Master of Gothic House 11

 I did a marathon bit of writing last night and finished the third Christmas story! 

 

Chapter 11

 

Wickes left the lady to her melancholy thoughts and went out to the stables to find Sergeant Hamilton. Hamilton was a man the same age as himself, and had been his batman since Hamilton had been a raw recruit and Wickes had been an equally raw ensign, and had rescued George Hamilton from the unkind hazing of some older soldiers. They had supported each other so long that many of Wickes’s men believed them to be mollies who kept to each other’s company. They were incorrect in this assumption; but neither man liked the loud and raucous types of women that soldiery seemed to attract. Indeed, they rarely broke formality; and when they did, it was for a heartfelt reason.

“How’s my mare, George?” asked Wickes.

“Nasty bruise on her foot,” said Hamilton. “But I reckon we could get on the road tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she needed a farrier; I think one of her shoes is loose,” said Wickes.

“You aimin’ to stay longer, Tom?” asked Hamilton.

“I met a lady I like more than a little,” confessed Wickes.

“Reckon I might of done the same,” said Hamilton. “Runs a bakery when she ain’t involved in the tomfoolery o’ the gentry.”

“You pop the question as soon as you can, m’boy, nothing like a good cook,” said Wickes. “Not that I can talk, I need to find my way to it. If I muster out, will you come with me?”

“Aye,” said Hamilton. “Tom! There’s a young woman here, dark hair, who was making eyes at one o’ the grooms. I didn’t manage to overhear much, but seemingly, she wants him to take her to Chelmsford; reckons there’s a plot against her. Sounded like a tale she’d got from some trashy novel, that Mrs. Clitheroe is conspiring to marry her off to Mr. Curtis.”

“Ho! Well, she’d be so lucky,” scoffed Wickes. “Mr. Jeb Curtis might not flirt in the ways some gentlemen flirt, but a good farmer doesn’t discuss the number of piglings his prize sow gets in a farrowing if he isn’t serious, and he was being serious to that little redhead, and if they ain’t smelling of April and May, I’m mistaken.”

“Oho, so the grapes are sour, are they?” chuckled Hamilton. “Rejected by his lordship, as it seems Mr. Annesley is, and hiding it to catch a wench who ain’t after him for his title, and rejected by the farmer boy.”

Wickes sniggered.

“I’m sure you managed to find out everything there was to find.  I wonder how chagrined she would be to know the views of the servants.”

“She’s the sort who would be not only surprised, but outraged, to find out that servants have thoughts and feelings,” said Hamilton.  “I just hope young Ezra Slack doesn’t lose his place for her.”

“Is she the dirty tricks sort?” asked Wickes.

Hamilton got out a clay pipe and charged it from a disreputable looking tobacco pouch, which also contained a small horn of powder for his pistol, and opened a lantern to light the pipe from the wick.

“I wouldn’t say she wasn’t,” he said, having puffed a few times to get it drawing.

“So, did you catch what she wanted the boy for?”

“To drive her into Chelmsford before anyone else is up.”

“Well, now! I don’t say we should alert anyone over speculation, but what say you and I go early to bed, and rise before that little madam does, and be ready for anything she gets up to?”

Hamilton took a thoughtful puff, removed his pipe from his mouth, and blew a smoke ring.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed.

 

oOoOo

 

The younger people were enjoying themselves outside, despite the freezing, clammy tendrils of fog trying to insinuate itself into their clothing.  Jeb and Edwin bickered over who could climb up the big oak tree for mistletoe.

“Oh, now, don’t make a race of it to prove something,” said Angela. “I don’t think either of you has anything to prove. Maybe you should let Will Wren show off.”

“Maybe we should,” said Jeb, with a laugh.

Will was nothing loath, and went up the tree with speed and aplomb.

“My brother is a great climber,” said Jenny, proudly. “He used to escape from the asylum, work a few days doing odd jobs, and break back in with treats.”

“What a fortunate coincidence for you to be reunited,” said Clara.

“It isn’t coincidence,” said Edwin. “I’d met Miss Cubitt in the village, and as I discovered Jenny and Will were children of a dependent I had inherited, I asked Miss Cubitt to take Jenny as I could scarcely have her in a bachelor household. And while I’m confessing, I own this house but I wanted to see how any short-listed girls took to it.”

