She heard the pounding of hooves on the drive early the next morning and rose from her bed to see who it was. A rider had dismounted and was talking to Jed. She saw him hand over a letter and then mount again and canter away.
She threw a shawl over her bedgown and hurried downstairs. Her heart hammered. Could it be a message from Matt?
‘Is it a message for me, Jed?’
‘No, ma’am,’ Jed pulled off his shabby hat. ‘It’s urgent for mayster. I’m to tek it to him straight away, but I’ve not seen him about yet.’
Probably because he was late to bed, Annie mused. We shared three bottles of wine as he reminisced about his life and I told him a little, but only a little of mine, and then I left him nursing a bottle of brandy. He might well be feeling a little groggy this morning.
But he wasn’t. He appeared at the top of the stairs dressed in his working clothes, his heavy breeches and sturdy boots and plain coat.
He wished Annie good morning, and took the message from Jed. She watched his face as he read, trying to glean whether it was good or bad news.
‘Tell Kent to prepare the carriage.’ He spoke briskly to Jed. ‘I’m leaving for London immediately.’
‘London?’ Annie asked incredulously as Jed hurried away. ‘It’s about Matt isn’t it?’ She clung to the bannister rail. ‘There’s news?’
‘Yes, my dear.’ He handed her the letter. ‘But we mustn’t yet build up hope. They’ve located which ship he’s on, the Glory, but it’s somewhere off the coast of Spain and they cannot possibly contact him until it returns to England; however, they have invited me to discuss the issue with them. God damn it,’ he burst out. ‘They know they’re in the wrong – I shall challenge the legality. Somebody will answer for this.’
She sat down on the bottom step of the stair as he went back up again to change for his journey and mused that if Matt was as far away as Spain then it could be many months before she saw him again. Then the thought crossed her mind that the navy only knew that the Glory was the ship he had sailed on, they wouldn’t know if he was still on it.
Henry called down to her from the long-galleried landing. ‘I’m sorry to have to leave you so soon, Anna. Mrs Rogerson will help you all she can. Do what you wish, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
He was gone within the hour and Annie wandered around the house, opening doors to rooms which were closed up and shuttered, mounting the stairs to the top floors where the servants would have slept had there been any. Mrs Rogerson slept on a bed in a room beyond the kitchen and the kitchen maid went home to the village every night at ten o’clock and came back every morning at five. She didn’t find where Jed slept but guessed that it was above the stable along with the groom Kent.
I’ll speak to Mrs Rogerson about it, she thought as she came down again. It’s so pointless having all these rooms and her sleeping down stairs. Though it’s probably warmer near the kitchen; the rooms at the top of the house had a musty chill about them and she guessed that the young maid wouldn’t want to sleep alone up there.
There was a rattle of wheels on the drive and she lifted her head, another carriage was approaching. She went into the sitting-room off the inner hall and waited for Mrs Rogerson to open the door.
‘Mrs Burnby, ma’am. Are you at home?’
She gazed nonplussed at the housekeeper. Of course she was at home. Wasn’t she here staring her in the face?
‘Are you receiving visitors, ma’am?’
Annie swallowed. ‘Oh. Er, yes, certainly. Show Mrs Burnby in please.’
Not by a flicker of an eyelash did Mrs Rogerson show that she guessed Annie was ill at ease. She opened the door wide to bring in the visitor and said, ‘Tea and chocolate, did you say, ma’am?’
‘Thank you Mrs Rogerson, if you would please.’
‘My word, you’ll have her eating out of your hand. The servants in this house are not used to such pleasantries.’ Mrs Burnby swept in and extended her hand. ‘How pleased I am to see you again, Mrs Linton, it has been such a long time. So good of you to see me. Henry left a message yesterday that you were here at last and would I call, and now I hear that he has gone off somewhere.’
‘He’s had to go to London on rather urgent business.’ Annie dropped the name of London as casually as if it was a commonplace city for visiting instead of the capital of the kingdom which she only knew by repute.
‘Indeed!’ Mrs Burnby arched an eyebrow. ‘Has he word of Matthias?’
