Prue Phillipson - Hordens of Horden Hall (23 page)

Nurse came into the kitchen. She had the same look as them all. She needed to be busy in the face of this horror; that the young master was dead. The heir to Horden was no more.. “What’s all this then? Who is this?”

Bel saw that Ursula’s back was towards her and she didn’t turn round. “This is the poor woman Robert was trying to chase away when he fell. I know her. She was at Cranmore House. She is the best soul in the world and we must care for her.”

“I’ll see to her. You go to your father. He needs you.”

“Nan,” Bel whispered, stepping close to her, “she was born deformed. Do not be frightened of her. She is an angel.”

Of course Ursula had the sharpest ears. Putting her head down she slipped off her stool and turned round and bowed herself almost to the ground before Nurse.

Bel saw Nurse frown in disgust.

In her thick, cramped voice Ursula brought out the words, “I’ll work at anything, Mistress, but if I’m not wanted I’ll go away.”

“Nay, sit and eat,” Nurse said sharply. “There’s vegetables stewing in a good beef broth on the fire.” She stepped to the hearth and taking the ladle from its hook and a bowl from the dresser she served Ursula a good portion.

Bel gave Nurse a hug, something she had not done since she was a small child.

Then she ran to find her father.

CHAPTER 13

Nathaniel, buoyed up with excitement at the prospect of returning to Cambridge, brought down from his room the last items to go in his box. He knew he must put off no longer the news that his friend, young Edward Branford, had written to invite him to spend Christmas at their London home instead of returning to Yorkshire. To his sorrow and disappointment he found his father seated at the kitchen table, his head bowed over his hands and his shoulders shaking.

“What has happened? Where is mother?”

His father sat up abruptly and brushed one hand across his eyes. Nat saw a printed paper lying on the table. “No, no, son. She is sleeping late after one of her restless nights.” He slapped the back of his hand on the paper. “It is this. For a moment it overcame me. Is there not sorrow enough in this life without the High Court of Parliament reaching down to meddle between us and our God?”

Nat reached for the paper.

“Can you believe it?” his father said. “They are telling me I am not to bow my head at my Lord’s name. You know I have always preached peace and love, but now I am striving against anger and I am failing. I
am
angry. Who are they to think they can control such things?”

Nat saw that the paper was headed ‘An Ordinance on Sabbath Keeping and Idolatry’ and glancing down it he read that no games were to be played on Sunday, all images were to be removed from churches, the communion table was to be set in the middle of the church and finally that bowing at the name of Jesus must cease.

“How can they enforce such things?” he cried. He was bitter that it had come on his departure day and he must leave his father to face this trouble on his own.

“Oh they will come. You still bear some bruises from their methods, but how am I to command the necks of my parishioners? Will I be cast out of my living if heads that have lowered reverently all their lives at Jesus’ name still bow? Will I myself remember to venerate in my
heart
only? Oh Nat, the world has gone mad.”

Nat was overcome with pity. Had his father not had enough to bear with his mother’s near madness but this also must be thrust upon him? He was angry too, thinking of Ben Hutton and his like, pig-headed in their self-righteousness. “I will speak out against this folly at the University. There are many there who believe in tolerance and will abhor this. My friend, Edward Branford, whom I have mentioned to you, is certainly one of them.” Then he slipped in quickly the news of his invitation. “Will you mind if I accept, Father? He is a good youth and as a younger son is destined for the church. He seems to look on me as a sort of mentor. He is only sixteen.”

His father rose and embraced him. “Of course go with him. In this world we cannot despise rank and an acquaintance like that may help you in your future. But the higher thought is that your faith and diligence may be a shining example to him. I thank God always that he has left me a son like you. But do not seek trouble by speaking your mind too freely on matters of religion.” He was looking at the document again. “Maybe this will all pass. You have a life ahead of you. Bide your time and keep to your studies.”

Nat smiled and nodded but he was telling himself the time might come when right must be striven for. He felt certain his courage would be put to the test again in the days ahead. The thought excited him and when, an hour later, he loaded his box onto the carrier’s cart and turned to take his farewell of his father he tried to cheer him. “You are right, sir, that anxieties pass with time. We need no longer worry that my quitting the army will be held against me and Mother’s obsession with vengeance on the Hordens may fade with the passing of the years. Even Daniel’s death is now over a year past and the pain is perhaps a little, a very little, dulled.”

He wished he had not mentioned that as he caught in his father’s eyes a fleeting look which seemed to say, “The pain is still sharp for me, but you are young and your head is filled with new and absorbing study.”

Nat could only hug him, glancing behind him to the house door to see if there was any chance his mother would come to bid him farewell but there was no sign. There were tears in his father’s eyes as they separated.

“Yes, be happy, son. And I too will rejoice in the Lord always. I have long since forgiven the Hordens. Bitterness was not a burden I wished to carry. Indeed I pray for them nightly. May God be with you on your journey.”

Nat climbed up beside the carrier who would take him into Easingwold on the first stage on his journey south. His father stood and waved till he had passed the village and was out of sight.

Only then did Nat fully appreciate how bereft his father must feel and how fearful – as a kindly traditional priest – of all the strife and oppression that he saw coming upon the country.

Bel found her father alone in his study. His face was grey as his beard, his body sunken in his chair. When he realised she was standing before him he looked up and to her surprise his eyes were gentle.

“I fear you will be blaming yourself for what has happened, Arabella. I know how it was and I believe it is something Robert brought upon himself.”She was taking comfort from this when he suddenly clutched at her arm and cried, “But to strike a horse! You must have known it would endanger the rider. And did I not hear you say you would have struck Robert if you could have reached him? Who or what is this creature you were trying to protect?”

