Chapter Twenty-Two

From her bedroom window, Clara could see Patrin running towards the woods. It was evident he was in training for his boxing booth sessions at the weekend. These days, he rarely came into the house except for the odd occasion when Cook called him in for a meal, even then, Clara guessed he was eating at unusual times to avoid bumping into her. She surmised that he must rise at the crack of dawn to eat before she had even risen from her bed,  and maybe he ate very late at night when she was asleep too. Why and how did things end up this way? She felt sorrowful for their fall out. But what could she possibly have done about it? To relent to his passionate ardour would only have spelled out trouble for her. She couldn’t be a gypsy wife, he had already warned her of that. So, in her book, he was being most unfair. He was only after some sort of romp with her that would leave her feeling cheap and demoralised and ashamed of herself. She could even end up in the family way from one foolish fling like Mrs Montgomery did, with no father for her baby. It only just occurred to her that maybe the woman might never have been a “Mrs” at all, but a “Miss” and she used the married title to give herself an air of respectability. After all, it was most unusual for a woman to be sat upon the shelf at her age. Still, the woman was now reunited with her child called Lorna, and she was most pleased for her.

As Clara gazed around her bedroom at the beautifully flocked ornamental wallpaper and matching chintz curtains, she thought it a strange feeling that soon she would be the mistress of all she surveyed.

Imagine me the wife of a lord!

She began to hum softly to herself as she ran her hand over the soft coverlet that adorned her bed, wondering what she could wear to the spring fair at the weekend. She was taken up sharply as she heard a knock on the door. She patted down her hair and smoothed down the skirts of her dress before replying, ‘Please, enter!’

It was Dilly who stood by the door, these days the girl seemed to have come out of her shell and didn’t keep her head lowered when she spoke as she used to do. Cook reckoned it was Clara’s influence which achieved that. She’d taken an interest in the girl and helped to keep her well fed by offering her left overs. Since being reunited with her daughter, Mrs Montgomery had got off the girl’s back too.

‘Please, miss…’ Dilly began, ‘I was told to give you this.’ She looked up and down the corridor outside in a surreptitious manner as if afraid of being seen by someone.

Seeing nothing at all in the girl’s hands, Clara frowned in puzzlement. ‘What is it you have for me, Dilly?’ she asked.

The girl dipped her hand into her pinafore pocket to hand Clara a brown envelope. ‘Patrin told me to give you this…’

Hearing his name, made Clara’s cheeks burn and her heart began to pound. Dilly was standing about as if waiting for Clara to take the letter from her outstretched hand, read it and issue a reply. But instead, Clara took it and said, ‘Thank you, Dilly. That will be all, you may leave.’

Dilly dipped her knee, turned and left the room.

When the girl had gone, Clara closed the door behind her and went to her escritoire to find her silver letter opener. She laid the envelope on the desk and slit it open, removing the white folded sheet of paper from inside. Inhaling deeply as she read:

My dearest Clara,

I am so sorry I upset you so much the other day. If you had any doubt about my feelings towards you in the past, you now know for certain what they are and that I honestly love you. However, as you are betrothed to someone whom you love, it is unfair of me to stake any claim whatsoever on you. The truth is I have loved you since that first time I saw you watching me in the woods. I think it’s best now that I leave after the spring fair. I’ll never forget you, but no longer expect you to think of me in the same way but please know this, I shall love you until my dying day.

Your loving servant,

Patrin

Salty tears streamed down her cheeks. She wanted to run to the woods after him, but how could she do so? She would upset so many people. Howard, his children, her own family and even the staff at Stapleton Manor. The wheel was already in motion. She could have a good life here and want for nothing ever again, but if she left with Patrin to follow her heart, for she did love him so and had been denying it, then she might have a hard life and never see her family again as she realised he’d never settle down, he had the wanderlust as he’d once described it to her.

Is it possible to love two men at the same time but in altogether different ways?

Sadly, she took the letter and envelope over to the hearth and allowed them to fall into the flames of the fire. The flames glowed brightly as the paper disintegrated and blackened pieces blew up the chimney, destroying the very words that would surely hurt his lordship if he were ever to discover that message. Although she’d have loved to have kept it and held the letter to her heart, she wisely realised it would be foolish to hang on to something that could do so much damage. Thank goodness Patrin had passed that letter to Dilly and not any of the other staff as questions could be asked, particularly if it were intercepted by Cook or Mrs Montgomery. But had someone seen him hand the letter to the girl? She’d have to ask Dilly later what the circumstances of her receiving the letter were. If the girl asked, which she probably wouldn’t do, she’d explain by telling a little white lie that it was a message that needed to be passed on to Patrin’s sister, Flori.

It saddened Clara that she was wracked with deceit when just a short while ago, her heart was so light and carefree.

***

Preparations were being made for the engagement ball at Stapleton Manor. A firm of caterers had been booked as it would have been too much for Cook to cope with as many dignitaries and associates from as far away as London, had been invited to the event. A team of decorators was brought in to freshen up the paint work in the ball room, and several new paintings hung there. The crystal chandeliers were taken down and cleaned in preparation and the expensive furniture waxed, polished and moved around by the staff until Mrs Montgomery was quite satisfied with their placements.

‘I’ve never seen such a palaver in all me life!’ Cook moaned as she took her usual seat by the fireside in the kitchen as Clara sat opposite.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Cantwell. I didn’t think the arrangements would have caused this much fuss and extra work for the staff, but it’s what How…I mean his lordship wants.’

Cook sniffed loudly. She was never one for mincing her words. She sat forward in her rocking chair and stared at Clara which made her feel most uncomfortable. ‘I’ll tell you this much…’ she said wagging a finger in her face, then withdrew it as if realising she shouldn’t speak to the future lady of the house in such a manner.