It seems that Mrs Burnby is a confidant of Henry Linton if she is so well informed, Annie thought. I wonder what he has told her of me?
‘We’ve received news of Matt’s ship and Mr Linton has gone to the Admiralty to discuss certain issues with them.’
‘That’s excellent news.’ Mrs Burnby nodded, then looked with some satisfaction around the sunny room. ‘I am so glad that you have at last decided to come and live here, Mrs Linton, instead of your house in York. Henry needs the company, he was becoming quite morose.’ She unbuttoned her greatcoat and Annie took it from her and indicated that she should be seated. ‘Yes, I’ve noticed the difference in him already since he has had your dear little Harry with him. It will do them both good. A child like Harry needs a man around, and until Matthias returns—’
‘If he returns.’ Annie sank into a chair. ‘Sometimes Mrs Burnby, I feel so miserable. It has been so long.’ She hung her head. ‘To find Matt and then to lose him again.’
Mrs Burnby leaned forward and grasped her hand. ‘I do understand, my dear. Henry has told me something of your difficulties; that you have had no training in formal or social accomplishments, and having no family to turn to it can’t be easy for you. But,’ she said briskly, ‘that is why I am here. I shall help you.’
Annie looked at her in surprise. What did she mean? And her amazement increased as Mrs Burnby went on.
‘Now. Whilst Matthias is away we must busy ourselves and prepare for him.’ Mrs Burnby drew herself upright and Annie saw only good intentions. ‘This place needs a mistress – has done for years. We shall make sure it gets one.’
Mrs Rogerson knocked and brought in the tray laid with china cups and saucers and two silver pots with tea and chocolate.
‘You will enjoy having a mistress about the place, won’t you, Mrs Rogerson? And some more help?’
Mrs Rogerson’s face creased into a smile. ‘Oh, yes, ma’am. That I would.’ She gave Mrs Burnby a curtsey and left the room.
Annie poured chocolate for Mrs Burnby and tea for herself and handed her a plate of biscuits, fresh from the oven. There’s been a conspiracy, she thought. I rather think Mrs Rogerson was expecting visitors. She sipped her tea thoughtfully. ‘But I can’t authorize bringing in servants,’ she began. ‘Mr Linton will be annoyed, he likes things as they are.’
‘No, he won’t. Not if we do it gradually. After a while he will start to enjoy the extra comforts. He always used to anyway,’ she said with a hint of a smile. ‘In the old days, I mean.’
‘Have you known Mr Linton a long time?’
‘Oh, indeed. Since we were children. There isn’t anything I don’t know about Henry Linton, so if you are ever in doubt, you only have to ask me. I know the old rascal inside out.’
She sipped her chocolate and then placed the cup back onto the table. ‘But the first thing we must arrange is a companion for you. Now who do we know?’
‘But why should I need a companion? I have Henry – or Harry as he seems to prefer, and when Sorrel comes we shall ride every day. And when Mr Linton comes back I shall ask him if I might go with him around the estate.’
‘But, don’t you see—? Oh, of course, this is what Henry meant when he said you hadn’t any idea of what was right and proper.’
Annie bristled. What else had he been saying about her.
The frayed feathers on Mrs Burnby’s hat nodded as she emphatically gave her opinion, and Annie made a mental note that when next she visited York she would bring back some new trimmings for Mrs Burnby.
‘You can’t stay here alone without a husband, especially when Henry is away.’ She lowerered her voice though there was no-one to hear them. ‘You must have a female companion. You must realize that?’
How very strange these people were. Annie was baffled. Mrs Burnby presumably knew or guessed that Harry was born out of wedlock and that her marriage to Matt had come later. Yet now she was trying to protect her reputation. ‘I don’t know anyone I could ask,’ she said. ‘I have no female friend who could possibly come.’
‘Then we must advertise for someone,’ she mused. ‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do,’ she sat back with a smile. ‘You can have my Danielle until we find someone. I can manage without her, I think, just for a short time.’
Annie was filled with dismay. To have a female here, a servant who was probably higher born than she was. She’d want to dress her hair and help her dress and would expect her to behave in a ladylike manner! No, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t!
