The Hungry Tide (19 page)

‘I wanted to have a word with you, John,’ he said. It seemed to Isaac that he was leaning more and more on his nephew, particularly when dealing with people. He appeared to have a natural flair for talking to and understanding them and their problems, which Isaac in his impatience was lacking.

‘How do you think Will Foster is managing out at Garston?’ he began hesitatingly.

‘It’s a little early to say yet, Uncle. They will only just be settling in. We haven’t had news yet from the agent.’

‘No – I was thinking more of how he would manage to get about, on his crutch, you know?’

‘Oh, he manages very well, he’s very agile and very strong, I wouldn’t think he has any trouble at all.’

Isaac nodded. ‘That’s what I thought. Would you come inside for a moment, I must speak to you privately.’

They moved indoors to the small back room overlooking the river which John had claimed for his own office, and sat down on the hard wooden chairs.

‘I’ve got a slight problem, John, and although I don’t like to ask you to deal with all the awkward matters, I think it would be less embarrassing in this instance if you will do so.’ He got up and looked out of the window to the busy river just feet below. ‘Isobel has an aversion, as you may be aware, of anything slightly less than normal.

‘Damn it all!’ He turned in exasperation to face his nephew. ‘He’s a perfectly capable fellow, but she says she won’t have him near her. Isobel, I mean,’ he said as he saw the perplexed look on John’s face, ‘and Will Foster. She doesn’t like the thought of his leg!’

‘You’re not thinking of bringing the Fosters back!’

‘No, no. I won’t go back on my word. But we have to think of something, otherwise I’ll never have a minute’s peace!’

‘There isn’t anything we can think of,’ John replied in exasperation. ‘And in any case he isn’t going to be anywhere near Aunt Isobel. He’ll be busy outside most of the time, and on the land.’ He was thoughtful for a moment. ‘So short of fixing him up with a wooden leg, I don’t see what’s to be done.’

Isaac looked up. ‘That’s a good idea. They can do that for him at the Infirmary.’

‘But he can’t possibly afford it, sir. They haven’t any money at all, I know that for a fact.’

‘Never mind that. Isobel has spent so much money on fancy new furniture and suchlike for Garston Hall, that I think a few guineas more won’t send us out of business.’ Isaac breathed a great sigh of relief. ‘Go out and see him, will you, John, there’s a good fellow, and arrange to get him fixed up. Wait a minute.’ He pondered as John opened the door. ‘Boots, long ones – up to the knee. That’s what he needs. See to it, will you?

‘Oh, one more thing, the new furniture will be arriving at Garston Hall any time now, so you might tell them to be prepared. Perhaps you would stay on there for a few days just to organize things?’

John was none too pleased as he left his uncle. He had organized his working days very efficiently he thought, and now because of his aunt’s absurd behaviour, he had to re-arrange them. But more than anything he was extremely uneasy at having to give a man the humiliating order that when the mistress of the house appeared he was to remain invisible and out of sight like some leper.

John dismounted in the inn yard and called for ale and bread and cheese. The day was fine and he sat outside on the rough bench and felt the warmth of the sun on his face, though the breeze blew coolly.

He gazed at the tranquillity of the landscape. The wheat had been cut and the meadows below him had been thrown open to cattle and sheep for common grazing.

How peaceful it looks, he thought. Almost as if life has passed it by. No sign of discontent or strife here, and yet just over the sea in France men of the land and in the cities were revolting against poverty and starvation, threatening both the new constitution and the old monarchy. Only last year, thousands of women had marched to the king in Versailles demanding bread for their starving families. Harvests had been disastrous and they had nothing more to lose. Since then there had been a great deal of blood shed and he understood that even the French king’s life was in danger.

He stretched his legs and reflected that he could almost wish for some excitement himself. His blood had stirred when he read of the news coming from France, and yet he had been sickened by the tales of massacre. He wondered too, should he decide to go to see for himself what was happening there, where his loyalties would lie, for he had much sympathy with the starving masses.

His uncle, perhaps realizing his restlessness, had drawn him more and more into the business, in particular with the kitting out of the whaler the
Polar Star
, which after a substantial refit would sail next March, and with the promise that he would sail with her.

The landlord re-appeared holding a jug of ale. ‘Will tha tek a drop more, sir? Travelling is thirsty work.’

