Mask of Duplicity (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 1) (4 page)

Richard clearly did not believe her.

“I haven’t been able to pay the servants since he died three months ago, Richard. That’s why I allowed them all to go to Manchester today, as a reward for their loyalty. We certainly can’t afford to entertain.”

“But I thought...he left such a generous dowry for you... surely he wouldn’t have done that unless he had plenty of money?”

“The will was made ten years ago, when he did have enough money to leave me such a dowry. He never got round to changing it.” She didn’t add that if he had changed it recently, he would most certainly not have left his whole estate to a son who had persistently failed to contact his family. As it was, she was now fully dependent financially on a brother with whom she was already suspecting she would not get on. However, she would try. They had got off on the wrong foot, and she had to admit that was partly her fault. She had forgotten that he had no sense of humour.

“Anyway,” she said. “The fact is that we are left in the position where the only decent sum of money available to us cannot be touched unless I marry, and even then it will go to my husband, not me, so it’s pretty useless really.”

Richard looked like a child who’d just been allowed into the toyshop after years of standing outside, only to find the shelves bare.

“It’s not that bad,” she continued cheerfully. “You have your career, after all. If you employ someone to look after the investments, or even better, someone who can teach me how to do it, I’ll be quite happy where I am. I can keep the house ready for whenever you want to come home, and I don’t need much to live on, so I’m sure there will be sufficient extra income from the investment interest for you to enjoy some luxuries. I’m not interested in clothes and jewellery, so you don’t need to be worried that I’ll fritter your money away if you entrust me with the charge of it. The only luxury I allow myself is books.”

This was supposed to be reassuring, Richard realised that. He decided to accept the olive branch his sister was offering, as a delaying tactic. He was a plodder by nature, not liking to make speedy decisions, preferring to weigh up all the possibilities before deciding on a course of action that would be to his advantage. Where possible he would delegate responsibility to others, especially if he could then take the credit for any success, while avoiding the blame for any failure.

He had envisaged coming home to a bereft and helpless sister surrounded by luxury, and had planned to get her out of the way by marrying her off as soon as possible, then buy himself a commission with his father’s money and install a housekeeper and steward to maintain the house for when he came home on leave, or wished to entertain his officer friends. He had no intention of letting Beth take control of his business and house, but as he didn’t know what he was going to do now, he said nothing.

The return of the excited servants from their day out saved him from having to comment on Beth’s proposal. She heard them, and suggested that she go out first to tell them of Richard’s arrival and arrange them in a line to be presented formally to him. He agreed to this, and observed discreetly from behind the curtain as Beth went out to meet the staff. He saw with distaste how they crowded round her in a far too familiar way, laughing as they shared their tales of the day’s exploits with her. Beth was holding a child in her arms, its grubby face sticky with sweets.
Who did the child belong to?
he thought. Married servants with children usually lived outside the household, somewhere nearby. And what was the mistress of the house doing allowing a grubby urchin to tangle its filthy hands in her hair, laughing as a young dark-haired woman, presumably the mother, came to her rescue? Clearly they had been allowed far too much licence. He also saw that some of the people were giving Beth small presents; a ribbon, a cake, even a book, which she exclaimed over. How could they afford to buy gifts, if they had not been paid? Either his sister was exaggerating the financial situation, or she paid the servants far too much, if they could save enough to buy fripperies after receiving no wages for three months.

As he went out to introduce himself to the staff, his mind was seething with all the new information he had to process. He had made no decision as yet, but one thing was certain. Things would have to change. He was the master now, and soon everyone would know it.

* * *

Richard spent the first couple of days settling in. His luggage arrived, and Beth, in conciliatory mood, moved out of the front bedroom with its view across the lane to the nearby church and village green, helping the maids to prepare it for him. She moved into a slightly smaller bedroom at the back of the house which overlooked the stables and yard, and spent a lot of time cleaning, hanging pictures in an attempt to cover up the faded wallpaper, and generally making it her own. This also gave her an excuse to keep out of her brother’s way for a while, which she hoped would have the dual purpose of giving him time to forget the bad start they’d made, and also to become accustomed to his new role as master of the house without her interference.

