Marriage Under Siege

The service came to an end, even the Reverend Gower spurred into hurrying his words as the restlessness of the congregation made itself felt and his cold threatened to overwhelm him. The coffin was duly carried to the south aisle and manoeuvred, with some difficulty and muttered imprecations, to be lowered into the vault below the stone flags with the decayed remains of other de Bramptons.

‘… dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life …’

The congregation proceeded in a wave of relief out into the churchyard.

‘Well, my lord.’ Croft appeared at Mansell’s side and offered his hand. ‘Unpleasant circumstances, I know, but welcome to the county. I knew your father, of course. I shall be pleased to make your acquaintance, my boy. And introduce you with pleasure to the rest of my family on a more auspicious occasion.’

I doubt it. Lord Mansell kept his thoughts to himself and returned the clasp with a smile and inclination of his head. ‘Thank you, Sir William. I remember my father speaking often of you and your boyhood activities. He held you in great affection. I trust you will return with me to the castle. Let us get in out of this Godforsaken rain and see if the content of Lord Edward’s cellar can help to thaw us out.’

‘I would not gamble a fortune on it!’ Sir William guffawed, raindrops clinging to his bushy eyebrows. ‘But I will willingly help you discover the flaws in your inheritance! I am not sure that you will be successful in finding even a keg of ale, much less anything of a stronger nature—I would definitely not bet my last coin on it. Lord Edward did not spend money willingly. Indeed, he claimed that he never had it to spend—but only because he could never be bothered to collect it efficiently. I fear that your new estates will prove to be a burden, my lord, unless you are willing to take the time and energy to whip them into shape.’

Mansell turned away with a shrug and a suitable comment—and was immediately conscious of Lady Mansell’s approach to stand beside him on the mired pathway. She had pulled up the hood to hide her hair and most of her face. She looked lost and fragile, alone amidst the groups of mourners. For one moment he thought that she swayed, that she might lose her balance, so he stepped forward and took her arm in a strong clasp.

‘My lady,’ he murmured in a low voice, ‘are you well? Do you need help?’

Her whole body stiffened under his impersonal touch and, although she did not actively pull away, she gave no outward appreciation of his offer of help. There was the merest flicker of her eyelids as she turned her face to his. And a look of shock as if she had been unaware of her surroundings until that moment, as if she were merely going through the motions of what was expected of her. She blinked at Mansell with a frown of recognition—and then shook her head as she pulled her arm from his grip. He could see her visibly withdraw from him, her eyes fall to hide her thoughts.

‘Thank you, my lord. I need no help. I have to return to the castle to ensure that the guests have all they require.’

She turned and walked away from him towards the forbidding gateway.

A simple repast had been laid out in the Great Hall. Bread, meat, cheese and pasties on large platters. Jugs of wine and larger vessels of beer were available, in spite of Sir William’s fears to the contrary. A vast table had been set up with chairs for those who might be infirm. A fire had been lit in the enormous fireplace. It was too meagre to do more than lift the atmosphere, but it was a gesture, and the few who returned to the castle with Lord Mansell gravitated to its flickering cheerfulness, steam rising from damp velvet and mud-caked leather. The guests expressed their sympathies in suitable if not exactly honest terms to the new lord and to Lady Mansell, the servants efficiently poured beer and mulled wine, and the gathering gradually relaxed into gossip, family matters and local affairs typical of such an event.

Mansell found Foxton hovering at his elbow, an expression of some concern on his lined face.

‘Is everything to your satisfaction, my lord? We did what we could. But you must understand … Forgive me, my lord, but—’

‘Yes. Thank you, Foxton. It is better than I could have expected in the circumstances.’ He made no attempt to cloak his knowledge of the state of the once-magnificent castle of Brampton Percy. It was clear for all to see. A run-down estate. No money, no care over past decades, no stores to draw on in any emergency. Where the money from the rents went, Heaven only knew. If, indeed, they had ever been collected as he’d been led to believe. It had taken Mansell less than twenty-four hours to see the dire need here. And, as Josh had pointed out with delicate malice, it was now all his. ‘You have made the guests feel most welcome, Master Foxton. You have my gratitude.’ A smile of genuine warmth touched his harsh features. ‘I think that Lord Edward was not aware of the debt which he owed to your stewardship. But I am.’

Foxton bowed his appreciation. ‘It is my duty and an honour to serve your family, my lord. As my own father did before me. But this—’ he gestured with his hand ‘—is Lady Mansell’s doing, my lord. She was most particular that we should be able to offer some hospitality, and, not knowing who or how many would wish to mark the passing of Lord Edward … If anyone wishes to stay the night, my lord, a number of bedchambers have been made ready.’

