22. An Unexpected Proposal
CHAPTER 22
An Unexpected Proposal
A little to Louise’s surprise, Joshua and Phoebe didn’t come looking for Brutus. They didn’t even seem to notice that he was no longer sleeping or eating at their house. Or perhaps they were too busy trying to keep a lid on the rumours beginning to spread around Hatfield about Benjamin; the one time Louise saw Phoebe in the street, Phoebe appeared to be desperately trying to make some point to her friend Mrs Wellworth, who stood with arms folded, looking as though she didn’t believe what Phoebe was saying. Louise smiled and went into the printer’s before Phoebe could spot her.
Brutus was much happier living with them, and having his smiling face around was a small bright spot in increasingly grim times. The news from France was more dreadful by the day, and on the twenty-second of June, Bernadette hid the newspaper behind her back when Louise reached for it.
“‘Dette…” she didn’t want to know, but she had to look. The previous day’s news had been bad enough, with reports of a dreadful battle at a crossroads somewhere, but from the look on Bernadette’s face, this was much worse.
Slowly, Bernadette pulled the newspaper out and placed it on the counter. She stood beside Louise as she read, hand on her shoulder in a gesture of silent support.
The account of the battle of Waterloo, as it was being called, was a dry dispatch written by Wellington himself.
“They won the battle,” Louise murmured, as she reached the bottom of the article. “But what does ‘our loss was great’ mean? And the Quarter-Master General was killed…” She did not like that particular snippet. While she had not the slightest idea where Shaun might have been deployed, she knew he had been a quartermaster. Had he been with the general when the fatal cannonball hit?
“It was a decisive victory, I think,” Bernadette said hesitantly. “The French are in full retreat.”
A sound reached Louise’s ears, and she realised it was a cheer; someone in the inn yard next door, perhaps being told the news.
“They’ll be celebrating at the Midsummer Assembly tonight,” Mrs Poole declared, marching in and dusting off her skirts. Looking at Louise’s expression, her cheer slipped a little. “Do you feel able to come, my dear?”
“I don’t think I feel like dancing,” Louise said, looking down at the newssheet again. ‘ Our loss was great.’ The words seemed to be mocking her. What about my loss? she wanted to scream. What about Shaun?
“I’ll stay with you,” Bernadette said, but Louise shook her head firmly.
“You will not. You’re going to go and hold your head up high and dance with Dr Williams, and make sure everyone knows you’re not afraid to show your face. If people ask where I am, tell them I’m staying home because I don’t want Brutus to be alone.”
“Very well,” Bernadette acquiesced, though she also unaccountably blushed a little. Louise didn’t press her as to why. Bernadette had her own troubles; Phoebe and Joshua were trying to blame Reverend Millings’ death on her, as though that were even possible. There were multiple witnesses who could attest that the vicar had always flatly refused even the suggestion of Bernadette’s assistance. It was important that Bernadette go to the assembly and show that she had nothing to hide.
Louise sat with Brutus instead and played a card game with him after supper, listening to the music spilling in through the open kitchen window. Thinking about when she had danced with Shaun at the Midwinter Assembly, the way she had felt light and graceful in his arms for the first time in her life.
“It’s your turn, Louise,” Brutus said, and she startled, looking down at the cards in her hand.
“I’m so sorry. I was woolgathering.”
He looked at her with wise eyes. “You miss Mr Jackson very much, don’t you?”
“Very much,” she said, her throat tight.
“He’ll come back,” Brutus said, with the unshakeable confidence of a twelve-year-old boy. “And then the two of you will get married. Can I come and live with you, when you do?”
She forced a smile. “Of course. I’ll tell Mr Jackson to make sure there’s a room for you, when he buys us a house.”
A beautiful little fantasy, with decreasingly likely odds of ever becoming reality. When their card game was finished, Louise sighed and shooed Brutus off to bed and sat alone, listening to the music.
Bernadette found her sitting there in the dark, the candle having gone out, when she came back in.
“Lou!” Bernadette startled, hand to her chest. “I didn’t see you there! Why no candle?”
“It went out. I was listening to the music.” It was still playing; Bernadette had obviously tired and come home before the end of the assembly.
“You should have come.” Bernadette relit the candle and put the tea-kettle on the banked stove. “Mr Stratforth asked after you.”
It took a moment for Louise to recall who Bernadette meant. “Oh. The farmer?”
“Yes, he seemed very disappointed you weren’t there.”
Louise shrugged, uncaring.
Bernadette poured hot water into the teapot and sat down opposite her. They looked at each other for a moment, and then Bernadette said “What are we going to do, Lou?” very quietly.
She knew what her sister meant. The deadline to get the paperwork the Chancery Court had requested was only a few days away now, and they had nothing to send. What would happen next, neither of them knew.
“I don’t know.” Louise reached out, took Bernadette’s hand and held it tightly. “But I do know I’m not going to stop fighting. No matter what.”
Bernadette puffed out a breath, then nodded, squeezing back. “No matter what.”
Louise opened the bookshop the following morning and was just scraping up Crafty’s usual leavings - having another litter of kittens had not slowed down the cat’s murderous rampage any - when an unexpected visitor walked into the shop.
