Herald of Joy, page 53
part #2 of Wintercombe Series
‘My sister Christian have come over from Frome,’ said her maid. ‘Her Tom don’t mind. Soon as I heard what was a-happening up here, I sent word to her.’ The shrewd blue eyes rested speculatively on her mistress. ‘So — your young Cavalier came back to ee, did he? And caused a power of pain and grief thereby, from all accounts.’
Her sharp manner did not deceive Silence. She knew that she could rely on Mally’s sympathy and support, as surely as she could anticipate the rising of the sun. She said quietly, ‘I had better tell you exactly what has happened.’
Mally listened closely to the whole confused and unhappy tale. Silence spared nothing, not even Nick’s night-time visit to her chamber, and its inevitable consequences. She suspected that her maid, ever practical, was wondering if those brief hours of ungovernable passion would produce another child. At this particular moment, she herself did not know, and did not wish to. She had other, more pressing matters to resolve.
‘That Pyne, he always were a bastard,’ was Mally’s unequivocal comment. ‘He be famous for en — he’ve all the sequestrators in his pocket.’ She eyed Silence, speculatively. ‘And he bain’t no dummel neither. Be ee certain he don’t know nothing more?’
‘I’m sure,’ Silence said. ‘Would he lose an opportunity to appropriate a rich estate like Wintercombe?’ She hesitated, wondering whether to tell Mally about Harley’s threats. The maid, robustly practical, would assuredly advise calling his bluff, and it was a suggestion that Silence did not, for the moment, wish to hear. She knew that her courage had for once failed her, that she would not risk it, and this self-knowledge, that she would willingly lay herself open to blackmail, was not a pleasant discovery. What she needed now was time: time for Nick to heal; time to find a way out of their predicament; time, perhaps, for this nightmare to dissolve away into nothing, like morning mist burned away by the sun.
‘And Captain Hellier? Where be he now?’ Mally asked.
‘In the city gaol in Bath. Jack Goodenough drove the cart, and brought the word back. He survived the journey,’ Silence said, her voice suddenly ragged despite all her efforts. ‘That was the best that Jack could tell me. And it would be unwise even to try and find out how he is.’
‘I don’t see why,’ said Mally bluntly. ‘By your own tale, m’lady, you spoke of past friendship. What’s to stop ee bringing comfort to a sick man? Tis only charity, after all, as Scripture tell us to do. If ee don’t want to go see him, I’ll do it and willing.’ She grinned. ‘Chances are, turnkey will do aught for a shilling or two, save unlock the door, of course. Then I can bring ee word, m’lady, and give him your comfort too.’
Silence stared at her, wondering what Nat would say to this. She wanted to have no more secrets from him, and she trusted his instincts above anyone’s. He, after all, had most to lose, should Pyne’s suspicions become aroused.
But by now, Pyne was probably on his way home to Curry Mallet. And Mally was quick-witted and resourceful. She said slowly, ‘It might be possible. Oh, Mally — I only want to know how he is, I am so afraid for him, it’s not knowing that is the worst, not being able to help. And if you could visit him…’
‘Who’s to know I hail from Wintercombe?’ said Mally, and grinned. ‘I could be an old sweetheart from his days in the Bath garrison, and that turnkey won’t know any different.’ She glanced at her mistress meaningfully. ‘Do ee want orryone else to know of this, m’lady? Sir Nathaniel, maybe?’
‘Yes,’ said Silence. ‘Nat, in particular.’
She had wondered if her stepson would find any obvious flaws in her plan, that she had somehow overlooked. But after greeting Mally with a warmth which, she suspected, concealed a fair amount of relief, he listened with evident approval as she suggested that Mally visit Nick in prison. ‘An excellent idea — why not? I agree, it would be foolish for you or me to see him, but no one can read any sinister motive into an errand of charity to a sick man — not even our dear Pyne. And who could be more discreet, or sensible, or charitable, than Mally Merrifield?’
At which compliment her maid, surprisingly, blushed.
It was arranged that she would ride into Bath immediately after dinner, since the following day was a Sunday. She would be escorted by Jack Goodenough, the head groom’s nephew, who was the only stable-lad available, since Jeremy Walker had mysteriously and worryingly disappeared the previous day. This was not very satisfactory, as Jack was now known to the turnkey, but Mally, ever resourceful, would doubtless ensure that he kept out of sight.
