Murkmere (18 page)

“You always were impatient, Agnes Cotter.” He sighed, and spoke carefully, not looking me in the eye. “Now that you’ve decided
to return, I want you to meet me here at the gates as a regular thing, every fortnight, say,” he cleared his throat, “so I
can give you news of your aunt.”

I thought of the comfort of seeing someone from home. “It’s not too much trouble, Jethro?”

He had gone quite red with the wind. “Nay, but we must plan it carefully, or it will be dangerous for us both.”

We had to pull the bell rope for some time before a keeper came, but he recognized me and let me in without question.

I trotted the mare up the drive and around to the stables. The ostlers helped me dismount and led her away. Suddenly I was
cold to the bone, lost without the little chestnut, her
kindly eye and reassuring temperament. I didn’t see the stable hand, but I felt the others’ eyes on me, saw the quick glances
flicking one to another. They were wondering why the mistress’s companion should return without her cloak.
How much did they know about my escape?

The sweep’s empty cart was by the kitchen entrance, the ladders and brushes taken, no sign of the sweep or his boy. I slipped
around to the vegetable garden and entered the Hall that way, through the unlocked door, leaving the blustery open spaces
behind me.

I was relieved to see that Silas’s door was shut. I was hurrying along in the direction of the Master’s rooms, trying to think
of what to say to him, when Dog came toward me from the opposite direction. It was almost worth my return to see her mouth
agape.

“So you’ve come back.” Even her flat voice could not hide her surprise.

I forced my cold legs into a mocking curtsey. “As you see.”

Her face tightened. “The Master said he wanted to see you if you returned.”

“I wish to see him too,” I said airily, though my heart beat faster at her words.

“You’re in trouble, Miss Clever.”

I ignored that, and hurried on. The iron chair wasn’t outside the door; I could hear the wheels clanking inside as if the
Master were moving himself restlessly about the room. I waited, shivering in the draft, until there was silence. When I knocked
and his voice said, “Come in,” it seemed to me that
there was weariness and displeasure in it, and my legs felt almost too weak to carry me across the threshold.

His chair was by the window, with the bright white daylight falling on the hollows and lines of his face and on the branching
veins on the backs of his hands.

At least he is alone
, I thought. But it seemed a great distance I had to cross to reach him, and as I was halfway across the expanse of richly
woven rugs and polished oak, Silas came out from the anteroom where the nurse usually sat, carrying a physic bottle and a
little glass.

I glanced at him quickly with a sinking heart, but he looked unsurprised by my appearance. He was cold and composed, not a
wrinkle on his cream buckskin breeches, not a hair out of place on his shining, dark head.

In a low, reproving voice he said to me, “Where have you been all this time, Agnes Cotter? If with your aunt, you didn’t have
the Master’s permission to see her. You shouldn’t have left the stable hand without a word.”

I’d reached the Master’s chair. I spoke directly to him. “Oh, Sir, I beg your pardon. But I had to see my aunt. She’s been
taken prisoner by the Militia.”

The Master spoke abruptly, not even bothering to look at me. “You’ve returned to do your duties; that’s all that matters to
me.”

He was angry, and my heart sank further. Then he waved me away in a distracted way, and I saw his anger wasn’t with me but
something else. The blood was up in his face. His mouth was compressed, his hands clenched on the armrests
of the chair. He hadn’t taken in what I’d said. Then with a great effort he seemed to bring himself under control. His eyes
focused on me.

“Your aunt, you say? Silas told me this morning that the soldiers are in the village —“

His face flushed deeper as I interrupted him, but I couldn’t help myself. “Sir, the Militia has been in the village this week
past, since before the snow fell!”

His right hand slammed down on the armrest, and I drew back nervously. Silas swiftly measured out some liquid from the bottle
into the glass and held it out. “Here, Sir, drink this. You shouldn’t agitate yourself further. Shall I call for the nurse?”

The Master flung his hand out contemptuously, as if to knock the glass to the floor. Finding he couldn’t reach it, he glared
up, but Silas stood calmly, his outstretched hand steady.

“A week!” growled the Master. “It was bad enough to hear about the presence of the Militia in my village, but that it should
be the girl, not my steward, who tells me this now! When the soldiers first arrived, why did you keep it from me?”