Mansell raised his brows in some surprise at the foresight, but made no comment other than, ‘Thank you, Foxton. I am grateful.’

He turned from his Steward to locate the widow. There she was, almost invisible in the gloom in her black gown, moving between the guests, exchanging a word here, supplying another glass of wine there, listening to a whispered confidence or an offer of condolence. The grey shadow of the huge wolfhound had emerged from its temporary incarceration in the stables to attach itself firmly to her skirts once more. Lady Mansell carried herself confidently, gracefully, apparently having recovered from her momentary dislocation in the churchyard. But although she conversed with ease there was no animation and she did not smile. Her aloof composure struck Mansell anew. But perhaps even more remarkable, he quickly noticed, was the care and deference of the servants towards her. They watched her, ready to anticipate her needs, to respond to her every desire. Even Foxton. She might only have been mistress of Brampton Percy for a bare four weeks, yet in that time, however fickle the loyalties of servants might be, she appeared to have been taken under the caring wing of the whole household.

How did she do it? Mansell mused as he watched her from a distance and later voiced his thoughts to Sir Joshua over a mug of ale. ‘She would appear to have no conversation of any merit—or certainly no desire to entertain. No charm. No warmth. Yet even Sir Edward’s hound follows her every step and appears inseparable from her. What is it that they respond to?’

Sir Joshua shrugged. ‘I know not. I have not seen her smile or show pleasure. I watched Thomas Rudhall try to engage her in conversation a little while ago.’ Joshua turned to survey the assembled group, to locate the gentleman.

‘Oh? Another family connection, I presume.’

‘Yes. A cousin of yours, I would think. And a very important one—in his opinion. And, more to the point, a widower. There he is—the large rumpled individual propping up the fireplace, scattering crumbs as he speaks. From Rudhall Park. Poor Thomas tried very hard to flatter the grieving and wealthy widow with his consequence and attention.’

‘And?’

‘She drew in her skirts as if to avoid contamination and looked at him as if he had crawled out of the slime in your inner courtyard.’ Sir Joshua’s face split in a reminiscent grin. ‘Our self-important Thomas made a hasty exit towards the ale. His dreams of a rich, youthful widow with a handsome jointure to warm his bed shattered by one sharp encounter. I could wish to have heard what she said to him.’

‘At least she has good taste.’ Mansell’s lips curled as he assessed his unprepossessing relative, who was at present waxing eloquent and loudly on the strength of local Royalist forces and the certain defeat of Parliament. ‘I imagine that the past four weeks have not been a source of amusement for her. She might not regard wedlock with any degree of tolerance and I wager few women would be attracted by Rudhall’s dubious charms. I remember little of my cousin Edward, but marriage to him must have been … a trial.’ Mansell hesitated a moment, a frown drawing together his heavy brows. ‘Perhaps even worse than that for a gently brought-up girl. Perhaps that is the problem.’

‘At least she now has her freedom. The lady should be rejoicing.’

‘She should indeed. Ah … my own rejoicing is over, Josh! I believe that I must brace myself. Sir William Croft is striding in this direction and I fear I cannot escape. I think the time is fast approaching when I must answer for my sins.’ Mansell’s smile was wry. ‘But I do not believe that I wish to be too apologetic!’

‘When are you ever?’ Josh raised his brows in mock surprise. ‘I will leave you to work out your own salvation, Francis—meanwhile, I will go and talk to the widow and try my own charms on her. If only to ruffle the Rudhall feathers, scruffy as they are. Just try not to shock your powerful relative too much on your first meeting.’

Sir William Croft approached, a tankard of ale clasped in one large hand. In spite of his advancing years he remained robust and active, his broad features ruddy and weatherbeaten, a force to be reckoned with. Authority wrapped him round like a velvet cloak and he wore it comfortably.

‘I suppose I should say that I am sorry about Edward’s demise,’ he stated brusquely, without preamble. ‘But I have to admit to being even more sorry about your brother’s death last month. A terrible thing, to have lost James so young.’

Mansell’s reply was tight-lipped and curt. ‘Yes. A great waste.’

‘And your own tragic loss. Both Katherine and the babe. More than a year ago now, isn’t it? And then your father …’ He shook his head at the terrible unpredictability of life and death. ‘A desperate time for your family.’

‘Yes.’

‘Forgive me, boy.’ Sir William closed a large hand on Mansell’s rigid arm, the warm pressure indicating the depths of sympathy which he would not convey in words. ‘I see you have no wish to speak of it, but it would have been discourteous not to express my condolences—and those of my Lady. Your mother wrote to her about Katherine. We never knew her, of course.’