She only interfered once, and he would never know about that. After she had arranged the servants in a line in the yard on their return from the fair, Richard had stalked out to advise them all peremptorily that he was the master now, that he expected unquestioning obedience from them, and that he would tolerate no impertinence. With that he had marched off, leaving all the staff deeply concerned and not a little hostile. Beth had been aware that he was probably covering up his nerves with brusqueness, and knowing the personalities of her staff, decided to try to smooth his way a little.

To that end she gathered all the servants together in the kitchen for a secret meeting on the first night, after her brother had retired to bed. She then tried to reassure them that Richard’s bark was certain to be worse than his bite.

“He’s used to dealing with rough soldiers,” she said to the sea of sceptical faces. “No doubt they require very strong discipline. He’s not accustomed to being the master of a household, and feels it better to appear very firm at first, but I’m confident he will relax once he has established his authority and feels a little more secure. After all, he doesn’t know you all as I do, but he’ll soon come to appreciate how loyal and trustworthy you all are.”

She was not flattering them. They were not a large household, and had diminished along with her father’s money, but every one of the servants had been there for years. Some of them, like John Betts the stable boy, had lived in the house since they were small children. They were like a family to her and she loved and valued them all. She was certain that when Richard got to know them he would feel the same way. Beth had seen an inkling of his desperate need to be loved earlier, and had already resolved to do her utmost to make him a full member of this group of people who had kept her sane throughout her father’s terrible deterioration into depression and terminal illness.

“Well, I hope you’re right, Beth, but he made a very bad start, and he didn’t look insecure to me,” Thomas Fletcher said. He, along with his wife Jane, the cook, ran the house. As with all of the servants in this eccentric household, he had more than one job. He oversaw the work of the others, but also acted as handyman, and had kept the house in good repair until the master had died and Beth’s small supply of cash had run out. Beth herself acted as housekeeper, ordering food and other essentials and dealing with the very rare disputes that arose.

“No, but then he’s used to wielding authority,” Beth reasoned. “He needs to adjust the way he wields it to suit civilians. I’m sure he will.”

“I’m not so sure,” put in Graeme, the gardener. “I remember him when he was a boy, and he was a nasty piece of work then. It doesn’t seem to me as he’s changed overmuch, except that the master isn’t here any more to give him a good whipping when he oversteps the mark. Begging your pardon, Beth, I know he’s your brother, but none of us missed him when he left. And none of us are particularly happy to see him come back.” There was a general murmur of agreement at his comment.

“I’m not asking you to love him, Graeme, I’m asking you all to give him a chance. Yes, I admit he wasn’t always a nice child, but that was a long time ago. He’s a man now; he’s bound to have changed.”

“’Give me the child until he is seven, and I shall give you the man,’” quoted Graeme. “His mother ruined him with her mindless devotion. And in all fairness, Beth, your father let her, rather than suffer her hysterical tantrums. Richard was allowed to do whatever he wanted. And all he wanted to do was be vicious and mean. He almost lost me my job through his spite.”

“Oh Graeme, don’t you think you’re being a bit unfair? After all, he was only small when his mother died. He can’t have been that bad,” Beth replied.

“With all due respect, you weren’t born then. He was only six when he got his mother to dismiss me because I caught him trying to hang the cat from the barn door and stopped him. If your father hadn’t finally put his foot down and refused to let me go, I’d not be here now. And there was hell to pay for weeks afterward. You were only young, Tom, but you must remember that, surely?”

“I do. We all had to keep our heads down, the mistress was in such a foul temper,” Thomas said.

“After the mistress died, your father did his best to bring the boy into line,” Graeme continued. “But it was too late by then. He seemed to delight in causing trouble. Sometimes I used to think he enjoyed being beaten.”

Maybe that was it, Beth thought. Maybe he’d been so desperate for attention from his father that even a beating was better than nothing at all.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” she asked.

