The Lady's Maid (22 page)

The whole household was plunged into deep mourning. The clocks were stopped, curtains drawn and mirrors covered. Sir Hector’s body lay in a satin-lined oak coffin in the candlelit Blue Room on the ground floor. Everyone in the house, from the hall boy to the new master, wore unrelieved black.

The day of the funeral dawned fine and dry, with a touch of hoar frost sparkling on the bare branches of the trees. A hearse drawn by four black horses took the coffin to the village church, followed by a procession of mourners. Heavily veiled, Marguerite leaned on Joseph’s arm with Josie and Hermione walking slowly behind them. Josie held her head high in a gesture of pride and defiance. The news that she was not the heiress to her father’s lands and fortune had spread rapidly. She was no longer a person of consequence, although she knew that the villagers still held her in respect, if only for the sake of her dead father. Sir Hector had been a good landlord in his lifetime, and she knew that he would be
sorely
missed. She wondered whether Joseph would turn out to be half the man, although to be fair to him, he had behaved himself well since her father’s death. No mention had been made of the episode in the morning parlour, and he had not laid a finger on her since.

The villagers lined the route, the men standing cap in hand with their heads bowed, and some of the women were crying. Even the children were silent as they watched the plumed horses drawing the glass-sided hearse through the lanes to the church. As the pallbearers carried the coffin through the lychgate, Josie was suddenly aware of Kate, who was standing at the edge of the path with Molly by her side. There was no sign of Sam and that sent a barb of pain into her heart. He could have come, if only to give her a modicum of comfort. She could hardly bear to look at Kate as she drew level with her. The lies that she had told Harry lay heavily on her conscience, but Kate’s pretty face was as innocent of ill feeling as an angel’s, and as their eyes met Josie’s reserve broke. She threw her arms around Kate’s neck and gave way to a storm of weeping.

‘Don’t take on so, Josie,’ Kate whispered. ‘Sir Hector wouldn’t want you to be unhappy. He loved you very much.’

With a supreme effort, Josie drew away and fumbled for her handkerchief, but she seemed to have lost it. Kate produced a piece of ragged cotton and gave it to her. ‘Dry your eyes. It’s quite clean.’

Hickson hurried up to Josie, taking her arm in a tight grip that made her wince. ‘You’re making a show of yourself, Miss Josie. Think of your poor mama.’

Josie mopped her eyes. ‘I’m sorry for everything, Kate.’

‘Come along, Miss Josie,’ Hickson hissed, tugging at her sleeve. ‘You’re holding everyone up.’

Josie shook her hand off with an impatient frown. ‘I’ll come when I’m ready, Hickson.’ She turned back to Kate. ‘Can you ever forgive me?’

‘What is there to forgive? I don’t understand.’

‘Nothing really. I don’t know what I’m saying.’ Josie reached out to touch Kate’s hand briefly before moving on into the cool, echoing interior of the church. The scent of hothouse lilies would, she thought vaguely, forever remind her of her father’s funeral. Parson Daleymount conducted the service and the church was crammed with mourners. Those who could not get inside had to stand in the churchyard, shivering with cold, but they joined in the hymn singing with more enthusiasm than musical expertise.

Afterwards, Joseph magnanimously invited the whole village to the manor house where, he informed them grandly, tables had been set out with refreshments in the entrance hall, and several of the ground floor rooms had been opened up to the public. There was an undignified stampede as the villagers, most of whom had never set foot inside Damerell Manor, competed to get there first and sample their new lord’s hospitality.

‘Are you all right, Mama?’ Josie asked anxiously, as she helped her mother into the barouche. Showing an unusual degree of thoughtfulness, Joseph had ordered the carriage to be brought to the church so that the
ladies
did not have to make the journey back to the house on foot.

Marguerite was pale, but remarkably composed. She even managed a ghost of a smile. ‘I will be when this is all over, my dear.’

‘I’m sorry that I made a complete fool of myself outside the church, Mama.’

‘Don’t be silly, Josie. You’ve been so brave and strong during the last few awful days. I don’t know what I would have done without you.’ Marguerite climbed into the carriage and sat down beside Hermione.

Joseph had stayed behind to speak to Parson Daleymount, but he joined them just as Josie was about to follow her mother into the carriage. ‘Allow me, my dear,’ he said, placing one hand round her waist while he fondled her buttocks with the other. ‘Get in, my dear niece. We need to get back to the house before the hoi polloi get there and start wrecking the place.’

