All I Have to Give (16 page)

These conclusions had helped. It wasn’t nearly as painful to come and see Jay as it would have been had she still blamed him.

This thought had hardly died in her when the door opened. ‘You can come in now, Lady Eloise.’

The smell of carbolic soap hit her as she walked through the door. She’d never been in a hospital ward before, and it seemed she had walked into a room of white when she first glanced
around the door. The bed linen and the nurse’s uniform, the bandages around Jay’s head and even the small chair next to the bed were all white. But then she realized that the brick
walls were cream and the bottom half of them had green tiles.

Nerves jangled in her stomach. What was she going to say to him? Would he even be able to read her lips, because his head looked as though it was completely covered in bandages, to below his
eyes!

‘La – Lady Eloise?’

‘Yes, Jay, it’s me.’

His hand gestured that she should come nearer and she realized he couldn’t see her face. It was silly of her to have spoken until she was nearer the bed and bent over him. Doing that now,
she saw that one of his eyes was uncovered. ‘Are you all right, Jay?’

A tear trickled down his cheek. The sight undid her. Her legs gave way, and she abruptly sat down into the chair. But she must not give way to the clogging feeling in her chest. She had to
swallow hard and compose herself, otherwise she would drown in the sorrow that had her in its grip. After a moment she stood over Jay again. ‘I’m sorry, Jay, I don’t know what I
can do to help you.’

Through his tears he sobbed, ‘Find forgiveness for me. You and – and Lord and Lady Mellor. Please forgive me.’

‘We don’t hold you responsible, Jay. It – it was more Andrina.’

‘No! We—’

‘I know, you were in love. But still, she should have known better than to have started a liaison. You – you are a servant.’

‘I – I shouldn’t be. I should be the rightful owner of Hastleford Hall. I am—’

‘What are you talking about? Your head injury must have sent you out of your proper mind. How can you say such a thing?’

‘My – my mother . . . My adoptive m – mother will tell you. I am a Daverly. I – I was born before Lord Daverly . . . died. I am his son.’

‘Oh God! You really believe this? But it’s impossible. As I understand it, there were no male heirs, and that is why the house went to my aunt. You’re being ridiculous. Aunt
Muriel was an only child. I – I mean . . . Look, you have had a head injury; that must have unbalanced you and given you this preposterous idea!’

‘No, it’s true. P – please go and talk to my mother.’

‘Very well, I will. But this is all nonsense, and she will laugh at me. Jay, my aunt’s family is in turmoil. They can’t take this kind of – well, fear that they may lose
their country home, on top of all that is happening.’

‘Th – they won’t. I – I just want to prove who I really am. If it had ha – happened before . . . then A – Andrina and I, we could have married. I am no
relation to you; only my sister – half-sister – is. She is your aunt by marriage, that’s all.’

Once more his tears began to flow.

‘Don’t torture yourself. I am sure these are thoughts that are visiting you in your weakest moment. I’ll sort it out. Everything will be fine, I promise.’ She caught a
small glint of hope in Jay’s eye. But, for her, the thought of any of this being true appalled her.

She didn’t want to open the door of the butcher’s shop. The bell above it clanged as she did so. Mr Tattumby looked up from the task of chopping raw meat, dropped
his cleaver and touched his forelock. ‘Good afternoon, Lady Eloise. I expect you’ve come to see Mrs Tattumby?’ Unable to find her voice, she nodded. ‘Come on through,
M’lady. Mrs Tattumby is expecting you.’

Dodging the dripping animal limbs hanging around the shop, Eloise followed him. She was surprised by the brightness of the parlour; with its smell of beeswax polish still in the air, it gave a
warm welcome. Pretty, hand-embroidered cushions and antimacassars adorned the two brown leather armchairs and matching sofa. The wooden legs and arms of these were carved and shone, so that they
had the appearance of a deep lustre. The red-tiled floor had the same gleam, and the scattered rag rugs were of a light beige with intricate patterns of flowers and birds woven into them. They were
a thing of beauty, and after greeting Mrs Tattumby and accepting the offer of a cup of tea and cake, Eloise had to comment on them. ‘Did you make those beautiful rugs, Mrs Tattumby? I have
never seen such perfection, or indeed any pattern in a rag rug before.’

