Angelina (19 page)

“I must greet my father before I rest.” He looked about him. “Is he in his study?”

Elizabeth’s voice reflected an insult offered to her self-esteem. “If you recall, your father is always out at this time.” 

He puzzled a moment on the sadness of her tone, then the full import penetrated his brain. His father had always been a man of habit. He took her hands. Forgive me, Elizabeth.”

“It’s me who should be forgiven for reminding you.” She carried one of his hands to her face and gently caressed it against her cheek. “This is a burden I must carry alone. I would not encourage you to think less of your father because of it.”

“I know that, Elizabeth.” She had never spoken of her feelings regarding

his father’s affair, and he couldn’t help but ask. “Have you considered discussing this with him?”

 She looked horrified. “I would not dare to do such a thing. Thomas would suffer extreme humiliation.”

“As you have all these years,” James reminded her. It was about time his father’s insensitivity of her feelings should be pointed out. He kissed her cheek.”If I find the opportunity to broach the matter with him I will.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I hold him in great regard, and have tried to be a good wife to him over the years. He was a loving husband until the birth of our daughters. It seems cruel to think fate took my husband and one of my children from me at the same time.”

Eighteen years! he thought in awe. Poor Elizabeth, no wonder she’d been unable to bring herself to love Rosabelle. The girl would have been a constant reminder to her of her husband’s infidelity. And she wasn’t even her child!

   James wasn’t usually given to irascibility, but his face darkened in the effort to keep his temper in check. Damn his father! Why hadn’t he made the effort to keep his wife happy as well as his mistress? He could bring the whole lie crashing down around their ears, if he was not careful!

* * * *

Frey Mellor was not in the best of moods. His horse had collapsed from under him on the way to see the Marquis of Northbridge’s steward. He’d barely managed to roll clear when the old nag lifted its head, blew one last painful breath and died.

 Muddied by the fall, Frey had travelled the remainder of the journey of foot, arriving late for the appointment only to be told the clerkship had been awarded to another.

He stopped to retrieve his saddle from the stricken horse on the way back and  informed the village blacksmith of its demise. By nightfall, no trace would be left of the beast despite its age, and the village would smell of stewed meat for a week after.

His mother was sorting through a bundle of clothes when he arrived home. His face darkened as he stirred the garments with his foot. “My father was in one of his charitable moods, I see.”

Mary wore a defiant expression, but there was an air of repressed excitement about her. Perhaps the earl had parted with some gold again. “There’s some good stuff here. If you’re too proud to wear them I can sell them at market. They’ll fetch a copper or two.” She held up a voluminous black garment. “Look at this coat. It just needs a stitch or two in the lining, and the sleeve seams sewing back where they’ve pulled apart at the back. Master William must have got too broad in the chest for it.”

Frey was looking. He’d never be able to afford such a fine topcoat. He shrugged, swallowing his resentment.”Perhaps it will come in handy for next winter since I didn’t get the clerkship.”

 She stared at him in disbelief. “You left in plenty of time.” 

“I was late, my horse died under me.”

“But the Earl promised he’d put a word in for you.”

“Damn you, mother. Didn’t I tell you not to ask him for favours?” He crossed to where she sat. “The only favour I want from the earl is one he gives me because I’m his son, not one he’s been asked to give.”

“He’s done that all right.” Her face dimpled into a triumphant smile. “He came here today with a finest gift a son could wish for his birthday. He was hoping you’d be here so he could give you it himself. He had pressing business to attend to so he didn’t even stay...” She carefully pulled a line of thread through the eye of a needle and started sewing. “Anyway, he came here especially for your birthday.”

“What are you talking about?” he said, reckoning his mother had gone mad. “Since when has the Earl remembered my birthday?”

The reason for her excitement became clear. “Since he came here leading the best horse I ever laid eyes on.” Rocking back on her heels she laughed. “He says it come from Master William’s stud. He chose it special when he knowed it was for you.” 

“If William chose it for me there must be something wrong with it.” He strode to the door, then turned, his eyes wary. “Did the earl bring its papers?”

