Shadow on the Highway (11 page)

‘They’ll not stop us,’ Ralph said. ‘Right is on our side. How far down do they own this land?’ He grabbed up a handful of wet earth, showed it round in front of us. ‘To here? Or further down to where our spades reach? Does a mole recognise these boundaries? No, he can go where he wishes on God’s land. Are we less than a mole? We who are made in God’s likeness? No. We will persevere.’

Ralph looked round expectantly, expecting a cheer, but the men’s faces were doubtful.

‘Come on, men!’

I felt almost sorry for him.

‘We women will be with you Ralph, in spirit, if not in body.’ Kate’s face shone. ‘And I for one I would stand by your side, if you’d only let me.’

The women clapped and whooped and then the men looked a little more convinced. Ralph’s next shout, ‘Never say die!’ was greeted with the cheer he wanted. I saw him look to Kate and beam.

I had to grip tight to my apron and press my
lips together to remind myself that she wasn’t Kate, the zealous digger, but Lady Katherine, wife to Sir Thomas Fanshawe. Her servant, Mistress Binch, had incited Soper and his men to destroy what Ralph had built. But there was no doubt Kate meant her words, and it brought a cold chill to my heart.

How could my mistress be so foolish? Love between her and Ralph would be a disaster.

12.
Letters and Lies

That night I sent up a fervent prayer that the Fanshawe men would return soon, and that my mistress would behave as a proper wife should and never see Ralph again. Lord help us, if word got out that my mistress had been on the common. Sir Simon would beat her senseless.

Our bruises were hard to explain away. Lady Katherine told Grice she had grazed her hands falling off her horse and that it had kicked me when I went to catch it. I could see he did not quite believe her, but could find no other explanation for the cuts on her hands or my bruised cheek. We were both forbidden to leave the house, or to ride unless he accompanied us, and his servants were to prevent us if we tried to go out. In one way it was a relief, to know my mistress was safe indoors.

Grice busied himself close to Lady Katherine in the main chamber, poring over property deeds and an inventory of goods. Every so often he would ask my mistress rudely what had been spent on vinegar for the polishing, or how much bran the horses ate. His presence meant Lady Katherine and I could have no conversation, and the day was airless. The room grew stuffy and still, except for my mistress’s quill moving over the parchment as she copied tracts from the Bible or stitched her sampler.

I saw a thought pass over her face, and she paused with her needle poised over the embroidery. ‘Can Ralph read?’ she mouthed.

I nodded, already wary.

She smiled thoughtfully, and got out a clean parchment.

Later, Mr Grice fetched maps of the county, and spent a long time tracing the boundaries with his finger and showing Pitman and Rigg routes to Worcester. I feared he was planning the movement of troops and horses for the King’s Army, and I immediately regretted the promise I made my father to let him know of any Royalist plans. When I had finished dusting the furniture and rubbing the windows I was dismissed.

When I went up again to repair the fire. Mr Grice and his men had their backs to us and Lady Katherine thrust a neatly-folded letter into my hand.

‘For Ralph,’ she mouthed.

I was reluctant, and tried to push it away, but Mr Grice turned round, sensing some disturbance and I stuffed the parchment hastily into my skirt waistband.

As I cleaned the rest of the upstairs windows, the letter was like a brand burning my stomach. I toyed with the idea of breaking the seal to see what was in it. But it was one thing giving Mr Grice letters from my mistress to Sir Simon or Thomas Fanshawe, but another handing over something meant for my brother. I’d never do that. I slammed the window shut and picked up my pail.

I was beginning to think it might be a good idea after all if my father could persuade Ralph to join the New Model Army. Then this business with my mistress would stop. But that daft Susan had told Ralph how brave Kate was – that she’d made us all stand up for our rights against the mob of village women. So far from putting Ralph off, the fighting had bonded him to Kate even more. And Kate was just as moon-faced over Ralph.

*

At ten bells Mr Grice came and summoned me to his chamber as usual.

‘Today’s correspondence from Lady Katherine,’ he said, holding out his hand.

I shook my head and acted stupid on purpose because I did not want to tell him about Ralph or the letter.