‘No, Jay made those. He is very clever with his hands, and very intelligent.’

‘Oh?’ She didn’t know what else to say, as this answer was unexpected.

‘Sit down, M’lady. I won’t be a minute.’

When she opened the door to her kitchen, delicious smells of fresh baking wafted through. They gave comfort and said to Eloise that she was a welcome visitor and had been prepared for. She
hadn’t realized just how hungry she was, but the aromas tantalized her and she couldn’t wait to eat whatever had been prepared.

‘Here you are, M’lady.’

A plateful of delicious-looking scones lay on a tray with some butter and jam in little pots beside them. A china teapot stood next to these, and two china cups; no doubt the Sunday-best china,
and all for her benefit. The gesture touched her and, as she had done many times in the last few weeks, she had to swallow hard. It was funny how small things like this kindness shown to her could
trigger her grief.

‘I know why you’re here,’ Mrs Tattumby began. ‘I have wronged Jay. I don’t know how he can forgive me, but he has. You see, I kept from him the truth of his birth
and denied him his true place in life.’ Her head sank so far into her neck that it almost rested on her huge bosom. A big lady in every way, including having a large, kind heart, Mrs Tattumby
had a round, jolly face that was usually smiling, but now looked crestfallen and full of guilt.

‘Well, if Jay has forgiven you, you should forgive yourself.’

‘I know, but I find it difficult. I never did before . . . what happened. I mean, I always said I would tell him when he reached twenty-five, and he could do what he wanted with the
information, but none of this would have happened if I had told him earlier. He wouldn’t have been a servant to anyone and could . . . Well, he could have had your sister’s hand as he
wanted to, and no servant girl would have thought of him as hers.’ Again she dropped her head. ‘I’m very sorry. I truly am very sorry. Me and Mr Tattumby have watched you and your
sister grow up, and now I am the cause of the terrible circumstances that have come about.’

With an effort she didn’t know she could muster, Eloise took a deep breath and, in the face of this woman’s tears, didn’t let one tear escape from her own eyes. ‘No one
is to blame. You couldn’t have seen this as an outcome of keeping a secret. Now please, Mrs Tattumby, tell me: who is Jay, really?’

‘He is the son of the late Lord Daverly of Hastleford Hall and half-brother to Lady Muriel, the present owner. His mother was Lady Amelia Falding.

‘Good gracious – a half-brother of my Aunt Muriel! This cannot be true. And you say that Lady Amelia was his mother? But didn’t she die somewhere abroad when she was very
young?’

‘No, she died in the attics of Hastleford Hall in 1891, giving birth to her son.’

‘After my Aunt Muriel was already married and had her own children! I cannot take all of this in. It is preposterous! How can you say such a thing? The scandal!’

‘It’s because of the scandal that it was kept quiet, but it can all be proved. At least, there are folk still alive who could be made to tell the truth. The local doctor at the time
did everything the gentry wanted him to do. He is still alive, and no doubt would like to ease his conscience before he dies.’

‘How do you know all this, Mrs Tattumby?’

‘From a manservant – a horrible man called Horace Shepherd. He brought the baby to me, then disappeared. It was said that he stole a lot of the house silver and went off to America,
but I know he was paid off. He did a nasty thing. He told me the truth about Jay’s birth.’

‘I think that was an honourable thing to do.’

‘I know it does sound that way, but he was meant to take the baby to an orphanage in London. He was given money to do so, but he said that he thought of me, and the child. He said
he’d come to love the child’s mother, and he thought that one day the child should know who he was – and who his mother was. But he would never know, if he was dumped in an
orphanage. Then he threatened me never to reveal the secret while the present lord was alive, or I would know the consequences. He suggested that I say the gypsies had left the child on me
doorstep.’

‘Why did you keep it secret, after Lord Daverly died, Mrs Tattumby? Why did you accept the child?’

‘God forgive me, but you see, me and Mr Tattumby were childless, and I loved Jay on sight. I couldn’t let that Horace take him to no orphanage. After Horace left, me and Mr Tattumby
talked and talked. Should we, shouldn’t we? In the end we decided we had no choice: we had to go along with the tale about the gypsies. It was convenient that they were in the area and
disappeared overnight. Everyone accepted the story, and it gave me a reason to keep the baby I loved so much. And besides, the family would have denied it all and would probably have found a way of
hounding us from the village and would have had the child taken from us and put God knows where. They were very powerful – they held positions in government and were known to be
ruthless.’