Silas hardly blinked. “You’ve been ill, Sir,” he said reasonably, his voice like warm wax. “I didn’t want to trouble you.
The doctor thought it inadvisable. You were in no fit state to entertain any officers, after all. The sweeping’s been of little
consequence to the village. It remains loyal to the Protector and to you. No traitors have been found.”

The Master thrust his face up. “I must know such things
in the future, do you understand? They’re my concern as Master of Murkmere. There’s nothing wrong with my mind, whatever’s
wrong with my legs!”

Silas didn’t move back. “Of course, Sir.”

“If no traitors have been found, then why has Agnes’s aunt been taken?”

“She’s accused of stealing, Sir. Books bearing your crest have been found in her possession.” Silas’s dark eyes rested on
me. “If it turns out that Agnes’s mother stole them when she worked here, then by law the aunt must be punished since they’ve
been found under her roof.”

“I know what the law says,” said the Master irritably. He took the glass at last and drained the medicine in a gulp.

I looked at him despairingly. “Aunt Jennet isn’t a thief, Sir. She came by those books honestly.” I put emphasis on my words,
trying to convey by my expression that he must know the truth of it himself if only he would remember. “She told me they were
given to her many years back.”

Silas clicked his teeth. “A lie, Sir. The aunt has other books, of course, the approved textbooks. She was a schoolteacher.”

The Master held up a hand. He looked at me, not at Silas, and Silas fell silent.

For a long time the Master and I stared at each other, while his high color faded and his eyes that had been over-bright and
bloodshot grew thoughtful. “I remember your aunt,” he said, and a secret understanding sprang bright between us.

“Ride to the village at once,” he said to Silas. “Bring the
commanding officer to me. I want to speak to him about this woman.”

The composure fell from Silas’s face. He looked startled, even shocked. “But, Sir, she’s been concealing stolen goods!”

The Master sighed. “No, Silas, she has not. I myself gave her the books a long time ago. Such publications weren’t banned
in those days. At the time I believe I thought they’d be useful to her.”

Silas tried once more. “But she hid them, Sir, instead of giving them up when the ban was pronounced. That’s not fit behavior
from a Chief Elder.”

“Her village must decide that, not you,” said the Master gently. “It elected her. Go and fetch the officer now. And Silas
…”

Silas, who had turned on his heel, turned back. His eyes burned black. “Yes, Sir?”

“If by chance the soldiers have already left with her, I shall expect you to ride after them.”

A starchy rustling in the nurse’s room had warned me earlier of her presence, and after Silas had left she bustled out in
her white apron to collect the used glass and the bottle.

When she had gone back into the anteroom the Master said to me, “I’m immeasurably glad you’re back, Agnes. Leah needs you.
She’s not eaten since you left, and she’s hardly spoken.”

I was astonished.

I knelt by his chair and lowered my voice; the door of the
anteroom was still open, and I remembered the nurse was an eavesdropper. “Sir, I know the truth about Miss Leah. My aunt thought
it best to tell me.”

He looked startled; the color came and went in his cheeks. “The truth?” He glanced fiercely toward the anteroom. “Shut the
door.”

I did so, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the nurse; then I came back.

“Now,” he said, frowning. “What truth do you speak of?”

I whispered, “I know about Leah’s parents, Sir.”

He was silent a long time. I wondered if I’d done the right thing in speaking so directly, but then he said, “You must tell
no one.”

“I give you my word I won’t, Sir.”

At length he said in a low voice, “I trust you, Agnes. You’re like your mother in some ways. Don’t betray my trust, or hers.”

“I won’t, Sir,” I breathed.

“You needn’t keep silent for long, a few months, that is all. I mean to tell Leah myself on her sixteenth birthday, I’ve always
meant to do that. I’ll make a formal announcement at the ball. The Protector and the Ministration won’t be able to quibble
any longer about Leah inheriting the estate when they learn she’s my heir by blood.”

