Prue Phillipson - Hordens of Horden Hall (34 page)

Ursula had to look up then and thank her. Though the lady’s eyes registered shock she was too polite to comment. With regret Bel saw Ursula retreat. She wanted to plead that she was a friend, not a servant, but Ursula would have been embarrassed, so she watched her go with the lady who closed the door after them.

Bel, sick with fear now, approached the bed and took the ornate carved chair beside it. She saw it was upholstered in blue velvet with a gold fringe matching the bed hangings and little gold studs. It was too incongruous, when the hands lying on the bedcover were so sad and colourless. There were no lace cuffs at his wrists and she realised his shirt had been removed. It must have been bloodstained.

“Father?”

His eyes opened at once. “Bella?” She saw he was looking beyond her at the unfamiliar room. “What happened? Where are we?” His voice was weak and husky.

“In Newcastle. You were taken ill. They brought you to Alderman Johnson’s house and sent to the church for me.”

He tried to sit up and she saw they had put a woollen nightshirt on him. How was she to get him home? She remembered their horses stabled at the inn. He was far too weak to ride. What was she to do?

“I recall it all.” He passed a hand across his face. “I was so ashamed.” His voice grew urgent. “Bella, if I die they can’t take the Hall and the land. I am the named delinquent. They knew about it. They had had a letter. The law here is supposed to act for Parliament. They said they were going to have a meeting but had not resolved on any action. They know we are for the King, but they also know your dear mother and sister are Catholic and they believed our house might still be called a Papist cell. I was in the midst of explaining to them how things have changed ... I couldn’t ... it was all too much ...”

His chest heaved as if he were gasping for breath.

“No, stop,” she begged, looking frantically about. On a carved chest was a pile of linen pieces. She jumped up and grabbed a few and ran back to him just as a cough racked him and a trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. She held the linen close and more blood came. She managed to contain it with difficulty, but at that moment a maid tapped and put her head round the door. She was carrying a tray, but seeing Bel’s predicament she quickly set it down on the chest and brought more cloths, laid them on the bed and took the soiled ones.

“How thoughtful! How quick! Thank you,” Bel cried as her father lay back on the pillows exhausted.

The maid dropped the bloodstained linen into a basket and brought a bowl of water. Bel moistened a clean cloth and wiped his face. He closed his eyes.

“My lady,” the maid said now, “would you like the Doctor fetched back? He lives quite close.”

Bel looked at the ghostly figure on the bed. “Perhaps we could wait. The doctor could be dining now.” She saw there was a steaming bowl of something on the tray and smelt a wonderful savoury aroma.

“Very well, my lady. If the poor gentleman is peaceful, would you care to partake of some refreshment?” She moved the pile of linen onto the foot of the bed and placed a padded stool next to the chest. It matched the chair in blue velvet and also had a gold fringe and studs. “I shall wait outside, if you require me.”

Bel shook her head. She felt tears coming at all this kindness. The girl was about her own age and her deference shamed her. She slipped out now with a little curtsey.

Bel choked down her emotion and fell upon the broth and cut bread and butter. When she had eaten the chopped meat and vegetables in the bowl she wondered if her father could drink any of the liquid. He had had no nourishment since breakfast and it must be far past noon. She went close but he didn’t move. If he was sleeping it might be the best thing. She finished everything on the tray including the mug of light ale.

Then she opened the door and there was the maid sitting on a stool at the corner of the upper hall. She jumped up at once and Bel handed her the tray.

“That was so good. Thank you.”

“Mistress Johnson wishes to know how the gentleman is.”

“My father is sleeping I think. I will sit by him.”

The girl gave a little bob and then, biting her lower lip, asked, “May I take the liberty of asking what awful accident befell your old servant?”

Bel smiled. “She’s more of a friend than a servant and she was born like that. She is a truly wonderful character, so I hope you will all be very kind to her.”

“Oh yes, my lady. She has already asked what she can do to help us so I thought ...” She bit her lip again.

Bel smiled. “I’m not ‘my lady’ though my father is Sir John. What is
your
name?”

“Molly, Ma’am.”

“Well, thank you, Molly.”

She was a plump girl and Bel remembered that the footman had had well-rounded legs in his white stockings. She had had a good sight of them as he led her up the stairs. This is a rich household, she thought, returning into the room. Everything is of the best. They will have no idea of our poverty.

She looked at her father, ascertained that he was still breathing, and wondered what was to happen now. These people seemed to have accepted that they would care for him for the moment, but she could hardly expect them to do so indefinitely. Her father had paid for stabling for the day. Did he have any more money in his pocket? There was a door in the room and Bel peeped inside. As she expected it led to a dressing-room where her father’s doublet, riding coat and breeches were hanging up. They must have taken away his shirt and stockings to wash.

After the years of having no servants but Mary and Tom, Bel had grown used to caring for her own and her father’s clothes with Ursula’s help. It was strangely comforting to feel that there were many pairs of hands here to deal with such matters at a word of command. In his riding coat she found a purse with some silver and six gold sovereigns. In his pocket book was folded the letter from Cousin Clifford. She re-read it and then put it and the money back. Was it true what Father had said that Horden Hall could not be sequestered if he died? She went back to his bedside. She wanted Ursula’s comforting presence. She felt hemmed in and helpless in this strange house and in the face of this totally unexpected calamity.

Presently she heard footsteps and voices and a knock came at the door. She was much relieved to find Mistress Johnson with a strange man who she was sure by his dress and bag was a physician.

“Doctor Harcourt has come to see his patient.”

“He’s asleep,” Bel blurted out, “but please tell me, is his condition serious? He has long had a cough but never brought up blood. Or if he has he hasn’t told me.”

