Seasons of Love (26 page)

It didn't even occur to Daniel that he hadn’t yet seen the widow's face. He’d been up until late the previous night grappling with figures and estimates for the most necessary of the renovations and was more tired than he would admit, so he simply sat there during the short journey to the village church and let the well-sprung carriage lull his muscles into a semblance of relaxation. He was very relieved that Mrs Carnforth made no attempt to spoil this short respite by forcing a conversation, and even more relieved that his mother had chosen to stay behind at the big house with the other ladies ‘as is proper, dearest, whatever anyone else may think’.

After the ceremony the widow thanked Mr Morpeth for his brief, but moving eulogy, lingered for a moment by the graveside, head bent, then squared her shoulders and turned resolutely back towards the carriage, her hand on her son's shoulder. Not much longer to endure now, she thought.

I shall get through it.

On their return to Ashdown Park, Helen hesitated for a moment when offered Daniel's arm to descend from the carriage and walk into the house. Then she decided that for Harry's sake, she should preserve the civilities and laid her hand on the arm. After today, she hoped to see as little of this man as possible.

He led her into the great south drawing-room, where Mrs Carnforth and several other ladies awaited them.

‘May I give you a glass of wine, Mrs Carnforth?’ he asked, seeing that his mother, now whispering to the lady beside her, had no intention of offering this guest any refreshments or easing her way into the group.

‘No. Thank you.’ It would have choked Helen to try to eat or drink. She felt unhappy and very much alone, in spite of the presence of her son, but didn’t intend to let Charles down now.

She sat quietly in the chair to which Daniel led her, thanked those who came up to offer her their condolences and endured the slow formalities as best she could. Two or three times Harry's hand squeezed hers secretly, which gave her the courage to continue.

By this time, everyone else in the room was curious to see her face, but she made no attempt to lift the veils, or to speak beyond the necessary responses to their greetings and condolences.

After a while the other guests took their leave and Daniel came to offer Helen his arm again. He led her into the library to listen to the reading of the will.

Celia Carnforth walked sulkily behind, furious that such a woman should be given preference over her, and more than curious to see exactly what provisions her husband's cousin had made for his wife.

‘ . . . to my beloved wife, Helen, I leave all the property and incomes which are not entailed, being . . . and to my stepson, Harry Robert Perriman, five thousand pounds, to be invested carefully and used for his education and later establishment in a suitable occupation . . . the said Harry Robert Perriman to be under the joint guardianship of my dear friend and lawyer, Samuel James Napperby, and my heir, Daniel Carnforth.’

Daniel listened with an impassive face and a bitter heart to the reading of the will. That woman had stripped his inheritance of all but the minimum covered by the entail. He was left with few reserves to pay for improvements and an income much reduced after years of neglect by an absentee landlord who had cared less than nothing for the estate Daniel already loved.

When the reading was over, he stood up and thanked Mr Napperby for his care of the family's interests. ‘I hope you will continue to oversee them.’

Samuel inclined his head. He had wondered whether to ask Daniel to find another lawyer, and he would have done so had Mrs Carnforth been offered anything but the most civil treatment today.

But all in all, it was best that he keep an eye on things, and on the boy, too.

While her son was speaking to the lawyer, Celia turned to Helen and said with a sweetly-acid smile, ‘Well, you certainly made sure you were comfortably left, did you not, Mrs Carnforth? How much money do you think now remains for my son to restore and run the estate after
your
husband let it go to pieces?’

Helen made no attempt to answer this accusation. Was it true that the estate had been stripped of funds? Was Daniel really so short of money? She didn’t know, and her head was aching so fiercely that she couldn’t think about it until later. She would ask Mr Napperby for his advice, but at the moment, all she wished to do was lie down.

Besides, nothing she could say would convince this vicious woman that she hadn’t known any of the details of Charles's will before his death, so why bother to try? She’d seen the way the group of ladies looked at her after the funeral and it had hurt her badly. That was why she’d kept her veils on.

As soon as Daniel had finished speaking to the lawyer, Helen went over to take her leave of him.

