Chapter Twelve

And so, Clara felt as though she had finally made a breakthrough with all three of the Stapleton children, but she still hadn’t as yet, encountered Lord Stapleton since her initial interview. She was aware of his presence around the house as he departed early most mornings for various meetings and returned late at night where she often heard him enter the drawing room. She guessed maybe he was having a quiet tipple following an arduous day, but for the most part he did not seem to be taking any interest in her presence as governess at the house, nor indeed the presence of his own offspring—that did not sit right with Clara at all.

It was to be Clara’s first half day allowed back home. Mama and the children had found a small cottage to rent in the village of Crownley. In her last letter, Mama had described the abode as “small, homely, basic and clean”. Clara hadn’t known what to make of that. The Vicarage had been an exceptional home to them. It had been large and airy with a fair-sized secluded garden, any new house would now appear small beside it she supposed. It broke her heart though that she hadn’t been there to help when the family had moved out. Jake had taken his cart to help move their furniture and their belongings, and it had taken him a couple of trips to do so. There hadn’t been that much to move as most of the furniture was owned by the Church, but Mama did have a few precious pieces that she’d kept since her marriage to Papa. Those included a beechwood chest of drawers and matching dressing table that had been kept in their bedroom, a couple of good feather mattresses and a beautiful quilt her own mother, who had also been a dressmaker, had skilfully sewn for the newlyweds at the time.

Patrin transported Clara to the cottage that Sunday afternoon with a cart he’d borrowed, with permission, from the Stapleton Manor Estate. It was a cold but sunny day, but nowhere near as cold as the day they’d both gone in search of the McWhirter baby up that rugged mountainside. She often wondered how he and his mother were doing. The appreciation in Lottie’s eyes the day they’d handed him back over to her was immense. The swell of love was clear for all to see as she’d lifted the child into her arms from Clara’s. It was wonderful and to see her take young Sam to her breast for a much needed feed. Witnessing the scene before her, Clara’s own feelings swelled inside. She’d felt a bond with both from the moment of the baby’s birth and hoped they’d keep in touch over the years. She wondered for a moment about Mr McWhirter who had seemed genuinely sorry in the end for causing so much pain and anguish to both his wife and child.

She took a sideways glance at Patrin. He did look particularly handsome today. He was wearing what appeared to be his best striped shirt which was rolled up at the sleeves, and over which, he wore a pair of bracers to keep his trousers firmly in place. They were a smart navy pair she’d never seen on him before. She noticed he had a matching jacket folded in the back of the cart. It was most unusual to see him well dressed as usually he was so casual around the place and she supposed he had to be really. The life of a gypsy was not an easy one.

‘How’s your Flori doing?’ She asked.

Patrin glanced at her and smiled, he had a glint of mischief in his eyes. ‘Now why would you be asking that?’

‘I’m interested that’s all.’

‘Well when I lasted visited the farm, Mrs Downing said she was very pleased to have such a willing helper working for her.’

‘That’s good then.’

‘Yes, it is, but if you ask me she likes having our Flori around as she’s a seer.’

‘A seer?’

‘Aye, as in she tells fortunes and Mrs Downing likes that kind of stuff.’

Clara nodded and thought back to the day when Flori had told her own fortune. What had she told her at the time? That there were changes afoot and something about there being a man she feared but not to be concerned about him but there was a woman who wished to harm her. That hadn’t been very comforting, but she had foreseen danger for Lottie and the baby, she’d made a warning about something like that. Clara had found her predictions very unsettling and the only nice part had been when she’d conjured up a vision of her father offering a red rose in her crystal ball. That had been a comfort for her, but she didn’t think she’d be asking for another reading any time soon and she hoped that some of her predications for Mrs Downing were better than they had been for her.

‘What has she forecast for Mrs Downing then?’

Patrin paused for a moment before answering as the cart clattered along. ‘That the old bird has a bun in the oven!’ He threw back his head and laughed uproariously.

‘You mean that Mrs Downing is having a baby?’

‘Precisely! Can you imagine it at her age?’

Clara couldn’t. The Downings had been childless for many a year. ‘No, I can’t imagine it at all, Mrs Downing must be forty years old if she’s a day.’

‘And the rest! I think Flori said she’s forty four.’

‘Even if she is pregnant, it might be dangerous at her time of life.’

‘There is that and all but Flori is insistent it will be a safe birth and the baby will be the apple of the Downings’ eyes.

Clara folded her arms against her chest. The Downings having a baby indeed, she’d never heard of anything so ridiculous. Her mind went to thoughts of home and how they were all coping, any more thoughts of fortune telling went right out of it.

