Hope. Part 12

As always when she saw her master, Hope was struck by his similarity to Rufus. He was in his mid-forties now, but he looked much younger; even the heavy drinking hadn't spoiled his clear skin or dulled his beautiful blue eyes. The slackness of his full lips and the absence of a strong chin hinted at his weak character, but as he was wearing a bright blue waistcoat embroidered with small roses, made by Lady Harvey, and his blond curly hair was tousled, the overall picture was of a rakishly handsome young man.

'I received a letter from Lady Harvey this morning,' he said. 'Sadly her father died in his sleep three days ago. I shall leave early tomorrow morning to be with her for the funeral. I am sure I can leave Briargate in your capable hands.'

Baines offered his condolences, then asked how Sir William would be travelling and what he would like packed.

'Albert will take me into Bath in the trap, and I'll catch the train from there,' Sir William replied. 'I won't need to take much with me as I'll only be gone a few days.'

Albert came into the kitchen for dinner at around twelve, and as always Martha fussed around him, this time because his coat was wet through. Hope was in the scullery cleaning some silver, and she smiled at the cook's efforts to make him talk to her. The woman ought to have realized by now that Albert was a lost cause.

He informed Martha that he'd spent the morning sawing up the fallen oak, remarked that the river Chew was rising dangerously high again, and that it was his prediction the heavy rain would last another couple of days.

'You mustn't stay out in it again this afternoon,' Martha exclaimed. 'You might be a big strong man but that won't stop you catching a chill!'

Albert said he'd hauled some of the big logs into the woodshed and he'd be working in there cutting them into smaller pieces so he'd be in the dry.

Hope thought he sounded less brusque than usual, almost as if he was warming to Martha. She annoyed both Hope and Baines with her constant prattle about nothing, but she did have a kind heart and she loved to feed people.

She had told Hope that when she was a young kitchen-maid, she had been walking out with a footman and they wanted to get married. Their mistress reacted in the same way as most gentry did about servants marrying, and refused permission.

Martha was over forty now, with nothing but swollen ankles, call used hands and the t.i.tle of Cook to show for a lifetime of hard work. Hope was absolutely determined her life wasn't going to be the same.

At half past three that afternoon, Martha was dozing in a chair in the servants' hall, and Rose had just put some flat irons on the stove to press some s.h.i.+rts for Sir William, when Hope slipped out of the back door. It was tipping down with rain, but she thought she should go down to the gatehouse today to tidy it, for once Sir William left for Suss.e.x she felt it was quite likely Albert would go home in the afternoons.

She hadn't asked Baines for permission to go because she knew he would probably ask her to wait until tomorrow, and she didn't want to admit she was afraid of running into Albert. He was pleasant enough up at the big house, but down in the gatehouse he reverted to behaving the way she remembered when she used to live there. He ordered her about as if she were his slave, and criticized everything she did.

Baines was up in Sir William's dressing room packing for him, and as it was at the back of the house he wouldn't see her going down the drive. With luck she'd be back before he even knew she'd gone.

The driving rain prevented her from seeing anything more than a few feet in front of her and by the time she reached the gatehouse her cloak was soaked right through and her boots were sodden. She went to the back door, found the key left under a stone, took off her cloak and boots and left them under the shelter of the porch to drip, then entered in her stockinged feet.

To her surprise the stove was alight and the cottage very warm. There was the usual mess, the table littered with plates, cups and gla.s.ses, a loaf of bread left out to grow stale, and a half-empty bottle of whisky. Albert was a terrible hypocrite: he ranted about untidiness and squalor, yet was quite happy to create it all around him.

The floor was very dirty too. Albert clearly wasn't removing his boots any longer when he came in, for there were lumps of dry mud everywhere. The kettle was full and still quite warm, so Hope put it back on the stove and went up the stairs to hide the letter from the Captain, and to make Albert's bed before she tackled was.h.i.+ng the dishes and the floor.

As she got to the top of the stairs she heard a creaking sound. It sounded as if the window in Nell and Albert's room was open and banging in the wind.

As she opened the door and walked in, the sight that met her eyes made her gasp with horror and clap her hands over her mouth. Albert was in bed and the blond, curly-haired person beneath him was not a woman, but unmistakably Sir William. Both men were naked, Albert's muscular chest and arms virtually covering his much paler-skinned and slender master.

Such a sight was beyond Hope's comprehension. She froze; even her heart seemed to stop beating with shock.

'Get out!' Albert roared at her.

Hope fled down the stairs, but the enormity of what she'd witnessed was so terrible she didn't know what to do. She knew that male animals would attempt to mount one another when there was no available female, but she hadn't known men could do the same thing.

