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‘Clementina.’ Briefly their cheeks touched. ‘This is not the happiest of visits,’ Helen murmured. ‘Indeed, I wish to say what I have come to say as quickly as possible, and beg your indulgence in the saying of it.
‘Giles left me in no doubt that he considered it to be his business, and was put out when I insisted it should be myself who told you, but when you have heard me out I’m sure I can safely leave the matter in your own capable hands, and we can bring this to a satisfactory conclusion,’ Helen murmured. ‘And I apologize for the early call, but what I must say is family and private, so I had little choice. Elliot,’ she said without more ado. ‘Have you seen him this morning?’
‘Why, no – but the boy was out late last evening and doubtless wishes to sleep on. Indeed, he rarely rises before ten …’
‘Then when you do see him, Clemmy, I warn you that you might be shocked by his appearance. Last night, you see, he made unwelcome advances to one of my maids who was forced to defend herself by scratching his face.’
‘Elliot? Unwelcome advances?’ Her face registered disbelief. ‘I cannot think my son would be interested in a – a servant.’
‘Then you must take my word for it that he was. What was more, the attack took place on Rowangarth land.’
‘Attack, you’re saying? Oh, come now, Helen, that is a most serious accusation. My son would never –’
‘Elliot did.’ Helen’s eyes held those of her brother-in-law’s wife. ‘He attacked a young girl not yet eighteen. What is more –’
‘Now see here!’ The mistress of Pendenys rose to her feet, all pretence at gentility gone. She was only too ready to admit to her son’s shortcomings, but that was a privilege allowed only to his mother. ‘I cannot allow this. You come to my home at an extremely inconvenient time, then accuse my son of pressing his advances upon a servant! Are you sure the little madam hasn’t got herself into trouble and now tries to implicate my son? The working classes are full of guile; never miss an opportunity. Elliot is a handsome young man and attractive to the ladies, but never would he stoop so low as you say!’
‘Your son, Clemmy, would stoop as low as it suited him to. The girl in question is young and innocent and not for a moment do I suspect she is in any kind of trouble – apart from the distress caused her by Elliot last evening.’ Helen Sutton took a deep, calming breath, wondering why she should feel so agitated when she had known all along that Clemmy would spring instantly to her son’s defence. ‘What is more, his face will carry the marks to prove it, since proof seems to be what you need. He may also be nursing a swollen nose or a blackened eye, or both, for it was my under-keeper’s young lady your son attacked!’
‘Attacked? I refute it utterly!’ Clementina cried. ‘And I resent your blacking of his character. If you are seeking a scapegoat, then I suggest you look elsewhere. And if it is true that one of your keepers assaulted my son, please to remember that I can have the law on him; teach the wretch his place!’
‘Indeed you can not! I will not have scandal attached to Rowangarth, nor will I have my staff placed at risk by your prowling son. And since it seems you are not prepared to do anything about his ungentlemanly behaviour, Clemmy, then I have only this to say. Elliot is not welcome at Rowangarth until he has made a full and unconditional apology to Giles for his behaviour, and given an understanding that it will not happen again to any member of my household. And until that apology has been received, your son must not set foot on Rowangarth land, for I cannot risk the wellbeing of those in my care. Do you fully understand that?’ The steely quiet of her accuser’s voice sent fear screaming silently through Clementina Sutton. The Creesby affair had been bad enough, but to be snubbed at Rowangarth was unthinkable.
‘I fully understand that you slander Elliot’s reputation,’ she snapped, ‘and he will not set foot on your property until an apology is received by him from you!’
‘Very well. The arrangement suits me admirably,’ Helen breathed, ‘though should Elliot have cause to change his mind and walk through my woods again, I want it understood that my keepers will be instructed to treat him as a common poacher, and pepper his backside with leadshot! The choice is entirely Elliot’s!’
‘Well!’ Clemmy’s voice faltered on the edge of tears, for never before had she seen Helen so angry, so white-faced with outrage. ‘I can only say that things have come to a pretty pass between us when my son – my innocent son – must be treated like a criminal!’ She flung round, her face red and ugly with temper. ‘And if your doors are closed to my son, then they are closed to me, too!’
‘So be it,’ Helen murmured. ‘And now I will bid you good morning.’
‘I cannot believe this is happening to me, and in my own home, too.’ Clementina’s wail of torment rose to fresh heights. ‘My son slandered, accused, and by his own flesh and blood, too. You and I who have always been close, to be parted by the likes of a servant!’
