Authors: Janet Woods
‘What did you do?’
‘I threw them out. Gabe owed so much money he couldn’t remember if he’d promised them the deeds or not. He got it into his mind that his debtors had hired somebody to kill him. He was worried about Alice and Edward, and decided to give up gambling and leave England to make a new life for his family. When I offered to buy the house he jumped at the chance, because he knew he and his family would always have a home to go to if they came back. The burden of Gabe’s debts nearly brought me to my knees.’
Zachariah should have been the responsible older brother, not the irresponsible younger brother, she thought when he added, ‘I bought the Martingale House deeds back with the intention of working the estate and placing it into Edward’s hands as a going concern when he came of age. To that end I settled Gabe’s debts and engaged Mr Bolton as estate manager. Gabe and I agreed on an amount of money he’d need to set himself up on a sheep farm. Alice was a scatterbrain, but she loved Gabe and her children. The estate is in my name now. Little Iris was born the year after they left. Gabe sent me a glowing account of their life at the time, and I thought he’d settled down.’
When he hesitated she prompted, ‘And then?’
‘That was three years ago. I heard nothing more from him until a letter arrived from somebody called Sheridan, who said he was Gabe’s friend. He told me Gabe had lost his life trying to save Alice when she was swept away by a flooded river.’
‘Where were the children then?’
‘Staying with the Sheridan family apparently … though I fail to see why. When he wrote, Sheridan told me about my brother and sister-in-law’s demise, and said they’d bring the children home with them, as arranged, along with Gabe’s goods and chattels. He said they were Iris’s godparents.’
‘But you’re not sure?’
‘I only have instinct to go by.’
‘And his sheep farm?’
‘I doubt if there was a sheep farm. Gabe could be very evasive. I think he had fallen into his old habits and had gambled nearly everything I’d given him for capital away.’
She placed a hand on his sleeve, quickly removing it when he looked down on it with some surprise, as if it had flown through the air like a bird and landed there to rest. He was a man who didn’t like being handled. ‘I’m sorry.’
He misinterpreted, and so had she. ‘It’s me who should apologize. I shouldn’t have told you all this.’
‘Why not?’
‘It isn’t really relevant, and I don’t usually tell strangers my business.’ The grin he gave was shamefaced.
‘We’re no longer strangers, and I won’t repeat it.’
‘Thank you. I thought you might have refused to take the job since you’d be buried in the country.’
‘You could have employed someone else.’
He hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘Nobody else would have been suitable. It’s a responsible position and you will be secluded in the country.’
‘I think I shall like that.’ While he was in this softer mood she took the opportunity to ask, ‘Why did you choose someone as young as me to offer the position to?’
‘I sought you out and chose you specifically.’
She waited for him to clarify his statement, then when an explanation wasn’t forthcoming she sighed and said, ‘Why?’
‘Your name came up at the board meeting of the workhouse. You had the qualifications I’d been looking for. The matron was less than enthusiastic, but she supplied you with a reference.’
‘Did she say what she thought was wrong with me?’
His eyes lit on her, slightly contemplative. ‘Yes, she did.’
After a few moments of silence, she sighed. ‘Is that all you’re going to say?’
‘For now.’
She thought about it for a few seconds. ‘I don’t think my disposition needs any improvement.’
‘Neither do I,’ he said, and laughed. ‘Actually, the matron was less than enthusiastic about losing you, since the children liked you. She said you resented taking charity when you were perfectly capable of earning your living, if someone would employ you in a decent household and pay you a living wage.’
‘She’s right. I’m not humble enough to feel grateful about it.’ That reminded her that she hadn’t thanked him. ‘You’ve been too generous, and I’ve been neglectful …’
‘There’s still time to delight me with a scintillating display of good manners.’
‘I thought I just had. Thank you for your generosity, Mr Fleet.’
‘It was more necessity than generosity. That gown you were wearing at the workhouse, if you could call it a gown, was appallingly unbecoming. The alternative was to gaze on something too dreary for words.’
She felt aggrieved by the ironic reminder and stalked off towards the door, knowing that if she’d been a dog her bristles would be pricked up as high as they’d reach. All the same, she had been rude, and it was worth thinking about. She came to a halt at the step and turned to face him.