The shock robbed her of any power to make a decision, and she just stood there crying. She could hear Albert's deep voice, and the higher, more plaintive tones of Sir William mingling with it. One side of her brain told her Sir William would walk down the stairs any moment and give her an explanation that would make it all right, yet the other side told her that there was no possibility of an innocent explanation for what she'd seen.

It was probably no longer than a minute that she stood there, not knowing whether to flee or even where to flee to. But as soon as she heard Albert's footsteps on the stairs she came to her senses and realized she must get out through the back door. Her bootlaces were tangled and her fingers had become as useless as toes in her panic; she tried to force her feet into her boots but she couldn't get them in.

She heard the front door slam shut and breathed a faint sigh of relief that the men were gone. But as she reached up for her cloak from the peg, the back door opened and Albert reached out and gripped her shoulder.

'Get in here,' he growled at her.

She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he was too strong. He hauled her back into the kitchen, slammed and locked the door behind her, then struck her hard across the face.

He was wearing just his unders.h.i.+rt and breeches, his feet bare.

'You've been a thorn in my flesh for too long,' he roared at her. 'How dare you come creeping in here spying on me?'

'I didn't. I came to clear up,' she said. 'I didn't know you had anyone here.'

He hit her again, four or five times in succession, fast, hard slaps round the face, and with each one she was moved back closer and closer to the door.

'Please stop it,' she cried out, trying to cover her face with her hands. 'I promise I won't tell anyone.'

He punched her in the stomach then, hitting her so hard her spine cracked against the door. 'You won't get a chance to spread your lies,' he spat at her. 'I'm getting rid of you for good.'

She knew that meant he was going to kill her. It was the only way of ensuring this never got out. Sir William might even have ordered it; after all, he had far more to lose than Albert.

He caught her around the throat the way he'd done before, squeezing her neck until her eyes were almost popping out of her head. He banged her head back against the door again and again until she was seeing stars, then as she fell to the floor he kicked her.

Even though he had bare feet it was like being kicked by a horse. Hope rolled herself into a ball to avoid the worst of the blows, but he was frenzied, like a savage animal. She felt that all the hate locked inside him was rus.h.i.+ng out to be inflicted on her.

Just when she felt she couldn't take one more blow, he grabbed the shoulder of her dress to haul her to her feet, and the bodice just ripped away in his hand, leaving her chemise and part of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s exposed. As she instinctively bent over to hide herself, Lady Harvey's letter from the Captain fell out.

'What's that?' he snarled. 'A letter from your sweetheart? You dirty little trollop!'

He s.n.a.t.c.hed it up from the floor, but when he saw who it was addressed to, he grinned wolfishly.

'Stealing her ladys.h.i.+p's letters now, are we?' he asked.

'No,' she declared. 'Lady Harvey asked me to keep it for her.'

Slamming one foot into her belly to hold her against the door and balancing on his other leg, he quickly ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter to read it.

'So she's a treacherous b.i.t.c.h too,' he said as his eyes scanned down the single page.

Hope could feel her face swelling, every part of her body throbbed with pain, and she wished he would kill her now and get it over with for she couldn't take any more.

In those few moments as he read the letter, she suddenly realized that the act she'd witnessed must be the root cause of Nell's and Lady Harvey's unhappiness. While she was certain they didn't know what Albert and Sir William did, it must have had an effect on their marriages. Had this been going on for weeks, months or years? Had Albert only married Nell to conceal his abnormality?

'When did this come?' he demanded.

'Just this morning,' Hope whimpered.

He lowered his foot to the floor, looking thoughtful. Hope wanted to try to run but she knew she wouldn't make it to the front door before he caught her. So she just stood there waiting, her whole body throbbing with pain.

'So the mistress has ensnared the loyalty of another b.l.o.o.d.y Renton,' he said derisively. 'How far would you go to keep her safe?'

Hope had no idea what the letter contained, and therefore she was uncertain as to what Albert meant. 'I don't know,' she whispered.

'I could kill you now,' he said, showing his teeth. 'Bury your body in the woods or even in the gardens of Briargate, and no one would ever know. But I might agree to let you go if you leave this place for good and never return.'

Hope thought he was just playing with her, wanting her to beg for her life so he had even more power over her. She wasn't going to let that happen. 'You'd be too frightened to let me go,' she said. 'I could tell someone about you.'

'You could, but I wouldn't recommend it,' he said, dark eyes glinting with malice. 'You see, both Sir William and I would say it was just spiteful lies. No judge would take a foolish kitchenmaid's word against that of a member of the aristocracy, especially when that maid was trying to hide her mistress's adultery and we could show this letter to prove it.'

Hope might never have liked Albert, but until today she had always thought of him as totally loyal to his master and mistress. She could hardly believe that he would be prepared to drag Lady Harvey's name through the mud when she had always been so good to him.