She shook her head and said firmly. ‘No, Mrs Burnby. You’re very kind to suggest it but I couldn’t deprive you, I—.’ A thought struck her; she knew just the person. ‘I’ve thought of someone who would, I’m almost sure, be glad to come.’
Joan Sutcliff. She’s so miserable at home with Lily happy with Sergeant Collins, and young Meg with a beau. They can manage without her, I’m sure she’ll Come, and I can be myself with her, I shan’t have to worry about saying or doing the wrong thing.
She beamed at Mrs Burnby. ‘I’ll write straight away and ask her. More chocolate, Mrs Burnby?’
Joan Sutcliff didn’t write back but simply arrived a week later in a hired chaise. She jumped down from the steps and hauled out six pieces of luggage and flung her arms around Annie’s neck. ‘Tha’s saved my life, Annie. I thought I would go mad at home with Lily and Stuart and now Meg, all mooning around lovesick.’
‘I can’t promise that it will be very exciting,’ Annie laughed, ‘but it will be different.’
Joan looked up at the house. ‘Oh, it’s so grand, Annie.’ She clapped her hand to her mouth. ‘Mrs Linton, I mean. I’m sorry, I might forget sometimes at first, tha’ll have to forgive me?’
‘It doesn’t matter Joan – Miss Sutcliff, I mean,’ Annie answered with a laugh. ‘We’ll just have to try and remember when there’s anyone else about. But this will be a friendly household. I’ve already decided that. I couldn’t live here otherwise.’
Henry Linton arrived back a few days later and expressed no surprise to find another female in the house. He greeted Joan pleasantly enough and asked polite questions about trade on learning that her father was an innkeeper.
‘Well, Anna. I know that you are anxious to know the news,’ he said as he poured the two ladies wine at supper.
Joan rose from the table. ‘Would you like me to leave, sir? You have matters to discuss with Mrs Linton.’
He shook his head. ‘Not unless Mrs Linton wishes it.’
She said she didn’t and Joan sat down again, casting a hesitant glance at Annie. It was going to work, Annie thought with relief. I’m so glad that she came.
‘Well, as I told you, they’ve located the ship he is sailing on. Located – Pah! What they mean is that it’s somewhere between the Atlantic and the English Channel. The seas are full of ships and it is apparent to me that these powdered big-wigs who are supposedly running the war, don’t know the difference between a man-o’-war and a cork in a tub! There’s news of mutiny on our ships. The men are sick of poor food and conditions on board, not to mention the fact that most of them would rather be home minding their shops.’ He poured himself another glass of wine and stared into it and Annie waited patiently for him to continue.
‘Anyway. I got them to agree that Matthias shouldn’t have been pressed. It was a liberty to do so; not only as a gentleman, but also that he was exempt as a captain of a merchant ship. I told them that I would bring an action in the courts if necessary. They’ll talk to their law officers. It’s only a matter of procedure now.’
Annie felt her eyes fill with tears. ‘So – so, then he can come home?’
He nodded. ‘He can come home.’ His voice was husky. ‘God willing that he is alive and well and not in a watery grave alongside his brother.’
Annie saw in his face the great strain Henry Linton was under. Not only was he full of regrets for what had happened in the past, but now he must feel that he was in danger of losing Matt as well as Toby. She reached out a hand towards him. ‘We musn’t lose hope.’ Her voice choked. ‘He’s strong and vigorous, he’ll not let a few Frenchies stop him from coming home to us.’
Though they seemed to have reached a mutual understanding of each other, both Henry Linton and Annie knew that life together wouldn’t be easy and there were times when their tempers frayed and they could not hold in their emotions any longer. Then either Henry would object to her ‘mollycoddling’ the servants as he called it, or she would call him a tyrant for the way he treated them, and they would slam doors or shout at each other, and that in turn would lead him to roar that she was no better than a street urchin and she would screech that that was exactly what she was.
Then she would pack a bag and go off to York and stay with Robin and Rose, who greeted her with delight, but who, she realized, no longer needed her there for the business. The accounts were always up to date and the cloth from the merchants always ordered in good time for the next season; and after a week or so, she would bid them goodbye and return to Staveley Park.