‘She was writing a letter earlier, I saw her.’ Mr Grice gestured to his servant and Pitman took hold of me by the neck with one hand, pinioning me to the wall. I could scarcely breathe, Pitman’s fleshy hand pressed against my neck, my pulse throbbed against his thumb. Mr Grice moved in, so his face was so close I could see the sweat on his nose. Instinctively I tried to flinch away, but his eyes bored into mine, as if he knew I was withholding something.

‘If she receives any more letters from her husband I want to know. And hers to him are to come straight to me. Do you understand?’

I choked out, ‘She gave me no letters.’ Pitman tightened his hold so I gasped and struggled.

‘None?’

I made a noise, and Pitman pushed me away, with enough force that I fell to my knees on the hard boards. Mr Grice seemed satisfied, but before I could get up he cuffed me a stinging blow on the ear with his boot.

I vowed to keep well out of his way, so the next day I busied myself in the kitchen helping Mistress Binch prepare the meals. In the afternoon I saw his horse was being saddled in the yard. Mistress Binch and I peered out from the kitchen window.

‘They’re going to inspect the corn mill, so I’m told.’

I breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Mind, I hope his servants are well-armed,’ Mistress Binch said. ‘No-one’s safe on the highway. We’ve had a spate of hold-ups. They’re calling him the Silent Highwayman in the village, because he never speaks, just points his pistol at you. The butcher was telling me he’s held up the Sheriff, and poor Lady Ann twice, not four miles from here on the London Road. About a month ago, it was.’

‘What happened?’

‘He just loomed out of the dark, made her hand over her jewellery and coin with a gun pointing at her chest. He wears a hat and a cloth over his face, dark gloves, brown boots. But he never speaks. They say he watches from the woods. Just the thought of those cold eyes watching makes me shiver.’

Brown boots. Just like the dirty ones I’d found in Thomas’s closet. Had Lady Katherine befriended an outlaw?

The possibility flared in my imagination, then I dismissed it. I was being fanciful. ‘Do you know what he stole from the Lady Ann?’

‘Her rings, a bag of florins. He even made her take off a brooch she was wearing.’

‘What kind of brooch?’

‘Give over with your questions.’ She flipped a cloth at me and it stung my cheek. ‘How should I know?’

Amethyst
, said a little voice in my head,
shaped
like
a
thistle
.

Mistress Binch prodded me with a floury finger to get my attention. ‘If you want to ask questions go and find out when Mr Grice is riding out. There’ll be nobody to cook for if he’s not in for supper,’ she said. ‘Take up these fresh scones, see if you can find out what’s going on.’

Mr Grice told me he would be out all day visiting a Captain Wentworth. On the way back I took out the letter from Kate to Ralph. Or Lady Katherine to Ralph. I wasn’t sure any more who she was. I turned it over in my hands, examined it with a troubled frown. Since Mistress Binch had told me about the Silent Highwayman, an awful thought was brewing, but I pushed it away. It surely couldn’t be my mistress. She was an enigma, a puzzle I couldn’t make out, there was no doubt about that. But highway robbery? No, she was too much the lady. I remembered then how she’d lugged stones on the common. If she could be Kate, she could be…

I shook my head to rid myself of the thought. Why couldn’t she just be satisfied with being a fine lady in this fine house? She had more than most people ever dreamed of; wealth, land, a position.

But deep down I knew the answer. There was no love in this house. And if I was her, I wouldn’t want her family.

*

‘I told you that they’d close up the house,’ Mistress Binch said, the next day. ‘I knew it. We’ll be next out of that door, you mark my words. Quick now, you’re to go upstairs, they’re waiting.’

The door of an upstairs bedchamber stood open. Grice was there directing his men, Rigg and Pitman, who were carrying out a delicate curved-fronted table. When I glanced through the window I could see a trundle cart, already stacked with the heavy items of furniture, including bedposts and carved linen chests.

The floor was littered with smaller items. Several wicker trunks and leather cases lay open on the dusty floorboards. Mr Grice pointed at these and at the rest of the things on the floor. It was obvious he wanted me to pack them up, so I began, kneeling in the dust to fold up the bed drapes.

Grice stooped awkwardly, leaning on his stick, so he could pocket a few silver items from the heaps on the floor and put others to one side. I was just pressing the drapes into a chest when I looked up to see Lady Katherine’s skirts swish in through the door.

‘What’s this?’ she said.

‘I am clearing this room,’ Grice said.
‘We no longer use it, so the contents will be sold.’