“You mean the break-down was a fake?” said Clara. “You put Tommy and me through hell as a test?”

“I did not know until the last minute that you had lost your parents so traumatically but by then, all was in train, and I could not think of another way,” said Edwin.

“You might have said that the wheel was loose and you did not want to go any further,” said Clara, angrily.

Edwin stared.

“I did not think of that,” he said, quietly. “I... I can only apologise sincerely for frightening a child; Tommy, if I could take time back and undertake your sister’s clever suggestion, I would. I hoped that being near a house would mitigate any shock. I was foolish and I am sorry. But I hate living a lie, and I wanted to come clean.”

“Your honesty is commendable, but it will take a little while to decide whether I can forgive this high-handed masquerade,” said Clara, angrily. “Tommy, do you want to help gather more greenery, or do you want to return to the house of charades, and see if there are any other lies and mysteries to uncover?”

“I like gathering greenery,” said Tommy.

“There is one other implied lie,” said Edwin. “I am part Indian; and I did not want to marry a woman who would put up with it for my wealth and position. I wanted to meet ladies who accepted me for myself, and were content to be comfortable. I am the new viscount and something of a nabob. So, now you know.”

“I concede your wisdom in concealing that, my lord,” said Clara. “Especially from people like Esther, so we shall continue to call you ‘Mr. Annesley,’ shan’t we, Angela?”

“Yes,” said Angela. “I guessed. But then, I’m a local. And I heard of the old viscount’s brother who had the confounded cheek to be rich enough to bail out the viscount and his profligate sons more than once.”

“I can see it wouldn’t endear him or his son to a man with profligate sons; who died, I assume?” said Clara.

“One at Waterloo

 

, one at sea, with his wife,” said Edwin, shortly. “It was an unlooked for social promotion, but I knew it would cause trouble if I tried to form a connexion in the usual manner.”

“That, I understand, and therefore do not have to forgive,” said Clara. “But I am deeply hurt and injured by your ill-usage of us in scaring us.”

“What can I say? I did not think,” said Edwin. “I am at fault.”

“I give you credit for admitting to a fault, not trying to explain it away,” said Clara.

Tommy tugged on her sleeve.

“I wasn’t very frightened,” he said. “Miss Cubitt knew what to do. And Mr. Annesley is a great gun, and I don’t think he meant to frighten us. And decking the house will be jolly”

“Well, then, I will put my anger to one side, and work through it as best I might,” said Clara.

Edwin bowed to her.

Clara’s eyes prickled; she liked Edwin, but if he lied to her in one thing, what else might he feel it necessary to lie about another time?

Ram Gopal skilfully separated her from the others.

“Mr. Edwin was always a bit of a prankster, Miss,” he said. “He grew out of it, but you might say this was going to be his last prank, to test the mettle of the ladies he shortlisted, which was up to half a dozen. Now, consider, Miss Snowe, do you think Miss Mortimer would have shown her true colours if she had been taken to a regular house party?”

“I... no,” said Clara.

“Moreover, now his lordship knows that you can face any adversity with aplomb and élan,” said Ram Gopal. “Such fortitude is a necessary part of being a lady to a peer of the realm, who can face any social situation.  And you took over running things very well indeed.”

“Is he given to secrecy?” asked Clara, bluntly.

“Indeed, no, and though he was like a schoolboy in devising how to break his carriage, he normally wears his heart on his sleeve, and I would hate to see him miserable if you could not forgive him.”

“I... I need time to come to terms with it,” said Clara.

“Let me escort you back to the house for a nice cup of tea,” said Ram Gopal. “Nobody can beat a nice cup of tea.”

“I would be foolish to cut off my nose to spite my face; it... it hurts the more because I have a distinct partiality for Mr. ... for his lordship,” admitted Clara.

“Keep calling him Mr. Annesley until that baggage is out of the way, as I am sure she will be, soon,” said Ram Gopal. “Mrs. Elinor will demand that she be sent home, I am sure.”

“I hope so,” said Clara. “I dislike her very much, but I suspect if she knew that Mr. Annesley was  a lord, she would promptly be as sweet as sweet to everyone.”

“And this is why he set up the advertisement, to meet young ladies incognito,” said Ram Gopal. “And to gain their honest opinion on his seat, which he loved from the moment he came here, and to see if they could weather difficulties, as there would be those in society who will make unkind comments.”

