No, it was one of his guests. She paused, waiting, then added. Are you not going to invite me in?
The house is all in a muddle, he said. Not fit to be seen. This slut he indicated the girl at his side, who had continued to stare at Margaret with unveiled amusement Nellie, here, dont go much on keeping house.
Taint what I came for, the girl retorted. Im not a servant. If you dont like it you know what you can do.
Margaret was wondering if she was ever going to be allowed over the threshold, and he was looking at her with bright little eyes, almost buried in the flesh of his cheeks, as if he wished her anywhere but on his doorstep. It was a wish she shared. At last he said, Better come in, though this aint the place for a well-brought-up young lady.
The girl he had referred to as Nellie laughed as she led the way through a dusty hall to an even dustier drawing-room with heavy old-fashioned furniture and faded velvet curtains. Thats a fact and no argument, she said, with a chuckle that hinted at something Margaret was not sure she wanted to know.
Get us all a drink, Henry ordered the girl, then, turning to Margaret, indicated the settle. Sit down. Tell me what happened.
The telling did not take long, and he was silent at the end of it, his many chins resting on his chest and his eyes glazed. The glass in his hand was empty and so was the girls, but Margaret had not touched her wine.
My, thats a turn up for the books, Nellie said. What are you going to do now?
Margaret looked from her to her uncle, who did not deign to answer for several seconds.
I dont know, he said at last. I dont know. Aint you got anyone else you can go to?
No, or I would, believe me.
Wheres your father?
He died in India. I was born out there in 1727, but the climate did not suit my mother and, when my father died, she brought me back to England. I was only a baby then; I do not remember him.
Nineteen years old, he murmured. Felicity took her time about producing, considering she left here in 15.
My parents were married two years before I was born, no more.
Hmm, he mused. Fancy that little chit managing on her own all that time. What did she do? For a living, I mean.
She was a mantua-maker, and a very good one.
Is that so? Hardly the occupation of a lady of breeding.
Perhaps she had little choice, Margaret snapped in defence of her beloved mother, though she had no idea what had happened in the past. If Great-Uncle Henry was a sample of her family, then she did not blame her mother for never mentioning them.
And you expect me to welcome you with open arms? her uncle asked.
Nellie giggled. Why not? You do everyone else
Shut up, you witless cow, he said to her, then to Margaret, Youd do better turning right round and going back where you came from.
I cant. Ive no money.
Neither have I and thats a fact. He sighed. Youd better stay, I suppose. Just until we can think of something else. Nellie, my dear, show her where she can sleep and tell Mistress Clark therell be one more for dinner.
The house, neglected as it was now, had once been very fine, Margaret decided as she followed Nellie up the carved oak staircase and along a wide landing. The people who had built it must have been quite wealthy and had some standing in the community; the building materials would have had to be transported some distance because, apart from willows and a few aspen, there were no trees locally. The proportions of the house were on a grand scale too; lofty ceilings and long windows with leaded panes. Some of the doors along the landing were standing open and revealed large rooms full of worn furniture which had once been good.
One room was obviously in use. It was even more untidy than the rest of the housethe bed was unmade and garments were scattered all over the bed and the floor. Margaret could not help noticing that there was a mans night shirt and hose as well as womens clothes. She averted her gaze hurriedly; so Nellie was her great-uncles wife! She was younger than Margaret herself and she was certainly not a lady of breeding. But who was she to criticise? Margaret asked herself as she followed her hostess into a bedroom at the far end of the corridor.
You wont be disturbed here, Nellie said. I hope youre not used to being waited on, because there arent any servants except Mistress Clark, and she dont sleep in. She laughed suddenly. She dont approve of Henrys goings-on, as she calls them, but she stays on account of she knew the old master.
My mothers father?
Yes; I suppose it would have been Henrys brother. He was a few years older than Henry. Before that, of course, there was your great-grandfather. Henry dont talk about them.
Is there no one else in the family?
Not that I know of, but then I aint known Henry that long. She paused, looking round the room. Its a bit dusty. It aint one of the rooms we use often.
Do you entertain much, Mistress Capitain? Margaret asked, going over to the wash-stand and noticing the scum on the top of the water in the jug.