John nodded, having just taken a mouthful of cheese.

‘Going very far, sir?’

‘Only as far as Monkston. Not so far now.’

‘Tha’ll be going to Garston Hall then?’ said the landlord, his tone becoming deferential. ‘Would Mrs Masterson be family by any chance, a sister or—?’

‘What is it to you.’ John’s tone was sharp. He didn’t care for the man’s fawning attitude.

‘Begging tha pardon, sir. I’m not meaning to be curious like, but I do have a reason for asking.’

John relented. ‘My aunt. Mrs Masterson is my aunt. Now what is it you want, for I must be on my way?’

‘Have just a drop more, it’s my best.’ He poured more ale into the pewter tankard, ignoring John’s protests.

‘Fact is, sir – dost tha mind if I sit beside thee?’ He squeezed his fat frame on to the bench and John, wondering now how he could get away without seeming arrogant, moved along to make more room.

‘Fact is,’ the man repeated, ‘I wondered if maybe Mrs Masterson was wanting any more staff. I’ve a daughter who—’

‘I’ve really no notion of my aunt’s requirements.’

‘I’ve got four daughters at home,’ the landlord said gloomily, ‘and no wife to keep them in order. Two of them are spinsters and help me here at ’hostelry, and one is spoken for, but I want to place ’youngest if I can. Somewhere where I know she’ll learn to be useful and how to behave and all that.’

He looked sideways at John, and then said confidentially, ‘Fact is, she wants to go and work in Hull, says it’s dull out here. All ’young folk are going, ’farmers are enclosing their land and don’t need so many workers.’

John shifted uncomfortably. He knew that his uncle had struck a very favourable bargain when buying his estate. The village farmers could no longer afford to hedge and ditch their strip fields as Parliament decreed, and the richer landowners and merchants like Isaac Masterson who could afford it were buying up more and more land that had previously given a living to whole villages.

‘But your daughter wouldn’t have become a farmer surely!’

‘No, sir, but she would likely have married somebody with a bit of land and been set up. As it is, I’m afraid of her going to Hull. She’s a right bonny lass and I don’t want her to go wrong.’ He rose from the bench. ‘If tha has just a minute to spare, sir, I’ll fetch her for thee to look at.’

John opened his mouth to object; he didn’t want to inspect the man’s daughter like some curiosity or prize heifer, but the landlord had already reached the inn door and had raised his voice to a bellow to whoever was inside.

Promptly, as if she had been waiting for a signal, a young girl appeared, and John as he saw her, quite without thinking, rose to his feet.

The landlord smiled in satisfaction. ‘This is my youngest daughter, sir. Susan’s her name. If I say so myself there isn’t a finer looking wench this side of ’country.’

John guessed her age to be fifteen or sixteen years, but she was well rounded, and had he been older and wiser he would have realized her charms were displayed with skill. Rounded breasts rose gently above the low neckline of her dress and she placed her small brown hands against them discreetly, drawing his attention to them and her soft plump throat. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

‘Say how de do to ’gentleman, Susan. Show thy manners!’ The innkeeper gave his daughter a playful nudge.

She ignored him and moved towards John and gave a small curtsey. ‘Good morning, sir.’ She looked at him coolly, no hint of subservience in her eyes as there was in her father’s, and then with a catch of amusement in her voice and as if rehearsed she said, parrot fashion, ‘It’s a fine morning for travel, I hope tha’s had a good journey.’

John felt that she was amusing herself at his expense for he caught a sparkle in her eyes and, as she spoke she turned herself around slowly, her arms outspread as if about to dance.

‘Now then, Susan, behave thyself,’ admonished her father.

‘I’m only showing what’s on offer, Fayther,’ she answered, her eyes never leaving John’s face until quite suddenly he found himself flushing uncontrollably. The blood thundered in his ears until he felt his head would explode and he sat down suddenly.

‘I – er.’ He cleared his throat again. ‘I will speak to my aunt and ask if there is likely to be a position available. I can’t guarantee anything, of course, as I think arrangements have been made. But I will ask,’ he repeated weakly, as the girl continued to gaze at him.

She bent towards him, leaning on the table so that he was aware of the soft rise and fall of her breasts as she spoke in a husky whisper.