Clara nodded.

“I understand why he did it; logically, I cannot fault it, but my fear when we broke down interferes with my logical thinking.”

“I am sure his lordship understands that,” said Ram Gopal. “He was going to climb the tree for the mistletoe, because he is afraid of heights. I made him learn to climb trees and rough walls and ropes, so that he knew he could get down from anywhere. I know that he honours your courage in carrying on when you were frightened, when many women would have had hysterics.”

“You know, I had not thought of that; but fears should be faced,” said Clara. “I only came on a coach to Chelmsford because I wanted Tommy to have more chances. So it made me face my fear. But I still need a cup of tea and time to come to terms with it.”

“Perhaps you can sit in the boudoir, if Miss Mortimer is not there,” suggested Ram Gopal. “She said something about going back to bed as she did not feel well.”

“Oh, I hope so,” said Clara. “Though if she is laid up with a chill or a cold in the head, we shall be stuck with her for longer, for she cannot be sent home, possibly turning it into a pleurisy or pneumonia.”

Ram Gopal made tea, and Clara elected to sit in the kitchen rather than risk running into Esther in the boudoir. She chatted amiably to Mrs. Hymes, and Mrs. Partridge who were setting a baking of bread between them, something Mrs. Partridge might not feel able to do commercially, but which she was happy enough helping with for a large household.

The greenery-collecting party blew in the back door, laughing and stamping cold feet, and Edwin’s eyes sought out Clara. She gave him a rather tight smile and a nod.

He came and sat down beside her.

“I will do what I can to recoup myself in your good graces,” he said.

“Just be open with me,” said Clara. “I don’t like shocks and I don’t like being taken by surprise.”

“I’m not usually in the habit of deception,” said Edwin. “Maybe that’s why I made such a mull of it.”

“Which is encouraging, if so; for if you are bad at keeping secrets it means you are not used to doing so.”

“I’m good at hiding New Year’s and Birthday gifts, however, and even a thorough tickling from my sister will not make me reveal what they are, or where I hid them,” he added.

“Oh, stoic under torture,” said Clara.

“Extremely,” agreed Edwin.

“Tommy tries to wheedle things out of me when I’m not quite awake,” said Clara.

“I must remember that,” said Edwin. “Though if I say, ‘all gifts are in the secret room,’ that won’t leave him any further forward, will it.”

“What, there’s a secret room, too? Don’t tell me there are secret passages,” said Clara.

“Not precisely, but there are a couple of hidden stairs,” said Edwin.

“Famous!” said Clara. “Tommy will be ecstatic, if you let him look.”

“He’s more than welcome; he might even find those the Hymes’s don’t know, said Edwin. “It’ll give him something to do when the weather is bad.”

“I noticed that there did not appear to be a cupboard under the stairs for the back stairs,” said Clara. “They go up from behind the kitchen and the vestibule, with the housekeeper’s rooms on the other side, though I suppose the cupboard might be in her room. Because there’s no door at the end of the passage where the stairs go overhead, and no sloped ceiling, so the whole part has been closed off.”

“Well, it might have been closed off when the house was added to, and nobody taking any use of it,” said Edwin. “But there’s nothing to stop him tapping around the panelling.”

“Thank you,” said Clara.

 

 

Master of Gothic House 10

 

Chapter 10

 

Esther would normally have described pease pottage as ‘peasant food,’ which, indeed it was; a good, nourishing meal made with dried split peas cooked to just the right amount, so that there was some bite to them, and a generous amount of boiled bacon and onion in it. Ram Gopal had had a hand in it, murmuring about ‘dal’, and sneaked in sundry spices. The roast potatoes were crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside. Esther ate the lot, and enjoyed it, not that she would admit that. There was a dessert as well, peaches preserved in brandy, with cream. Esther consumed this happily, and drank the glass of wine provided with it. She dropped the tray off the side of her bed, not caring if anything was broken, and curled up to go to sleep. She did not wake when Betty came to retrieve the tray and was tempted to pull back the covers and throw the broken wine glass into the bed. However, Betty decided that sleeping at least rendered Esther harmless. There was enough to worry about without getting more unpleasantness. Betty cleared up and took the tray away, and reported the incident to Elinor.