“It was a long time ago, and we thought he was gone for good. The subject never came up,” Graeme said simply. “But surely you remember what he was like yourself, Beth? After all, you were nine when he left, and he was all but uncontrollable by then.”

Beth put her head in her hands. Rather than smooth the way for Richard to take over the house, she seemed to have made things worse. All the servants who had not known Richard as a child now looked more alarmed than they had when she’d called the meeting. She tried again.

“Well, I acknowledge he was probably wild, but he was only sixteen when he left. He’s been in the army for thirteen years. I’m sure it’s made a man of him, taught him honour and respect. He couldn’t have got to be a sergeant otherwise.”

“I don’t know about that. I’ve not such a high opinion of the Elector’s army myself,” said John wryly.

His comment reminded Beth of something else she had to address before the evening was over.

“The fact is,” she said practically, “he has come back, and he is the master now, although he’s bound to ask my advice. I’m sure I will have influence and I’m hoping to persuade him to let me continue to run the household, which it’s customary for the mistress to do. In the meantime all we can do is to make him feel welcome, and put the past behind us. I suggest that you obey all his orders until he’s more secure. It will probably be better to be more formal with him than you are with me, call him Sir rather than Richard, that sort of thing. And don’t offer him any advice or suggestions as to how things could be done. I welcome them, but I don’t think he will – at the moment.”

The look on everyone’s faces said that they doubted he would ever appreciate servants telling him how things should be done, but they all agreed to give him a chance. John, and Ben, the boy of all work, whose job it was to clean shoes, light fires and fetch water amongst other things, now got up to leave, but Beth stopped them.

“Wait a minute, there’s one more thing, which may be obvious to you all, but I need to say it anyway. I think we’ll have to stop our weekly discussions about the news, for now.”

Everyone moaned in protest. When Beth’s father had fallen ill three years before, she had taken to reading the newspapers to him in an attempt to get him to renew his interest in life and current affairs. She had then extended this practice to the servants, and every week an evening was set aside, when Beth would come down to the kitchen with the newspapers and topical issues would be discussed.

Everybody including Beth looked forward to this, she particularly so in the last months of her father’s life, when he had refused to leave his bedroom at all and had insisted that the shutters be kept permanently closed. Much as Beth had loved her father, it had been a great relief to escape from the stuffy dark confines of the sickroom to the airy kitchen, with its stone flagged floor and light, whitewashed walls. A fire burned constantly in the wrought iron grate, which was used for cooking and for heating water. Rows of gleaming copper pots and utensils hung on the walls, warmly reflecting the firelight. The room always smelt welcoming, a combination of freshly baked bread, roasting meat, and the delicate fragrance of the bunches of drying herbs which hung from the ceiling.

The servants all assembled here at mealtimes, sitting on benches around the scrubbed wooden table to eat and discuss the events of the day. On Wednesday evenings Beth would eat with them, and once the meal was over and Jane, having finished her work, could sit with them, they would attack the newspapers with relish. Their debates were lively, to say the least. This was partly because Henry Cunningham had given his staff access to an education. They could all read well, and both Thomas and Jane could write a fair hand, too. They had also been encouraged to think for themselves and take an interest in the outside world. Whilst remaining the best of friends, the servants were divided in their political sympathies, reflecting their former master and mistress’s loyalties.

Henry Cunningham had come from a staunch Anglican and Hanoverian family, who had thoroughly approved of the exile of the Catholic King James II in 1688, and his replacement by William of Orange, later succeeded by the Elector of Hanover, who became George I. Henry himself had been rather less vigorously approving than his Whiggish older brother Lord William, but had nevertheless supported the Hanoverian succession, as had his first wife, Arabella, Richard’s mother. His second wife Ann could not have been more different. They had married for love, not convenience, and Henry had not cared at all that his wife was a dyed-in-the-wool Jacobite, who longed for the return of ‘the king over the water,’ as the late King James II's son, now James III or the Pretender, depending on where your sympathies lay, was called. Beth had been brought up with a keen interest in politics from an early age, and had loved listening to the discussions between her father and mother, eventually developing her own strong views.