She gave him a withering look. ‘You invited them to the house, Uncle.’

‘So I did. Well, we need to keep the tenants sweet if I am to raise their rents.’ Joseph clambered into the barouche and sat down beside her.

She moved as far away from him as she could. ‘What do you mean, raise their rents? You can’t do that.’

‘My dear girl, I am the landowner now and I can do as I please. Poor old Hector wasn’t a very good businessman. The estate isn’t paying its way and that trend must be reversed pretty damn quickly.’

‘Joseph,’ Hermione said in a shocked voice. ‘Language, please.’

‘Sorry, my dear, but it’s true. Something must be done soon, or we’ll end up in Queer Street. You wouldn’t like that, now would you, Marguerite? I mean, good old Hector didn’t exactly leave you a rich widow, did he?’

Marguerite’s face crumpled and she buried her face in her hands.

‘Oh, Joseph, how could you be so unfeeling?’ Hermione demanded, and her bottom lip trembled.

‘You really are a pig, aren’t you?’ Josie hissed. Not that either her mother or Hermione could have heard her words, as they were clinging to each other, weeping loudly.

‘Women.’ Joseph groaned. ‘One word out of place and they turn on the tears just to make a man feel bad.’

‘There was no need to rub it in,’ Josie said angrily. ‘Mama and I know that we are dependent on your charity.’

His eyes narrowed to slits, almost disappearing into his fat cheeks. ‘Yes, just bear that fact in mind, my dear Josie. You and she depend on me to keep a roof over your heads. But you are a bright girl and I’m sure we can work out a way for you to repay me for my generosity.’

‘I would sooner die than allow you to lay your filthy paws on me, Uncle.’

Hermione looked up at that moment, peering at them through her tears. ‘Joseph. What have you said to upset dear Josie?’

He placed his arm around Josie’s shoulders, hugging her to him with his fingers digging into her
flesh
. ‘I’m just comforting the poor little thing, Hermione. After all, I am going to be her surrogate father from now on.’

Josie gritted her teeth.

‘Oh, my dear husband, you are such a kind-hearted man,’ Hermione said, with a watery smile. ‘Marguerite, see how Joseph comforts your daughter. We will be a happy little family together, I am sure. And you, dear Josie, will be the daughter that I never had. Marguerite is already like a sister to me. We will be so happy in our lovely new home.’

‘Yes, indeed. I couldn’t have put it better myself,’ Joseph said, chuckling.

Josie had to choke back a bitter retort. For her mother’s sake, and until she had thought of a better plan, she would have to pretend that all was well. For all his bluff geniality, she knew that Joseph would be a dangerous man to cross. She could barely wait for the carriage to come to a halt before she scrambled to the ground and ran up the steps into the house, leaving Hermione to look after her mama. At least Hermione was kind; she couldn’t help being stupid.

Inside the house, Josie was surrounded by tenants and villagers, all wanting to offer her their condolences. Eventually, she made her way to the Chinese Room where she found Kate and Molly. Until this moment, Josie had never given a thought to young Molly, but now she saw her as Sam’s sister and suddenly she was looking at her in a new light. ‘Kate, I’m so glad you came. And you too, Molly.’

Molly’s dark eyes opened wide and she bobbed a
curtsey
. ‘I was sorry to hear of your sad loss, Miss Damerell.’

‘Thank you.’ Josie stared hard at her, attempting to see a likeness to Sam. If there was one, it was very subtle. Perhaps there was a similar look about the eyes, but Molly’s youthful prettiness was in sharp contrast to Sam’s rugged good looks.

‘Are you all right, Josie?’ Kate asked. ‘This must be so difficult for you.’

Josie managed a smile. ‘I’m all the better for seeing you again. I was unkind to you when we parted and for that I am truly sorry.’

‘It’s all forgotten.’

‘Shall I fetch you a glass of wine, miss?’ Molly asked shyly.

‘Yes, thank you, and I’m sure that Kate would like something too.’

Kate smiled and nodded her head. ‘A glass of cordial would be nice. Would you like me to help you, Molly?’

‘I can manage.’ Molly made her way towards the entrance hall and was soon lost in the crowd.