“Hullo, Miss Louise,” Ruth Millings said timidly.
“Ruth!” Louise dropped the ash pan and shot to her feet. “Dear girl! How are you?” She hadn’t seen the girl since her father’s shocking death, almost four weeks ago now.
Ruth looked as pale as she always did, and as thin, but less… beaten, somehow. She stood a little taller and straighter, a brightness in her eyes Louise had never seen before. She accepted the impulsive hug Louise dished out.
“Well, black doesn’t suit you,” Louise said honestly, and Ruth actually smiled.
“I’ve not much choice.”
“Sit down and tell me what’s happening. How is your mother?”
Ruth thought about that for a moment before saying “Better.”
Louise didn’t press any further, although she wondered what exactly Ruth meant by that. Recovering from her grief? Less beaten-down and terrified?
“Well, it’s nice to see you,” Louise said diplomatically instead. “Dare I ask if you are considering coming back to help us?”
“I want to come back. It’s good to get out of the house!” Ruth lifted her chin. “And… we need the money. Paid to me, now.”
Louise hadn’t considered the Millings’ living situation, but of course the vicarage must go to the new parson, when he arrived. She was sure Lord Ferndale was not about to order Ruth and her mother out immediately, but they must find somewhere to live, and their income would be gone.
“What is your situation?” Louise asked forthrightly.
“Mama has a small jointure. Enough to rent us a little cottage and have a maid of all work, but not much more. If I could be paid my wages here, that would be enough to be sure of food on our table.”
Ruth’s confidence had certainly blossomed, Louise thought. She nodded. “Of course, that is more than fair! I was never easy about being required to put your wages into the collection plate at all. In fact, there is a week’s worth of wages for the last week you worked before your father passed, that was never put in. Let me pay you that now.”
Ruth looked pleased, and put the coins in her pocket before collecting the duster and setting about the shelves as though she had never been away.
It was good to have her back, Louise thought with a little smile as she returned to dealing with the mouse remains.
It was not half an hour later when another visitor entered the bookshop, this time a slim young man Louise estimated to be only a few years older than herself. He had a nice smile and a clergyman’s collar, which caused her eyes to widen.
“The famous Baxter’s Fine Books!” he said, with an engaging smile. “I knew I must come in at once, to meet Lady Renwick’s sisters.”
Louise blinked, startled. “You know Marie?”
“Indeed! I do beg your pardon.” He had already doffed his hat, now he made her a very polite bow. “Mr John Charles, at your service. You must be Miss Louise; Lady Renwick made such good descriptions of you all, I feel that I know you already!”
Mr Charles! Louise put two and two together. The former tutor for Renwick’s sons, who Marie said was completing his seminary studies at Cambridge. Clearly he had done so - and Renwick had sent him here?
“Are you here to be our temporary vicar?” she asked, seeing Ruth peering out from behind the shelves, eyes wide.
“Indeed; Lord Renwick has commended me to Lord Ferndale, who was good enough to invite me to come, and to pay for a room at the Red Lion for a month while we see if I should suit the parish.” He grinned, enthusiastically engaging. “I am quite delighted with it already.”
Louise thought he seemed a very nice young man. She looked at Ruth, asking with a silent twitch of her eyebrow if she would like to be introduced, but Ruth shook her head and drew back behind the shelves. Very well, Louise would not press her. “And have you met Lord Ferndale, yet?”
“No, but the innkeeper advised I may procure a horse at the livery stable and furnished me with a map to Ferndale Hall.” He brandished a piece of paper. “I shall be off directly, but I could not pass up the chance to see the famous bookshop and meet you. Is Miss Bernadette here? I should like to pay my respects to her, too.”
“She is out, I’m afraid, but I’m sure she will be pleased to meet you at your convenience. Why don’t you join us for dinner this evening?” Louise suggested.
“That is most kind!” Mr Charles beamed at her. “I am honoured, and delighted to accept.”
“Well, he seemed nice,” Louise said, once the cheerful young man had bowed and departed.
“Hmph,” Ruth said, from behind the shelves.
“I’m sure you needn’t see too much of him if you don’t want to.”
Ruth didn’t reply to that, and Louise smiled, returning to her work. But no sooner had she begun making out a list of books to order from the London printer than the door opened again, and she sighed and looked up, mustering a smile for the incoming customer.
“Oh, Mr Stratforth! Good morning.”
The tall dairy farmer came to stand before the counter, turning his hat around in his hands. He was wearing his Sunday best suit, Louise noticed, and suddenly began to feel vaguely uneasy.
“I missed seeing you at the assembly yestereve, Miss Baxter,” he said.
“Oh,” was all she could think of to say.
“I had something particular I wished to ask you.”
Oh no .
Please don’t! she wanted to shriek, but he was already barrelling on.
“I already spoke to your cousin Mr Baxter who gave his permission proper like, but a’course I need to ask you. We talked about what I have to offer, at the last assembly …”
No, you talked and I tried to ignore you, Louise thought in irritation. He’d never bothered to ask for her input or opinion.
