.’
Annie grasped the hand which he proffered. ‘Sir, I—’
‘Annaliese. Will you stay?’ There was a pleading in his eyes though his voice was now firm and steady. ‘At least for a little while, so that we can get to know each other?’
‘Sir, I haven’t told you everything.’ She got up from the chair and faced him, ready for flight. ‘There’s much more.’
‘It can wait. We have plenty of time.’
‘But I’m not Annaliese,’ she insisted. ‘I’m Annie; just plain Annie.’
He shook his head and put Henry down. ‘I don’t care for that so much. A common name.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Anna. Anna is better I think. That’s what I’ll call you. If you have no objection, that is,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘May I call you Anna?’
It wouldn’t harm to give in this once, Annie thought. It’s gone better than I expected. I’ve caught him on a good day. He’s feeling mellow and sentimental and he seems to be genuinely pleased about Henry. But then a man in his position wants a lineage. The trouble is, she pondered wryly, that I know more about him than he knows about me, and when he finds out, as he will, then there are going to be some sparks flying.
‘Very well, Mr Linton,’ she said appeasingly. ‘If Anna suits you, I have no dislike of the name, and I’ve found in my experience that any name will serve as well as another.’
‘Good.’ He nodded as if satisfied with the arrangement. ‘Then that’s settled; you’ll stay. Now, what should you call me? Henry will call me grandfather, not grandfather I hasten to add. And you Anna, what name will you know me by? I can’t imagine beautiful young women calling me father,’ he said with a roguish smile, ‘but I suppose it has to be.’
‘Father,’ she exclaimed. ‘You want me to call you father!’
‘Why not,’ he said briskly. ‘Or would your own father object?’
She shook her head and covered her face with her hands. To break down now over a simple word when she had kept her emotions in check for so long, was painful and intolerable. ‘I have no fayther.’ Her voice was muffled and he leaned closer to hear. ‘I have no fayther or mother, never have had, or none that I remember.’
‘Anna! Please don’t cry.’ He bent over her and diffidently grasped her about the shoulders. ‘Please Anna. I can’t bear it when women weep.’