Marrying the Mistress

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‘No coal delivery this week,’ Prue said. ‘We’re having to eke it out. I can’t keep the fire going all night any more, and now the pump is frozen.’

‘I’ll send some coal across. Get cook to make some soup.’

‘That all adds to the costs, you know.’

Faces looked up, grinning slyly. Prue never starved them.

She followed me into the fitting room, draped with discreet pale curtains and peopled by miniature figures on shelves wearing the latest Paris modes. In here, I paraded gowns before our best customers, where they called me ‘Madame Helene’, impressed by my French pronunciation and having no qualms about our poor relationship with France. War or no war, French modes were all the thing, and our supplies of silks and lace was wondered at, bought, but never queried.

‘Brierley came about the will,’ I told Prue, quietly.

I told her what had been said. She listened, unruffled.

‘Then go to Stonegate and collect them,’ she said.

‘Go now. You don’t need a key. Go in by the kitchen door. If you delay till Friday, it’ll be too late.’

‘Do I care enough to go and help myself?’ I asked.

‘Of course you do. Go! Mr Monkton’s servants will let you in.’

She steered me through into the shop festooned with fabrics where customers were being attended at the long counter. ‘Good morning, Mrs Barraclough. Miss Fairweather. Lady Bess, good morning to you.’ She flicked a fair eyebrow at me and ushered me out into the snow, closing the door, setting the bell tinkling again.

At Stonegate, it was easy enough to pass through the ginnel into the courtyard and from there to the kitchen door. The cook, butler and coachman were there, huddled round the fire, surprised but not unwelcoming. I explained my mission and was led courteously up the back stairs into the echoing hall. ‘Would you like some assistance, Miss Follet?’ said the butler. ‘Or would you prefer to be alone?’

‘To be honest, Mr Treddle,’ I said, ‘I’m not even sure I ought to be doing this. Mr Brierley said to make a list, but I really don’t… well, you know.’

‘I understand perfectly, ma’am, and I feel sure Mr Monkton would too. May I suggest that you place your possessions on your bed, and I will personally wrap them and have them conveyed to Blake Street later on today. Would that do, do you think? That way, you’ll not have removed them, will you?’

‘Thank you, Mr Treddle. That will do perfectly.’

‘Very good, ma’am.’ He bowed, leaving me alone and feeling as strange as I had at my first entry, seventeen years old and on the cusp of something new. Yet again.

Upstairs, the sour smell of medication had gone and the tables had been cleared of the usual healing clutter. My silver pill box, brought from my old home, was still in his bedside drawer, yet even now I hesitated to take it. Smoothing the grey fur coverlet, I sat down on his bed as I had so often done to comfort him, to talk, to watch him sleep. Dear Linas.

The door, left open, gave on to a wide landing and the curve of polished elm, and if my eyes had not been closed by memories, I would have noticed, long before my return to the present, the tall great coated figure who had come to stand just inside the door frame.

I started with a gasp of shock, only half-believing.

‘Miss Follet,’ he said, softly.

I took a breath, summoning my matter-of-fact voice. ‘Oh…you! You’ve saved me a journey. I was going to pay you a visit today.’ He looked less weary, I thought, wishing my heart would not be so feckless.

‘In this weather? I should hope not. Was it urgent?’

‘Mr Brierley came. You must know, surely.’

‘And?’

‘There are things to be discussed.’ Glancing at Linas’s open drawer, I explained. ‘He wanted me to give him a list. I don’t do lists of possessions. I’ve lost too many possessions for that.’

‘I don’t blame you. Was there something in the drawer? Treddle told me why you’re here.’

‘Well…yes. That pill box. It was my father’s.’

‘Then take it.’ When I did not, he walked over to the drawer, removed the pill box and gave it to me. ‘There. Now, what else is there?’

‘You don’t mind?’

‘Why should I?’ he replied, wandering across the room with his hands clasped behind his back beneath the greatcoat. ‘My staff are not going to know what belongs and what doesn’t when they start next week.’

‘What do you mean…your staff?’