‘So, what did Horace tell you?’

‘He told me that he had witnessed Lord Daverly and Lady Amelia together on many occasions during the time when Lady Daverly was still alive, but gravely ill. He knew what was going on
between them. You see, it was well known that Lord Daverly was a womanizer, but it was said that Lady Daverly didn’t care as long as he was discreet. She was a funny one. Very cold-hearted.
Everyone used to say she must have shunned his attentions as she only had the one child.’

Frustration at these digressions made Eloise want to ask Mrs Tattumby to please stick to telling her relevant information about Jay, and Jay only, but she let the woman continue without
interrupting her.

‘Anyway, according to Horace, Lord Daverly was smitten by the young Lady Amelia, and she fell for him by all accounts. Then Her Ladyship died and the house was closed down. They brought
most of the staff from London with them, when in residence anyway, but kept a few at the Hall – gardeners and such – to take care of the place. Horace was one of only two household
staff retained at this time. The other was a maid, Betty Redhurst; she was something of a nurse, and had been with the family for years. Lived out her days in luxury, she did. Somewhere in the
Stratford area, I heard.’

Eloise clasped her hands tightly, swallowed hard and steeled herself for what was to come. Keeping her voice steady she asked, ‘And so, how did it happen that Jay was born
there?’

‘Horace said that one winter’s night Lord Daverly arrived with a small party. He and Betty were called into Lord Daverly’s office. They were told that there would be a guest
arriving, but that her presence must remain a secret to all. And that they would be charged with looking after the guest. They were sworn to strict secrecy, on the promise that they would receive a
payment that would set them up for the rest of their lives; and were given the threat that if they told anybody anything, they and their families would be out on their ears. Their guest was the
pregnant Lady Amelia. For the next five months no family attended the house, other than Lord Daverly. He would arrive in the middle of the night, stay until the next night and then leave. Betty got
a room in the attic ready for the confinement, but there were complications. It didn’t go well from the start, and Lady Amelia was very ill towards the end. About a week before the birth she
was so distressed about having a bastard that a priest from Leicester was brought in and married her and Lord Daverly. The local doctor, Doctor Henderson, who is living in retirement in the next
village, was witness to the marriage.’

‘What? They were married, but then why . . . ?’

‘Because it was done without her father’s consent. And think about it. There would still have been a terrific scandal to face. To all of society, Amelia was abroad for a year. She
was meant to be in India. How would her family live down the lie? No, the plan was for the child to be given away, and for Amelia then to go to India for a few months, saying that she had extended
her time there, and then to return and marry Lord Daverly officially. But she died giving birth, poor soul. She is buried in an unmarked grave in the churchyard. In the dead of night they buried
her, with no family attending. And the next thing it was said in the paper that she’d contracted an illness in India, and had died and been buried there. The only decent thing was the
memorial service in London for her. At least that put her to rest, poor soul.’

Stunned into silence, Eloise just stared at Mrs Tattumby. After a moment she could take in the sorrow of all that had happened. Poor Jay, denied his rightful place in life. ‘Did his father
ever realize that the child you had adopted was the one he had instructed to be sent to the orphanage?’

‘There was one occasion. I was walking down the lane with Jay, when he was a toddler. His father was visiting your family estate with a shooting party. He was riding along with your
grandfather, who was still alive at the time, when they stopped in front of us. Your grandfather only knew the gypsy story, and so remarked what a fine boy Jay was, and that it had been a wonderful
day for me when the gypsies had left him with me. Lord Daverly looked astonished and asked to be told the story. He glared at me and looked intensely at Jay. He couldn’t have missed how like
Lady Amelia the boy was, and is still. He spoke to Jay. Of course Jay just carried on playing with the stick he was waving about. “He is deaf,” I told Lord Daverly. At which he became
very agitated, begged my pardon and wanted to leave. They rode off, and that was that. Lord Daverly was killed in a riding accident not long afterwards.’