Daughters of England Page 20

  The walls were paneled from floor to ceiling with narrow oak planks carved in the pattern known as linenfold. I noticed that it was broken away in one or two places. The fireplace was high and open and there was a coat of arms as an overmantel.

  It was beautiful, but in need of attention; even I could see that. I thought of the brother in the fields as a workman, and Christobel who had had to go into the world as a governess.

  There was no doubt about it: the Carews were poor and this once-fine mansion must be a drain on their income.

  “Miss Chris!” A woman had come into the hall. She was middle-aged and plump, with rather wispy hair straying from under the cap she wore.

  With a cry of “Carrie!” Christobel threw herself into her arms. They stood holding each other for some minutes. They were laughing and nearly crying too. I stood still, watching them, sharing in the joy of their reunion.

  “So, you are here at last. My little one, you’re so thin! What have they been doing, starving you?”

  “Well, you make up for me…” said Christobel.

  “You get away with you.”

  “And, Carrie, how is it? Is all well?”

  I detected a note of anxiety in her voice. She had certainly told me very little. That and last night’s outburst seemed to have shown me a different side to her part of it all.

  She remembered me then and said: “This is Mistress Kate Standish, my pupil.”

  “You with a pupil!” It was as though Carrie was so delighted to have Christobel with her that she could not spare a thought for anyone else, but she reluctantly turned from Christobel to me. “Oh yes indeed, Mistress Kate.” Her dark brown eyes, still misty from greeting Christobel, swept over me rather pityingly, I imagined. I wondered whether she knew of my mother’s death and the truth of my unusual parentage.

  “So, you’ve come to stay at the Dower House and Mistress Chris has been teaching you…and is going on with it. Well, I never thought to see the day. Oh, here’s May.”

  May, I discovered, was Carrie’s niece who had come to help her and, as Carrie was very short of help in the house, her presence was necessary.

  They talked for a while, not paying very much attention to me, which was natural enough. They were so pleased to have Christobel back.

  Kirkwell came into the hall.

  “Still down here?” he said. “I thought you’d be with our father.”

  “I had to see Carrie, and then May came…”

  “Of course, of course. I’ll go and tell him you are here. I think he is with Father Greville.”

  “With whom?” asked Christobel.

  “Father Greville’s a priest. He is visiting this part of the world. He’s been staying in this house for some days now. He is moving round the district…visiting the faithful.”

  “So Father is still…”

  “As fervent as ever,” said Kirkwell. “I’ll go up now and come back for you if it is all right.”

  He left us, and Christobel said to me: “Our father is very much involved with his religion. He always leaned towards it. We were constantly having priests to stay. In fact, he was far more interested in his faith than in running the estate. It was a passion with him.”

  I thought what an exciting morning it was. I was learning so much that I did not know before. Christobel was like a new person to me.

  She was a very unusual woman and seemed to pass through stages. She had come to me as a governess and I had known that, like so many of her profession, she had been brought up to be a lady and, finding herself in straitened circumstances, had had to join one of the only professions open to her. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about that; until she had been exposed as the spy of Lord Rosslyn. Now I was being introduced to a background of which I had been almost entirely ignorant, though I had known that it was an impoverished one, as it was because of financial shortcomings that she had been sent our way.

  It was most intriguing.

  Kirkwell returned. He said: “Father Greville has gone to his room and our father awaits you.”

  “Then we’ll come,” said Christobel.

  I followed them up the stairs. We went through a small chapel. I noticed the lighted candles on the altar and the big statue of the Virgin Mary. There was a small room leading from the chapel and we went into this.

  A man turned to us as we entered. He seemed old but I think he would have been no more than fifty. He was wearing a dark robe, rather like that of a priest. He gave the impression of not being a part of this world—rather as a monk might have been.

  His eyes were on Christobel.

  “My dear child,” he said, as she went to him and put her arms about him, “you have come. I knew God would answer my prayers.”

  “Yes, I am here, Father, and I shall be here for a while, I think.”

  “Bless you, my child.”

  “I must introduce you to Mistress Kate Standish, my pupil. Kate, this is my father, Sir Harold Carew.”

  He took my hands in his and held them firmly while he looked into my face. I immediately began to think of all the little sins I might have committed, for I felt that, being so good, he would be aware of them…even those which I might not know were sins. Good people were always so very much more aware of sins than people like myself.

  “May God bless you, my child,” he said.

  “You are well, Father?” asked Christobel.

  “God has been good to me.”

  Kirkwell came in. I was very pleased to see him. I was completely at a loss to know what was expected of me.

  Christobel seemed a little uneasy too.

  But Kirkwell said: “Is it not fortunate that we have Christobel back with us, Father?”

  “God has seen fit to give her back to us.”

  “Well, we never really lost her,” said Kirkwell.

  “Indeed, God has been good.”

  It seemed that God must be everpresent for Christobel’s father.

  I was quite unprepared for this. I wished Christobel had told me what to expect. I wondered how I should address him if the need arose. I understood he was Sir Harold.

