19. Separation
CHAPTER 19
Separation
T he wheel of fate turned, burning Louise’s hopes of happiness with Shaun Jackson to ash. Napoleon’s escape from Elba and triumphal march into Paris caught everybody by surprise with its terrifying speed. Papa was still in France somewhere, but where? With no correspondence or books now for nearly two months, she could only hope and pray he was somewhere near a port so he could sail away from danger. She checked an atlas for his last position, in Tours. It was far too close to Paris for her liking, and a great distance from the sea.
Bernadette was already heading around town with her basket of herbs and tonics, so Louise left Ruth to the books and set about making glue with Brutus. The activity would provide a welcome distraction.
“I have some gossip,” Brutus said with a grin as he stirred the smelly glue.
“Goodness, have you been talking with Rosie?” Louise asked.
“No, this is from home, and it made me glad. But you can’t tell anyone.”
“I solemnly promise,” Louise confirmed.
“We received a letter from Benjamin’s school. Mama was reading it to Papa and it said Benjamin wasn’t coming home for Easter. I wasn’t supposed to be listening. But he’s been troublesome at school so they’re keeping him back while the rest of the boys have a break. Mama left the letter on the table so I read it later, and folded it back exactly the way I found it.”
Ordinarily Louise would heartily laugh, but her spirits really weren’t up to the task today. She searched for a diplomatic response. “He has not been the kindest of older brothers, has he?”
“I’m glad he won’t be home for Easter, I wasn’t looking forward to it,” Brutus said.
Louise absolutely agreed with him, but for even more reasons. There hadn’t been a single fire in Hatfield since he’d gone away to school.
Shaun came into the shop in the early afternoon, grim-faced. Louise’s stomach churned at his expression.
“What is it?” she demanded, heart hammering against her ribs.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the news, it’s all over town. Napoleon is back, I must re-enlist.”
“You’re needed here!” she challenged him, panicking suddenly.
He shook his head and half closed his eyes in frustration. “Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”
“You’re leaving me?” Her vision blurred and her eyes heated with unshed tears.
“I have no choice. I will be back, I promise.”
He was leaving for France. The most dangerous place in the world! The words, “How dare you!” flew from her lips. Her hands balled into fists and she ran forward and started pummelling him in the chest. “How dare you even think of going!”
He caught hold of her, hugged her to him. “I would not be able to live with myself if I didn’t go. The Fox brothers leapt on the first post-carriage to London, and Riot is saying goodbye to Rosie just out the front now.”
“But it doesn’t make any sense. You sold your commission. You were looking at a house to settle down in!” The unspoken part of that was a feeble “with me”, which she said in her head. To her own ears she sounded desperate and pathetic.
“Things are safe in Hatfield now,” he said. “No fires since Benjamin left. You were dead to rights about him.”
Somehow, being right didn’t make her feel any better. Plus, she knew Benjamin wasn’t coming back between school terms.
“Did you already know? Benjamin’s school is keeping him there because he’s causing trouble?” It wouldn’t be right to lie to him about the threat if there really wasn’t one now.
“I saw a group of schoolboys alight from the coach yesterday. Benjamin wasn’t among them. I began to wonder if he was being true to form.”
“That figures,” Lousie agreed. Shaun noticed everything. Of course he did. But drat the whole situation. Benjamin’s non-return gave Shaun the extra permission he needed to leave England, knowing Hatfield was safe.
“Will you at least kiss me goodbye?” he asked.
Louise folded her arms across her chest. “No.”
“No?” He balked. “Whyever not?”
“Because I’m furious with you, that’s why. You sold your commission! You’ve done your duty to King and country already. You don’t owe them anything more!”
Shaun took a step back and sighed with frustration. “I had thought we could part on better terms.”
“You thought wrong. I’ll thank you to leave, now, I have work to do.”
She turned and headed up the stairs, holding back the tears until she heard the bell from the shop door telling her Shaun had departed.
Louise’s words burned acid in Shaun’s belly. He’d upset her terribly, but he truly had no option but to rejoin and head to France. There simply wasn’t enough time to explain everything to her; he had to be on the stagecoach this afternoon. Napoleon had to be stopped; he only hoped she’d forgive him by the time he got home. Whenever that time might be.
Some things really were that important.
All the same, he had a few minutes to speak with the new doctor, Glynn Williams, about keeping an eye on Louise and Bernadette while he was absent. He found the doctor finishing his meal in the Red Lion.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay,” Shaun said, crushing his hat in his hands. “I’ve rejoined the army, and I must be off.”