And now, all Silence had to do was to wait for news.
*
‘Visitor for you,’ said Pearce, flinging open the door to the cell with a cheery crash that wrenched Nick from his peaceful slumber. ‘Do you want to see her, or not?’
Nick, dazed with sleep and clutching his injured shoulder, which had been painfully jarred as he sat up, stared in some bewilderment at his gaoler. ‘Visitor? Who?’
‘She’ll cost you extra,’ said Pearce, ignoring his questions. He marched up to the bed and, in what was now a familiar ritual, held out his hand. ‘Shilling extra, to be exact.’
Nick groped beneath his pillow, and found the right coin. He saw Pearce’s eyes, small, bright and greedy, follow his movements, and knew that he had done well to hide the bulk of his money elsewhere. Pearce would undoubtedly have no compunction whatsoever in stealing it, given the opportunity.
‘Excellent,’ said the fat man, pocketing the shilling. He turned and shouted towards the open door. ‘In here, my dear — he’s ready and waiting for you!’
He had not known whom to expect. He had recognised that his visitor was very unlikely to be Silence herself — Tabby, perhaps, or even Patience. But for a moment he did not recognise the trim, diminutive young woman, in hood and cloak and plain dark grey, her hair hidden. Then she pushed the heavy cloth from her head, revealing the bright gingery curls he remembered, and gave him a blunt, cheerful grin. ‘Good afternoon to ee, Captain Hellier.’
‘Mally!’ he said, in delight. He had not seen her for six years, but his recollection of her was vivid and pleasant. With her connivance, he and Silence had become lovers, and she had kept their secret faithfully. No one could be more loyal to their mistress, or a better servant, and friend. For the first time since Captain Humphreys’ sword had struck him down, he found himself daring to hope.
‘Will you leave us for a while?’ he said to Pearce, who was still hovering by the bed.
The man grinned widely. ‘Yes, sir, I gladly will — for a consideration, of course. Privacy comes extra.’
Nick glared at him. At this rate, even that reassuringly heavy bag of coin would not last a week. He produced a groat, and pushed it into the plump greedy hand. ‘I’m surprised you don’t charge for pissing in the bucket.’
‘Oh, no, sir, of course not,’ said Pearce, his small eyes wide with mock affront. He paused, and added pointedly, ‘But I’ll charge you for the service of emptying it, sir.’ And, chuckling at his own dubious wit, he waddled from the cell. Nick and Mally heard the door slam, and his footsteps receding down the stairs.
‘It’s good to see you, Mally,’ he said. ‘You haven’t changed in the least.’
‘You have, though, Captain,’ said Silence’s maid, with the forthrightness he remembered. She was carrying a rush basket under her cloak: she walked over to the bed and set it down. ‘M’lady packed en for ee. Bread, honey, a nice pasty, cold meats and a fat joint of gammon. And a bottle of restorative for the blood — twill taste tarblish foul, Captain, but she told me to tell en to be sure and take it, twill do ee a power of good.’
‘I will indeed,’ said Nick. The savoury tang of mutton was rising from the basket, and he realised that he was feeling extremely hungry. ‘But I’ll have some of that pasty first.’
Like all of Darby’s baking, it was well seasoned, succulent and delicious. It seemed that, almost before he had taken the first mouthful, he was mopping the last crumbs from the blanket. Mally watched him with her head slightly on one side. With her rather beaky nose, and sharp features, she reminded him of a bird, though she entirely lacked fragility. She said, ‘There bain’t much wrong with ee, by the look of en.’
‘At this rate, there won’t be soon,’ said Nick. ‘I could have eaten two of those pies.’ He leaned back, his hands folded in front of him, his eyes resting on her face. ‘How are things at Wintercombe?’
He had spoken very quietly, but still she glanced at the door. There was a small grille cut into it, through which Pearce could observe and listen, but she could see no one lurking there. She was determined to take no chances, though, and knelt by the bed, her face close to his. ‘Calm, you could say, Captain. I only came back this morning, so I ain’t had much chance to see how the wind d’blow, but there bain’t no one despeard betwattled nor gallid — nor m’lady neither.’
‘And how is she?’ said Nick, and his eyes were suddenly bright. ‘Is she well?’