A feeling of deep sadness threatened to overwhelm Josie, and it was not simply the loss of her father. She realised suddenly that Kate was staring at her with a question in her eyes. ‘I’m all right, Kate. At least our friends from the village seem to be enjoying themselves.’

‘I’m afraid it’s the drink that makes them forget that this is a sad occasion.’

‘My father would not have wanted anyone to grieve for him. He liked to see people happy. Papa
was
a kind and generous man and I will miss him terribly.’

‘He loved you very much, Josie.’

‘Yes, I think perhaps he was the only person in the world, apart from Mama, who really loved me.’

Kate laid her hand on Josie’s arm and her eyes were filled with sympathy. ‘Sam loves you desperately. The only reason he didn’t come today was because he thought you didn’t want him here.’

‘That’s not true. I wish he had come. I didn’t mean to hurt him.’

‘But you made it quite clear that it was Harry you wanted.’

‘I know I did, and I’ve hated myself for it ever since, but I couldn’t marry Sam. It wasn’t to be. My future doesn’t lie in the muck and mud of a farmyard.’

‘And you are going to wed Harry Challenor?’ Kate’s voice trembled.

The memory of her last meeting with Harry came flooding back. Josie had pushed it to the back of her mind, but meeting Kate’s candid, trusting gaze she felt bitterly ashamed of herself. She, who called herself Kate’s friend, had sent him away thinking that the woman he loved had given herself to another man. Even though her conscience was plaguing her, Josie could not bring herself to tell Kate the truth. She tossed her head, forcing her cold lips into a smile. ‘Yes, of course. We just have to set the date.’

Chapter Thirteen

SIR HECTOR’S SUDDEN
death sent the whole village into mourning, and with it came a sense of disbelief and uncertainty. Everyone from the smallest child to the oldest inhabitant was now painfully aware that the estate would go to his younger brother. When he had proved his right to succeed to the title, and as soon as his name was entered on the Official Roll, he would become Sir Joseph Damerell, Baronet.

Robert admitted to being worried about the future of the home farm under the new owner, who was known to be a spendthrift and a gambler, unused to country ways. Rumours were circulating that Sir Joseph intended to put up rents, which would affect everyone from the humblest cottager to the better-off tenant farmers. Robert was thrown into a fit of despondency, which did not go down well with his bride, who demanded to be first in his attentions at all times.

Kate was distressed for her father’s sake but even more anxious about Josie. She had attempted to see her several times after the funeral but had been turned away. She wrote a note to Josie expressing her sympathy and Sam gave it to one of the under grooms, bribing him to give it to Miss Damerell at the earliest
opportunity
. Kate had no way of knowing whether Josie received the message, and her heart ached for her friend’s loss. She knew how she would feel if it had been her own father who lay in his grave. He had been a changed man since he gave up strong liquor, but she could not help noticing as the days went on that he was once again resorting to a glass or two of brandy after supper. Honoria made it plain that she disapproved, although she was obviously keeping a guard on her tongue in front of her husband; but not so with Kate who bore the brunt of her stepmother’s ill temper only a little less than Molly.

Honoria did not lie in bed all day as Josie had predicted; she rose early every morning and Kate would find her downstairs in the kitchen ordering Molly about as if she were a slave. The poor girl always ended up in tears, and although Kate tried to intervene, Honoria was not to be gainsaid. At the end of her first month as mistress of the house she demanded the set of keys that hung from Kate’s waist, and the household accounts book.

‘But, Honoria,’ Kate protested, ‘I’ve kept the books faithfully since we moved here from London, and Pa has never once complained about my housekeeping. As to the keys, well, they are only to the dairy, the cider press and the cellar. I’m sure you don’t want to be bothered with the likes of that.’

Honoria held her hand out. ‘I am mistress of the house now, not you. I will run my own household and I want you to keep a daily record of the number of eggs laid, the amount sold and the same for the
milk
, butter and cheese. On market day you will hand the money taken to me and I will check it against the list of produce. There will be no taking the odd sixpence to spend on ribbons or fancy bonnets, like the one you wore to our wedding. That must have cost a pretty penny.’

‘It did, but it was a gift from Josie.’ Kate forced herself to sound calm, although inwardly she was seething. ‘And I do not take money without first asking Pa. You have no right to say that I do, Honoria.’