The Tulip Girl (18 page)

‘I am perfectly serious. It’s Maddie’s idea. Why shouldn’t she take the credit?’

Frank smiled at her. ‘Well, you could come with me, lass. Your enthusiasm is certainly infectious and if Sir Peter hears for himself all your ideas, then perhaps it would be useful for you
to be there.’

Maddie laid down her fork. Suddenly, she could eat no more for the nervous fluttering in her stomach as Frank added, ‘We’ll go as soon as the weather improves.’ She was being
asked to face the man who for so long had ruled every aspect of her life. What she ate, how she was dressed, what school she attended. And yet she had never even spoken to him. Not one word. He
probably didn’t even know she existed. At least, not by name. To Sir Peter Mayfield she was just another orphan in the Home his family had benevolently set up for orphaned or unwanted
children.

But by the time they were able to visit Mayfield Hall, when Maddie had washed her hair and put on the new red dress that the family had bought her for Christmas, she no longer felt nervous. She
felt ready to do battle.

‘There you are,’ Michael greeted her, his brown eyes appraising her approvingly. ‘You look like a flower yourself. Sir Peter won’t be able to resist you. My little tulip
girl.’

Maddie giggled and felt her cheeks glow.

‘I wish I was coming with you.’ He stepped a little closer and gently touched her chin with the tip of his finger.

‘Why – why don’t you?’

He shrugged. ‘Oh, I think it’s best if just Dad and you go. We don’t want it to look like a mass attack.’

‘You ready, lass?’ Frank’s voice came from the kitchen and Maddie said a swift goodbye to Michael and hurried outside.

Frank, too, was dressed in his best suit and it was he who was looking very nervous now. As she climbed into the car beside him, he said, ‘I’m glad you’re coming with me lass.
I don’t mind admitting, I get all tongue tied.’

‘Do you mean you want me to do some of the talking?’

‘Well, only if I get sort of lost or – or dry up, like. You know what I mean?’

Maddie nodded and sat back in her seat to run over in her mind all the arguments to support what they wanted to do.

They did not speak again until they drew up outside the front door of Mayfield Hall.

‘Should we go round the back, do you think? To the servants’ entrance?’ Frank murmured.

‘Have you never been here before to see Sir Peter about anything?’

Frank pushed back his cap and scratched his head. ‘No. I’ve never had the cause. Sir Peter’s been to the farm now and again. On horseback. Even though he’s got two cars,
he still likes to ride around his estate on horseback, you know. But no, I’ve never been here. At least, not like this. To seek an interview with him.’

‘Well,’ Maddie said firmly, with a great deal more confidence than she was feeling inside at this moment. ‘You’re a respected tenant. A gentleman farmer. I think you have
a right to enter by the front door, don’t you?’

Frank leant his arms on the steering wheel and looked up at the imposing mansion towering above them. ‘I suppose so.’

‘You sound doubtful.’

‘Well, a few weeks back, I’d have agreed with you. But I’m a farmer no longer. Not now.’

‘Mr Frank,’ Maddie touched his arm, ‘you’ve had some rotten bad luck. But it’s not your fault. No one can say it’s your fault. Not even Sir Peter.’

Frank’s expression was still doubtful. ‘I keep going over and over it in my mind. How did it happen? Was it my fault because I bought those beast of Weatherall’s? Or was it
birds that brought the disease because two of our own started at the same time, didn’t they? I lay awake at night going over it all. ’

‘And do you have any answers?’

Frank shook his head and his voice was hoarse with sadness as he whispered, ‘No. No, lass, I don’t.’

Her hand still on his arm, she said gently, ‘Then why not put it all behind you and look to the future? It’s happened and we can’t alter it. But we can do something
different.’

Frank turned his head to look at her and, with eyes that were so like her beloved Michael’s, he smiled down at her. ‘You know, lass, I’ve heard the saying “an old head on
young shoulders” but I’ve never before met anyone it fitted. Not until you came into our lives. For a lass of fourteen, you’ve a very sensible head – and a pretty one
– on those slim shoulders of yours.’

Now was not the time to remind him that she had just passed the date of her official birthday. She was fifteen now. Instead, Maddie squeezed his arm, taking his words as the compliment she was
sure he meant them to be. ‘Come on. Let’s go and face the lion in his den.’

