Chapter 16
Mrs Jenkins bustled around them at breakfast the next morning, humming away to herself whilst she served good coffee, homemade pastries and jam.
Thea and Martha were robed and tucked up in the four poster as the sun streamed through the high windows of Foxmore Square.
Thea couldn’t take her eyes from Martha, almost unable to believe the sight of her swathed beneath the sheets.
Then Martha leaned to retrieve her cup and saucer and the robe slipped from her shoulder, revealing the radiating scar. Thea reached out to touch it.
‘Tell me about this?’ she asked, tracing the raised welt with her finger. ‘It looks like you were lucky it missed a lung?’
‘Mmmhmm,’ Martha agreed as she sipped her tea. ‘Straight into the scapula though. They dug out the ball, but I still have a bother lifting it.’
Despite her time at Doctor Hunter’s lectures, the thought made Thea feel a bit sick.
Live flesh was different to dead. Even her brilliant, aloof Martha was still meat with thoughts, and as mortal as anyone.
‘That must have been excruciating,’ she said, tightening her grip on Martha’s arm. ‘I hope you were near a surgeon?’
Martha chuckled. ‘Goodness no, I was on the island of Sumatra, and I would dig it out myself rather than risk the ship’s surgeon.
Luckily the local guides have their own doctors of a sort and excellent ways.
They carried me down from the mountain jungle and, I am pleased to say, got it out while I was still unconscious. Hurt like hell when I woke up though.’
Thea was aware that her jaw was a little slack and her eyes wide.
Somehow, she had imagined Martha riding happily down well-kept paths and picking flowers on her way before heading back to a sensibly-provisioned but necessarily small hut at night.
Not trekking through jungles and staring into the barrels of pistols.
‘The local guides?’ asked Thea. ‘You mean the native savages? Was it them that shot you?’ her voice rose with every word.
‘Listen to yourself,’ said Martha, almost chiding.
‘I thought you had no truck with the notion of savages? Although there are apparently cannibals on Sumatra.’ Thea felt her eyes widen again and Martha laughed her away.
‘None of them tried to eat me, or to shoot me. This was a hunting shot by one of our own and I was merely in the way.’ Her face darkened a little. ‘Learned a lot,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘Well, they should…’ Thea wondered what they should do, or who they were. ‘Was it a sailor?’ she asked.
Martha waved a hand as if it was an unimportant question.
‘One of the crew,’ said Martha. ‘An accident, like I said.’ Then she turned to take a pastry from the side table.
Thea blinked at her, astonished that this somehow seemed to be incidental to Martha.
More than that, she was simply horrified by the thought that Martha had almost been killed.
‘They should be more careful,’ She managed.
Martha smiled and squeezed her hand with the one of hers that was not filled with pastry. ‘Indeed, everyone was after that,’ she said. ‘And I really do mean that I learned a lot. The world is full of incredible people with their own cultures. We are so closed minded in Britain.’
A wave of inadequacy washed over Thea. Martha’s horizons were wider now, she had seen so much. And Thea’s world had become smaller, if anything. She pushed the anxiety to one side.
‘Anyway, enough about me,’ said Martha. ‘I want to know everything. Tell me about your children.’
Thea could never resist talking about them.
She told Martha about Samantha, Edward and Abigail, and Martha related more adventures she had had on her travels.
Her first had been to Cape Colony at the south of Africa, and then on to India and the spice islands.
The second to South America – down the east coast, then rounding Cape Horn and exploring Chile.
Thea sat transfixed at everything Martha had seen and done – by comparison she felt almost silly relating her life of motherhood and socialising and so little done with plants or the collections, but Martha hung on every word.
Every minute made her wonder how they had survived any time apart.
‘What are your plans now?’ asked Martha as they moved from the dining room to the parlour at the front of the house. ‘Are you staying in London for long?’
Thea’s heart lurched as she realised that if they wished to spend time together – and she most certainly did want that – she would now have to somehow integrate Martha with her current, married life.
It was something she had thought of often but hadn’t had a necessity to act on, until now.
That said, the fact that she could socialise with whom she wished had been a condition of their marriage, and George’s extended absences meant that a house visitor would be of little inconvenience to him.
‘I was planning to go back to Hawkdean this week, the children are already down there,’ she said, and then had an idea.