‘The remedy lies in your own hands. Order your son to make a full apology – that is all I ask. That, and an understanding that all members of my household are to be treated with respect by him in the future …
‘To speak plainly,’ Helen sighed, ‘had I sent for the constable, my accusation could well have been one of attempted rape. Elliot must count himself lucky that I care for the good name of the Suttons, otherwise it would need more than an apology to get him out of this!’
‘Rape! You go too far, Helen, even for family! There can be no more said between us save that I will never again accept your hospitality nor set foot in your house.
‘And don’t be too sure I won’t have that keeper of yours up for common assault! We’ll see then who does the apologizing. It might well be me who sends for the police!’
‘Then take my advice, Clemmy; think about it. Wait until the scratches on his face heal and his bruises are gone, otherwise they’re going to take some explaining away – even to our amiable constable!’ With studied disinterest, Helen Sutton drew on her gloves. ‘I will see myself out. Goodbye, my dear.’
‘Dearest! What is it?’ Giles Sutton offered his arm to the woman who stepped uncertainly from the carriage. ‘You are shaking. What happened to upset you so? And why didn’t you leave it to me as I said you should?’
‘I don’t know, and that’s a fact.’ Wearily she unpinned her hat and removed her gloves. ‘And yes, I should have left it to you, Giles, though I thought Clemmy would have listened to reason. Oh, family squabbles are so very distasteful …’
‘Squabbles? You had words?’ Giles guided his mother to a chair, calling over his shoulder for a tray of tea.
‘Words? I asked for an apology from Elliot and was told it will not be offered. So I was obliged to tell her that I will not receive her son and that he may not even set foot on Rowangarth land until it is – offered to you, Giles,’ she sighed. ‘Whereupon your aunt said that neither would she come to Rowangarth, either. When will she ever learn that Elliot is heading for trouble if he carries on as he is? That’s what upsets me so.’
‘Mama dear, Elliot is Uncle Edward’s problem, not yours. And what is more, I’ll lay odds that he’ll turn up this afternoon bearing flowers and chocolates and apologizing charmingly. Because that’s what he is – a charmer. And he can’t bear it when a woman doesn’t fall flat at his feet.’
‘Elliot is not a charmer. Elliot is selfish and spoiled and a womanizer and where he’ll end up is anybody’s guess! Don’t make excuses for him, Giles. You lean over backwards to find good in everyone, and there is no good at all in that young man. What is more, I as good as said so to his mother. I also told her that Elliot would be treated like a poacher if he’s caught in Brattocks Wood again. I said the keepers would pepper his backside.’
‘Dearest, you are priceless!’ He threw back his head and laughed his delight. ‘How Dwerryhouse would welcome the chance to do just that!’
‘Oh, dear. I made a mess of it, didn’t I?’ The smallest smile lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘Clemmy is most put out. She swept past me in a fury as I left, taking the stairs two at a time, yelling for Elliot at the top of her voice. I’m only sorry it will make trouble for poor Edward. Thank you, Mary,’ she smiled at the parlourmaid who placed a tray at her elbow. ‘This is exactly what I need.’
‘A message from Miss Julia,’ Mary smiled, hand on the door knob. ‘She said to tell you that she and the doctor are out walking, but they’ll be back in good time for lunch. Will that be all, milady?’ she murmured, noting at once the hand that shook as it lifted the pot.
‘Thank you, Mary – yes.’
What, wondered the parlourmaid as she closed the door behind her, had happened at Pendenys that her ladyship should come back so agitated? Because William had said she’d left in great haste and never a sign of Mrs Clementina to see her off. William noticed everything.
But it was all on account of that Mr Elliot and what happened in Brattocks. Mary frowned. A bad ‘un, that’s what he was, who’d come to a sticky end. And what was more, Mrs Shaw would agree with her when she told her how upset her ladyship was.
‘Oh dear,’ Helen whispered, when they were alone again. ‘I shall have to tell Miss Clitherow. She won’t like it one bit. And had you thought that, if Elliot doesn’t come to dinner, neither will his mother, and no matter what he thinks to the contrary, your Uncle Edward will, through loyalty, be absent too.’
‘And shall you mind? At least without Elliot there won’t be an atmosphere.’
‘Not one jot shall I mind.’ She was fortified, now, by the tea and the comfort of her own fireside. ‘But had you thought that three refusals will mean we will be sitting thirteen to dinner, and that I mind about very much.’