  Kirkwell seemed to be aware of my uncertainty. He said: “Is this your first visit to this part of the country, Mistress Kate?”

  I told him it was.

  “Christobel must take you round the neighborhood. It is a very beautiful part of the country—but perhaps we think so because it is our native heath. However, Christobel should certainly show you some of our beauty spots. The Quantock Hills are a delight, and she should take you to Bridgwater and Taunton and most certainly to Sedgemoor. On Sedgemoor you can see for miles—the Quantocks to the south and the Bristol Channel to the north, and the Mendip Hills. There will be plenty for you to see.”

  “It sounds delightful,” I replied. “I shall look forward to it.”

  “I have plans for her,” said Christobel.

  Sir Harold, who did not appear to have been listening to this conversation, said suddenly: “You must visit the church in Crantock close by here. It is a beautiful old place. It is sad that it is no longer used for the celebration of the true faith.”

  Kirkwell said that he had work to do and should get back to it. He had high hopes of restoring the barns and they were going to be very useful when they could be put to the use for which they were intended.

  We left with him.

  Christobel said to Kirkwell: “He has not changed.”

  “No, he becomes more and more immersed in his religion and, of course, is becoming obsessed by one thing: the return to Rome. I do not like it. I am a little afraid. Father Greville has spent a great deal of time about here.” He shrugged his shoulders. “If only our father would have other interests. The estate, for instance.”

  Christobel sighed. By this time we had descended to the hall and there laid out was a flask of wine with some oat cakes.

  Carrie appeared.

  “I thought you would like something to refresh yourselves with. We do not want t
he young lady to think we do not know how to look after our guests.”

  She smiled at me. I liked her. I had been a little depressed by the old man and his constant references to God.

  The wine was fruity and the cakes were good. I liked Kirkwell, and I thought how different he and Christobel were from their father.

  I suppose it was because they regarded me as a child that they talked freely before me.

  “Is it improving?” asked Christobel earnestly.

  Kirkwell smiled. “I think I may say it is. It is a great challenge, Chris. But things are beginning to work out a little to our advantage. Crops were quite good this year on the home farm. I’ve been able to take on a new man.”

  “Oh, that is good news.”

  “He is quite a good worker. He does all sorts of odd jobs, which is what I need. He has firm religious beliefs.”

  “He should get on well with Father.”

  “Alas, his are on the opposite side. He is one of the old Puritans, I think. In any case, he is a firm Protestant. He is very disturbed that the King might die and the Duke of York become King, in which case he might bring back the Catholic rule. He is quite fierce. I avoid getting into conversation with him. I saw him give Father Greville quite a murderous look the other day. He was passing outside the house when Father Greville had been visiting.”

  “Oh, dear. I’ll look out for him. What is his name?”

  “Isaac Napp. He is quite a good worker. I think I was lucky to find him.”

  “Kirk, I am so glad things are getting better. Do you think you are going to save the old place so that we do not have to lose it?”

  “I am determined to. But we are forgetting Mistress Kate,” he said. He turned to me. “Christobel has probably told you about the troubles we are having here. In any case, it must be obvious. You see, everything here has been rather neglected. Our grandfather was a gambler and that was not good for the place. Our father is no gambler, but he never had any great interest in it. He ought to have gone into the Church. That is why we talk about it so much.”

  I said: “But you are going to put that right.”

  He laughed. “Mistress Kate, I like you. I like you very much. You believe in me, do you not? That is what I say: I am going to make it right. And I shall.”

  He smiled at me in such a friendly fashion that I felt very happy.

  Soon after that we left and we rode back to the Dower House. I had been very interested to meet Christobel’s family.

  There was much to claim my attention during those first days at the Dower House. It was managed with the utmost efficiency by Isabel Longton, who kept her two maids, Daisy and Annie, in the same good order as she did the house. She gave no indication that this was not the most conventional of households.

  My half-brother Luke was as interested in me as I was in him. He was intrigued by my theatrical background and wanted to hear more about my mother and Maggie and the house in London.

  He told me his mother had been a companion to Lady Rosslyn. When Luke’s existence was discovered, our father had set her up in a house in Bridgwater, where Luke had been born. He remembered her with sadness. She had been gentle and beautiful, according to him. When he was only five years old, he had come into the house and found her sitting in a chair, staring ahead of her. She did not speak to him. In fact, she never spoke to him again. She had had a heart attack and died a few hours after he found her.

  He remembered that day as the blackest in his life.

  He looked very sad, even as he told me, and I could picture that poor bewildered child who had lost the one he cared for most in the world. It was worse because he could not understand what had happened. Someone told him she had gone to stay with the angels and he had wanted to know why she had not taken him with her. She had always taken him everywhere before. And when would she come back? He was frightened and even angry with her for leaving him.

  “For the next five years I lived on a farm. There were other children. I thought I was dead and had descended into Hell. And then I began to understand what had happened.

