Replenish the Earth (20 page)

If more people cut their coats according to their cloth, there would be a lot less unhappiness in the world, her ladyship often declared, and did not scruple to tell her tenants as much when she caught them being wasteful or extravagant. In fact, it was one of her most cherished beliefs that one should live within one’s means. She herself had never spent a farthing above her husband’s income, never gambled more than she could afford, however fashionable gaming might be, and always paid her trademen’s bills within the sixmonth.  

And what’s more, the man wasn’t a cowman at all, but a farmer whom Henry knew, for she remembered him helping Mr Pursley after Sewell threw him off his farm.

If she and her husband did not disdain the company of those who worked the land, then why should this Sewell fellow? Besides, it was quite fashionable to take an interest in agricultural improvement. Lord Tarnly held annual open days for the tenants of his farms, who were encouraged to visit the home farm, which his youngest son, who acted as their land agent, was managing in the most modern way.

Lady Tarnly couldn’t say that she was fascinated by the breeding lines of cattle and sheep, but it was common sense to get the best out of your land, and it was the duty of the nobility to set an example to the lower orders.

When his wife returned and admitted that he was right about Mistress Bedham, who had clearly been raised as a lady, and who was doing a very sensible thing for one with such a sadly limited inheritance, Lord Tarnly slapped his thigh and let out a great roar of laughter.

‘Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I, by Jove? Knew you’d like poor Elizabeth’s daughter? Breeding will out, whether it’s man or beast! Breeding will always out! And what about this marriage, then?’

‘Mr Sewell has, as usual, twisted the truth. The man in question is a yeoman farmer, not a cowman. You know him. His name is William Pursley.’

‘Pursley, eh? Of course I know him. He’s not a cowman! Knew the father, too. Comes from good farming stock. Family’s been in the district as long as we have. Fallen on hard times lately, thanks to Sewell. Father hung himself when he got into debt with Sewell, then Sewell turned this young fellow off the farm and knocked it down. Damn shame, that!’ He brooded for a moment, then recovered and guffawed again, ‘No wonder Sewell’s hoppin’ mad!’

‘That man’s opinions are a matter of the utmost indifference to me. He is ill bred and I would never agree to receive him here, even for you, Henry.’  

‘Knew a Bedham wouldn’t marry a common cowman!’ he crowed again, only half listening to her. ‘One in the eye for Sewell, that!’

‘Yes, dear. Now . . . ’

He wasn’t listening. ‘I believe we should attend the weddin’ ourselves, m’dear. What d’ye say, eh? Give the couple our open support and approval, what?’

Now it was Lady Tarnly’s turn to frown. ‘No one has invited us to attend, Henry. And we don’t even know that there’ll be any festivities to attend. It might be a very simple affair.’

‘Nonsense! People always celebrate a weddin’. And pish to invitations! I’ll drop Mistress Sarah a line myself, or ride over there one day, if you’re too nice to do it.’

‘Do you not think she might be offended?’

‘Not she! Sensible sort of woman. I’ll tell her I’ve heard of the match and approve of it. Offer to give her away, for her mother’s sake. That’ll make Sewell look sick as a horse. And if I drop her a hint that our support will help Pursley to get accepted by the county gentry, I dare say she’ll jump at my offer. She’ll know what it’s worth to be accepted by the Tarnlys, even if Pursley don’t.’

Chapter
11

On the Wednesday of the following week, another carriage turned into the driveway of Broadhurst Manor, a dusty vehicle with tired horses, which had obviously come a long way.

Will, who was working in the grounds, didn’t like the look of this. He didn’t know what Sarah might have to face now, but was determined not to leave her to confront whoever it was on her own. Face grim, he ran over to the house, entering the back way and demanding water to wash his hands and a cloth to rub the mud off his shoes. At once, if you please!

By the time Hannah went to answer the front doorbell, which had now been repaired, he had finished his rapid ablutions and slipped into Sarah’s parlour. ‘I don’t know who it is, but you’re not facing them on your own!’

She gave him her wide, calm smile and said simply, ‘Thank you, Will.’

They turned together towards the door.

‘Mr Jamieson to see you, mistress,’ announced Hannah, as Sarah had taught her.

Sarah’s face cleared and she limped quickly across to the figure in the doorway. ‘My dear Mr Jamieson! Whatever brings you down to Dorset? I hope there’s nothing wrong? Hannah, fetch us a tea-tray, will you? No, I remember, you don’t like tea, do you, sir? Claret, then, and some glasses, please, Hannah.’ She only hoped the wine they’d found would be palatable.     