“Aye.” she nodded complacently towards the dresser. “It’s all nice and legal like, he said, and what’s more...” He waited impatiently whilst his mother bit through an end of cotton. “What’s more, it comes with its own special saddle and bridle. If you asks me, Master William spoils them beasts of his.”

 When she looked up and saw him on his way out she picked up her skirts and hurried after him.

Frey couldn’t believe his luck had turned. The day had started off badly, and now he owned a most magnificent horse, a black gelding with a white blaze on its nose and chest. It was as though his father had known that his horse would drop dead on this day. The smile he gave was mirthless. William had made sure he couldn’t breed and profit from it. It turned its head when he approached, stretched out its neck and blew gently through its nostrils. There was no fear in the horse. Its eyes were intelligent and inquisitive. It stood perfectly still when he mounted, then walked in a sure-footed circle to his guidance. The horse went through its paces perfectly.

“You look a proper gentleman on that,” Mary called out. “You even talks like a gentleman now you’ve been educated. It’s the Earl’s blood, I reckon. You aint got my addled wits, that’s for sure.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your wits.” He smiled at her. “If you’d had an

education you’d be as good as anybody.” Dismounting, he tied the horse to a branch.

“Aint you going to ride it?” she said, her disappointment all too apparent. “The earl said it hasn’t been exercised much today.”

“Of course.” Her threw an arm around her shoulders. “I mean to write a note of thanks to the earl, then ride over and leave it with his gatekeeper.”

“Nobody can say my boy aint got nice manners.” Her face was beaming with satisfaction when they walked into the house. “Take the route through the village. That there horse will make the women’s eyes pop out of their heads and keep their tongues wagging for a month of Sundays.”

He couldn’t help but smile at his mother’s, all too obvious, pride in him. He just wished he could catch the same expression in his father’s eyes.

He ignored her request, taking his usual short cut through the forest, marvelling all the while at his stroke of good fortune. The horse moved quietly, but swiftly, seeming to know its way through the trails without much guidance. He sat comfortably in the saddle, feeling like a lord. It was fashioned from the finest leather and seemed to have been designed to fit the gelding’s back. Knowing his half-brother’s fondness for horseflesh, he wouldn’t be at all surprised if William gave in to such indulgences.

When he emerged on to the road Frey heard another horse coming up behind him. The rider had the look of the gentry despite his shabbiness. Frey stood aside to let him pass. Instead, the rider reined in beside him. “Good day to you, fellow. If you’re going my way I could do with some companionship.”

“Sir.” He took the hat from his head and doffed it. The man’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at him.

“Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but would you be related to the Wrey family by any chance?”

“Only by chance,” Frey pointed out, his voice cool. “My name is Frey Mellor.”

“Ah, that accounts for the likeness.” To Frey’s amazement the man leaned forward, offering his hand. “You may of heard of me. James is my brother-in-law, and good friend. Rafe Daventry at your service.”

“My Lord.” He took the offered hand, finding the handshake firm. The man’s smile was wide. Frey returned it. “I didn’t know Lord Romsey had married.”

“The marriage was recent.” Setting their mounts in motion they walked them leisurely along the road. After a while, Rafe Daventry said. “James tells me you have a talent for figures and write a good hand.”

He was pleased to think that James, who he hardly knew, would talk of him favourably with his friends.

“Aye. I’ve been schooled in such subjects.” This was no idle enquiry and he gave the man a shrewd glance. “I’ll go as far as to say I’m skilled at mathematics, am fluent in the French tongue and can also transcribe Latin text.”

“Can you by God!” Respect coloured the man’s expression. After a moment’s hesitation, he inquired. “Have you prospects?”

“I did have up until this morning.” He offered up a wry smile. “I had expectations of employment on the estate of the Marquis of Northbridge. The position went to another.”

Rafe Daventry gave a small nod and got to the point. “Sir Edward Truscott has charged me with finding him a clerk. Although you’re young, if you’re interested I’d be willing to try you out. The permanency of the position would depend on Sir Edward when he returns a year hence, but if you prove capable I’ll recommend he keep you on.”