Nellie threw back her head and laughed. Bless you, I aint Henrys wife.
Margaret was shocked to the core. She was not blind to some of the things that went on in the less salubrious parts of London; she knew men took mistresses and some wives took lovers, but she had never expected to find it happening in her own family, nor in the family home away from the capital. She sat down heavily on the bed, sending up a cloud of dust.
Dont look so stricken, Nellie said. Henry and me, well, were just good friends. I came down here cos I needed to get away for a bit, understand?
Margaret didnt and she said so.
Never mind, the girl said, and laughed again. Youre like a fish out of water, here, aint you?
Yes.
Id find somewhere else to go, if I were you. It was said almost kindly. Later on, or mayhap tomorrow, theres a whole lot more coming.
More like you? It was out before Margaret could stop it.
Yes, only worse. Men and womentheyre coming to gamble and Well, you know.
Margaret shuddered. Her mother could not possibly have known it would be like this when shed told her to come here. Now where was she to go? For a fleeting moment she thought of Charles Mellison and his friend, Lord Pargeter, looking for a wife who would be prepared to live in this outlandish place. She had heard that fen people were all slightly mad, and she was beginning to believe it. What could she do? She lifted her chin. Perhaps you should be the one to leave, she said. After all, you have no ties here .
It was a silly thing to say and she realised it as soon as Nellie began to laugh. She was still laughing as she went back downstairs, leaving Margaret alone in the grubby bedroom.
It was a corner room, having windows on two sides which would have made it a pleasant bedchamber if it had been clean. It had a bed, a dressing-table and a cupboard, standing on a carpet so faded as to be colourless. She did not unpack, but went to the window and looked out on a landscape so bleak that she didnt know how anyone could like it. She saw nothing but acres and acres of flat land, some of it meadow, some of it ploughed, intersected by dykes, whose banks were higher than the surrounding land. From the other window the view was of water, with clumps of frost-blackened sedge and reeds. A rowing-boat rocked on its moorings beside the landing-stage. Overhead, in the great bowl of the sky, a heron flew. But her mother had loved her childhood here and had spoken of the special magic of the fen countryits glorious sunsets and red dawns, its plentiful wildlife, fish and fowl, its close-knit communities and hardy, superstitious people. What she had never told Margaret was why she had left and why she had never been back. As she stood at the window, a little of the atmosphere communicated itself to her and for the first time she began to understand.
But that did not mean she wanted to stay. Her uncle evidently did not want her and she was certainly not impressed with him, but what else was there for her to do? She had no money to return to London. Suddenly she found herself thinking again of Charles Mellison, who had suggested she should marry, and his long-legged, handsome companion, who was looking for a wife. She did not want either of them to be given the opportunity of crowing over her. She smiled and turned from the window; she would just have to make the best of the situation. Straightening her shoulders, she returned downstairs and made her way to the kitchen, intending to ask for mops and buckets to clean her room.
CHAPTER TWO
MISTRESS CLARK was thin and dark, reminding Margaret of a scavenging crow as she darted about the kitchen picking up utensils and bowls. She was muttering to herself, but stopped suddenly when she saw Margaret. Miss Felicity! The bowl she had in her hand dropped to the floor and shattered. Margaret bent to pick up the pieces.
Its a judgement, thats what it is, the woman went on, crossing herself. I knew it would all end in tears; I told you so.
Im not Felicity, Mistress Clark. Im her daughter, Margaret.
The cook let out her breath in a long sigh. My, you gave me a fright, mistress. The image of your poor mother, you are.
My mother is dead.
And you thought you would come back home, did you?
It was Mamas last wish. Im sure she didnt know it would be like She paused, lifting her arm to indicate the house. Like this.
No, she wouldnt. She was only a young girl when she left home. I told her; I told her it would end in misery
Mama wasnt unhappy, Mistress Clark. She and my father were very happy until he died and then we managed very well, she and I.
Well, Im glad to hear it. But you arent thinking of staying here, are you? This is an evil place and that one She pointed with a wooden spoon at the wall dividing the kitchen from the rest of the house. That one is the devil. Get out. Get out before he drags you under his wicked spell. Hell
She was interrupted by a bellow from the corridor outside, and the door was thrown open to reveal Henry Capitain, more tousled than ever. Are you going to stand there gossiping all day? I want my dinner.