Mr Jamieson shook her hand and retained it in his as he eyed her searchingly. ‘You look very well, my dear,’ he said, in a distinct tone of surprise. ‘And the house too! You have wrought miracles!’

‘I
am
well, sir, as you see.’ But he was frowning suspiciously at Will and she couldn’t have that. She held out her hand to bring him over to join them. ‘And I’m very happy to be able to present Mr William Pursley to you. No, you know him already, do you not? But what you will not know is that Will and I are betrothed.’

The two men shook hands stiffly and Sarah saw with dismay that Mr Jamieson was very much on his dignity. She gestured to a chair. ‘Won’t you sit down, sir, and rest after your journey? Hannah will be along in a moment with refreshments. Will, you’ll take a glass of wine with us, won’t you?’

It was a command, not a suggestion. He nodded.

Sarah waited until they were all seated, then turned to her visitor. ‘Now, my dear sir, pray tell me what brings you to these parts?’

Mr Jamieson decided to be blunt. ‘I received a letter telling me of your proposed marriage. What the writer had to say worried me, so I felt I must come down to see you about it.’ The look he cast upon Will was distinctly unfriendly. ‘Er  - I would prefer to speak to you alone, if you please, my dear Mistress Sarah.’

‘I’m not leaving her to face things on her own!’ declared Will at once. ‘She’s had enough people upsetting her!’

Sarah was rather more diplomatic. ‘I’d prefer Will to stay. We have no secrets from one other. What letter are you talking about? Who can have been writing to you about me? I gather you haven’t yet received my own letter telling you about our coming marriage?’ As if she couldn’t guess who’d written! Only one man would have the temerity.

‘I received a letter from Matthew Sewell. Paid for in advance, too. He is, I understand, Squire of this village, now that your grandfather is dead, and he’s worried about you, my dear, as was I when I read his letter. He says . . . let me see . . . ’ He fumbled in his pocket.

‘He says I have taken leave of my senses and am about to squander my inheritance upon a farmer,’ Sarah finished for him, trying for a light, joking tone, to spare Will. ‘Am I correct?’

‘Well - er - yes. Though he said it was a - a cowman. He didn’t mention Mr Pursley by name. I hadn’t realised it was him you were to marry.’

She could sense that her betrothed was almost ready to explode. Indeed, she was feeling extremely angry herself. But they would gain nothing, least of all Mr Jamieson’s approval, by ranting and raving. ‘Is there no limit to the man’s effrontery?’ she asked as calmly as she could. ‘Lady Tarnly tells me he wrote to her husband in a similar vein. Lord Tarnly calls Mr Sewell “that damned impudent upstart of a tea-merchant”, I gather.’

‘Lady Tarnly tells you?’ Mr Jamieson asked quickly, not slow to pick up the implications of this.

‘Yes, sir. I have made one or two acquaintances in the district. Lord and Lady Tarnly have been kind enough to call on me, and his lordship offered only a few days ago to give me away at my wedding. He was my mother’s godfather, you know.’

‘He has offered to do that?’

‘Yes. Hasn’t he, Will?’

‘Aye.’ Will was still glowering, because it was plain to him that Mr Jamieson was hostile to the idea of him marrying Sarah, and Will didn’t know how to deal with him, since he could see both sides of the question and knew some would rightly call it a mismatch.

‘Then he - Lord Tarnly approves of the match, unequal though it is?’

‘Yes indeed, sir.’

‘And Sewell is not the Squire of Broadhurst, either,’ put in Will, for this point had grated upon him as much as anything. No person of sense would consider a fellow like Sewell to be Squire! Only think of all the trouble and unhappiness he’d caused in the village! Only think of the ruffians who served him! It was a Squire’s job to look after his people, not cause trouble.

‘But why did he do it, then?’ worried Mr Jamieson.

‘Because Sewell hates me and has tried to run me out of the village - and I suppose because he wants to get hold of Sarah’s land, to add to his estate, and that will not be possible if she marries me. And when he wants something, that man won’t take no for an answer, but uses any means he can to obtain it.’

‘Mr Sewell told me when I first came here that Broadhurst was already promised to him,’ Sarah added, ‘because of a letter you wrote to him.’

‘Promised to him? But that’s ridiculous!’ exclaimed Mr Jamieson, diverted from the question of Sarah’s marriage. ‘At no time did I have the authority to accept it without the owner’s consent, and so I told him. He can’t possibly believe that it was
promised
to him!’