‘Well, but fretting,’ Mally whispered. ‘You know m’lady so well as I, Captain — she d’seem all fine and happy, but she bain’t — I can see en in her eyen. She be pining for ee, but she d’know in her heart there bain’t much hope. She’ve explained it all to me, about Mistress Tabby and all she did to help ee — brave little lass, she be.’ She fumbled with the buttons of her bodice, and drew out a tiny folded piece of paper. ‘Mistress Tabby gave me on, just afore I left, and told me most especial to give en to ee secret-like. And you’re to burn en when you’ve read on, she said, leave no trace.’
‘How can I?’ said Nick. He gestured round the little cell. ‘Hardly, when there’s no hearth.’
‘You could always eat en,’ said Mally, stifling a grin. ‘Twouldn’t be no trace then.’
‘Excellent advice,’ Nick said, and unfolded the paper.
The writing was not in Tabby’s round young hand, but a bolder more dashing stroke that must surely belong to Patience. His eyes flicked over the few lines.
Do not worry. We have not forgotten you. T.W. will help. Do not be surprised at anything.
The last word was heavily underlined. He stared at it, feeling at once afraid and exasperated. Could this infuriating young woman never give over her plotting? And once more, she had embroiled Tabby in her web. Well, if she thought she had some crackpot scheme to spring him from prison, she could think again. He looked up at Mally’s inquisitive face. ‘Tell Mistress Tabby — and Mistress Patience — that I am quite happy to stay here for a while, and I am not, repeat not, in dire need of rescue. And the last thing I want is that those two nincompoops put everyone else in jeopardy because they’ve hatched some ludicrous plot to spirit me away to…wherever they think I’ll be safe from pursuit.’ A dry smile illuminated his drawn, pale face. ‘The New World, probably.’
‘So — you want me to tell them to stop,’ said Mally. ‘Tisn’t my place to do ort like that, Captain.’
He saw the gleam in her eye, and knew better than to take her words at face value. Forthright Mally had never been shy of telling people exactly what she thought, whether it was her place to do it or not. He suspected that she was even now rehearsing what she would say to Patience and Tabby. ‘Does Silence know what they are planning?’ he asked.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Mally thoughtfully. ‘Shall I tell her?’
‘No — not unless they ignore you,’ Nick told her. ‘And perhaps not even then. If she doesn’t know, then if something goes wrong again, she really will be innocent. But Mally — please, tell them from me, with all the force and persuasion you can muster, not, not, not to hatch whatever escape plot they’re planning.’
‘I’ll try,’ said Mally. ‘But telling Mistress Patience not to do summat once her mind be set on it, be like that old king who told the tide not to come in. Tisn’t possible, not till the sea d’run dry.’ She added darkly, ‘If tweren’t for their godly father and mother, I’d wonder if she was truly m’lady’s sister.’
‘I think she is,’ said Nick drily. ‘Unfortunately. But I’m relying on you, my dear Mally — do everything you can, everything, to stop that pair of crackpots plunging Wintercombe into disaster.’
He knew, and Mally knew, that he was being less than fair to Patience and Tabby. After all, it was not their fault, in the circumstances, that they had been betrayed. And Tabby, at least, was an intelligent girl, who would learn from past mistakes. But the thought of what might happen if something once more went wrong made his blood run chill. At all costs, they must be prevented from taking such a risk.
‘Ain’t ee disremembered summat?’ said Mally, with a grin. She indicated the piece of paper, still held in his hands. ‘Bain’t ee a-going to eat en?’
With exaggerated care, he tore Patience’s message into small pieces, and put them in his mouth, while Mally watched him solemnly. It was no use: he caught her eye, and both of them exploded into helpless laughter.
‘Wash en down with some of this here beer,’ the maid advised, in between giggles. ‘Oh, Captain, if m’lady could only see your face!’
‘If only Patience could see it too,’ said Nick, taking her advice. She was right: a good draught of beer swilled round his mouth, reduced the paper to a mushy pulp, easily swallowed. His duty done, he said soberly, ‘It’s no laughing matter really, Mally. Patience is living in the real world, not in some French romance, and the sooner she realises it, the better. And she’s old enough to know better, too. Tabby… I think Tabby has some idea that she can move us all around for our own good, as if we were chess-pieces. But people aren’t so biddable — and when she discovers it, she’ll be hurt.’