‘I’m curious to know what my station is. If I wear rags and earn a little money writing letters, I’m a ragamuffin. If I get a job as a maid, then I’m nobody. If I’m dressed in fine clothes and look after children, I’m a nursemaid. If I teach them I’m a governess. If I do none, or all of these things and I have a husband, I’m respectable. If I remain unmarried, I’m a spinster to be pitied. If my husband happens to have a business, I’m respectable. If he has a title then I’m admired and sought after. Yet I’m the same woman. Who am I really?’
‘You are everything you mentioned with the addition of being what you feel. That’s what makes you what you are. Tell me, Clementine … do you like yourself?’
‘In the main, I do. I do make mistakes but I try not to dwell on them.’
‘You’re an intelligent young woman who is as self-possessed as I am. You can be whatever your circumstance expects from you.’
‘And you have a glib tongue when you want your own way. Shall we go in, Mr Fleet?’
‘Call me Zachariah when we’re alone together,’ he said, and laughed, his casual manner taking her breath away.
‘I’d rather keep the relationship more formal.’
‘Be as formal as you wish, Clementine, and I’ll be as formal as I consider the circumstance requires. We’ll be going inside shortly, after the housekeeper recovers from the shock of having visitors and gets her clean apron on. Right now she’ll be scurrying through from the servants’ quarters. I should have informed them of our arrival.’
‘A well-run house should be kept in readiness for visitors.’
‘Who told you that, Miss Prim and Proper?’
‘Mrs Crouch.’
Zachariah gave a delicate rise of an eyebrow in enquiry.
‘Mrs Crouch hired me as a maid, but followed after me with a dusting cloth and a bucket and mop, cleaning the same things I did. Her husband used to berate her for it in front of me. I felt sorry for her … she just needed to feel useful. It was quite a relief when I had to leave.’
‘Why did you have to leave?’
‘Her husband kept pinching me.’
‘Where?’
‘That’s immaterial.’
He laughed. ‘Did you reprimand him?’
‘No, but Mrs Crouch did … and with a poker. Then she threw me out. She said I’d enticed him.’
‘And had you?’
Clementine found it hard to prevent her hand from moving in defence of the spot where most of the injury had occurred, though she’d been covered in bruises in other places from his sly pinches. ‘I was only seventeen and nobody would try to entice a fat, ugly toad like him, except a female fat ugly toad.’
She ignored his smile, since the incident hadn’t been funny, and turned her head away to look up at the building with tears clouding her eyes. ‘It’s a nice house, if a little forlorn.’
‘Living here should suit you then. I’m sorry I laughed,’ he said gently. He allowed her to compose herself and then said, ‘The sensible course would have been to let the staff go, and then board the place up when Gabriel left. I rarely come here and it cost a fortune to buy back the furnishings that had ended up in the marketplace.’
‘Why didn’t you board it up?’
‘I’d never experienced the urge to become a family man and have the responsibility of an estate to uphold. I kept hoping Gabe would reform and come back. Now I’m saddled with it … and with two children who need to be raised into adulthood as part of the bargain. Luckily, the surrounding land is productive and the market gardens have been kept in order. Besides, anything that’s neglected usually deteriorates and loses value.’
‘The whole episode has become a challenge, hasn’t it?’
He looked surprised. ‘Yes … that would be the truth, though I hadn’t thought of it that way before.’
‘Do the sale of the produce and the rents cover the household costs?’
He smiled. ‘My goodness, you are a practical little creature. It makes a good profit since the estate manager is hard working and honest. That profit needs to be invested properly and built on. There’s something sad about a family home that has no family to occupy it.’
‘A family without a home is just as sad. This house has you … and now it will have Edward and Iris. They will grow up here and marry, and the family will renew itself.’
‘It will give me a goal to work towards. Odd really, to think I’ve done my best to maintain the family home, yet I was never welcomed here. I was born here, but the estate has never needed me before. I feel tolerated by it, though I should feel triumphant that I’m finally the master of it. I’m coming to the conclusion that a house owns you rather than the other way around.’
‘Do you feel no pride of ownership?’
‘The house will still be there after I’ve gone, and another will own it. I’ll be pleased to have you living here with the children. Perhaps playing the country gentleman in this house will suit me and I’ll grow to like it.’