‘No.’ If Mansell’s response had been coldly controlled before, now it was glacial. The rigid set of his shoulders discouraged further comment on the subject.

Sir William shuffled uncomfortably, then took a deep, spine-stiffening draught from his tankard. ‘Your mother. I suppose she is taking it hard?’

‘Yes.’ Mansell visibly relaxed a little, and took a glass of wine from a servant. ‘She is in London at present with Ned and Cecilia. I fear she finds time heavy on her hands. And is in constant despair that either I or Ned will also become victim of a stray bullet, as James was.’

‘And, of course, it has handed you a lot of unexpected responsibility. How do you feel about it?’

‘Uncomfortable.’ Mansell responded to the older man’s obvious concern with more honesty than he might usually allow. And besides, the new direction held no vicious memories, guaranteed to strike and tear at the unwary with cruel talons. ‘I suddenly seem to have inherited two titles. First my father’s knighthood, and now Edward’s barony, making me responsible for not only my father’s possessions but also Edward’s acres. It was not the life that I had planned.’

‘Don’t forget the inheritance from Edward’s bride,’ Sir William reminded him with a sharp glance. ‘She will have an excellent jointure as his widow from the estate, of course, but Mistress Ingram must have brought great resources with her to the marriage. The Laxton estates in Yorkshire themselves must bring in a tidy sum. I can tell you, it was the talk of Herefordshire when Edward suddenly upped and wed at his time of life. Why in God’s name should he suddenly change the habits of a lifetime? Not to mention the financial cost! We had no idea—always presumed he would go to his grave with no direct dependants. But no—and he must have beggared himself and his tenants in raising the funds to buy Mistress Ingram’s wardship from old Denham. As you will soon be aware, Edward was the worst of landlords. From what I know of the matter, his record-keeping was disorganised in the extreme, his collection of rents erratic and his investment in the estate nil.’ Sir William, a conscientious landlord himself, shook his head in disbelief. ‘His pockets were invariably empty, he was always pleading poverty and living in a style worse than that of his meanest tenant. His lands are widespread with great potential, but you would not think it to look at them. Look at this place.’ He waved his hand to encompass the medieval gloom of the Great Hall. ‘And to bring a new bride here!’ He huffed in disbelief.

‘As you say.’ Mansell did not need to follow Sir William’s gaze to know the truth of it. ‘I was unaware of either the marriage, or the extent of the property that now falls to my care. Or the state in which I find it. I could wish, for the most selfish of reasons, that my brother James had lived to take on the inheritance.’

Sir William nodded. There was nothing to say. He took a contemplative draught of the ale, his thoughtful gaze resting on the lady in question at the far side of the Hall. ‘Poor girl,’ he muttered as if to himself.

‘Why do you say that?’ Mansell realised that it might be in his interests to hear Sir William’s more knowledgeable assessment of the match.

‘Did you know your cousin at all?’ The rough brows rose in exaggerated query.

‘Not really.’

‘I thought not or you would not ask. I would not wish to speak ill of the dead, and certainly not on the day of his burial. But let me just say this—Edward had few friends to respect or mourn him, as is obvious from the paltry turn-out here. Local unrest would not normally keep friends and neighbours away from a good funeral! And his merits as a sensitive and caring husband for a young girl? Well, all I can say is that Denham must have been out of his mind—should never have allowed it.’

Francis watched Lady Mansell as she eased an elderly lady to her feet from a settle by the fire and restored her stick to her gnarled hand. His lips thinned a little in sudden distaste. So his own thoughts on the marriage were confirmed. Poor girl indeed.

‘It will be difficult for you to enjoy your gains in the circumstances, my boy, although we are quieter here than many areas,’ Sir William continued, interrupting his younger relative’s thoughts, sure of his subject now. ‘Most of the families hereabouts are loyal to the King or have the sense to keep their mouths shut and their doubts to themselves. Connections between families are still strong—much intermarriage has strengthened family ties over the centuries of course. Your own family has close connections with many apart from us at Croft Castle. The Scudamores, of course. The Pyes, the Kyrles of Walford—none of them here, you notice. And the Rudhalls—the son was at the church earlier but—ah, yes, there he is by the screen, looking as if he has lost his best hunter as usual. You will have noticed that the Coningsbys did not put in an appearance?’

‘I had. Is there a reason? Your knowledge of my family intricacies is much greater than mine.’

‘No marriage connections with the Coningsbys, of course—but a deadly feud between Fitzwilliam Coningsby and Edward going back many years; I have forgotten the details. But a lot of history there. You might find that you inherit it along with the property. You might want to watch your back, my boy.’