“That girl is a caution, madam,” she said.

“I could find harsher words for her myself, and some of them not fit for your ears,” said Elinor.  “Take her breakfast in bed, and empty her Jordan, and let’s keep her out of the way of the visitors in case she tries to fascinate them.”

“Yes, madam,” said Betty, shuddering at the thought of Esther and the newcomers.

It was a night for excitement; the company had finished their peaches, when there was a knock at the door.

Hymes answered the door, and saw an officer of the South Essex, his sergeant holding two horses outside the porch. 

“Sir?” said Hymes. The officer inclined his head.

“Would it be possible to beg hospitality for the night? My nag’s gone lame, which is the same state as me, and it’s a long way to limp to Southend.”

“You’d better come in,” said Hymes. “If your sergeant will take the nags round, I’ll send a hand out to see them fettled. What name shall I give?”

“Lieutenant Thomas Wickes,” said the officer.

Hymes led him to the dining room and introduced him, and went through to the kitchen to send one of the stable hands out. He investigated the pease pottage, and scraped out enough for two helpings, and added the potatoes which had been destined for bubble and squeak.

“I’ll hardboil some eggs and poach some fish for kedgeree for breakfast,” said Ram Gopal.

 

“I’m sorry to gatecrash your party, sir,” said Lt. Wickes, correctly identifying Edwin as the host. “We took a prisoner to Chelmsford, and by the time we started back it was late, and the weather getting worse; and my mare picked up a stone.”

He was not a young man, and his uniform was not expensive; a younger son who had managed to purchase a commission but could neither afford to buy himself higher, nor had the fortune to be promoted in action.  Edwin felt sorry for him; now, poor man, transporting prisoners would be likely to be part of his duties, not being fit for a lot more.

“We were stranded here ourselves,” said Edwin.  “Well, if you and your man will share the big room above this one, I’ll go to the room over the porch, which is at least cosy and will soon warm up. There’s already a hot brick in the bed.”

“That already gladdens my heart,” said Wickes.

“Take a seat; there’s room next to my aunt,” said Edwin. “I am sure that Hymes... ah, well done, Hymes!” he added as Hymes came in with a steaming plate and a glass of wine.

“There won’t be anything for bubble and squeak, sir, for breakfast, but Ram Gopal is making a kedgeree, and complaining there is no smoked haddock and that there’s a hem lot of bones in that red herring,” said Hymes. “There’ll be bacon and bread and butter.”

“Thank you; I feel blessed to have a hot meal,” said Wickes.

“Annesley, you can share with me, if you don’t despise to do so,” said Jeb.

“Do you know, I think I’ll take you up on that,” said Edwin. “The beds are wide enough to sleep an army.”

“Two will be warmer than one as well,” said Jeb.

Clara and Angela exchanged a look.

“We could put Tommy between us,” said Angela.

“The beds are good and wide,” said Clara. “And as Tommy is dropping off, if you will all excuse me, I will take him up.”

“I’ll come up and bring my hot brick over,” said Angela. “We can chat or read in bed for a little while.”

Hymes and Ram Gopal came in to clear, and Wickes hastily finished his food.

“That was good,” he said.

“A little coriander, cumin, cardamom, turmeric and some garlic lifts it no end,” said Ram Gopal.

“Not too much spice in the kedgeree, Ram Gopal; the ladies are not used to it,” warned Edwin.

“No, sir,” said Ram Gopal. When Master Edwin had chosen a lady, she could get used to spices slowly, he thought.

 

The company broke up and all retired to bed early, it having been a tiring day; and it might be said that Elinor brusquely invited Betty to join her as the night was cold, and Clara’s Martha invited Jenny to join her, and ended up with Lizzy as well. Mrs. Partridge was in a room next to the kitchen, as were the Hymes’s and Ram Gopal, and Will slept in a bunk in the stable hands’ room over the stables, which was snug from the animals. The only one who was cold in the small hours was Esther.

When Esther could bear it no longer, she got up; she did not re-light the little bedroom fire, not knowing how to do it, for having been spoilt. She poked at it ineffectually, waking Lizzie, who sighed, got up, and came down to her mistress. Lizzie soon had the fire cleared out and relit, and helped her mistress to dress.

“Oh, Lizzie, I can’t stay here with these awful people!” wailed Esther.