“And so, if you could see your way clear… I’d very much like if you were to say yes, and marry me.” Mr Stratforth ran down at last, and stood looking at her expectantly. He was still twisting his hat in his hands, though, and didn’t look in the least bit confident, which made Louise feel rather more sorry for him than she otherwise might.
Asking Joshua for my hand before he asks me, indeed! And Joshua said yes! She gritted her teeth, taking a moment. It wouldn’t do to take out her fury with her cousin on this inoffensive man, whose only true flaw was that he wasn’t Shaun Jackson.
“I’m honoured,” Louise said slowly, choosing her words with care, “but…”
“But I ain’t your first choice.” He looked at her rather kindly.
“Well…” She truly didn’t know what to say.
“If he comes back, I’m sure you’ll be happy with him. But if he doesn’t… I think maybe you could be happy with me. I’m willing to wait for you to make up your mind.”
“You’re a good man, Mr Stratforth,” she said, deciding to be honest with him. “I do need some time. Thank you for the offer. I… will think on it.”
It was the best she could manage, and he didn’t seem to take any offence, wishing her a good day before putting his hat back on and leaving again. Louise sat a little stunned, wondering what she should do. What if Shaun never came back? Could she be happy with a man like Mr Stratforth? She tried to imagine it, and couldn’t. The simple fact that Joshua apparently thought she should marry him made her instinctively recoil.
Mr Charles’ first sermon was a breath of fresh air in Hatfield, all about loving thy neighbour, and Louise could feel a change in the atmosphere of the whole town afterwards. There had been no more fires since everyone started watching Benjamin Baxter, and his sulky, rage-filled expression at church brought a satisfied smile to Louise’s face. “Stay close,” she murmured to Brutus, though, not wanting him to get close enough for Benjamin to target him. “Ruth, too.” Ruth and her mother had come to church and were sitting in the Ferndale pew too, at Miss Yates’ urging.
Mr Charles came to Ferndale Hall with them afterwards and a pleasant time was had by all. Still, Louise found herself unable to really enjoy the afternoon, her thoughts far away, with Shaun or her father, neither of whom had been heard of in far too long.
The lists of the dead began to appear in the newspapers on Monday, and every day that week Louise steeled herself to read through them. Shaun’s name was not there, though, and she allowed herself a tiny glimmer of hope, even while she reminded herself that there were many who were not able to be identified.
She did find the tragic news of Hugh and John Fox having fallen at Quatre Bras, however, and was briefly overwhelmed with terror. They were with Shaun; had he fallen beside them? She scoured the lists once again, but could not find him, or Sobriety Jones.
“Stop,” Bernadette said gently as Louise turned the page back and started from the top of the list a fourth time. “Lou. He’s not there.”
“There’ll be more names tomorrow,” Louise said, letting Bernadette take the paper from her.
“I know. But let us believe him alive and safe, for now, just as we believe Father is alive and safe.”
Louise wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep believing, especially when the following week brought more bad news. Since they missed the Chancery Court’s deadline, the Court sent them a new letter advising that the Court would make a decision on trusteeship of their father’s estate, and guardianship over their persons, at a hearing on the first of September. While they were permitted to attend, they must have a legal representative appointed if they wished someone to speak for them.
“I’ll write to Marie again,” Louise said, her hands shaking as she held the letter. “Renwick said his man is instructed to help us, but it would be so much better if he was here.”
“The court might listen to an earl, you mean?” Bernadette asked.
“Exactly. He said he would be coming in the middle of September to bring the boys back to Eton, but I think it would be much better if he could be here for the hearing.”
Bernadette nodded in agreement, and Louise sat down to write to Marie again. She wasn’t sure there was any point in writing to Estelle; it was unlikely that the letter would arrive in Ireland in time for even Mr Yates to make his way home without Estelle, if he would even leave her. And there was no point in panicking Estelle during her pregnancy. No, a letter to Marie begging Renwick to come was all Louise could think of.
“I do wish you were here, Shaun,” she whispered as she sealed the letter and wrote the direction on the front. “You’d have thumped Joshua’s head and told him to leave us alone!” She half-smiled even as she said it, knowing such an action would have been of no use. Somehow, though, she was convinced Shaun would have thought of something, some plan to make Joshua back down.
“Where are you?” she murmured, sitting back down behind the counter after going to the post counter at the Red Lion to send the letter. Examining the fresh newspaper she’d just collected, she found much shorter lists of the dead and articles about the Coalition army being almost upon Paris. With the French forces entirely broken, victory seemed certain.
A few soldiers had already returned home, all with minor injuries. Louise had rushed to see every man reported back, but not a single one of them could recall having seen Shaun anywhere. She could have wept with frustration.
“Why can’t men just write letters?” She barely restrained herself from banging her fist on the counter. “First Father, and now you!”
She wasn’t being fair, but emotion wasn’t always rational, and it was the not knowing that was the worst. It was a dreadful kind of limbo, fearing the worst but holding always to a thin thread of hope.
“Just come home,” she said quietly at last, setting the newspaper aside and resting her chin on her hands, careless of the black newsprint on her hands leaving smudges on her face. “Just… come home.”