He stopped his wandering and turned to face me with a searching look as if he was deliberating what to say. Yet again, I felt that this must be the prelude to some unwelcome news. ‘Some of my staff from Abbots Mere. The house belongs to me now.’ Then, as the shock dawned upon my face, he added, ‘Oh, dear. Brierley didn’t tell you? It was remiss of him to keep you in the dark. The staff you saw downstairs will remain, and the housekeeper too. I can use a house in the city as well as one outside it.’

What a fool I was. Why could I not have drawn more realistic conclusions about this? Guessing the answer to my next query, I asked it nevertheless. ‘So who owns the one I live in on Blake Street? Mr Brierley said I would maintain the right to…’

‘To live in it as long as you wish. Yes, that part was not in the will, but Linas and I agreed it between us. It belongs to me, you see. It always did. I lent it to Linas for your use.’

My guess had been correct. My arms prickled, but not with the cold. I stood up and closed the drawer with a snap. ‘If I’d known that…’

‘You’d what? Have refused to live in it?’

‘I had thought…hoped…that Linas would provide me and his son with a roof over our heads, at the very least. Now, I cannot even sell it to make ends meet.’ I could not deny that one of my main reasons for wanting to bear Linas’s child was to do with the security it would bring. It had, as it happened, brought much more than that, not least being great happiness to his last few years. I had never regretted that part of the experience.

‘You don’t need to make ends meet, Miss Follet. I intend to continue paying all the running costs, as I have done since I lent it to my brother. You won’t have any more expenses than you did before, except personal ones for which Linas has left you a modest sum.’

‘You…you paid for its upkeep? And servants too?’

‘Well, of course I did. Linas didn’t have many extravagances, apart from…’

‘Apart from me!’

‘…from yourself, which I was quite content to finance. There was no sense of obligation, I assure you.’

‘I’ve heard enough. No obligation, you say, when I was well and truly shared, wasn’t I? You even paid for me. How do you expect me to feel about that, my lord? Grateful? Flattered? Slightly bewildered? Who exactly have I belonged to all these years, I wonder? All neatly contrived to live as the mistress of one twin whilst bearing the other one’s child. Someone should write a play about it, shouldn’t they? What a comedy!’ Clutching the pill box, I strode past him, but was held back and swung round by his hand beneath my arm.

‘Come back, Helene. You can’t walk off in the middle of a discussion.’

‘I’m not in the middle of it,’ I snarled at him, pulling my arm away. ‘And you can keep the other things I came for, since you probably paid for them too.’

‘Listen to me, woman,’ he growled, preventing my escape with his great bulk, legs apart, a black silhouette against the light. ‘You’re blinded by your anger because what Brierley told you was not what you expected. But be reasonable, will you? You want to continue living on Blake Street and you want the funds to maintain it properly, to give Jamie the stability he needs. And now when I tell you that’s exactly what you can do, you fly off the handle and say it’s not what you want. Well, make your mind up, but try to think what’s best for Jamie instead of getting all hoity-toity about it. Does it matter who the house belongs to as long as you can both live there? Who else should pay the bills except me, I ask you? His guardian. Come down off your high horse for a moment. You’ll have all you need.’

‘What I need, my lord, is control of my life, for once. Control of Jamie’s life, too. And that is still being denied me.’

‘Then try being realistic. Sons remain in the control of their fathers or guardians and there’s nothing you can do about that. You must have known as much. So, if you want to stay with him, you will have to accept the same constraints and try to regard them as benefits. Which they are. Linas knew that, and his will reflects it.’

‘Is that so? Even to a ban on my marriage.’

‘What marriage?’

I shrugged. ‘Well, to a future husband, of course. Who else?’

‘Do you have a candidate in mind for the position?’

‘It would make no difference if I did. I stand to lose my son if I do.’

‘Nonsense. You wouldn’t lose him. He’d be with me.’

‘That’s the same thing, isn’t it?’

‘No. You know full well it isn’t.’

There was something in his voice which I could not identify, but which I preferred not to enquire into too closely. Far from simplifying matters, our discussion had taken me further into obligations I would rather not have had, for while the crisis over costs appeared to have a solution, the acceptance of it for little Jamie’s sake was not at all to my liking.