‘I would be very grateful.’ Her eyes, almost violet in colour, held his, then she lowered her lashes demurely and he saw the contours of her cheekbones and the small pink lobes of her ears.

As he rode away down the hill he twisted round in the saddle to look back. They were still there, silhouetted against the skyline, and the innkeeper raised an arm in farewell. The girl simply stood at her father’s side and made no response until, as John turned away, she turned back into the inn yard and in response to her father’s grin, started to spin, round and round the yard, faster and faster, her arms held wide, her skirts and petticoats flying high above her bare legs and her voice raised in laughter.

‘I’m sorry, Will.’

‘I can’t believe what tha’s saying. How can anybody say summat like that? I thought folk of thy class were supposed to be sensitive and kind!’

Will threw down the scythe angrily and turned his back.

John had found him down in the bottom field, clearing a patch of nettles and bramble where Mrs Scryven had said he would be. ‘Here, Mr John,’ she’d said, ‘take a drop of this with thee,’ and handed him a jug of sweet elderberry wine.

Will’s reaction had been stronger than he’d expected as he told him that Mrs Masterson didn’t want him around the house or garden when she was about.

‘Why?’ he asked angrily. ‘Why did she have to say it? She’s not likely to see me anyway. I’m hardly going to be serving her tea in her bedchamber!’

‘She’s – well, she’s—’ John searched for the right phrase to justify his aunt’s behaviour. ‘It’s her condition!’ he said in desperation.

Will grunted cynically. ‘We’ve already heard about that. I know women do change, but they become gentler – not nasty and mean.’

‘Oh, steady on!’ John felt that he had to protect his aunt’s honour, even though he was inclined to agree that she was being unreasonable. ‘Anyway, I haven’t told you everything. Sit down and let’s drink this excellent brew of Mrs Scryven’s, and maybe you’ll be in a better frame of mind.’

‘I’ve half a mind to pack this in and go back to Hull. Take my chance. At least I know what to expect from my own kind,’ Will said bitterly.

‘Your own kind as you call them couldn’t help you before, why should they now?’ John took a long draught from the jug. ‘Anyhow, you can’t go now, Maria’s near her time.’

Will took the jug from him and took a swig. ‘Well, seeing as tha’s such an expert on these matters! Go on then, let’s hear what tha has to say.’

John lay back on the grass his arms behind his head. He could understand Will’s anger, he would feel the same way himself, it was rather like undermining a man’s virility. He thought of his own as yet unproven manhood and gave a deep sigh as he thought again of the girl at the inn. Susan. Her name had been on his lips all afternoon, her face so constantly drifting in front of him that he felt that he only had to reach out and he would be able to touch her, to run his fingers through her golden curls and stroke the softness of her skin.

As he’d turned round after seeing her standing at the top of the hill, he’d urged his horse on to a vigorous gallop, the pounding of the hooves matching the rhythm of his pulse. He’d given a joyful yell at the top of his voice which startled both the horse and a brace of pheasants who rose from beneath a hedge in heavy, cacophonous flight, and which in turn startled him, almost unseating him.

‘Well, are we going to sit here all night?’

‘What! Oh, sorry. I was miles away.’

‘Thinking about a lass, I bet!’

‘As a matter of fact – yes, I was. Do you think it possible to fall in love at a first meeting, Will?’

‘Aye, I do. But tha’s better not saying owt about it till tha’s sure. Lasses have a way of trying to arrange things and tha’ll find thyself wed before tha knows what’s happening.’

‘Wed! I’m not thinking of getting wed!’ He sat up with a start and thought with amusement of the reaction he would receive from his aunt should he suggest marrying the innkeeper’s comely daughter. Isobel had produced a parade of suitable young ladies from amongst their élite circle of friends, and was forever suggesting that he should entertain more, but from the bevy he had met, not one had set his senses on fire in the way that Susan had.

‘No, I don’t want to get wed, but just enjoy the pleasure of being in love.’

Will grunted. ‘Well, don’t enjoy it too much or tha might find thyself wed, whether or not tha wants to. Her father might not take kindly to some young fellow squiring his daughter and not having ’right intentions. I know how it works with thy sort, so just be careful. Anyway, if tha has nowt else to tell me, I’ll be getting on. Some folk have work to do.’

‘No, wait, listen. This is the best part.’