‘A brave little wench,’ said Mally. ‘But I d’reckon ee be right, Captain. I promise, I’ll try and wallop some sense into they two gawcums.’
And with that, he had for the moment to be content.
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Sisterly remorse’
(Measure for Measure)
Tom Wickham, as yet unaware of the role that Patience and Tabby had assigned to him, rode into Wintercombe, with Jeremy Walker at his side, just before supper. His horse had twice cast a shoe, delaying them for several hours, and he was weary, and rather apprehensive. What had really happened here, and did the boy’s wild tale actually approach the truth?
Jeremy was also anxious, but for somewhat different reasons. His fears proved justified when the head groom, Tom Goodenough, stamped out of the barton with a face black as thunder. ‘So there ee be, you girt loppus — where have ee been, eh? Not on Mistress Tabby’s business, that be sure enough!’ And he swung his large fist at Jeremy’s ear.
The boy ducked, and dodged behind his horse. Tom, still mounted, said hastily, ‘It’s all right, Goodenough — Mistress Tabby sent him to fetch me.’
The groom turned, his face wrinkled with astonishment. ‘You, sir — oh, tarblish sorry, Master Wickham, I didn’t recognise ee. Very well, Jeremy, you can take Master Wickham’s horse, and yourn, and we’ll disremember what I said, eh?’
With a rather shamefaced grin, the boy took the reins of Tom’s white-faced bay gelding, while he dismounted. The front door opened with a bang, and Tabitha St. Barbe, her honey-brown hair bursting from under the plain linen cap, ran down the steps, all aglow with delight. ‘Oh, Tom, you’re here already! Wonderful!’
She turned to Jeremy, and the boy, who had chattered almost without stopping, all the way from Glastonbury, at once became a blushing, tongue-tied hobbledehoy. ‘I done what ee said, Mistress Tabby,’ he stated, somewhat obviously, and stared fixedly at her shoes. ‘And I didn’t spend more’n a shilling or two, neither, and here’s your bag.’
‘Thank you, Jeremy,’ Tabby said, her smile full of warmth. ‘You’ve done very well — thank you so much.’ She glanced at Goodenough, who was still surveying them with an air of dour puzzlement. ‘I’m sorry I sent Jeremy off without telling you — I didn’t think about it,’ she explained, with an artless innocence which, as she had intended, entirely melted the stubborn old groom’s displeasure. ‘Please don’t blame him, it was my fault, and not his at all.’ She smiled dazzlingly at Tom. ‘Come inside, it’s nearly time for supper, and you must be ravenously hungry.’
But as soon as they entered the porch, dark and dim, with the door to the house closed so that they were out of sight and earshot of anyone lurking in the screens passage, she put out a hand to detain him. ‘Wait, Tom — wait! I’ve got so much to tell you, I can’t say it all here, but I asked you here for a reason.’
‘What’s happened?’ he said urgently. ‘I think I had the gist from your letter, and what Jeremy said, but it sounded too fantastic to be true — tell me in plain words — what in God’s name has happened here?’
‘We hid Nick Hellier in the roofspace, but Rachael found out and told the soldiers,’ said Tabby bluntly. She had wrestled long with the problem of her half-sister’s treachery, but in the end had decided on the truth. He was bound to find out sooner or later, and there was always the chance that he would not be angered or discouraged. She added, to set the record straight, ‘I think she had some idea of keeping favour with Jack Harington. But the betrothal is ended anyway, the contract was torn up, and none of us are really sorry — not even Rachael. She regretted what she’d done, though, once Hellier was taken.’
Tom’s pleasant brown country face was a study in bewilderment. ‘So Nick was here? And is now a prisoner — where? In Bath?’
‘In the city gaol,’ said Tabby. ‘He was badly hurt — he tried to fight his way free — and Mother thought he’d die, but he didn’t. And her maid Mally went to see him this afternoon, and she said that he was much much better — sitting up, and eating well, and in good spirits.’
She was not going to reveal what else Mally had said to her, in a brief private moment on the stairs from Silence’s chamber, but she was more determined than ever, if that were possible, to free Nick from prison. She knew that it must be his concern for her, and Patience, and Silence too, of course, that had led him to such a forceful repudiation of help. There’s no need to worry, Tabby had thought, listening with deceptive meekness to Mally’s hissing tirade. This time, we shall be careful — this time, we won’t be caught.