‘Just the same,’ I said, ‘it’s a risk I’m not prepared to take.’

‘A risk? Is that how you see it? As risk? What on earth do you think I might do to the little chap?’

The risk, of course, was not about what he might do but what he might not do, namely to protect my son from the kind of racy lifestyle enjoyed by the Abbots Mere set, the foolish irresponsible blades and the Lady Slatterlys of society. She, for one, would enjoy finding my Achilles’ heel in Jamie and, having found it, would twist the dart till it hurt. I was certain of it.

‘The kind of life you lead is quite different from the one he’s been used to with Linas and me,’ I said, turning away. ‘And you are not used to children.’

‘I’m willing to learn. And he has a nurse. Anyway, you take him to see Medworth’s family and to play with the animals there. He can do the same at Abbots Mere, and more. He’ll have his own room, a pony to ride…’

‘He’s too young for that,’ I objected, weakly.

‘Of course he’s not!’ he scoffed. ‘I learned to ride at three.’

‘The question doesn’t arise. Jamie will stay with me. A child of three needs his mother.’ I hoped he would hear the finality in my tone.

‘Nevertheless, Miss Follet, I think you will have to accept that Jamie will want to visit me, and that I shall want to see him. Often.’

‘I have to, don’t I? Perhaps one day a week, or alternate—’

‘No. My work doesn’t run like clockwork. I have a large estate, and I do things as and when they need doing. When I send for Jamie I shall expect him to come, and that will vary from week to week. I shall also expect him to stay, sometimes. You too, if you wish. I shall have rooms put aside for your personal use.’

Alarm bells rang. ‘For my personal use. How thoughtful. So tell me, my lord, what kind of signal that will send to family and friends? Will your current mistress vacate her rooms for my benefit? Shall I be seen as the newest member of the harem? It could get quite cosy.’

He didn’t react, this time, as he’d done before, but looked down his straight nose at me with his eyes narrowed, his mouth beginning to lift at the corners. ‘So…o, that’s what’s bothering you, is it? Ah, I see.’

Suddenly I was having to defend myself to him in a way I’d never had to do for years. Linas seemed so very far away, which was good, for I did not want him to hear this conversation. ‘Yes,’ I snapped, heading for the door, ‘that is what’s bothering me. How could you be so insensitive as to think I would ever agree to stay there after…’ My cheeks flamed. Why had I brought that up now, of all times?

I stalked off into the room next door that I had always used, scarcely more inviting than Linas’s, especially in the cold blue light of winter. ‘You must know,’ I mumbled, ‘that for me to be seen as one of the Abbots Mere crowd is the last thing I ever wanted, even when Linas was with me.’ I started to rummage. ‘I have a few things to look for. Treddle said he’d send them on, but if you’d rather I left them, I shall quite understand.’

He caught up with me and perched on my delicate stool with the petit-point cushion, his greatcoat swamping it, his long booted legs looking very out of place in a lady’s bedroom. I glared at him, bristling with hostility.

He held my glare with those supercilious brown eyes. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘You wish me to hell. But some matters have to be tackled head on, and we’re going to have this out whether it embarrasses you or not. You must have learned by now that you’ve met your match, Miss Follet.’

What I had learned was that Linas and his brother were even less alike than I thought, one refusing point-blank to discuss the future, even mine or his son’s, the other one impatient to settle every detail. One, a prevaricator with no future to see into, the other with bountiful years ahead. Linas must have thought my future would take care of itself. I was not his wife. Why should he bother?

‘Shall we postpone the debate about whether or not I have met my match, my lord? If you’re asking whether I ever felt a certain imbalance in my relationship with your brother, then, yes, I cannot deny that. It could hardly be otherwise, could it, with Linas unable to see far ahead. Happily, I can see far enough for myself, so I shall not go hungry. You must tell me how to apply for Jamie’s allowance each month, and perhaps arrange for Mr Brierley to make it available. I shall keep every receipt, naturally. I pride myself on being able to keep my own accounts.’ It was immodest of me, but I thought he may as well know.