Its coming, the cook said, but there was no servility in her tone. Do you think Ive got ten pairs of hands?
And you mind your manners, or youll be out on your ear.
Her answer was a laugh of derision.
He ignored it and turned to Margaret. Get back where you belong. Seeings youre here, you can be my hostess. You cant be any worse at it than Nellie. Come on, now, weve company.
Margaret followed him back to the drawing-room, where she found three men and three women who had arrived while she had been talking to the cook. They were all so grotesquely painted that it was impossible to tell what their features were like, and they wore huge wigs which disguised the colour of their hair. The mens clothes were as vivid as the womens, in pinks and purples, greens and mauves. They reminded Margaret of a flock of parrots.
Margaret, I want you to meet our guests, he said, waving a hand at them. Entertain them while I go and dress.
He disappeared, leaving Margaret unable to utter a word. They stared at her; one of them even lifted a quizzing-glass and moved it up and down inches from her face. Aint seen you before, he said. Whered old Henry find you?
He didnt, she said coldly. I am his great-niece.
This was followed by another long silence, until Nellie came in and diverted them with cries of welcome. Its been dull, she said. Theres nothing to do
Nothing to do, Nellie? one of the women laughed. Dont Henry satisfy you any more? Well, now were all here, things will liven up, dont you think? Is the niece part of the entertainment?
My, I could be entertained by that one, drawled one of the men, looking lecherously at Margaret. It might be amusing, dont you think? The quiet ones often turn out to have hidden fire. I had a mistress once, young she was, hardly out of the schoolroom and carefully brought up, but my, was she a demon in bed!
He laughed heartily as Margaret turned and fled.
She ran up to her room, grabbed her bag and hurried down the back stairs to the kitchen. Mistress Clark was just taking a roast fowl from the oven. Margaret dashed past her and out of the door. They would surely catch her if she tried to go back along the only road. She turned and ran over the grass to the landing-stage. They could not follow her if she took the only boat. She threw her bag in the bottom, climbed in and cast off.
She had never rowed a boat before, but she had seen it done on the Thames and she bent to the oars with a will. At first she went round and round and kept bumping into the bank, but at last she found a kind of rhythm and discovered how to steer. Her direction was clear enough because Ely Cathedral stood out clear against the skyline. She had no idea how far away it was, because distances were deceptive where there were no landmarks except a few windmills, and the light was so strange. She rowed out of the wide water of the fen into the cut. She kept going until her back felt like breaking and her hands were covered in blisters, but still the great tower of the cathedral seemed no nearer. She knew that if she stopped the current would take her back the way she had come. She forced herself to continue, and inch by inch drove the boat forward towards a group of buildings surrounding a church, which she guessed was Winterford. There was a small landing-stage and sloping lawns to a large house. Thankfully, she pulled in and, throwing her bag before her, climbed on to dry land. And then, to her great consternation, she found her legs had become so numb with cold that she could not stand.
The house was two hundred yards away and much bigger than she had at first supposed. Built of grey stone, it seemed to have been put together haphazardly, with a tall main building and two wings, one with a lower roof-level which jutted out along the frontage and the other set at right angles. The central frontage had half a dozen evenly spaced mullioned windows and a massive wooden door, heavily studded. She began crawling over the grass towards it, dragging her bag with her, but, before she could reach it, she found herself looking at a kid-booted foot and a dark blue woollen skirt and heard the voice of a young woman. Goodness, you poor thing, whatever happened to you? Charles, come here and help me.
Mistress Donnington! Margaret recognised the voice of Charles Mellison, though she was all but fainting and could not see him clearly. How did you get here?
Never mind how she got here, the young lady said, before Margaret could find her tongue. Help me get her indoors.
He lifted her easily and carried her into the house and into a small sitting-room. Margaret saw nothing but the glowing embers of the fire, felt nothing but the warmth enveloping her, and then she fainted.
When she came to herself, she was lying in a beautifully furnished bedroom, covered with clean sheets and warm blankets, and the young lady was sitting in a chair beside the bed watching her. She smiled when she saw Margaret was awake.