Suddenly he looked at me sharply. “Did your aunt tell you the reason for the secrecy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“It was mere gossip about my wife, nothing more. Dangerous
gossip.” He compressed his lips, and a muscle jumped in his cheek. He turned from me to look out at the scudding clouds beyond
the window; every now and then a gust of wind rattled the panes. “But now it’s all in the past.”

I spoke eagerly, without thinking. “Then, after her birthday, will you let Miss Leah walk freely, Sir?”

He turned back to me slowly. I thought he hadn’t understood.

“I mean, let her go beyond the gates, to the village?”

He had to speak quietly, for fear of the nurse overhearing, but still some spittle landed on his chest with the force of his
words. “Don’t interfere in what you don’t understand!”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I said, frightened. I went on kneeling there, but my time was over. He waved me away abruptly

“Go to Leah now. She’s in the watchtower.”

She didn’t hear my boots on the stairs. She wasn’t reading, but had pressed herself tight against the long window, with her
arms stretched out and her skirts flattened as if she wanted to melt through. The light pierced through her clothes and the
fragile bones of her wrists and fingers. If the glass hadn’t been there, she would have fallen out into the sky

“What are you doing, Miss?”

She whirled around at my cry, and color came into her pale face. She left the window and darted toward me as if she were going
to hug me, then stopped herself. Her arms fell to her sides.

“I didn’t expect you’d come back,” she said in a little struggling voice, most unlike herself. “I thought you’d leave while
you had the chance.”

I shook my head and tried to smile.

“Oh, Aggie, it’s been so dull without you! I thought you wouldn’t return — that I was alone again.”

As I stared at her, she ducked her head abruptly so that her fine fair hair covered her face. The next moment she had flown
over to the wing chair and tucked her long legs under her. She’d recovered herself, I could see that. The imperious manner
was back. And then I realized that beneath it she was excited, and bursting to impart some gossip.

“I’ve some news, though you probably know it already.”

“I know about my aunt,” I said softly. “I’ve seen her.”

“Your aunt?” she said impatiently. “I know nothing of your aunt. The soldiers are in the village! Silas told my guardian so
this morning. Did you see them?”

“I did, Miss,” I said. “I believe Silas wouldn’t have told the Master at all if I hadn’t been sent to the village for Gammy.
He feared I’d tell him myself on my return.”

“My guardian’s sorely vexed. The village is under his authority, and they require his permission to sweep it. Silas must have
known the Militia was coming, yet he kept the information to himself. He receives messengers from the Lord Protector, I’ve
seen them.” She looked at me, suddenly solemn. “When the ball takes place no visitor must guess that Mr. Tunstall is no longer
in control of the estate. Everything
must run smoothly and look well cared for. Will you help me when the time comes, Aggie?”

“Of course, Miss,” I said, and now it didn’t seem strange that she should ask me. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

I thought of the gaggle of careless, unruly servants and the ramshackle rooms of Murkmere Hall. But Leah sat straight-backed
in her chair as if it were a throne, a determined jut to her chin and a regal gleam in her eye. In her imagination she was
already giving orders to a willing, well-trained staff, and the rooms gleamed and glittered under their attention.

“You’ll have to conduct yourself as a grand lady at the ball, Miss,” I said, eyeing her rumpled dress and dirty boots. “What
you wear must impress the guests.”

“Oh, I will! The Master’s already ordered a bale of the finest silk gauze to be made up into a gown for me.” She leaped to
her feet and began to dance round the room, holding her creased skirts out. “I’m to be clad in silver, he says.”

“Silver?” I said faintly, then pulled myself together. “What about the feathers you’d thought you’d wear?”

“That mess we found yesterday? I threw it out. It was still soaking wet when I woke this morning, and no good for anything.”

At suppertime the Master told me Aunt Jennet had been released on his request. Two weeks later, as we had arranged, I met
Jethro at the gates as twilight was falling, and he
confirmed it. We whispered to each other through the rusty bars.

“How is she, Jethro? Is she stronger?”

“Tough as bark, your aunt. She scrubbed your cottage flags thin as soon as the soldiers left, and now she’s back organizing
the Elders. They kept her as their Chief, of course.”

A look passed between us in the damp dusk. I was wondering to what rebellion she stirred those old men and women. Jethro shook
his head. “You can’t stop her.”