'And then there's Nell, another reason you wouldn't want to start a scandal,' he smirked. 'I know she was in on this! Just imagine her life with no m'lady, and only me!'

Hope's blood ran cold. She could imagine only too well what kind of living h.e.l.l he'd put Nell through.

'You don't need to threaten me or hurt me,' she pleaded. 'There is another way. I don't want anyone to be shamed, not you or Nell. Not the master or the mistress. I won't breathe a word of this to anyone.'

'How dare a prissy little no-nothing b.i.t.c.h speak down to me!' he snarled, striking her across the face again. 'I love Billy and he loves me, we don't give a fig what simple-minded people think about that.'

His calling Sir William 'Billy' suggested that this thing thing had been going on for some time. Hope could also see Albert was unbalanced and one wrong word from her might tip him over the edge. had been going on for some time. Hope could also see Albert was unbalanced and one wrong word from her might tip him over the edge.

'What do you want me to do then?' she asked hesitantly. She was hurting so much now that she felt faint and would agree to anything to get away from him.

'Go right away, tonight,' he said. 'But don't think you can doublecross me, I mean right away, not holed up with that dimwit farmer brother of yours down the road, or any other member of your family. Remember I'm holding all the cards. I can denounce Lady Harvey as an adulteress, and that will ruin your precious Rufus's chances too. And I can make your plain, dull sister's life the worst in G.o.d's creation.'

He grabbed her round the throat again and squeezed it slowly, grinning at her maniacally. 'If you ever dare set foot in Briargate again, if you write a letter or even send a message by someone else, believe me, I'll do what I said I'd do.'

Releasing her neck, he punched her hard in the belly and as she collapsed on the floor, howling in pain, he kicked at her head.

'One last thing,' he said, reaching down and hauling her up like a sack of potatoes, 'you're going to write a letter to Nell.'

It was an hour or more later, pitch dark and still raining hard, when Albert pushed Hope out through the front door. To be sure she didn't run into anyone who knew her, he had ordered her to take the long way round through Chelwood to reach the Bristol road.

Her cloak had still been sodden when she put it back on, but he had allowed her to wear an old dress of Nell's as her own was torn. She had seen herself in a mirror as she put the dress on; her eyes were mere slits in puffy flesh, and her lip was cut in two places. As for the rest of her, she was so bruised and battered that only her feet didn't hurt. She guessed by the time she'd walked the ten miles or more to Bristol, they would hurt just as much too though.

She sobbed as she walked, her head down, but knowing how Nell would react to that letter he had made her write hurt worse than her injuries, grievous though they were.

Albert was smarter than she'd realized. He'd told her exactly what to write. That she'd met a young man, a soldier, and she was running off with him because she was tired of scrubbing pans and lighting fires. He made her apologize for taking Nell's dress and said she could have all her things.

She guessed Albert was already on his way back to Briargate for his supper, and he'd listen to Baines, Rose and Martha asking where she was, and say he hadn't seen her as he'd been in the woodshed all afternoon. Maybe he'd leave to go home, and return later with the letter saying he'd found it at the gatehouse.

Hope could even picture the scene in the servants' hall, Baines sitting up at the top of the table, the two women either side of him. Baines would argue and insist he would have seen warning signs if she'd been slipping out to meet someone. Martha and Rose, like the silly geese they were, would reminisce about young men who'd made their hearts pound, and that they had always known Hope had someone tucked away.

By the time Nell got back from Suss.e.x the story would be right round the village. And Nell would believe it and her heart would break.

Chapter Eight.

A p.r.i.c.king sensation woke Hope with a start. For a moment she didn't know where she was. But as she moved and felt a stab of pain, so the events of the previous evening came back, and how she came to be lying on straw in a barn.

Ironically she was less than two miles away from Matt's farm. If she had disobeyed Albert and walked down to Woolard and then up the hill to reach the Bristol road, she might even have reached the city last night.

It had been the kind of evening you wouldn't even put a cat out into, very cold with high wind and driving rain. By the time she reached Pensford she was in such pain and so despairing that she paused on the bridge and thought of throwing herself into the torrential river running beneath it. But she knew that when her body was found covered with bruises, Nell would believe that they had been inflicted by the soldier she'd said she loved and her grief would be twice as bad then.

Hope had looked longingly at the lit windows of the Rising Sun ale house too. She knew there would be friends of Matt in there, and they would want to help her. But she didn't dare enlist their help; Pensford was far too close to Briargate, and by morning the story would have reached there. And Hope knew Albert would carry out his threat.

So she walked on up the steep hill, and on and on to Gibbet Lane outside the village of Whitchurch. She could hardly put one foot in front of the other and her whole body was screaming with pain. She didn't intend to try to find shelter in that spot, for as a small child her father had told her how they used to hang people there and their bodies were left dangling until the birds picked them clean. It was an eerie place even in daylight, but when she saw the barn she knew she must overcome her fear, for she couldn't walk any further.