“I’m obliged to you, My Lord.” He put the proper respect in his voice. He badly needed this position. “I promise you’ll not find me lacking in skills.”

“I hope not,” Rafe said ruefully. “To be quite honest, I cannot make head nor tail of Sir Edward’s ledgers. The letters and figures have a ruthlessly neat appearance, like soldiers standing to attention. I get the feeling they’ll take aim and fire if I disturb their ranks with my untidy hand. I have been keeping tally of things on scraps of paper.”

Frey smiled a little as they came to a halt at the Wrey gate-house, reckoning this stranger would be more welcome within the walls than himself. “I’ll present myself at Tewsbury manor with my reference in the morning. Will that suit your lordship.”

“Admirably.” They shook hands on it, then Rafe said when Frey turned towards the gate-house. “You’re not coming in?”

“I doubt the earl would welcome such intrusion. I came only to leave a note for him with the gatekeeper.” He took it from his pocket. “Perhaps you’d oblige me by delivering it privately to him, My Lord.”

“Of course.” He slid it under his waistcoat and smiled. “Good day to you, Mr. Mellor. I’ll see you on the morrow.”

Mr. Mellor? He watched the earl canter off down the carriageway with an unbelieving look in his eyes. The man was a rarity, and he was suddenly looking forward to the morrow with a great deal of eagerness.

   Turning the horse back in the direction he’d come from he put the beast to a canter, feeling it surge forward in a smooth fluid motion. Soon, they were galloping under the canopy of the forest. Exhilaration flowed though his body. For the first time in his life he felt he had a future to look forward to.

After he’d cooled and fed the horse, he loosed it into the adjacent meadow and went inside the house. His mother had gone to a special effort for his natal day. He tucked in to a meal of succulent rabbit and vegetables cooked in a crusty pie and followed by apple dumplings boiled in honey.

His mother opened a bottle of red wine she’d bought for the occasion, and although it was cheap, to Frey it tasted like nectar. Holding up the glass, he gazed at his mother over the brim. “To the future,” he said, unable to keep the smile from his face.

* * * *

That same night the highwayman found good pickings at the other side of Lyndhurst.

   The night was perfect for highway robbery. There was no breeze, the fine mist curling from the ground hung amongst the trees, drifting like wraiths to diffuse the brightness of the moon. Yet it gave enough light for the business at hand.

   Knowing the two inns in the area would be popular with the blades arriving for the Wrey Ball, the highwayman, completely covered by a voluminous, cowled cloak, took up station a good furlong out of town.

A purse was snatched from one lone rider, an effeminate gentleman whose obvious terror made his teeth chatter. Sending the man’s horse fleeing into the forest the highwayman pushed the gibbering idiot down with his foot, instructing him not to stir for an hour or so.

 He was not about to take risks, a carriage with two fully armed outriders was allowed to pass unmolested.

Further along the road a man was relieving himself in the bushes. Startled, he darted a swift glance at his saddle bags for a second before saying with surprising belligerence. “Damn you, fellow. Can’t a man have a little privacy.”

The victim was more powerful and dangerous looking than the highwayman liked. Leading his horse away proved the safest option. The saddlebags contained a quantity of gold sovereigns.

Satisfied with the night’s work, and not wishing to push luck too far, felon and horse backed into the forest and were swallowed up by the mist.

* * * *

  Angelina grew wealthier by the hour, for she could never spend all the interest on the annuities her fortune brought in, and neither did she want to. She’d told James that she had everything of value she needed, and didn’t crave for jewels and fripperies.

All that really interested her was the charity hospital her funds supported, James thought.

“It’s settled then, James. You must try and persuade Rafe to accept the position on the board.” She came to stand in front of him. “Your report that the board intends to draw a more generous salary is disturbing. I intend to remind the lawyer of the terms of the charter the hospital operates under, and instruct him to implement it to the letter. Aunt Alexandra would do so herself, in a most verbal manner, were she still alive.”

“She’s not alive,” he pointed out. “And I cannot guarantee Rafe will accept the responsibility.”

 Angelina began to pace up and down the room. “Damn their hypocritical souls,” she muttered. “I have a good mind to go to London and deal with them personally.”