They were both standing facing Sir Peter across the wide desk in his book-lined study, like two naughty school children summoned to the headmaster’s office.

Maddie had never before been this close to Sir Peter. Of course, she would have recognized the tall figure dressed in check tweeds, the loud, bluff voice, so used to issuing orders and so used
to being obeyed. But never before had she been close enough to see that his round face had a florid complexion with tiny red veins like a railway network on his skin; that his over-large nose was
almost purple and that his moustache was now almost white. His hair, too, was white and so thin and sparse that the pink of his scalp shone through it. But his blue eyes were surprisingly bright
and very sharp and knowing.

‘Well, Brackenbury,’ he barked. ‘What is it?’

Frank twisted his cap round and round between nervous fingers as he began, haltingly, to explain. ‘Well, sir, you know how I’m placed now. My livelihood’s all but
gone.’

Maddie could see the strain on Frank’s face as if he carried the whole burden of guilt for the disease that had stricken his cattle.

‘I have to admit, sir, that I was about ready to give up.’

Sir Peter said nothing. He leant back in the chair, his penetrating gaze never leaving his tenant’s face.

‘But then,’ Frank went on, ‘this lass here had what we think is a very good idea. But, out of courtesy, I thought it only right to come and – well – discuss it with
you first.’

Still Sir Peter did not speak, but his gaze came to rest now on Maddie as Frank looked to her and said, ‘You carry on, lass. You tell Sir Peter about your idea.’

The landowner’s scrutiny was disconcerting. He had been such a powerful force in her life, albeit from a distance. His name had always been the ultimate threat held over all the girls at
the orphanage that carried his family’s name and still enjoyed his patronage. He was staring at her now and there was a strange look on his face that had nothing to do with the reason for
their visit to his home. It was as if he half recognized her and was searching his memory to place where he had seen her before.

Maddie almost laughed aloud. Oh he’d seen her before all right, but only dressed in the clothes of his own orphanage waifs. Now, with her hair washed and cut to a soft, crowning glory, her
young body firm and yet showing the curves of womanhood, she could understand the man not recognizing her.

Maddie took a deep breath. ‘Mr Frank isn’t sure whether the restrictions extend to crops, you know, edible crops, as well as cattle when the land’s been infected, so I said,
why don’t we plant tulips? Even if the disease is still on the land, it surely won’t harm tulips.’

Sir Peter sat forward suddenly and leant his arms on the desk, staring at her. ‘Flowers? You want to plant flowers on my land?’

Maddie’s heart sank at his words and she was sure that, beside her, Frank’s did too. There was the same scathing note in his voice that had been in Harriet’s when Maddie had
first made the suggestion.

‘What else can we do?’

Sir Peter spread his hands, palms upwards, as if the matter were simple. ‘Wait until you can restock.’

Frank and Maddie exchanged a glance and then both faced the landlord again. The girl, young though she was, guessed that Frank found the admission he was being forced to make, degrading.
‘I haven’t enough put by, sir, to buy ten or fifteen beast all at once. And despite waiting the regulation period, if the disease is still on the land, the same thing could happen
again.’

‘Ah,’ Sir Peter said shortly and leant back in his chair again. ‘I see.’ There was a silence in the room before he said, ‘If I waive a year’s rent, would that
help?’

‘Well, it would, sir, but . . .’ Frank said no more but the meaning in the unspoken words was plain enough.

‘Mm, well, I’ll give the matter some thought, Brackenbury,’ was all Sir Peter would promise before they were shown out and found themselves walking down the front steps to the
car.

‘Oh well, it was a good try, lass, but it’s obvious he’s not keen.’

‘But he did say he’d think about it.’

Frank cast her a wry glance. ‘I wouldn’t like my life to depend on him saying “yes”, though.’

Maddie pulled a comical face in return. ‘Neither would I,’ she was forced to admit.

‘I can’t believe it. You and your father before you have been farming his land for years and never a bad word between you and the landlord. You told me so yourself.
So why can’t he trust your judgement now?’

Maddie gaped at the housekeeper in astonishment. Harriet was incensed, but it was Frank who voiced Maddie’s own thoughts. ‘I thought you didn’t agree with us anyway. I’m
surprised you don’t say “I told you so”.’

‘That’s as maybe,’ Harriet bridled. ‘What I say in this house is one thing, but when it comes to an outsider disagreeing, that’s different.’