But Henry Linton was protective towards her and though he insisted that she accompany him to social activities, he made sure that he was always at her side in case awkward questions about her background should be asked. She detached herself from the idle chatter of the ladies, and towards Clara and Jane, who occasionally came to stay with their aunt, Mrs Burnby, she remained aloof. And these two qualities which she maintained merely because of nervousness and what she thought of as her inadequacies, somehow added to her mystery.
And in spite of their differences she and Henry Linton began to realize that they were very alike, and Annie recalled the verbal fights that she and Matt used to have and the names he used to call her, before they realized that the emotion they felt wasn’t hate, but love. And in remembering this, Annie’s ragings at Henry Linton became tinged with humour and they would start with anger and finish with laughter.
The servants, and now there were more, seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at this change of atmosphere, and Jed one day touched his forehead and said, ‘Don’t thee worry about me and Mayster over much, ma’am. I’d be powerful bothered if he didn’t rant and rave at me – I’d think I’d done summat really wrong,’ and Annie began to realize that there was a different order of things in this society; that sometimes people were more comfortable knowing their place and what was expected of them.
She had asked Henry Linton if Mrs Rogerson could have more help and he’d shrugged and said she should do as she wished. Another girl was brought from the village and a youth to bring in the wood and clean the boots and to do the heavy work, instead of Jed. And Polly looked brighter for the addition of younger company to talk to, though Annie noticed that she gave herself a few airs and seemed to consider herself a step above the kitchen staff, being nursemaid and companion to Harry.
The first winter was cold and a thick layer of snow covered the ground and Annie ordered fires in all of the rooms, including the top floor where the two young maids now slept. She allocated a room for Mrs Rogerson too and though she was reluctant at first, she eventually moved up and Jed shifted himself into her old room behind the kitchen.
There was still no news of Matt though they had an official letter from the Admiralty saying that after due consideration they had decided that he might be released from the service with the navy, though they would be pleased if he would agree to stay.
As the thaw came she started to ride again on Sorrel, sometimes with Harry who had become very proficient on his little pony, sometimes with her father-in-law and Jed around the estate, and she noticed that he listened more to Jed’s suggestions about ploughing and crop-growing, and agreed that the sheep were not as profitable as they once were.
‘We’ve plenty of land, sir,’ Jed said one day as they stood at the top of a valley. The snow was slowly melting and green patches were showing through. ‘We could try a few acres just to see how it worked. There’s men and hosses enough to do it and if we got started soon we could get in a spring crop.’
Henry Linton grunted and looked down the valley. ‘All right. We’ll do it. Get the men started and I’ll have your hide if it doesn’t work.’
Jed grinned and tightened the reins of his mount. ‘Aye sir, I’ll go right away and get them set on,’ and Annie gave him a smile at his look of triumph as he rode away.
But, often, as the spring slowly began, as the smell of new grass and chalkland flora, the bleat of young lambs and the peewit call of the lapwing opened up an impelling instinct in her, she took off her boots or shoes and put on an old dress and her gold-lined cloak, and rode barefoot and bareback to the edge of Staveley Park land and gazed down. She narrowed her eyes and looked down, down into the steep-sided valleys, beyond the dips and curves of the narrow roads and tracks, on past the farms and copses which surrounded them, towards the villages of North and South Cave and beyond them to the ribbon of glinting water which was the river.
Her river. The Humber. The vast estuary which ran to the sea, the sea which carried the ships where Matt might be. And then she remembered her dream. The dream of the ship with sails blazing, and of Toby and Matt and Harry holding hands together and smiling at her. And she would turn away, sobs shaking her body, and ride back, back to the great house of Staveley Park to Henry Linton and Harry, who were waiting for her there and she would know that it wasn’t enough, that she was still very much alone.
There came one night when she couldn’t sleep, when she tossed restlessly in her bed and then got up and went into Matt’s room and laid wide-eyed on his bed. Dawn was still an hour away and she could hear the lonely call of an owl and an answer from its mate.