The doctor was a tall, spare man with a severely professional face.

“That is likely, young lady. He has been ill for years. It was I who came when your unfortunate brother died. I thought your father in poor health then, but he would not acknowledge it. I am afraid there is little I can do for him now. His lungs are diseased. He may recover from this bout, but I would not expect him to live long. I take it he is past fifty?”

Bel nodded. “I believe so.” Surely he was allowed a greater lifespan. I need him, she thought. I’m too young to be abandoned. Her zest for independence had swiftly evaporated. “How can I take him home?” she asked.

“He should not be moved at present.” The doctor looked at Mistress Johnson.

“No indeed,” she cried. “We have plenty of room. My sons are with the King’s forces. I will have the next bedroom made ready for you, my dear, so that you are within hearing.”

“Oh pray, let me stay beside him. I can’t bear to be so much trouble to you. But I am worried about our horses at the inn. They were borrowed and our groom at home will wonder where we are if we don’t return tonight.”

“They can be sent back with one of our men and perhaps your lady’s maid could go with him and show him where to go. I will lend you our Molly while you are here and when Sir John is fit to go home, of course we will put our carriage at your disposal.”

Bel didn’t want Ursula to go, but Mistress Johnson’s kind but authoritative manner seemed to leave her no alternative.

The Doctor who had been examining her father rejoined them by the door.

“His pulse is very weak. If he regains consciousness he should have fluid. Some beef broth perhaps, strained. Asses’ milk if you can obtain it. Wine is good, but it may be mixed with boiled water and not given for a few hours after milk. Honey, a few spoonfuls, is also very soothing.”

Bel looked after them as Mistress Johnson saw him downstairs. She felt her father was condemned and she herself cast alone onto a strange shore.

Ursula came up later for orders before she left and Bel hugged her and cried over her. “I don’t want you to go but I suppose you must. How will you manage?”

Ursula reassured her that though she wouldn’t ride a horse alone she was perfectly content to sit behind a strange groom and the other horse could be led. “These are all kind people,” she said simply.

When she had gone, Bel gave all her attention to her father, who woke rather breathless and had to be propped up. Whatever Molly brought on the doctor’s orders, she tried to encourage him to take, but he had little appetite. He seemed anxious to talk about her future but she begged him to be quiet in case he started to cough again.

Later in the evening, Mrs Johnson invited her to join them for some supper. “My husband will be happy to meet you.”

Bel begged to be excused. “I had rather sit here.” The room with all its furnishings was now familiar to her and she felt she dare not venture out.

At bedtime two servants wheeled in a truckle bed since she still refused to leave her father and she was thankful to lie down as soon as it was dark outside. She had not slept long before he had another bout of coughing and so it went on all night. She would rise and hold the linen before him until he had coughed up blood, then he would have a short rest while she waited for the next interruption. By morning she was utterly weary and after Molly had brought breakfast and her father had fallen into a deep sleep she asked Mistress Johnson if she could go out and get some air.

“Of course, my dear. We will watch your father and send for the physician if necessary. You have been confined in here for a long time. I’ll send Molly with you.”

‘Confined’ was certainly the word. Bel knew she had none of Ursula’s patient endurance. The sick room had become a prison and she could see how the houses on the other side of the street were aglow with sunlight, the windows reflecting it back to her, dazzling her eyes.

“No, please. I have been used to walking alone from a child.”

Mistress Johnson raised her eyebrows but Bel almost ran down the stairs, hoping to meet no one else. A footman appeared to unfasten the heavy front door. She smiled at him and descended the five steps to the street.

Immediately her nose was assailed by the smells of the town. She had forgotten that the air would not be fresh like the country air about Horden Hall. All the same, the sunshine was welcome and the cold wind of yesterday had vanished. Instinctively, she moved towards the river. She would have sought open country but it lay beyond the gates. Amidst the bustle on the quayside she had felt safe yesterday, though Ursula’s strange bonnet had drawn curious eyes. I should have carried a basket so I might be supposed to have come for produce, but no matter, I am walking and the exercise is good. She walked briskly with her swinging country stride until she came to the bridge. Near here there was a bench against the wall in the sunshine. She sat down and unfastened the short cloak she had brought for riding yesterday and putting it over the back of her head she was able to lean against the wall and close her eyes against the bright sun. Her mind was suddenly empty of everything but weariness. In two minutes she was asleep.

Nathaniel Wilson riding on Jed approached the bridge over the town from the south side. He was intensely excited by the sight of Newcastle rising before him on the opposite bank. Until a few years ago the busy river Tyne would have amazed him and the tall narrow houses along the quay, the steep bank and the spires of several churches, one very large and splendid shining in the sunlight, would have thrilled his eyes. But he had seen Cambridge and above all London. What excited him now was his nearness to the end of his journey. Somewhere here he would find directions to Horden Hall and then his quest would surely reach some kind of resolution.

Vengeance was not in his heart but how could he tell what emotions he would feel if he looked upon the faces of the Hordens, father and son, who had combined in the cruel death of his brother.

He swallowed hard and rode up to the guard on the bridge. “I have a pass to my home from the Master of Queens College, Cambridge. I am a student of that University.” All that was true. Everything depended now on the mood of the soldier.

“Dismount. Have you weapons?” the man demanded.

Nat jumped down and spread out his arms, turning back his short cloak to show he had neither sword nor pistol. The soldier rummaged in his saddle bag, but finding only a change of clothes and a few books which Nat had put in for show, he shrugged his shoulders.

“He’s harmless enough,” he commented to his mate nearby.

“But that’s a fine horse for a student.”

“It was kindly lent me by a friend, Sir Bertram Lauder, as I came through Yorkshire. He is for the King, as I am.”