‘Yes. I see …’ No one ever sat thirteen at table. ‘Mind, there is a way out of it. Ask Julia’s doctor to fill a space. You know you’ve taken to him, Mama, and it seems pretty serious between the two of them, so you’ll have to introduce him to friends sooner or later.’
‘What a good idea! He’d have to stay the night, though,’ she frowned. ‘Do you think he’d mind?’
‘Not a bit – and Julia would love it.’
‘But what if he has other plans? He might not want to.’
‘He’ll want to,’ Giles grinned. ‘Julia will see to that! Problem solved, so drink up your tea and forget about Pendenys. It’ll all blow over – just see if it doesn’t. Storm in a teacup, that’s all.’
‘Storm in a teacup,’ Helen nodded. But it wouldn’t blow over, because Clemmy was proud and she would never give in – not where Elliot was concerned. This morning, in only the space of a few minutes, a deep and wide chasm had opened up between the Garth Suttons and the Place Suttons and she dreaded to think where it might end. ‘Soon blow over,’ she said with a brightness she far from felt. ‘A lot of fuss about nothing, but for all that we’ll ask Doctor MacMalcolm to dinner on Friday – to please Julia …’
9 (#ulink_f290391b-fda3-579f-a8e6-5759533fbd6e)
‘Elliot, damn you, where are you?’
Clementina Sutton took the stairs two at a time, shaking with fury, cursing the stays and petticoats and folds of skirt that impeded her undignified haste. First Mrs Mounteagle, and now her sister-in-law, and all because of Elliot and his stupidity!
‘Where are you, boy!’ For two pins she would tan his hide as he deserved. She could do much worse for the shame he had heaped upon her! She would be an outcast, the laughing-stock of local society, and far, far worse, she would have to endure the ill-disguised sniggers of her servants who would glory in her humiliation. ‘Get out of that bed!’
She opened the door with a force that sent it crashing back on its hinges, then, pulling at the bed-covers, she grasped her son’s nightshirt, pulling him, startled, to face her.
‘Mama! What the hell …’
‘Dear God!’ She beheld a bloodstained pillow, a face bruised and battered, and a left eye no more than a swollen slit. ‘Oh, you fool! You – you –’ She flung herself at him, fists pummelling, rage and mortification giving strength to her blows. In that moment of blind fury she hated him, hated herself, and hated the girl who was the cause of it all. But most of all she hated Helen Sutton and her smug superiority. ‘Oh, what has happened to you?’ She collapsed, all at once exhausted, over his bed, sobbing, shaking, moaning pitifully. ‘What is happening to me?’
Arms grasped her, pulled her to her feet. Not knowing where she was, unable almost, to place one foot before the other, she allowed her husband to lead her to the door.
‘You, boy! Get out of that bed and clean yourself up! Then come to the library.’ Edward Sutton’s voice was icy with contempt. ‘At once!’
Guiding his wife to the third door along, he pushed it wide with his foot, supporting her as she slumped against him for fear she would fall in a faint. ‘Clemmy, calm yourself …’
‘Madam!’ Feet pounded the landing, the stairs, the passage. ‘Oh, madam …’
The housekeeper and two agitated housemaids came running, and, in the hall below, glimpsed over the banister rail, the butler gazed up, enjoyment evident upon his face.
‘Please take care of Mrs Sutton.’ Thankfully her husband stood aside. ‘She is not well.’
‘There, there, madam. Let me send for Monique to help you to bed?’ In an agitation of skirts, the wide-eyed housekeeper whisked out of the room. ‘And shall I have Doctor James sent for, sir?’
But Edward was gone, slamming down the stairs white-faced, jaws clenched hard on his fury.
What had his son been up to? Set upon by a debt collector’s thugs; brawling in some alehouse? He’d taken the motor last night; been absent from dinner without excuse or apology, so where had it happened? Leeds again, or had a vengeful butcher caught up with him – or any irate father of a daughter?
Opening the door of the safe, cloister-like room that was his peace and haven, he made for the table where decanters of brandy and sherry stood on a silver tray. Edward Sutton rarely drank before evening, but this morning he downed a measure of brandy with sacrilegious haste, as if it were physic to be gulped of necessity rather than with pleasure.