“Goodness, are we at war again?” Glynn asked. “Who’s it with this time?”
The doctor’s face was pure innocence. How had he not heard? But of course, he was not spending all his time with returned soldiers, who could only talk of one thing.
“Napoleon escaped Elba and is raising merry hell,” Shaun said.
The doctor looked aghast, obviously understanding how serious this had become. Glynn paid for his meal and followed Shaun back to Mrs Bell’s so he could finish packing.
“I must ask you a favour,” Shaun said. “Would you please look after Louise and Bernadette while I’m gone?”
“That virago?”
Shaun’s eyes rounded in shock. Not the reaction he was expecting - but then nothing had been as he’d expected this morning. “Louise?” Louise could be stubborn and occasionally bossy - but a virago? Never.
“No, not her. Miss Bernadette.”
Shaun stopped packing, confused. “She’s a sweet, quiet little mouse.”
“She’s a harridan,” Glynn objected. “Meddling with people and playing with medicines she doesn’t understand.”
Shaun sighed and shoved the last few items into his bag. “I’ve spoken with Mrs Bell, and she’s more than happy for you to have my room. She offered her front room as your consulting room.”
“Until my house is ready?”
Shaun shook his head. “The men repairing the doctor’s house are joining up as well. There won’t be any more work done on repairs for a while, unless you’re good at carpentry yourself?”
Glynn sighed and shook his head in annoyance. “Well, needs must. Good luck, Jackson. Come home safe.”
Louise sat behind the counter in a pit of despair. All that confidence about how good her romance was had come back to bite her, hard. How often had she been smug and lofty in believing she’d avoided Marie and Estelle’s mistakes to find happiness without complications? Far too often.
Now fate dealt her the most cruel blow.
Marie had been miserable, that was a fact, but the Earl of Renwick had come back for her and they’d eloped to Scotland together and were no doubt living in wedded bliss in his Cumbria castle by now. Estelle and Felix had created silly arguments, but they’d figured themselves out and were now happily married.
She and Shaun had been happy from the beginning, but now she didn’t know if she’d ever see her beloved again.
She’d sent him off without so much as a kiss!
She hadn’t told him she loved him, she’d been too angry with him. Foolishly angry and petulantly silly.
On she chastised herself, all the while reading every scrap of terrible news that arrived from the continent. It was terrifying, what with Napoleon amassing a vast army in an alarmingly short span of time. Meanwhile the leaders of the Congress of Vienna seemed unable to put aside their differences in order to stop the horrible little Corsican.
Every time she read a new article, shakes of pure terror overwhelmed her whole body. But she was powerless to stop reading the newssheets, as if the mere knowledge of what was happening was somehow keeping Shaun alive.
And their father had not managed to get a letter out in months, much less any more crates of books.
“Why did he have to go?” Louise sobbed into her hands one morning at breakfast. “One man isn’t going to make any difference and I - we - need him here!”
Bernadette patted Louise’s shoulder. They also needed their father, and the longer it took for him to come home, the worse their fears became.
“Why don’t you stay upstairs today?” Mrs Poole suggested kindly.
“Someone has to mind the counter,” Louise sniffled.
“I can do it,” Bernadette said stoutly. “I’m not as busy now that Dr Williams is in town. You stay upstairs and just rest. I know you’re not sleeping well.”
Louise lowered her hands and looked at Bernadette from reddened eyes, before nodding.
“And tonight, I’m going to give you a tea before bed and you’re to jolly well drink it,” Bernadette added firmly.
“All right,” Louise conceded quietly.
“And you’re going to eat this breakfast, too!” Mrs Poole added, pushing the plate of buttered crumpets under Louise’s nose.
Louise picked up a crumpet and nibbled at the edge, and Mrs Poole and Bernadette exchanged another worried look.
“I was so stupid,” Louise said miserably, picking crumbs off the edge of the crumpet. “I never told him how much I loved him.”
It was quite apparent that neither Bernadette nor Mrs Poole had any idea what to say to comfort her. Bernadette retreated to mind the shop and Louise made herself eat the rest of the crumpet, to appease Mrs Poole, before retreating to her room.
She should do some book-binding work, to try and keep her hands and mind busy, but she couldn’t make herself do anything but lie on the bed and worry.
Crafty came in and jumped up on the bed, purring softly and coming to rub the top of her head against Louise’s chin.
“Hello, old girl,” Louise whispered, trying not to sniffle. “Do you miss him too? I know you liked him, even though he always made sure not to let you out.” She petted the cat, and Crafty flopped down on the bed beside her and rolled over to show her belly.