‘But this was my mother’s room.’ Lady Katherine looked aghast at the empty chamber.

‘Your mother is dead.’

‘But –’

‘She no longer needs it. It has been left to rot for five years, when someone could have use of it. All the goods deserve a second life. Your step-father’s orders.’

‘But what about her clothes, her jewellery? Where are they? She would have wanted me to have those, I’m sure.’ Lady Katherine bent to look through one of the chests.

‘Stop,’ Mr Grice said, pointing at her with his stick. ‘You are too late. They have already been sold.’

‘You sold them?’ A hand flew to her mouth, her eyes welled with tears.

‘Sir Simon insisted.’

Rigg brushed past and picked up another trunk. ‘Wait,’ my mistress called. Rigg ignored her so she had to step to the
side. She appealed to Mr Grice. ‘I know nothing of all this. Surely my husband would have written to tell me. Where are these orders you say you have? Show me the letter.’

‘I have not kept it. Why would I? I’m not some woman that hoards all her letters as keepsakes.’

His rudeness made my mistress gasp. ‘Now just a minute –’

‘Write to Sir Simon yourself. Ask him if you don’t believe me.’

My mistress backed away, her tears replaced by determination. ‘I will. Believe me, I will. And I will make sure every last item of my mother’s is returned to its proper place.’

‘If you can find them.’ Grice smiled, his lips pressed together. ‘They go to auction tomorrow –’ He caught sight of me, my eyes fixed intently on his face. He gestured angrily with his stick, pointed at the door. ‘You, get out.’

I could not pretend not to understand so I dropped the nightdress I was folding and scurried away.

*

That night Mr Grice positioned Pitman like a guard outside Lady Katherine’s door. He seemed to need little sleep, for when my mistress sent me to get a cup of milk in the middle of the night, he was already on his feet when I pulled open the door.

‘Return to bed,’ he said, looming over me, ‘Mr Grice’s orders. Lady Katherine can have her milk in the morning.’

I placed the candle back on the side table, and shook my head at my mistress.

‘Pitman won’t let me go down.’

‘So I am to be a prisoner now in my own home,’ she said. ‘Well they can’t hold me, no matter how they try.’

‘It’s not right,’ I said
. ‘You are mistress here, not him.’

I could have said more but I held my tongue. Mr Grice was up to something. I was sure he had been lying when he said that selling everything was Sir Simon’s idea. His words did not match his face, and I knew well enough there had been no letters for Mr Grice from Sir Simon. Only letters for Lady Katherine in Thomas’s handwriting. And those, I was forbidden to deliver.

But if I told her now I’d stopped her letters, she’d be furious and so would Mr Grice, and I’d be thrown out of the Manor quicker than lightning. So I kept my mouth firmly shut.

*

The next day Grice had his servants wrap up the remaining paintings in the hall. Draughts seemed to blow through the corridors, the house grew forlorn and empty.

At least it meant I could be what I was supposed to be – a servant. Lady Katherine was crotchety and short with me, so I was glad to be with Mistress Binch, digging the vegetables, jugging the hare, milking, scrubbing out pots. The kitchen at least was a place of normality and Mistress Binch seemed glad of my help. She stopped shouting at me and her shoulders relaxed.

At mid-day Grice complimented Mistress Binch on the hare stew and she was less surly for the rest of the afternoon.

‘Now that’s a proper gentleman,’ she said. ‘One that knows good food when he sees it.’

I grunted. Some gentleman. I had broached him about my wages only that morning and he had dismissed me with a slap and said I’d have them by the end of the week. But his promises were like chaff. He’d promised last week and the week before, and still my pockets were empty.

No sooner were the plates cleared than Mistress Binch got me busy again pressing cheese and making pastry for a tart for the evening meal. She was happy only when she was cooking, I realised. As long as we were making something edible, and as long as I kept chopping and peeling, things would go smoothly.

‘You love cooking, don’t you?’ I said.

She looked at me as though I was foolish.

‘Of course. I’m a cook, aren’t I?’ She slapped the pastry down on the table and pummelled it flat. ‘But I’m starved of good ingredients here. I need a bigger house to cook for. I want to work for Lady Ann. She keeps a good table and there are thirteen servants at her house. I’m wasted here; at least Grice knows good fare when he sees it. Lady Katherine couldn’t care whether what I serve her is a boiled egg or a pheasant banquet.’

*