She liked the thought of that too, and hoped it would come about.
A knock at the door preceded a woman’s appearance. She was neat, but out of breath and still tying up her apron strings.
Clementine exchanged a faint smile with him.
‘Oh, it’s you, Mr Fleet,’ the woman said. ‘I thought you had a key. We keep the door locked during the day in case someone wanders in. I’m sorry we’re so disorganized, but we weren’t expecting you. Have you news of Sir Gabriel and Lady Alice?’
‘Yes, I do, Mrs Ogden. Perhaps you’d assemble the staff in the hall. I have something to tell them and would like to get it over with as soon as possible.’
Her hand went to her chest, as if to keep her heart in position. ‘Surely not bad news.’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘The milk was curdled this morning, and there were two crows knocking at the kitchen door last week. That’s a sign of bad news coming, so I knew something was going to go wrong. It’s made me feel downright queer, it has, what with that other pair coming all la-di-dah and saying they were from the bailiffs and they owned the place on account of an IOU they waved under my nose. They were taking possession.
‘“Not till I hear it from Mr Fleet, or Sir Gabriel himself,” says I, and the baron is in some place called Australia where he’s doing missionary work … at least, that’s what the master said they’d be doing, though it sounded a bit queer to me at the time, him not being all that fond of praying.’
Zachariah strangled a laugh, but didn’t interrupt her to say that the bailiffs had been in the right, as Gabe had taken a sizeable loan out on the house before he’d left for Australia – one he’d omitted to tell Zachariah about.
‘Anyone could write one of those papers and put a signature to it. Likely I could do it mesself if I could write, and call myself mistress of the manor. Mr Bolton sent them packing too. “Go and see Mr Fleet in London,” he says, and we haven’t seen hide or hair of them since. Now here you are on the doorstep … the wonder of it.’
Zachariah took the opportunity to intervene when the woman paused for breath. ‘The staff, please, Mrs Ogden.’
‘Yes, sir … at once, sir.’ The woman bobbed a curtsey. ‘I’ll send the stable lad to fetch Mr Bolton. He’ll be doing the accounts, I reckon.’
Clementine gazed with interest around the hall. She’d been presumptuous about the state of the house. It was well maintained and had been kept clean and tidy.
The servants were soon lined up, faces grave or scared, some fearing that they might be forced to seek new positions, no doubt. The estate manager arrived, out of breath and with the stable lad in tow. The lad smelled strongly of dung. Both removed their hats and shuffled awkwardly, as though they were unused to being inside.
Mrs Ogden flapped her starched white apron indignantly at the stable hand. ‘Take those stinking boots off and throw them into the porch, Bob Munday. The very idea, tramping the stable muck all over my clean floor.’
Turning red he scrambled to obey, exposing hose that were ragged, and equally dirty. He shuffled back into line, trying to look inconspicuous.
There were cries of distress when they were told the bad news, and a couple of the women began to weep or dab at their eyes.
He introduced Clementine. ‘I expect you’re wondering who this young woman is. Her name is Miss Clementine Morris. The children – that is, Sir Edward, and Lady Iris – are on their way home. Miss Morris will care for them and in my absence you will defer to her in all matters regarding the children. I would ask you to treat her with respect. I will appoint one of you to be the nursery maid. If anyone wants the job, please step forward.’
Nobody did. There was a shuffle of feet and the servants looked at each other, then a robust-looking woman stepped forward, looking self-conscious. ‘May I speak, sir?’
‘Do you have questions?’
‘Begging your pardon, sir, and no offence meant, isn’t Miss Morris a little bit young for the position? I mean … would we have to take orders from her?’
‘Where the children are concerned, yes.’
Clementine looked at her employer. ‘May I?’
When he nodded, she smiled at the woman. ‘I wondered the same thing, but Mr Fleet has assured me that the late mother of the children was young, and because of that he felt they might respond better to a younger person. Also, I have some experience of teaching.
‘As for giving you orders, it’s obvious that you know your jobs and carry them out well, Mrs Ogden, so why should I want to interfere with that? It was suggested to me that someone called Polly might be interested in becoming the nursery maid, since she’s had experience.’