Mama and the children were waiting on the doorstep of the cottage for her when she arrived. It was a charming place with a thatched roof and a pretty colourful front garden, much better than she’d imagined.

‘Oh, Mama!’ she said as she walked up the path, ‘this is a lovely place.’

‘Wait until you see inside…’ Mama said smiling as she put her arm around her daughter and kissed her softly on the cheek.

Edmund grabbed hold of Clara’s hand and tried to drag her inside while Meg was trying to show off a new outfit on her doll that Mama had made from offcuts of material.

‘Where’s Emily?’ Clara blinked.

‘She’s inside laying the table for our special tea,’ Mama said proudly.

‘Yes,’ blurted Edmund. ‘Mama and Emily have both been baking especially for you, Clara.’

Clara lifted him into her arms and cuddled him. She had missed them all so. She set him back down and they followed Mama inside.

Clara was shocked there was no passageway, they were straight into what appeared to be the living room. The table had pride of place in the centre of the room and was laid with a pristine white lace table cloth upon which was an array of plates of neat little sandwiches and slices of sponge cake. A large china tea pot and the best matching china cups and saucers were nicely arranged beside the food. Clara’s eyes were drawn to the merry looking fire in the grate. Papa’s chair was one side of the fireside and Mama’s rocking chair the other, and on the walls were all the favourite family paintings and portraits. It wasn’t quite home from home but Mama had made the best of it by the look of it. There were even new plum coloured drapes on the window with lace inset curtains—to keep out prying eyes from outside.

‘My, my,’ said Clara, ‘you have got it looking nice and cosy here.’

Mama beamed. ‘Yes, Emily and I have done our best but this is the only room downstairs I’m afraid. There’s no parlour or anything like that, apart of course from the kitchen and that’s even smaller than this room so we won’t be able to use it to dine in like we did at The Vicarage.’

Clara smiled and nodded. ‘How many bedrooms are there?’

‘Just the two, I’m afraid. Emily and I share one now and the children the other. Should you ever need to stay the night you’d have to sleep on the settee downstairs.’

Clara glanced at the small settee on the far side of the room. ‘That’s perfectly all right for me,’ she said.

Emily entered the room carrying a bowl of pickles and she placed them down on the table. Then she hugged her sister. ‘I heard what Ma just said but I would give up my place in bed with Ma for you to have it if you ever decide to stay,’ she said kissing her sister on the cheek and she sounded like she meant it too. Whatever had happened to spoilt Emily who only thought of herself? She appeared to have matured in thought and deed these days and Clara could only put that down to Jake’s influence on her.

They spent an happy afternoon together, the family firing so many questions at her that her head was spinning like a top, but she didn’t mind one jot.

‘What are the children like?’ Meg wanted to know.

Clara set down her teacup on its saucer. She drew a breath and let it out again. ‘Well at first I thought they were going to be a nightmare!’ she laughed. ‘Apparently, they’ve been through seven governesses before I arrived, but then I realised they are just grieving as their mother passed away suddenly, just like Papa.’

Meg nodded as she held Miranda close to her chest, appearing as if she wasn’t quite sure of what was going on.

‘But then…’ carried on Clara, ‘I tried to find things in common with them. For instance, James loves trains and boats and those sorts of things…’

Edmund’s eyes widened. ‘Does he? I bet I’d like James!’ 

Clara nodded. ‘I’m sure you would.’

‘What about the girls?’ Megan asked. ‘Did you find out what they like?’

‘Yes, I did. Danielle loves to read so I loaned her my copy of Heidi. Amelia, I have discovered, loves horses.’

Satisfied with the answers given, Mama allowed the children to leave the table so there were only three of them left sitting around it.

‘More tea?’ Emily asked. They both nodded, so she went off to boil the kettle.

Mama reached out and touched her daughter’s hand across the table. ‘You would tell me if you didn’t like it there though, wouldn’t you, Clara?’

She nodded and smiled. ‘Of course I would, Mama.’ The truth was she wouldn’t though as she would not wish to concern her mother, but things weren’t so bad so far. ‘I’m settling in nicely there.’

‘What about the lord himself, what’s he like?’ Emily said returning to the table and plonking herself beside Clara.

‘Well that’s the odd thing. I rarely get to see him as he’s out so much.’

‘Those poor children,’ Mama said and she shook her head.