‘Can you come? I mean, would you like to? With me?’
Martha’s brow furrowed. ‘Is George not going with you?’
Thea’s eyes dropped to her coffee cup. ‘George and I sometimes return to the country independently of one another. He is at parliament and so can’t get away, and yet the air in the country suits me better.’ It was almost an automatic response.
She felt Martha’s hand on her arm. ‘You know, I am aware that your marriage might not be as harmonious as you make it seem on the outside,’ said Martha, running a thumb across the skin of Thea’s arm.
Thea felt herself tense despite herself.
‘You don’t have to share,’ said Martha kindly, ‘but at least tell me if he is kind to you?’
Thea gave a wry smile; she was so used to giving bland statements about their marriage that it came too naturally.
‘He is, as a rule,’ she sighed. ‘Of course, I don’t have as much independence as I might like and he has no respect for any of my endeavours, but I do run the house and the garden well which he would struggle without.
I am free to spend my time as I like to a certain extent, as long as I attend the events to which he wishes I should accompany him.
Mostly we keep out of one another’s business.
He has his power, our home life is functional, the garden looks impressive if not…
’ she paused, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to admit her lack of success in cultivation just yet.
‘…Well, it looks impressive for his friends. In public, of course, we present a united face.’
‘Of course,’ said Martha, understanding. ‘You really think he would agree to me visiting Hawkdean? I would be delighted to join you, if it wouldn’t cause trouble.’
Thea shrugged. ‘It really depends on his mood when I ask,’ she said. ‘But usually he has few opinions so long as I don’t object to his mistresses and support his ambitions. But we do have business at Whitehall before we can go.’
‘We do?’ asked Martha?
‘I want to know why you were sent away,’ said Thea.
‘James was one of the best footmen I ever had and showed so much promising artistic ability I was teaching him to record the collections on paper. I can’t think that he would deliberately deceive me.
We have had a few staff changes since then, but somebody must know something.
We will start with Fletcher as he sees all comings and goings. ’
Martha’s face brightened. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Fletcher. I’m delighted he’s still with you. How is the old curmudgeon?’
‘Well,’ said Thea, thinking with fondness of how gruff Fletcher used to be with her, and how he had softened into an indispensable member of the family. ‘He will be delighted to see you, I am sure.’
As they stepped out of Martha’s carriage on the street at Whitehall, the front door opened before Thea had her foot on the plate.
‘That isn’t...?’ asked Fletcher, stepping out of the door.
Thea beamed. ‘It is, Fletcher.’ She turned and helped Martha down the steps while Fletcher rushed out to greet them.
‘Lady Foxmore, what an honour,’ he said, bowing deeply and clearly delighted to see his old employer. ‘I had no idea you were back.’
‘Not long back,’ said Martha, glancing sideways at Thea. ‘This time, anyway, and that is something we wish to chat to you about, if we may?’
‘Of course, My Lady,’ said Fletcher, bowing once more as he held the door.
Thea had thought it best that they chat in the privacy of the butler’s pantry, although Fletcher was clearly uncomfortable having them in the servants’ quarters.
‘We require your assistance on a matter,’ said Thea, clearing her throat.
It was imperative that this conversation was navigated carefully.
Whilst she was in no doubt that Fletcher understood – to some extent – the nature of her relationship with Martha, she could hardly say it out loud or accuse the staff under his direction of deceit.
‘Lady Foxmore is, as she intimated, not long back from her latest voyage. However, she has returned to the country before now.’ Thea became aware that she did not know when that had been.
‘Would you be so kind as to recall when, exactly, that you visited, Lady Foxmore?’ she asked, only allowing her glance to flick to Martha for a second.
‘December 1762, said Martha without hesitation.’
‘Just over two years ago,’ said Thea, a pang of disappointment at what could have been needling her once more. ‘During her… how long was it that you were here?’ she asked Martha, wishing she’d asked these questions before they arrived.
‘Two months,’ said Martha.
Thea sighed. ‘During her two month stay, she called on me at this house. Were you aware of that, Fletcher?’
The look of surprise suggested that he was not. ‘I had no knowledge of Lady Foxmore’s attendance, and I do not recall you mentioning it, Your Grace?’
‘That is because I was not aware of it, Fletcher.’