Lizzie, inclined to look down her nose at first at an Indian gentleman, had been impressed by his manner, and by the kindness and graciousness shown. But she said nothing, not wanting to lose her place.

“I expect that the gentleman, Mr. Annesley, I think his name is, will have us driven back to your father’s house, if you wish it,” said Lizzie, tonelessly.

“I do not want to demean myself to ask him,” said Esther. “But I do have a plan. I am a very attractive woman, and I am sure I can charm someone in the stables to drive me to Chelmsford, where I can stay, and then write to Papa to collect me. And you, of course.”

“Oh, miss, I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” said Lizzie.

“Well, don’t come, then,” said Esther.

“I merely wish that you would ask in the regular way, miss,” said Lizzie.

“Oh, hold your tongue,” said Esther.

There was a knock on the door, and Angela came in with a bucket of coal, and a steaming cup of tea.

“Awake? I thought you might have stayed in bed with a cold, I heard you sneezing earlier,” she said, crossing her fingers behind her back as she put the bucket down.

“It’s too cold to stay up here,” said Esther, crossly.

“Oh, well, I’ll see that you have a nice coddled egg and some bread-and-butter,” said Angela. “You won’t want a hearty breakfast.”

“No, I won’t,” said Esther, shuddering.

“I lit the fire in the little boudoir, across from the dining room; it will help to keep the bedrooms warmer, too,” said Angela. “Would you like your breakfast in there?”

“Yes, I would. Er, thank you,” said Esther. Angela beamed at her.

“Oh, good, you feel better and less grumpy for a good night’s sleep,” she said. “It’s too foggy to set out anywhere, without risking catching a cough, and it’s freezing fog at that. As we may be laid up over Christmas, we thought we’d collect some evergreens from the grounds, and decorate. We’ve already scrubbed out the boudoir for you, and we’ve been bringing down the cobwebs in the vestibule with mops and stepladders.”

“Well, you waste your time if you like,” said Esther.

“Oh, dear, you didn’t sleep off the grumps,” said Angela.

“I have more dignity than you do,” said Esther.

“Dignity! Is that what you call it,” said Angela, with a giggle. She whirled off.

Esther went down to the little boudoir, which was clean and bright, and the fire drawing well, and she was not in the least bit grateful, since being waited on and cleaned around was, in her mind, only her due.

She ate the coddled egg and fingers of thin bread-and-butter which Angela brought, and would have shuddered at the rest of the company eating a hearty meal of kedgeree followed by bacon, black pudding, and toast.

When the rest of the company dressed warmly to go out, she watched through the boudoir window to see them go off, chattering and laughing, to gather evergreens, and hurried to put on her own pelisse and overshoes in the cloakroom. She went out to the stables, where the hands, freshly fed, and having fed the horses beforehand, were drinking tea by the pint, and working on worn tack, sat on bales of hay. They rose, of course. Esther knew the way to a horse-lover’s heart; it was how she had fascinated Jeb when there had been no better prospects.

“Oh! Do not disturb yourselves on my account!” she said, breathily. “I came to see how the horses are, after their ordeals yesterday.”

The older man, in the uniform of a sergeant, looked at her, sharply.  Miss Cubitt had popped in before breakfast, as had the two gentlemen, and his officer, Mrs. Clitheroe, and young Tommy, who was now off somewhere in the company of young Will, had also enquired.

Ezra Slack, however, a young man of some romantic leanings, was much struck by the smile which seemed to be just for him.

“Would you like to see them, miss?” he asked.

“I’d love to,” said Esther, suppressing a shudder.

She let Ezra talk, and praise Mr. Annesley’s horses, Ezra not yet knowing of Edwin’s inheritance, not having been told.

“Horses are nicer than people,” said Esther, sorrowfully.

“Aye, that they are,” agreed Ezra, who would have agreed with anything the pretty lady said, but who truly did concur on this point.

“That nasty old woman won’t let me leave; I’ve been brought here under false pretences, and I want to go home to my mama,” said Esther.

“Oh, miss, I don’t think Mr. Annesley has any lewd designs,” said Ezra.

“It’s that Mrs. Clitheroe,” extemporised Esther, hastily, seeing some hero worship. “She’s in a plot with my father to marry me to Jeb Curtis, because they plan to split my inheritance between them.”