She went to the window and looked out. The garden was streaked by moonlight – the trees touched by its silver were sending long shadows across the grass, and the rosebeds in the lawn were deep, pitch dark pools. She gazed out, her arms clasped about her and knew that sleep had finally deserted her.
Quickly she dressed. She put on a warm dress and a shawl and over that her old cloak and padded silently downstairs. The door of the inner hall creaked as she gently eased back the bolt and opened it, and then again the outer heavy wooden doors slowly opened to let in the cool air. She closed the door behind her and sped away, feeling the sharpness of the gravel on her feet as she ran to the stables.
There was no sound from the hayloft where Kent, the groom, or Jennings the new youth, had their beds, and stroking Sorrel gently to soothe him she led him outside. She mounted him on the grass in the paddock so that no-one would hear them as they cantered away and she set off once more to the head of the valley where she could watch the dawn break over the Humber.
She tied Sorrel to a tree and with her heavy cloak wrapped around her she sat on the edge of a bank at the top of a hill and waited. The dimness of the mystical time which hangs between night and day, hovered over her like a dark cloud, enveloping her in its shroud. Then the darkness began to disperse, bedewing her with moist grey vapour. Droplets of water gathered about her face and hair but, as the sun rose and the warmth increased, dried on her skin making her feel as if she had freshly bathed.
The light rose like a curtain in the east, opening to bring forth a natal dawn. A dawn of such dazzling splendour it almost took her breath away. A flush of rose, a glory of gold, a light of a million candles lit the sky to herald a new day, and with it a fresh hope that today might be the day when she would hear that Matt was safe.
She saw then the glint of the river as the light in the sky mirrored on the water. She gazed in wonder. This wasn’t her river; not the deep muddy waters that she knew so well, not the rushing river of childhood nor the eddying vortex of hidden secrets and fears. And although she couldn’t see its movement from this great distance, she knew that this was a cleansing, flowing, springtime flood with an irridescent rainbow staining its opal surface.
She rose to her feet and let her eyes follow its course until the curve of the land hid it from her view, then she rove back again to its glistening centre and once more into the awakening valley. A horse and plough were moving infinitesimally slowly, so it seemed, across a dark field; a flock of geese calling intermittently flew across the valley, and a kestrel hung suspended above her, while from the copses and woods came the waking cry of a thousand birds.
How awesome it is, she wondered. A new beginning. I’ve never seen the day begin so, even though I’ve seen many dawns. She stood a moment longer unable to take her eyes from the panorama in front of her. This has to be an omen for something very special. She felt within her a renewed hope, a bright and fervent expectation.
She stretched her arms to the sky and remembered that other time when she had done the same, down by the river in Hessle, and Matt had appeared. She smiled sadly; such dreams, Annie – yet life would be nothing without them – and cast her eyes nearer. The track from the lower village was clearer now, the chalk surface was bright in the clear morning light and showed the dark figure of a horseman riding towards her.
He must have set out in the middle of the night from somewhere, she mused as she watched. The horse was a bay she saw as they came nearer, the man of upright bearing in white breeches and dark coat with high white stock and cocked hat. She put her hand to her forehead. He was wearing a sword and the lapels of his coat were white like the sea officers wore.
She became breathless as her pulses raced. Could it be? It had to be. Please God, let it be him. She picked up her skirts and ran down the hill and stopped again to take another look. She couldn’t see his face for the shadow of his headwear, yet there was something, some shape of his shoulders, the tilt of his head. It was!
‘Ma – a – tt.’ She stretched out his name in an imploring syllabic note which echoed down the dale. He looked up and around and she realized that he couldn’t see her, that she was in shadow with the hill behind her. She took off her cloak and turned it inside out and waved it and called again.
It was him! It was him! He saw her and she heard his cry as he urged on his mount and galloped towards her, and she ran, crying and stumbling over the grassy hummocks, jumping ditches and crevices to reach the chalk road.
He flung himself off his horse and ran the last few yards towards her, his arms outstretched to catch her as she flew down the hill to be held close and safe and loved.