‘I’m going to have to speak to him about them. They need more stimulation. He’s forbidden any singing or dancing in the house. They told me when their mother was alive that she allowed them to put on plays and pantomimes at Christmas. I think the poor souls would have had a better time remaining with their aunt and uncle in Scotland than at the big house with a father who is absent or preoccupied most of the time.’

When it was time to leave after Clara had taken a tour of the cottage and seen the back garden which could have fit into a corner of the one at The Vicarage, she left with a wicker basket of cakes her mother had persuaded her to take back with her. She decided she’d share them with young Dilly later.

There was a sharp, short rap on the door and she opened it to find Patrin was waiting for her outside on the doorstep, ready to take her back to the house before it got too dark.

Clara’s eyes misted over as she said farewell to Mama and the children but at least she was relieved to see how settled they all were in their new abode.

‘You’re quiet?’ Patrin said as he placed a woollen blanket her mother had insisted they take with them, over their legs.

She brushed away a tear as she waved from the cart to everyone, then when they were out of earshot she said, ‘It was so lovely to see them all, Patrin. Part of me doesn’t want to return to the house.’

‘I can well understand that,’ he said patting her leg. A pat like that from another man would have seemed improper but she trusted Patrin, he was like a brother to her. ‘Hey, by the way,’ he said, changing the subject, ‘you’ll never guess what?’

‘Pardon?’ She frowned.

‘Mrs Downing is having that baby!’

‘Never to goodness!’ she said, half feeling it was a joke but by the look on Patrin’s face, she realised he was telling the truth. It made her wonder if his sister’s predications for her own future might come true after all. ‘But how will she manage at her age?’

Patrin shook his head. ‘I suppose I might have to finish working at the big house and work full time for the Downings,’ he let out a little sigh.

‘I’d miss you of course, but would that be so bad?’

‘It’s not that.’ His mouth was set in a grim line and she realised there was more to it.

‘Then what is it?’ she urged.

‘We planned on moving on in the spring. It’s a gypsy way of life to trade at markets and meet up with other travellers at horse fairs…’ his voice trailed off to almost nothing. For Patrin it would be as if he were denying his heritage to remain in the area. And for the first time, she felt a sense of sadness that come spring he might be out of her life.

‘I don’t suppose the Downings would have any trouble employing someone else around the farm though if you decide to leave,’ she said brightly to keep his spirits up.

‘Aye, maybe so, but they trust the both of us, me and Florri. I think Mrs Downing if she’d had children by now, well they’d have been about our ages, I suppose.’

Clara had no answer to that and they sat in companionable silence for the rest of the journey.

***

When they returned to Stapleton Manor, Patrin bid her good evening and went to stable the horse before going to catch a late supper with Cook and the other staff in the kitchen. Clara had to return to her quarters for hers, but nevertheless, she didn’t mind too much as she had some lovely cakes to share with Dilly.

She was about to take the servants’ staircase to the upper floors, as she didn’t know whether she could use the main stairs or not in her position, when she noticed the back of Lord Stapleton entering the drawing room. Now might be her chance. She turned around and approached the door and then knocked tentatively.

‘Enter!’ boomed his voice from within.

Timidly, she opened the door and went inside and then closed it behind her.

‘Excuse me, your Lordship,’ she said, feeling as though maybe she should curtesy, she just wasn’t sure, so she just stood there and felt as if she was about to tremble all over.

He nodded when he saw her. She watched as he turned away to pour what looked like either brandy or whisky from a crystal decanter into a glass tumbler which he placed on the small round table beside the leather winged chair near the fireside. Then he turned back to face her. ‘Good evening, Miss Masters,’ he said, looking as if he was pleased to see her. He smiled broadly and his dark eyes twinkled.

Now she felt bad that she hadn’t bid him a good evening first. ‘Good evening, sir. I was just wondering if I might speak with you about the children?’

For a moment, she wondered if he might get angry with her, but then he said something she was not expecting. ‘Would you like to join me for a drink?’

She shook her head. ‘No, thank you, sir. I was on my way to my quarters for my evening meal and wondered…as you seem to be out rather a lot, if I might speak with you right now?’

He nodded, the smile having disappeared from his lips and she wondered if she had arrived at a bad time for him. But he seated himself and offered her to take the matching chair opposite him, which she did.

‘What is it that has brought you to me instead of to your quarters then?’ he asked.

‘It’s the welfare of your children, your lordship.’

‘Are they being difficult for you and you wish to resign?’

‘Oh, no, sir. It’s not that at all. Quite the opposite. I’d like them to take part in some activities that I know they would benefit from but you have forbidden them from this house.’