‘Just what is it you would like to say to me, Mrs Cantwell? I appreciate your honesty. Most of the staff have become quite sycophantic of late as if they’re afraid to say anything to me unless it’s something where they’re praising me up or extolling his lordship’s virtues. But you, I know I can trust to tell the truth.’

Cook smiled and then her face changed to one of grave concern and she linked her fingers together almost as if in prayer. ‘I am worried about you, Clara. People are talking about it not being a year since Lady Arabella has died and now his lordship wants to turn this house from a mausoleum into some sort of fairground circus!’

There, she’d said what was on her mind.

Clara’s voice trembled. ‘To be truthful, maybe it’s my fault as I encouraged him to let there be music and singing in the house as I wanted the children to be able to enjoy themselves.’

Cook pursed her lips. ‘This isn’t about the children though. Let them sing and dance and be young children, I’m all for that. It’s just his lordship has gone from one extreme to the other and I’m concerned for you…’ she lowered her voice to barely a whisper. ‘I could lose my job for telling you this, but when Lady Arabella was alive, he wasn’t a nice man at all.’

Clara startled in her seat, her spine becoming as stiff as a rod of iron. It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water over her as she waited to hear what Cook had to say next. ‘I…in w…what sort of way?’ she stammered.

‘Some of the staff said they thought he was knocking his wife around. I saw some of the evidence with my own eyes. One morning she came down for breakfast and I noticed a purple bruise by the side of her eye and some on her wrists as if she had been restrained by someone. No amount of powder could cover that. It took some days for the bruises to fade and the swelling to subside. After breakfast that day, she remained in her room not for anyone to see the evidence.’

Clara swallowed hard. ‘Might something else have caused that though?’

Cook harrumphed. ‘Well she tried to make out she had walked into something, but the marks on both wrists looked like someone’s fingers had got at them to me, applying a great deal of pressure.’ She shook her head vigorously in a disapproving manner.

Clara tried to make sense of it all, feeling quite uncomfortable the way Cook was going on. Surely Howard couldn’t be that cruel to his wife, could he? But then again, she had once seen him strike that old man with his cane.

‘I’m sure Howard wouldn’t have harmed a hair on Lady Arabella’s head,’ Clara said sharply.

Cook narrowed her eyelids. ‘Are you that sure, Clara love?’

Clara nodded and swallowed hard. Then she rose from her chair to leave the warm kitchen as she didn’t want Cook to see how upset she was by the woman’s accusations. She was just going to have to have a word with Mrs Montgomery about it all. The woman had been at the house much longer than Cook and not only that, she had often been in close quarters with Lady Arabella, unlike Cook, whose duties were mainly confined to the kitchen.

***

Mrs Montgomery was most affronted when Clara found her in the linen cupboard taking an inventory of the linen situation.

‘I’m not saying Mrs Cantwell is a liar or anything like that,’ the woman said, ‘but she doesn’t have the full facts.’ She laid down her ledger and fountain pen on the shelf and closed the door behind them so not as to be overheard.

‘What are the full facts then?’ Clara wanted to know.

The housekeeper lowered her voice. ‘It’s like this you see, Lady Arabella had a mental illness after her last child.’

‘James?’

‘Oh no, there was another baby a few years after he was born. He passed away eighteen months ago. He was born full term but lived only for a couple of weeks. Before that the lady had been full of life, but after Benjamin passed away, she became a shadow of her former self. She kept thinking she could hear his cries and even wandered out into the grounds at night in her nightdress in the perishing cold. Taunted that woman was. Of course, his lordship was concerned so he brought his physician in who wanted her admitted to a lunatic asylum, but the lord refused and kept her locked away in her quarters. I was the only servant permitted to see the state she was in, so Cook nor any of the other staff had a clue about her condition except that once the gardener caught her barely clothed walking near the lake. It’s my feeling she might well have intended to drown herself.’

‘How awful,’ Clara gasped, trying to take it all in. Why hadn’t Howard told her any of this? ‘But the marks on the lady’s wrists, the bruising Cook mentioned to me?’

The housekeeper nodded. ‘Sometimes the lady needed restraining for her own welfare as she was a danger to herself. The doctor called a couple of times a week to sedate her with some kind of an injection. Don’t know what it was but it used to knock her out for hours at a time, but she needed holding down to be sedated. She could be quite violent herself if opposed and his lordship was covered in bruises and scratches himself. Horrible it was.’

Clara thought it sounded shocking, but then again, she supposed the doctor knew his own business as if the lady was admitted to a secure asylum she might even be confined to a padded cell and restrained for hours at a time in a straitjacket. Then no one would know what was going on with her. No, it was out of love and kindness that Howard had arranged for the doctor to sedate his wife, she decided.

‘And then,’ Mrs Montgomery continued, ‘one day Lady Arabella went riding on her own. She’d managed to escape from the house, that was the day she died after falling from the horse. It was a sad day, and until you arrived at the house, the sadness persisted. You have done wonders for his lordship and the children too,’ Mrs Montgomery said approvingly. ‘I should have a word with Mrs Cantwell and set her straight maybe…’

Clara nodded. ‘Maybe. I’d hate to think the staff assume the lord is someone who manhandled and mistreated his wife when he did no such thing. I knew a man who was like that once.’

‘Really?’ the housekeeper arched her brow.

‘Yes, thankfully he’s now a reformed character since his wife gave birth.’

Mrs Montgomery nodded. ‘In my opinion though there’s not many men who change, but maybe in that man’s case he grew up a bit when his child was born.’

Clara hoped for Mrs McWhirter’s sake and that of her child that she was right.

Feeling a little better now she decided to check out what she could wear on Saturday to the fair.