The straw in the barn smelled sweet and it was a relief to be out of the rain and wind, but she was so wet she was unable to get warm. She lay there for what seemed like hours listening to the wind howling, and the events of the day kept churning over and over in her mind.

The image that remained clearest of all was that of Albert in bed with Sir William. She might only have seen them for a couple of seconds, yet the contrast between Albert's bronzed back and dark hair, and blond Sir William beneath him with such white skin was unforgettable. Their shocked expressions at being discovered would be imprinted on her mind for ever.

Yet the act they were engaged in puzzled her as much as it disgusted her, for why would a man want another? Were they the only two men in England like that? Or was she just an ignorant country girl who knew nothing about anything?

Yet it did make new sense of certain things from the past: how Rufus had said his mother asked Sir William if he'd been at a wh.o.r.ehouse; and Nell's claim that Albert often stayed out till the early hours of the morning. Were they together?

Then there was the way the old cook used to say Sir William was girlish, and how Albert insisted he walked from Wells to Briargate on the off-chance Sir William would take him on as gardener. Was that because he knew Sir William was the same as him?

But above all she wondered if Albert had known he could never love a woman when he married Nell.

Hope struggled to her feet as she heard a c.o.c.k crow nearby. Her cloak and boots were just as wet as they had been last night, and it was still raining. Her hair was coming down and without a comb she could do nothing about it. Just the feel of her sore, puffy face told her that she must look as desperate as she felt.

She hobbled from the barn to the road, but each step was agony and she felt so weak and dizzy it was tempting to go back to the barn. Then a wave of nausea overtook her and she vomited into the bushes.

As she stood up she could see down into the valley through a gap in the bushes. It was too grey and misty to make out anything more than the steeple of the church at Publow, but that was enough to make her cry for it wasn't far from Woolard and Matt.

She could imagine him in his kitchen, dark hair tousled from sleep, a shadow of bristles on his chin, perhaps with the baby on his knee while Amy made him tea. He would be furious when he heard about the letter. Gentle Amy would probably think it was romantic, and urge Matt and the boys not to be angry. But not one of them would ever consider that Hope might have been forced to write that letter, and that it wasn't true.

She knew she couldn't hope that Sir William would feel guilty and admit what really happened in the gatehouse. In truth he had probably ordered Albert to silence her and didn't care how he achieved it.

Her disappearance would be the talk of the village for a few days, but once that had died down even her own family would put her out of their minds.

People disappeared all the time. They left the village to look for work in Bath or Bristol and never came back. Hope could remember her father talking about a man whose son had been gone for three years when he got a letter from a priest in America telling him his boy had died of smallpox. There was never any explanation about how or why the lad went there.

Toby and Alice hadn't been back to the village for eighteen months; they had lost the incentive to take the long walk since their mother and father died. James would probably never come back again either, and once Ruth had her baby she'd lose interest in her brothers and sisters too. That was just the way it was, their family was no different to countless others. But Hope knew Nell would grieve for her, she wouldn't forget her youngest sister, not in a few weeks or even a few years. And she hadn't even got a loving husband to comfort and rea.s.sure her.

The clock on St Nicholas's church was striking twelve noon as Hope finally reached Bristol Bridge. It had taken some five hours or so to walk a distance that could be completed in two. It was almost miraculous that she'd got there at all, for she was dizzy with pain all the way and she was so weak now that she had to hang on to the bridge parapet to hold herself up.

Yet she felt no pleasure or relief that she'd made it, for the noise of rumbling carts and carriages and the shrill cries from street vendors was deafening and the river stank like a privy. People pushed and shoved past her; if they even noticed her they wouldn't stop to offer any help to a girl who was soaking wet, swaying with exhaustion and clearly in pain. Her father had always said that city folk had no charity, and Hope had never felt so alone and abandoned in her entire life.

She thought if she could just have a drink of water she'd feel a lot better, but everyone knew you couldn't drink Bristol water. How could she get a drink without money?

She hadn't been to Bristol since her father died, and his description of how it was for him on that last fateful trip was ever present in her mind. She pulled her wet cloak around her more tightly, letting the hood hang over her face to hide her injuries, and shuffled painfully on.

As she stepped into the road to cross over to the church, she heard the driver of a carriage scream some abuse. It seemed to be directed at her, yet she didn't know why. She felt so strange, as though her mind and body had separated. She could hear noise all around her, smell the horse droppings in the street, and even sensed someone's face right up close to hers. But it was dream like, as though she were asleep.

'You gotta get up,' she heard a woman say. 'You stay there and they'll cart you off to the Bridewell or the infirmary.'