Still scarcely believing that life was going on, that she was standing here and the body of Robert was lying screened off in a corner of the great hall, she struggled to answer in a steady voice. Keeping Ursula was all that mattered now.“Father, she is the one I told you of, my friend from Cranmore House. She is destitute but she came here not to beg but to help
me
. She is the only one who can. Say she can stay. She will work for nothing. There is no household task she cannot do. Robert was treating her as he would a thieving vagrant. That was cruel, horrible.”

Her father was shaking his head as if he could shake away the hour that had brought this catastrophe. “I know, I know, he could be cruel but he was my son, your brother. What is to become of us all? This woman, for whose sake he lies dead, you say she can do anything. Can she turn you into a dutiful daughter? I will see her, but not now. There are servants’ rooms empty. Give her one for tonight at least. I will send for her when I can collect myself.”

Bel slipped away to the kitchen before he could change his mind and told Nurse what he had said.

“Very well, but we must wash her first.” Nurse spoke as if Ursula was not present. “Some of your outgrown dresses would fit her, she’s such a little thing.”

Bel ran to find one and brought an armful of underwear and a nightgown as well. Poor Ursula was now undressed and standing in the wooden tub. She clutched a length of old sheet about her as Nurse washed her down with a piece of flannel. The woollen rags were in a heap on the floor.

Bel was horrified to see that there were red weals and bruises across her shoulders.

“They were not all from your brother,” Ursula murmured, and added with a hint of her old humour, “It was all I expected, when people saw my face.”

“Oh Nan,” Bel cried, trying not to imagine the horrors of Ursula’s journey, “where do you keep some soothing ointment?”

“I’ll get it,” Nurse said, handing her the flannel. “Here, you finish her.”

“I can manage, my precious,” Ursula said. “She’s very kind, but I can manage. If you’ll hold that sheet as a shield. One of the men came in before, but he went out quickly, bless his heart.”

When Nurse came back Bel had Ursula out and standing on the sheet wrapped in a warm towel from the clothes line above the hearth.

While Nurse applied the ointment vigorously Bel asked her, “Dear Nan, could you find some pieces of linen for her to make a bonnet with flaps at the side. When it’s starched it’s stiff enough to hide her face. She wore one at Cranmore House.”

“Ay well, that sounds a good idea, for if she goes in the larder she’ll curdle the milk. Put the nightgown on her, for she’s dead on her feet and I’ve made the bed in the first attic. I reckon it’s afternoon now and she can sleep a few hours or the night through if she wants.”

“Eh, Mistress, you’re goodness itself,” Ursula cried.

Nurse grunted and turning up her nose manoeuvred the pile of dirty rags out of the backdoor with her foot. “They can be burnt tomorrow.”

Bel helped Ursula up the back stairs and saw her tucked up. She didn’t know where Mary was or whether Sam was coming later to serve dinner. Did people go on having regular meals after what had happened?

The attic was bare and cold but there were thick blankets on the bed and Ursula said it was luxury she didn’t deserve after what she had done. Bel began to protest at that but she saw Ursula’s eyes close and heard her murmuring a prayer of thankfulness. There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask her but a few minutes later she was fast asleep. Bel stood gazing at her. What a joyful miracle to have Ursula with me again! But why should I be blessed and cursed in the same moment?

With no immediate task to complete there was no escaping the thing that had happened. What were their guests doing? She didn’t want to know but she couldn’t hide herself away. She went down to the parlour and found the three Hordens there huddled over a decaying fire and talking in whispers.

They looked round as she came in and Clifford stood up. “This is a terrible sorrow, Arabella. Your father is writing letters to your poor mother and sister, though he is hardly in a state to do it.”

Bel realised she hadn’t given them a thought. It was strange to think of Mother receiving news of her son’s death when she hadn’t seen him for almost a year. All her childhood she had thought Mother adored Robert, but she had left him happily enough and Henrietta had done no more than tolerate him when they were grown, though as children they had united in teasing and hounding their little sister. Would they be devastated in the midst of their comfortable French life? She supposed they would feel obliged to come.

“Of course,” Clifford was saying, “letters travel uncertainly to France. It may be weeks before we hear from them. The funeral sadly must be held without them and we believe it would be better to hold it as soon as possible. We cannot burden your father with entertaining visitors much longer at such a time.”

“Oh,” Bel said, much relieved, “so you’ll be leaving us.”

“Not till after the funeral of course, my dear,” Celia broke in, rising too and taking her hands. “What we wish is that you and your father should follow us as soon as he can arrange it. A change of scene will do him so much good. And if your mother and sister and her husband too should come from France, it will be so much easier for them to visit in London than travel this dreadful journey north.”

Bel didn’t know how to withdraw her hands since Celia held onto them firmly and was looking searchingly into her eyes.

When Bel said nothing, Clifford went on gravely as if he had not been interrupted. “Your father knows of course that Robert’s tragic death has made even more necessary the concluding of our business here. The marriage between you and William is the only thing that will save him not only from grief and despair, but from financial ruin too.”

Bel looked from him to his wife and then at William who still sat hunched with his back to her. “Financial ruin?” She repeated the last words because she could find no other way to express her astonishment that he should revert to this at such a time.

“You do understand, Arabella, that your father has lost his heir. Of course he wishes his estate to stay within the family ...”

“So William’s to have it, through me?” She pulled her hands away from Celia’s and marched over to William and prodded his shoulder. “Is that what you want, William? You want to come here to Northumberland and be a squire and manage an estate?”

He scrambled to his feet in alarm. “I ... well, we ... I suppose we would live in London and I would work for my father in the business, but we could appoint a bailiff to look after things here.”