Her distinctly round belly.
“Oh, Wollstonecraft.” Louise sat up. “How?”
Despite being a mighty huntress, Crafty only got fat when she was having kittens. They’d only just managed to find a home for Pie, the last kitten from her last litter! Though at least Pie had found the very best of homes, with Marie and Renwick.
Stroking Crafty’s swollen belly, Louise thought again of Shaun… because Shaun had said once that he’d take Pie if the young cat was still available when he found a house.
“Maybe he can have one of these kittens instead,” Louise whispered, before the tears began to fall in earnest again. “If he ever comes home!”
Bless Crafty, she didn’t even meow a protest when her fur began to soak up Louise’s tears.
Even at home, nothing seemed to be going right. Reverend Millings was being downright horrible in his sermons, undoubtedly egged on by Joshua and Phoebe; every Sunday brought a fresh tirade clearly directed squarely at Bernadette and Louise. Lord Ferndale even said quietly to Louise one day that he would quite understand if they wished to skip church.
“My mother would roll over in her grave,” Louise said stoutly. “We have nothing to be ashamed of, Grandfather. There is nothing Reverend Millings can do to us.”
“Unfortunately, there is not much I can do to him, either!” Lord Ferndale looked grim, before conferring a kindly pat on her hand. “I hope the rest of Hatfield are far too sensible to listen to his nonsense.”
“Our business has not decreased,” Louise said, though she had privately noted that a few of Phoebe’s cronies who used to come in to look at the fashion journals had stopped frequenting the shop. Not that they ever bought very much anyway! “Have you received any letters from Mr Yates?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Indeed… and you from Estelle?” Lord Ferndale looked at her cautiously, and she beamed at him.
“Indeed, we have. With good news that they are expecting!” The letter had come a couple of days previously, a small bright spot in Louise’s glumness.
“But they cannot come home yet because poor Estelle has the sickness. A shame Bernadette is not with them, I am sure one of her tonics could bring your sister aright.”
“I’m sure she’ll be well enough to travel soon,” Louise said optimistically. “Bernadette says the sickness ofttimes passes soon after the quickening.”
“Let us hope so; I should very much like the next Yates to be born at Ferndale Hall!”
Thinking of that brought a smile to Louise’s face, and she accepted Lord Ferndale’s offered arm to walk beside him to his coach, and to their regular Sunday dinner at Ferndale Hall.
Another letter arriving a few days later bore far less pleasant news. A courier came into the bookshop and asked her name before handing her the letter; addressed to The Misses Baxter. It looked strangely official. The courier even required her to sign a paper stating that she had received the letter.
Curious as to what it might be, Louise picked up a letter-opener and slit open the envelope, sliding out the thick paper within and unfolding it. Her eyebrows shot up as she read. A cry caught in her throat.
“Are you all right, Cousin Louise?” a voice asked anxiously, and she looked up to see Brutus staring at her. “Is that… bad news?”
She could not look him in the face just now, not with that letter in her hand. Shaking her head spasmodically, she somehow managed to gasp out an instruction to watch the counter before taking to her heels and fleeing up the stairs.
“Louise!” Mrs Poole looked up from where she was cutting out scones at the kitchen table. “You’re white as a sheet, what’s the matter?”
“Bernadette,” Louise gasped, unable to think. Was her sister home?
“She’s out…”
Louise ran from the concerned look on the motherly housekeeper’s face, desperate to be alone. In her room she sank down on the edge of the bed and read the letter over again, scarcely able to comprehend what it was saying.
A strange squeaking noise drew her attention, and she looked around, puzzled. “What was that?”
The squeak came again, from under her bed. Crouching down, Louise peered at the boxes and trunks stored there, before beginning to pull them out one by one.
“Oh, no!” she shrieked, on making another dreadful discovery.
Crafty had given birth to five squalling kittens… in the box of beautiful fabric Miss Yates had given them for Estelle’s wedding. The fabric Louise had been saving to make her own wedding dress.
“Whatever is the matter?” Mrs Poole asked, coming to the door of her room, and then looking down at the box on the floor. “Oh… dear.”
“Louise?” Bernadette called from the kitchen, sounding anxious.
Louise picked up the box, trying to hold back the tears. Carrying it into the kitchen, she set it on the table.
“Oh dear, oh dear. That’s ruined that, then,” Mrs Poole said, and Louise bit her tongue so she didn’t snap.