‘You’re welcome to stay for a while.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m feeling a little tired.’ And tearful. And nauseous. She didn’t know what had got into her lately. She was usually so energetic, even in times of trouble.

‘I’ll see you to the door, then, Mrs Carnforth.’

‘There is no need. You have your other guests to think of.’

‘I insist! It would be discourteous to do otherwise. And I wouldn’t want you to think we hadn’t treated you with every respect due to my Cousin Charles’s widow.’ He tried to catch his mother’s eye, but she was looking in the other direction.

Helen signalled to her son, who fell in behind her in his usual unobtrusive way. Few children of his age had had such a long training in being seen and not heard, she felt. Now that they were at last settled, she must see that he learned to run and shout, to behave more like a boy should - even to get into trouble at times. In fact, she would make sure he led as happy and normal a life as possible.

As they were crossing the echoing hallway with its dark panelling, Daniel saw Mrs Carnforth stumble, sway for a moment, as if dizzy, and put one hand to her temple. Quickly he took her arm, ready to catch her if she should faint. His mother, who made great play of her ill-health, had never actually fainted in his presence, but this lady, who had said nothing and asked for no sympathy, looked to be drooping with exhaustion.

‘I'm afraid this has all been a great strain for you,’ he said, his deep voice more gentle than before.

‘Yes. I'm sorry to be a nuisance. I'm - very tired now.’ She continued to lean heavily on his arm as they moved across the hall, then she straightened up as they reached the main door and tried to compose herself.

Daniel waited there with her until the footman announced that the carriage was ready. He didn't see, but Harry did, that tears were trickling down her cheeks, for she kept her head bent.

As the footman opened the front doors, Helen uttered a choked, ‘Goodbye, Mr Carnforth,’ and hurried out to the carriage before he could escort her any further.

Harry, who had not heard what they said to each other as they crossed the hallway, turned to his host. ‘I hate you!’ he hissed. ‘You always make my mother cry! I won't
have
you for a guardian!

Leave her alone, you bully!’

Daniel, who had been too stunned to say anything, watched him run to the carriage and saw him put his arms round his mother before Briggs closed the door. Mrs Carnforth’s shoulders were definitely shaking. She was crying. That would explain why she had hidden behind the veil.

Could she be genuinely grief-stricken, then? Mr Napperby seemed to think so, and the lawyer was a shrewd fellow.

He sighed and went back to the library. When the guests had left, he escorted his mother firmly to the door of this room, in spite of her protests that she wished to stay, to help her poor, dear son.

Then he started going into some details of the estate with Mr Napperby.

If men were allowed to cry in times of trouble, Daniel would have been perilously close to it himself by the time the lawyer had finished explaining exactly how he stood financially. He was left with the bitter knowledge that he would be able to make few, if any, of the improvements he had planned, even those that were desperately needed, like repairs to cottage roofs. He would, in fact, be hard pushed even to maintain the rambling old house whose roof needed urgent attention.

Over dinner that evening, Celia said, ‘My dearest, your mother’s heart aches for you. She has
stolen
your inheritance! Stolen it!’

‘Sir Charles was at perfect liberty to leave his money as he chose, Mother, as we have already discussed.’

‘Well, you will just have to put the rents up.’

He didn't attempt to argue. She would never understand his concern for the long-term well-being of his land, or his care for his tenants, some of whom could barely afford the present rent, and who depended on him for so many things.

A little later Celia started on matters closer to her heart. ‘We really must find you some proper staff now. I was ashamed for the way that maid served the tea. We are fortunate she didn't spill it all over someone. What we need is an experienced butler, and perhaps one or two . . . ’

‘I don't intend to hire any other servants, mother, and certainly not a butler. I can manage perfectly well with the staff I already have. I shall be living very simply from now on - indeed, I think I shall close up some of the rooms - I shall not be doing much entertaining, after all. You know I’m not fond of parties and such fooleries.’