  “I was a serious boy, I think. I suppose that, with that having happened, one might become serious. There were other children on the farm—the children of the farmer and his wife. It was not that they were unkind to me, but I knew I was not one of them. I was the outsider. While I was on the farm my father came to see me once or twice. I know now that he kept a watch on me, but he did not often come to see me. I did not know he was my father then. He seemed a very important gentleman, and when he came there was always a great deal of fuss on the farm. Everything was polished and the best they had brought out. I suppose the money for my keep was important to them.

  “Then one day he came when I was nearly ten years old, so I must have been at the farm for five years or so. He said to me, ‘You’re not happy here, boy, are you?’ He called me boy, never Luke. He was different from everyone I had ever known. He was so important, so grand. He did not speak as we spoke. I think it was my manner of speaking which made him act as he did. ‘You must be educated, boy,’ he said. ‘You can’t go through life like a farm laborer.’ He was very thoughtful. He looked at me in an odd way, and I thought I had annoyed him. And then he laid his hand on my shoulder and reassured me. I was not sure what it meant, but I soon discovered. Shortly after that I was brought to the Dower House, and Roger came.”

  “You were happier then?” I said.

  He smiled. “There was much to make me so. I was not the outsider any more. Life was very different and I began to learn something about myself. In time I discovered that Lord Rosslyn was actually my father. I learned to read and write with Roger, and it was like a new world opening for me. My father came now and then to see me. He was pleased with the change in me, I saw that, and I determined to improve myself. Oh yes, it was a change for the better, I can tell you. And when I saw Rosslyn Manor and I realized that the owner was my father, I was so proud. I loved the place. I became friendly with James Morton, the agent who looks after the estate. I was constantly trying to see him. He must have found me something of a nuisance. I used to get him to talk about the estate and all the things that had to be done. Now and then I would ride with him and I wished beyond everything that, instead of being born to my mother, I had been Lady Rosslyn’s son—then that great estate would be mine. Then I thought of my mother and how dearly I loved her, and how my life was plunged into unhappiness after that time when I lost her forever. I can see her face now…and when I compare it with that of Lady Rosslyn…”

  “You have met her, then?”

  “I have seen her. She is proud and haughty and I could not imagine her loving the boy I was, and I felt disloyal and ashamed.”

  “It is natural, of course,” I said. “But is it not an amazing thing suddenly to discover you have a sister? It is for me to find I have a brother.”

  “It’s exciting, and I am glad you are my sister.”

  “And I am glad you are my brother.”

  “And all these years we did not know it. We could have met in the street and passed each other by.”

  And so we talked and in a few days it seemed as though we had always known each other. He introduced me to the countryside and used to ride out with Christobel and me, and we were almost always accompanied by Roger Camden.

  Luke took us over to the Rosslyn estate. There was no rule that we were not to venture there. I supposed Lady Rosslyn would not be very pleased to see us there, but it was hardly likely that we should meet her. Nevertheless, I thought a great deal about her. She must be a very unhappy lady. It was not her fault that she had failed to provide the necessary heir; but the deficiency clearly lay with her, for here were Luke and myself to prove that her husband was quite capable of getting healthy children. How she must resent us!

  I had been at the Dower House three days when my father came.

  Christobel and I had been riding. We had had a very pleasant time. We had called at Featherston and had spent a merry hour with Kirk
well and the agent from Rosslyn Manor, who happened to have called.

  Kirkwell told us that he had been consulting James Morton about some problems.

  “He is the expert,” said Kirkwell.

  “More years of experience,” explained James Morton modestly.

  “But,” added Kirkwell, “I am learning.”

  “And doubtless will surpass me one day.”

  I liked the agent. He was about twenty-eight years old, I suppose, a good ten years older than Kirkwell, but he was not in the least boastful of his superior knowledge.

  “I am so glad he and Kirkwell have become such good friends,” Christobel said as we rode away.

  As soon as we arrived at the Dower House, Mistress Longton’s manner told us that something had happened. She came hurrying out to tell us: “His lordship is in the sitting room. He has been waiting for ten minutes.”

  Christobel tried to look unconcerned, but did not manage it very well.

  She said: “Well, if he had warned us that he was coming we should not have been out.”

  “It’s Mistress Kate he’ll want to see. Best get in there without delay, my dear.”

  He had been standing at the window, looking out, so he would have seen us arrive.

  “Ah, Kate,” he said. “Have you enjoyed your ride?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Come. Sit down. I would speak with you.”

  I sat down and he pulled up another chair so that he was close to me.

  “You look well,” he said. “I believe the country life suits you.”

  “Everyone has been very kind,” I said.

  “Mistress Longton assures me that you are happy here. And you are continuing with your lessons under the guidance of Mistress Christobel?”

  “Oh yes, indeed.”

  “That is well. You will be safer here. London is not a good place to be in at the moment.”

  “Have you seen Maggie?”

  “I have. And I assured her that you have arrived safely and will write to her and tell her what you have found here. I hope you will give a good report of us.”

  “Oh yes.”

  “And thanks to Mistress Christobel, you can write a good hand.” He looked at me earnestly. “I hope that you are going to be happy here. What think you of your brother?”