‘Mother. Mistress. Businesswoman. Is there anything at which you are not proficient, Miss Follet?’

‘Yes, I am not a good liar, my lord. The other day you were kind enough to remind me that your high-minded act of self-sacrifice was entirely for Linas’s benefit, not mine. So I would be lying if I failed to point out, in case you should misunderstand, that I thought only of him too. I wonder you did not hear me call out his name, once or twice.’

‘We spoke no words, as you well know.’

‘Which only goes to show the limitations of your memory, my lord.’

‘I’m flattered to know that yours is still sharp, Miss Follet.’ He stood up, damn him, as if to claim the last word on the subject. ‘And since you were also kind enough to point out the undesirable nature of what you call the Abbots Mere crowd, perhaps I may be allowed to voice similar concerns about your dubious connections. Not quite the kind of thing Jamie ought to know about. You entertained young Solway for a few months, I believe, as well as Standish’s middle son. What’s his name? Bertrand, is it?’

‘For money, my lord,’ I snapped. ‘I was obliged to sell myself.’

‘Ah, of course. For money. Well then, you need hardly be too concerned about visiting Abbots Mere with my ward, since none of the women who stay there are ever paid a penny. They do it voluntarily.’

‘In which case, then, one would expect to see the place swarming with your other little wards. That part must cost you a small fortune.’

‘No!’ he said, picking up a porcelain plate from the mantelshelf and looking at the back. ‘You and Jamie are the only ones to cost me anything.’

‘How sad. That’s something I can easily fix, my lord.’ Boiling, churning, seething with anger at being outmanoeuvred, I gulped down the rest of my venom in a pointless threat that meant nothing at all, since there was no way in which I could fix it, except permanently.

Looking back on it later, I suppose that’s what he thought I meant, for when I moved towards the door again, thinking only to get away from the haunting place, he slammed it shut before I could reach it, catching me like a silly sheep against the wall.

‘Admit it or not, lady, as you please,’ he said, but no more than that before he pushed my head on to his shoulder and brought his mouth down to cover mine, making me forget what it was I was not admitting, and a lot more besides.

He must have known…oh, yes…he must have known how much of that night I remembered. He must have known too how desperately I needed comfort instead of conflict and how much I would have preferred matters to go my way, for a change. He must have known, with Linas no longer to care or be cared for, that I felt both free and guilty, grieved and confused and not as well organised as I pretended to be. So I half-expected his kiss to taste of revenge after our session of deliberate wounding, our first close contact in all those difficult years. I thought he was about to put me, finally, in my place.

But it was not like that, not bitter, but meant, I think, to remind me of the magical beauty of that night without words, passionate but tender too, wanting, taking and giving. Predictable was not the way to describe Burl Winterson, yet I could taste the hunger in his kisses that roamed slowly across my lips, and I felt the desire in his hard arm across my shoulders, the soft hand holding my face. Feel, taste, scent…ah, yes…the scent was there too. Moorland. Fresh linen. Trees after rain. How could I not be reminded?

He must have heard the moan, faintly, in my throat.

‘You’re right,’ he whispered, ‘about not being a good liar. I think we’d both better stick to the truth in future. And let us get another thing straight before we leave. You and Jamie will continue to live under my protection on Blake Street without any more argument. You will bring him to visit me and you will both accept my authority as you did with Linas. I do not need to remind you again whose son he is.’

‘And I suppose the next thing will be that you’ll expect him to call you Papa, will it?’ I said, trying to stiffen in his embrace, and failing.

‘That’ll come too. One thing at a time.’

Squirming out of his arms, I steadied myself against the blue-flocked wallpaper. ‘I was being sarcastic,’ I said, pettishly. ‘I have no intention of giving you that satisfaction. And what is it I’m to admit, or not, as I please?’

‘That you’ve met your match, at last. Now, where are these other things of yours? Come and show me.’

Chapter Four

No expectations, I had said, choosing not to hear the unreality of such a boast. But it was not true. I had