Damn the stupid youth! He hadn’t crashed the motor, that was certain, or he’d have made great play of his injuries and not slunk into his room. Oh, no. Retribution had caught up with him at last. His son was in trouble of his own making; trouble with a nasty stink to it.
‘Father?’ Elliot stood in the doorway, a robe over his nightshirt, his hair uncombed, defiance in his eyes and in the half-smile that tilted his lips.
‘I asked you to make yourself respectable! How dare you show yourself in that disgusting state? And do not smoke. I will not have the stink of your cigarettes in my room!’
‘Your room, father?’ He opened the gold case, selecting a cigarette with studied defiance. ‘Your anything in this house?’
‘Damn you!’ Edward Sutton covered the space between them, white-hot rage at his heels. Grabbing the silkquilted lapels, he dragged his son to the chair beside the desk, flinging him into it, sending the cigarette case flying. ‘My room, my house, and never from this moment forget it! And I want an explanation of the state you’re in or by God I’ll beat it out of you!’ Knock, pummel, punch him until years of frustration were gone; do what he had longed to do for longer than he could remember – what, as a responsible father, he should have done at the first surfacing of the rottenness in his firstborn. ‘And I want the truth. This is not your mother you are dealing with now!’
‘Then at least allow me to close the door.’ Elliot Sutton brushed an imaginary speck from his robe. ‘I do so dislike washing dirty linen in public.’
‘You’re admitting it then – dirt? Because you didn’t get that face in church on your knees! Where were you last evening and what were you about?’
‘I took the motor, father, and ran out of fuel, and two or maybe three thugs set about me. It was dark – how could I know …’
‘Liar! Don’t insult my intelligence. Those are scratch marks on your face. Which woman did it, and where? Up to your tricks again in Creesby, were you?’ Fist clenched, he thumped the desktop. ‘Well, you have upset your mother for the last time. From now on you answer to me, and when Doctor James arrives, you’ll have him disinfect your face before it goes septic.
‘Then you will shave as best you can and remain out of sight until I get to the bottom of this. For the truth I will have, Elliot, no matter how unsavoury. And restitution you will make, of that be very sure. And now get out of here, for the sight of you sickens me. Indeed, there have been times, lately, when I have looked at you and wondered how I got you.’
‘Ha! So that’s it! I’m not your saintly Nathan; I’m not Sutton-fair, like Albert! I’m dark, aren’t I, a throwback from the Pendennis woman? I could have been Mary Anne’s, couldn’t I – the son of a herring-wench?’
‘That herring-woman you so despise was honest and hard-working. It was she who laid the foundations for what you take for granted, by gutting fish and taking in washing. Would you had more of her in you!’
‘You say that easily, Father, when your own breeding is flawless; when you were born a Sutton. But none of your friends act as if I were. And I am a Sutton – every bit as much as Nathan and Albert.’
‘You’ll be a Sutton when you have earned the right to be one; earned the right to be treated with respect in society. Servants despise you, as do your equals. There are times I think you are not fit to bear the name!’
‘Well, I am yours – me and Albert both.’ The pouting lips made a sneer of contempt. ‘Didn’t do very well, did you, come to think of it? Two black sheep out of a flock of three?’
‘I see no wrong in your brother.’ The words came through tightly clenched teeth. ‘He married where he thought best.’
‘As you did, Father.’
‘Albert did what he thought right for himself,’ Edward ignored the taunt. ‘And has now settled comfortably in Kentucky.’
There had been a letter, not a week ago, from Albert’s wife; a charming letter, giving their address, now permanent, expressing the wish to meet her husband’s English family, Edward recalled. He had felt great relief, though Clemmy had shrugged it off as social climbing and declared her intention to ignore it.
Well, now she would no longer ignore it. Now she would reply, welcoming her son’s wife to the family, thanking her for the offer of hospitality; an offer, did Clementina but know it, they were soon to accept.
‘Ha! Breeding horses, aren’t they?’ Elliot laughed derisively. ‘And horses are all he’ll ever get, bedding a woman that old, the stupid …’
‘Stop it! I won’t listen to your gutter talk. Your coarseness disgusts me. Get out of my sight! Go to your room and stay there until the doctor has seen to your mother, and that’s an order! Show your face outside this house and you’ll be sorry, I guarantee it. Get out, before I lose control and finish what was started last night, because I’ll tell you this, Elliot; whoever did that to you has my heartfelt gratitude!’