Frank smiled gently. Harriet Trowbridge, it seemed, regarded the household as her own family. She would strongly disagree with them in private, but was prepared to present a united front to the
world at large.

‘He’s no right to stop you if it’s what you really want, Mr Frank,’ she railed. ‘If you really think it’s a good idea . . .’ Maddie felt the
woman’s resentful glance rest on her for a brief moment before she added, ‘and it’s what you want us to do, Mr Frank. Then that’s what we’ll do.’

‘Oh Harriet,’ Frank ran his hand through his hair. ‘I don’t know now. I really don’t. If I go against him, he could give me notice.’

Harriet’s mouth dropped open. ‘He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t dare.’

‘There’s no “dare” about it. He owns the land, when all’s done and said.’

In a voice so low that Frank did not hear, although Maddie’s sharp ears caught her words, Harriet said, ‘We’ll see about that.’

As the woman turned away and went back to her kitchen, Maddie saw a strange gleam in Harriet’s eyes.

Now what, she thought as she gazed after her, was the housekeeper up to?

The following morning Maddie was even more astonished to see Harriet putting on her black coat and felt hat.

She rarely left the farm, Maddie knew. Either Michael or Nick did any shopping they needed. She never went into the nearby town nor even down to the village shop. She didn’t even seem to
have any family or friends who came to the farm to visit her. Her whole life was centred around Few Farm and Frank Brackenbury. Apart from her visit to the orphanage and that one trip into
Wellandon at Frank’s insistence, Maddie could not now recall ever seeing the housekeeper leave the farm.

So Maddie’s mouth almost dropped open when the housekeeper came to stand close by her. ‘Now, girl, just you keep quiet about me going out,’ she said in a low voice, glancing
furtively about her to be sure no one was either watching or listening. ‘Not a word to Mr Frank, nor to Michael. You hear me?’

Maddie shrugged. ‘Nothing to do with me, Mrs Trowbridge. Is there anything you want me to do for you while you’re out?’ And she added sadly, ‘As I’ve no dairy work
now.’

‘You can start the bedrooms for me. But leave Mr Frank’s. I’ll see to that.’

Maddie hid her smile. Thursday was the day of the week when Harriet always ‘did’ the bedrooms. Not even an obviously necessary trip out could be allowed to interfere with her
routine.

‘Right you are, Mrs Trowbridge. Off you go and have a nice time.’

‘Huh. I don’t know about that,’ was the housekeeper’s sour reply as she opened the back door. Maddie, following her into the wash-house to collect cleaning materials,
watched as Harriet paused on the threshold, glanced quickly around the yard making sure no one was about and then hurried towards the gate.

‘What
is
she up to?’ Maddie murmured.

The mystery was solved three days later when, on the Sunday morning, Theo Mayfield rode into the yard of Few Farm on horseback.

Dismounting, he tethered the horse to the gatepost. Maddie was in her bedroom changing her dress ready for Church in half an hour and saw him from the window as he walked towards the back
door.

She hurried down the stairs calling, ‘Mr Frank, Mr Frank. There’s a gentleman coming across the yard. I think it’s Mr Theo.’

‘What?’ Startled Frank leapt up from his chair by the fire, throwing down the Sunday newspaper he was reading and then hastily stopping to pick it up and fold it neatly. ‘Go
and let him in, Maddie. Bring him in here.’ He stood before the mirror over the range to straighten his tie and smooth down his hair that had already been combed into neatness ready for
Church. But the action betrayed his nervousness.

‘Good day. Miss March, isn’t it?’ Theo Mayfield actually touched his riding hat with the end of his whip in a courteous gesture. ‘Is Mr Brackenbury at home?’

‘Yes, sir. Please come in.’ She turned and led the way through the kitchen and into the living room where Frank was waiting anxiously.

‘Won’t you sit down, sir? Can I offer you a drink or . . .?’

‘No, no, Mr Brackenbury.’

Maddie was swift to notice that, unlike Sir Peter, Theo gave Frank the courtesy title of ‘Mister’. ‘I can see that you and your household are about to leave for Church.
I’ll not delay you, but I felt I should ride across to tell you that my father is ill.’

Frank cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Nothing serious, I hope.’

Theo’s face was sober. ‘I’m afraid it may be. He suffered a stroke the night before last and the next few days are critical.’