‘Such as?’

‘Singing and dancing. Danielle said her mother used to help them put on plays and pantomimes…’

Now his eyes took on a guarded look, as if she had said the wrong thing. ‘Yes.’

‘I beg your pardon sir, you’re saying that they can now partake of those activities?’

‘No. I meant, yes I have forbidden them from singing and dancing out of respect for their mother.’

‘B…but sir, it would benefit them so much I feel.’

‘Miss Masters, I am not in the slightest bit interested in how you feel and if you think you and the children are getting along well and they are completing their work, that’s all that matters as that is what I pay you for.’

Her eyes began to mist with tears and a lump was beginning to form in her throat. ‘Then I have no more to say,’ she said standing, as she feared she might break down in front of him. ‘Thank you for listening, sir.’

She dismissed herself and as she was about to leave with her hand on the door knob, he gave her a glimmer of hope as he said, ‘Oh, Miss Masters?’ She turned around in expectation. ‘Please shut the door firmly behind you on the way out.’

Her heart sank, but she nodded and did as told. Once outside in the corridor, she began to sob but wiped her tears away with a handkerchief she kept in her skirt pocket. Thankfully all the servants were in the kitchen eating their evening meal. She’d be mortified if they saw her. Then she ran along the corridor to the staircase and climbed the stairs to the confines of her quarters. Where after she’d see Dilly, she’d not see another soul until morning time.

The girl was delighted with the cakes and thanked her profusely, then she brought her a bowl of beef stew with a bread roll and a cup of cocoa.

That night, Clara lay awake for a long time mulling things over in her mind. At least Mama and the children were all settled but the thought of Patrin leaving the area upset her greatly and she didn’t know why. And if, his lordship would not allow his children to express themselves and feel joyful, why should she bother staying here at all? Maybe she’d just as well move on herself.

*** 

The following morning Clara was awoken with a terrible racket going on outside. She noticed that several carriages had pulled up on the driveway and some of the servants were helping to meet and greet a few people, but there was a lot of yelling back and forth as if they’d been taken unawares. Who on earth were the visitors? And by the look of the amount of luggage they had which the footmen were now unloading, it appeared they might be staying for some time as there were several trunks and leather cases. Two handsome looking young men dressed in long black astrakhan coats and top hats, along with an older, more rotund one, were standing around chatting as if appraising the estate. Then finally, a young lady stepped down from a carriage. Clara gasped, even from a distance she could see how beautiful the young woman was. She wore a cornflower blue damask gown with a white fur mantel over her shoulders and matching fur hat. She glanced up towards the window where Clara was peering from, which caused her to take a step back. Had the woman seen her watching? She hoped not. She tried to concentrate her efforts on washing and dressing for the day ahead, realising she’d find out from the other servants soon enough who those people were. If his lordship had been polite the previous evening, he would have informed her of this, but instead he’d been brusque and offhand with her which meant she was gradually forming a strong dislike of the man.

In the kitchen, Cook was in a stew. ‘Them bloomin’ people just arrivin’ like that. His lordship ain’t said nothing about this to me. I bet that Mrs Montgomery knew about it and didn’t tell me!’

‘Knew about what?’ The housekeeper entered the kitchen and Cook’s face reddened.

‘About those people comin’ here today. No one told me and I ain’t got enough provisions in either.’

‘Mrs Cantwell,’ the housekeeper said sharply, ‘I was not informed of this until five minutes ago, so please don’t blame me. Now we have to make the best of it. I’ve just been told by his lordship there are four people in the party, so that shouldn’t be too much to attend to. They’re staying for two nights only. So write a list of what you need and send a couple of people out to the village to pick up supplies. I suggest Billy and Maggie. They can take one of the coaches to carry back everything you require. She glanced at Dilly and another kitchen maid called Flossie. ‘You two go and light the fires in the bedrooms on the second floor and ensure the bed linen is turned down. It might be a nice touch too if you can put vases of flowers in the bedrooms and a bowl of mixed fruit too. Mr Drummond will have some flowers in the greenhouse. Well chop, chop! Set to it!’

Cook gazed at her opened-mouthed.

The housekeeper’s gaze turned towards Clara. ‘And I’ve no idea what you’re doing in here, Miss Masters. This has absolutely nothing to do with you!’

Clara gritted her teeth. Why shouldn’t she know what was going on at the house? It might affect her charges after all, but she said nothing and went to the school room to prepare it for that morning’s lessons. Whoever those people were they were about to be treated like kings and queens by the sound of it.