Dr Williams was there with Bernadette, looking guilty, as well he might. He was the one who’d let Crafty out for her fateful night of passion with a local tomcat! Louise wasn’t even sure why he was there, but he beat a hasty retreat, to her relief. She couldn’t hold the tears in any longer, just collapsing to sit in a chair at the table and beginning to sob hopelessly.
Bernadette put an arm around her shoulders and tried to be comforting, but she didn’t even know the whole of the bad news that Louise had to impart. Trying to pull herself together, Louise put a hand in her pocket and pulled out the letter she’d stuffed there when she’d been distracted with Crafty’s kittens. Sliding it across the table to Bernadette, she met her sister’s eyes.
“It’s from Chancery Court, in London. Cousin Joshua did it, ‘Dette. He went to Chancery Court and… and he told them that Father is missing in France, probably dead, and that the two of us are running the business.”
“It’s not illegal for women to run a business. Is it?” Bernadette looked uncertain.
“It is if we’re not of age, and neither of us are. It was different when Estelle and Marie were here, but I’m not twenty-one until October.”
“So…?” Bernadette looked puzzled.
“So Cousin Joshua has asked the Chancery Court to appoint him, as our nearest male relative, and as the heir for the entail, as the trustee for Father’s estate. Because obviously we, as women, can’t be trusted not to destroy the valuable property which will be coming to him when Father is declared dead.” Louise tried for sarcasm to mask her rage and fear, the terror she could see beginning to dawn on Bernadette’s face.
“Is he going to win?” Bernadette asked in a thin whisper, as though she couldn’t make her voice come out quite right.
“Probably, yes!” Louise clenched her fist on the table, thinking it was lucky for Joshua he wasn’t in front of her right at that moment. She’d have blackened his eye. “We have thirty days to produce either Father, alive and well, or legal documents from him appointing an acceptable trustee.”
They were both silent for a few minutes, both trying to think.
“Could we forge…?” Bernadette began.
“Wouldn’t work.” Louise had already considered and discarded the idea. While they had plenty of samples of their father’s handwriting to mimic, the document would have to be notarised by a solicitor or magistrate… and since Joshua was the local magistrate and the solicitor, Mr Burton, was one of his closest allies, they would be very suspicious of a document supposedly notarised by someone else. Being caught forging documents would only add to their troubles.
“We could close the bookshop…” Louise said, but Bernadette was already shaking her head.
“We can’t! Remember? The entail says our branch of the family has to be running a viable business out of the building, or Joshua gets it at once! If we close the bookshop, we’re handing it over without even trying!”
They both shuddered, knowing what would happen. Joshua would probably have a bonfire of books in the middle of the street, sell the building to the highest bidder, and they’d be thrown out of the home they’d grown up in. At least they’d have somewhere to go, thanks to Lord Ferndale, but the idea of Joshua getting his way was unthinkable.
“We need help,” Louise said finally. It went against the grain to ask for it, but she didn’t see that they had any choice; they were in an untenable position with the law against them.
“But how? Joshua holds all the cards!” Bernadette looked a bit terrified, and Louise had to admit she was trying not to panic herself.
“We can’t produce those documents, or Father, unless he turns up. So instead we need to gather other evidence… that contrary to what Joshua is trying to claim, the business is doing just fine. And,” she grimaced, "I'm afraid we need a man to act for us.”
“Lord Ferndale?” Bernadette suggested.
“I have no doubt that he’ll offer help if we ask for it, so yes. If only Mr Yates were home, or Lord Renwick were closer!”
“I’ll write to them. To Estelle and Marie, anyway,” Bernadette said. “We can’t keep this from them, Lou, and they’ll want to help. Even if Estelle can’t travel, Mr Yates could come home, and as our brother-in-law, and a baron’s grandson, he’ll have just as much claim to be our guardian as Joshua.”
“And Lord Renwick even more, being an earl,” Louise mused. She might not like the fact, but peers definitely received preferential treatment. An earl speaking for them to the Chancery Court might make the court think twice about handing everything over to a local magistrate, who was a mere ‘gentleman’.
“I’ll write to them both today. And, tomorrow’s Wednesday, when I go to see Lord Ferndale,” Bernadette said firmly. “You leave this to me, Lou.” She put a hand on Louise’s arm gently, looking at her seriously. “You’ve got enough to deal with.”
Bernadette left her, going to fetch her writing materials and then downstairs to sit at the counter to write letters. Louise sat alone at the kitchen table, watching the mewling kittens rolling around on ruined silk which had once been worth a small fortune.
The stained, ruined silk seemed a metaphor for the death of all her hopes.
No wedding dress.
No wedding.
No Shaun.
And maybe soon, the loss of everything else she held dear.