She stared at him in horror. ‘Not entertain! But dearest - you are a great landowner now, the owner of Ashdown Park. It is your
duty
to entertain. And I am quite prepared to sacrifice myself to help you until you are married - and we really
must
find you a suitable wife! You cannot delay doing your duty any longer!’

‘Mama, I shall be so busy setting the estate to rights that I shall not have time to waste on social exchanges.’ He took a deep breath. Why did he always find it so difficult to manage her? ‘I’ve come to the conclusion that it will be best for you to return to Bath. I'm grateful for your help, but I fear I shall be but poor company from now on.’

Spots of colour burned in her cheeks. ‘Fine thanks you offer me, turning me out of your house!’

‘I've just told you - I shall be living very quietly. You would be moped to death here. And - I'm afraid I shall have to sell Bellborough. This estate needs so much doing to it. Before I left, Stephen Ferndon approached me and - in short, he made me an offer which I shall now accept.’

Surprise and shock held her silent for a moment, then she stood up, pushing her chair back so violently that it fell over. ‘I see. You are a true Carnforth, are you not, Daniel?
My
family's inheritance counts for nothing with you!’

‘You know that I love Bellborough,’ he said, his quiet voice in great contrast to her shrill tones.

‘'If there were any other way at all to manage . . ’

‘You don’t really care! You Carnforths are all the same! It’s all Ashdown, Ashdown, Ashdown!

Your father was just as selfish! You haven't even
waited
, haven’t even attempted to find other ways to set matters right! A good marriage could - ’

‘I already have a good offer for Bellborough. And I have no desire whatsoever to marry at the moment.’ He tried to speak courteously, but he was rapidly running out of patience. Did she think he cared nothing for his old home, for the acres he’d loved and cared for ever since his father died?

Did she ever think about anything but her own needs and her puffed-up pride?

Celia almost spat the words at him. ‘Well, if that's the case, you needn’t worry about me! I would scorn to stay on where I am not wanted! Scorn it! I have served my purpose and shall not outstay my welcome! A mother is an unimportant thing, easily discarded, after all.’

Mouth set in grim lines, he watched her make a tragic exit from the room, handkerchief pressed to her eyes. Heaven preserve him from all women and their melodramas! He didn’t make the mistake of going after her, or she would probably have found some way to persuade him to let her stay on. He needed to act swiftly, make a clean break with Bellborough and live in as economical fashion as possible for the next few years.

In fact, Celia wasn’t sorry to be leaving Ashdown Park, however much she protested. The woods were just as gloomy as she had remembered, and the inside of the house was in a shameful state of decay. And so old-fashioned! Daniel had refused to let her redecorate even the drawing room. He was turning out very mean - and penny-pinching was a thing she could not
abide
.

No, if he was to live here as a recluse, she would be much better off in her own little home. And she would have a fine tale to tell all her cronies in Bath about how well
that woman
had feathered her nest . .

Chapter 16

The next day it became obvious that Mrs Carnforth wasn’t well. When Susan knocked on the door, she raised her head wearily from the pillows to say, ‘Come in!’ but made no attempt even to sit up.

‘My Aunt Becky says the boy is all right and has et a good breakfast. She wants to know if you'd like your breakfast in bed?’

‘I'd love a cup of tea, but I'm not hungry.’

Susan was back ten minutes later with a loaded tray. ‘Sorry, ma’am, but my aunt said as how you should eat a good breakfast considering all the things you have to deal with.’ She squirmed apologetically as she saw the revulsion on her new mistress's face. ‘I'm sorry about the food. She would send it up.’

‘It's not your fault. Would you just pour me a cup of tea, please?’

Susan set the tray down on a small table by the window, saw to the cup of tea, bobbed a curtsey and left.

Later, she came back for the tray and found her mistress drowsing, so tiptoed out without asking any of the questions her aunt had charged her with.

Becky took one look at the untouched tray of food that was brought down again and decided to investigate. No good ever came of facing trouble on an empty stomach. She glanced through the window and saw that Harry was all right, talking to Briggs. ‘Get on with cleanin' them fowls, Susan girl!’ she ordered and marched upstairs, knocking on the door.