‘There now – wasn’t the climb worth it? You say Rowangarth is beautiful –’ Julia’s sweeping arm took in fields and trees, cornfields still brightly green, meadows of grazing cows. From Holdenby Pike they saw woodland below them and farmland and red-tiled cottages in early summer gardens,’ – but that is a view to take with you back to London. And over there – in the clearing – that’s Pendenys Place, where the other Suttons live. Isn’t it grand?’ she laughed.
‘Grand? It’s like a Scottish castle gone wrong! What a bleak place it looks.’
‘Bleak and proud, Andrew, and just a little vulgar, I’m afraid. Pa’s brother lives there. I like Uncle Edward, but Aunt Clemmy has moods; tempers, too. I think, sometimes, that she and Elliot deserve each other. And maybe now some good will come out of what happened in Brattocks, because Elliot got a hiding from Dwerryhouse and he’ll have his father to face, too.
‘And since cousin Elliot will take quite some time to apologize for his behaviour, we won’t have to endure his visits to Rowangarth. Sit down, darling.’ She sank on to the tough, springy grass, pulling her knees to her chin, clasping them with her arms. ‘You know, Andrew, I only hope Aunt Clemmy won’t try to stop Nathan visiting when he comes home. Nathan’s the middle son – the nice one. Giles and he are good friends, so Giles wouldn’t like it either. But at least Hawthorn seems none the worse. You’re sure she’s all right?’
‘She’ll be fine. I could find nothing seriously wrong with her. She’s taken it remarkably well; I can see no reason why she shouldn’t walk in the woods as she always did, to meet her Tom. She should be quite safe with the ferocious Morgan to protect her.’
‘That spoiled old dog; who’d have thought it? But it would be awful if she couldn’t see Tom – even though it’s only for a few minutes. Still, there’ll be two keepers on the lookout, now; and one of them with a very itchy trigger finger.’ Julia laughed her delight, then all at once was serious. ‘I mustn’t make light of it, though. Just think what might have happened if he’d – well –’
To be raped by Elliot Sutton would be terrible enough; to bear a child of that rape was unthinkable.
‘But he didn’t, Julia. Don’t upset yourself by what might have been. Dear little Hawthorn will soon be over the trauma of it. Everyone has been kind to her, and understanding – and she has her young man to comfort her.’
‘Yes, I accept that.’ Julia would not be gainsaid. ‘But what would have been done about it if he’d got her pregnant?’
‘Done? Well – he could have been sent to prison.’
‘And what about Hawthorn? And not just Hawthorn; any woman attacked like that? Well, I’ll tell you. Society would tut-tut, then send the poor soul to the nearest workhouse out of sight, if she didn’t have an understanding family to support her. And the child labelled illegitimate, too, yet both of them innocent. No help for a woman, though; no moral help to save her having to suffer so. Is that fair, Andrew; is it right?’
‘Julia, my love, it is neither fair nor right, but to end a pregnancy for any reason at all is illegal. I don’t make the laws, I just obey them; no matter what I might think to the contrary.’
‘Then you agree with me? You agree there should be some form of birth control for a woman; some say in what happens to her? Would you believe, Andrew, there is a woman in the village carrying her eighth child, with heaven only knows how many miscarriages in between. The midwife fears for her safety this time, so why can’t that poor, worn-out woman call enough and be allowed to limit her pregnancies? Because it is possible; you know it is.’
‘Possible – desirable – but forbidden.’
‘I know. Everything is forbidden, isn’t it, if it even remotely benefits women! And forbidden by men who make the laws, too!’
‘My darling lassie – I agree with all you say. I’m not supposed to, but I do. I think women should have the right to a say in what affects them most. Some uncaring men have been legally killing women for as long as I can remember. And I think women should have the same voting rights as men. And it will come; it will.’ Gathering her close, he smoothed back a tendril of hair which had blown across her face. ‘But please try to take life one hurdle at a time. Don’t put down your pretty head and charge in without thinking. Take things quietly and you’ll get there quicker, in the end. And will you stop your protesting so I can tell you how much I love you – because I do. Right from the start, I loved you.’
‘At first sight, you mean? Don’t tell me the dour doctor believes in such romantic nonsense?’
‘He didn’t, but he does now. You have turned him into a poor creature,’ he smiled. ‘Do you realize that I knelt beside you that night, picked up your wrist and thought, “This is the woman I will marry.” It was a shock; uncanny. I could hardly count your pulse beat. I still can’t believe it.’ He shook his head, bemused.