“Ooh, miss, it’s just like a novel!” said Ezra. Had he but known it, Esther had taken her tale of woe from a novel.

Esther laid a hand on his arm, a confiding, intimate move. Ezra blushed.

“Could I count on you to aid me?” she asked, tremulously.

“Of course, Miss!” said Ezra, who was swimming in a sea of late adolescent feelings, even though knowing that winning the hand of a lady was above his touch.

“If I could rise before anyone else tomorrow, would you drive me back to Chelmsford?” asked Esther. “It’s a good enough road, despite the fog, I think.”

“Why, yes, miss, I should think I could do that,” said Ezra. “Most of the hands rise at five-thirty, can you be ready by five?”

“Oh, how kind you are! Of course I can,” said Esther, suppressing a shudder. She determined to go to bed for the afternoon, pleading a cold in the head; she would have a busy night.

 

Lt. Wickes had not ventured out with the young people, but was entertaining Elinor with a somewhat embroidered story of the idiocy of young recruits, and the mishaps they could fall into, putting up a bell tent on the common.

“So when I asked where their poles were, they looked at me as if I had asked them for an elephant,” he said. “‘Poles, sir?’ said Private Whitely, as if poles were something exotic. ‘A pole is five and a half yards,’ said Private Johnson, the company dryboots, and always keen to get a rise from the officers. He added, ‘they call them rods or perches sometimes, and an acre is four by forty poles.’ Which may be true enough, as I pointed out, but it will not hold a tent up like sections of actual wooden pole to hold up the centre. By the time they had gone back for poles, and returned, everyone else was striking tents to march back to barracks. I never did work out whether they were just the stupidest unit in the army or if it was done to skive off.  I do know that group worked harder than a normal day’s work to be able to skive!”

Elinor chuckled.

“I know it cannot have been amusing for you, but you tell the story very well,” she said.

“They were the only group I’ve ever known who managed to harness a gun limber to the horses backwards,” said Wickes. “With the tongue dragging on the ground behind.”

“Dear me, how singularly inept,” said Elinor. “I almost dread to think what they managed when permitted gunpowder and shot.”

“We were in Brighton, and I swear, they were more danger to Prinny’s little palace than to the French,” said Wickes, ruefully. “Though they won the competition on who could be most accurate at the longest range, and you’ll never guess how they did it.”

“No, I probably won’t,” said Elinor.

“The targets were out at sea,” said Wickes. “And they took a low angle, and skipped the ball the way boys do with flat stones on a millpond.”

“Scoundrels!” said Elinor.

“I confess, I was impressed,” said Wickes. “I despise those men who tell boastful tales about their exploits, usually exaggerated or downright lies, and go into gory detail. So, I prefer to share amusing stories, and it doesn’t matter if I don’t come out very well from them, like the time I was caught trying to sneak back the underwear my lads had stolen – this was still when we were posted to Brighton – because they wanted to run the prince’s drawers up the flagpole to salute them. Fortunately, his highness was in a good mood and was inclined to find the story funny – since the desecration of his underwear had been averted, as he put it. So, that is my one and only tale of high life and royalty.”

“Oh, he was a handsome man in his youth, but I suspect that nowadays, you could use his drawers for one of your bell tents,” said Elinor.

“I wouldn’t admit to it; he’ll be my king one day, and I serve my king and country,” said Wickes. “But they were vast.”

“I imagine he would have been much embarrassed if they had succeeded,” said Elinor.

“I docked them each a week’s pay and gave it to him to pay his tailor for any repairs.”

“What, has he started paying his tailor, these days?” said Elinor. “Last I heard, the only time he paid off poor Louis Bazalgette was after the man had floated him a loan to cover something he dared not go to parliament to cover.”

“I don’t know,” confessed Wickes. “I don’t generally move in such circles.”

“I haven’t, for many years,” said Elinor. “But I’ll have you know I was a beauty in my time.”

“You have a serene loveliness now, ma’am,” said Wickes.

“La, do you think so? I wasn’t fishing for compliments, but I will if you are willing to issue them.”

“Your face has the serenity of one who has passed through fire, and come out of it intact,” said Wickes.

A shadow touched her face.

“My first husband was... trying,” she said. “And not my choice. Go away, please; I want to brood.”