‘Well, he does. He is a man of choleric disposition and little rationality, and he’s much disliked in the district for his overbearing ways. Did you not meet him when you came down here after my grandfather’s death?’

‘No. He was away in Bristol, I believe. But - to say the estate was promised to him! It was no such thing!’ Mr Jamieson’s indignation was so great that his speech was punctuated by angry little puffs of air, but he was still looking suspiciously at Will and added, ‘Be that as it may, my dear Sarah, I am not happy to see you rush into an - er - unequal marriage.’

‘’Tis a fair bargain,’ declared Will. ‘Else I wouldn’t have agreed to it.’ He put his arm protectively around Sarah’s shoulders and she leaned against him, looking happy and comfortable.

Mr Jamieson jerked. ‘Agreed! What do you mean,
agreed!
Sarah, surely that does not mean that you . . . ?’

Sarah smiled across at him, a smile of such radiance that the ageing lawyer blinked at the way it transformed her face, which he had previously considered rather plain.

‘Yes, sir. It was I who asked Will to marry me, not the other way around. And had to work hard to persuade him to it, as well!’

She could see that he was beginning to come round and said coaxingly. ‘We have made a good bargain, my dear sir, I do truly believe that. I have land, but not the skill to make the best of it. Will has the skill, but not the land. Why, you said yourself that I couldn’t hope to manage this place without a husband!’

‘But you hardly know Mr Pursley. Surely you should wait until you get better acquainted to marry.’

‘I am twenty-eight. If we are to have children, I cannot afford to wait. And my land cannot afford to wait for heirs, either.’

Mr Jamieson opened his mouth, then shut it again, feeling this subject to be too delicate for him to discuss.

‘Dear sir,’ she said coaxingly, ‘I get on very well with Will and I
want
to marry him! In fact, we have set the wedding for next week.’

There was silence and Sarah grew anxious as she saw the frown on Mr Jamieson’s face.

‘Then you and Mr Pursley had better hear the other condition of your grandfather’s will,’ he said at last. 

‘Condition?’ she whispered, white-faced. ‘What other condition did he make?’ Was she to lose her only chance of a husband now?

‘That if you marry, your husband must take the name of Bedham, or the inheritance will be forfeited.’

She said nothing, greatly relieved that it was no worse, but she looked anxiously at Will, who would be most affected by this condition. His face had taken on its dark, closed look.

‘Can a man do that?’ he asked at last. ‘Can he just change his name and take another?’

‘Yes,’ answered Mr Jamieson. ‘Though it’s best done properly. There will be a Justice of the Peace in the district, no doubt. It would be better to make a formal declaration before him. But there would be no difficulty. Mistress Bedham changed her name in order to inherit Broadhurst and her husband must do the same. These were the late Squire’s conditions.’

But they weren’t really listening to him. They were engrossed in each other.

‘Shall you do it, Will?’ Sarah asked hesitantly.

He patted her hand and his dark features lightened briefly into a near smile. ‘Aye, Sarah, I shall. If I set my hand to a task, then I do not give up so easily. But all the same, it’s hard for a man to lose his name. I shall be the last of the Pursleys now.’

Her hand went out to touch his for a moment. ‘Thank you, Will.’

Then she became brisk again and turned back to the lawyer. ‘Are there any other conditions of which you have not informed me, sir?’

‘No. That’s the only one. I’m sorry, my dear. I really should have told you before, but I thought - I thought there would be no need.’ He broke off, embarrassed to realise how unflattering to her this explanation was.

She smiled slightly, knowing perfectly well that he hadn’t told her because he hadn’t considered her likely to marry. But this thought no longer had the power to hurt her, for now she had Will. ‘Then if that is settled, will you please stay for the wedding? Mr Rogers has been a good friend to us both and Lord Tarnly has been very kind, offering to give me away, but I would prefer it if - would
you
give me away instead, my dear sir? You seem as near as I can get now to family.’

He smiled back at her, won over in spite of himself. ‘I’m honoured that you ask me, my dear Sarah. And I would be happy to stand in place of a father to you - though I must warn you that I have no experience in giving people away.’ And, he thought, we shall just have to hope that this marriage works out well for her. At least, if I have a few days here, I shall be able to sound the fellow out a bit more and draw up proper settlements to protect her interests. Pursley has always seemed a dour, surly type to me, but he is reputed to be a good farmer, and I have found him scrupulously honest.