Chapter Twelve
Poor Madeline was heartbroken at the loss of her sister-in-law. Tessa and the other girls did what they could to comfort her, but the old lady had indeed looked upon Eleanor as a daughter. She insisted on preparing the body for burial, staying up all night in a prayer vigil.
Tessa felt empathy for the aunt’s loss, for without Eleanor’ intercession, she could have become like Madeline: childless and alone, living on the edges of a household with no one of her own to love. With Eleanor’s help, there was hope she would find peace with Cedric and joy with the children they would someday have.
The most helpful person of all was Aidan, who returned with some speed to York and oversaw the arrangements for a grave but elegant funeral. For once Lord Brixton didn’t stint on cost, and the house was put into good order as much as possible in the brief time available. Tessa thought angrily that it would have been kinder to let Eleanor herself buy new curtains when she still could have enjoyed them, but she tried to see William’s actions as a tribute to his wife.
Aidan worked efficiently, without fuss or pretension, to make the preparations. The result was a tasteful ceremony that proclaimed to the world, whatever the truth might be, that William’s wife had been his dearest treasure. Eleanor received in death the tributes she deserved, but it was Aidan who was most responsible. The family found themselves depending on his judgment, which was faultless, and his kindness, which was unfailing.
Tessa was surprised at the number of people who came from London for Eleanor’s memorial. Midmorning on the day of the service, a large carriage arrived at the gates of Brixton Manor. It was like a box on wooden wheels, and though efforts had been made to decorate it, the ride could not have been comfortable. From a distance Tessa recognized the Acton colors. Touched that Cedric had made the journey from his lands near Beverly, she was surprised when he assisted not only his mother but also Dame Ballard from the carriage.
Lady Acton descended upon her like a large goose, arms extended in what might have seemed a threatening gesture if she hadn’t known the lady. Tessa was soundly enfolded in mixed scents of pomander and the normal human reaction to a warm summer day. “Oh, my dear child, if only we had known how ill poor Eleanor was! I told Cedric she looked terrible when I saw her last. Didn’t I say that, Cedric?”
“You did, Mother.” Cedric stepped up to Tessa and kissed her cheek. “I am so sorry you have lost your sister after finding her only recently.” He was for once focused on her emotions, and his words were genuine. These people were making their best efforts to comfort her.
Not willing to be forgotten, Dame Ballard stepped up behind Cedric. “I am so sorry, my dear. Eleanor was loved by us all,” she pronounced formally in her little-girl voice. Then as her curiosity could be stayed no longer, she added, “Did she die on the road? I suppose it was most unnerving if she did, for then you had to travel with a corpse in the cart, did you not?”
Ignoring the Dame’s misplaced inquisitiveness, Lady Acton took Tessa’s arm and proceeded to the house. “I felt I had to come. I am sure you have need of an older woman’s support at such a time.”
Tessa thought she heard Auntie Madeline, who had been largely ignored thus far, sniff in disapproval. As if she could not comfort her own family! Lady Acton noticed nothing. “I, of course, am never ill, but I realize some become quite overcome with grief, and their health suffers accordingly. I will assure myself you are able to manage before I leave this place.”
Tessa tried to appear at once grateful for the offer of help and capable of managing on her own. Considering William’s increasing coldness, she did not need the strain of Cedric’s overpowering mother staying under the same roof as well. She should have been heartened by the presence of these people, for it indicated their commitment to her and meant Eleanor’s plans for her were likely to be successful. All she could think of, though, was that Eleanor herself would never see them come to fruition. Eleanor was gone.
The funeral itself was a blur. She remembered little except William’s stiff presence beside her as they took their place as chief mourners. Servants and estate workers were grief stricken. No one had been more beloved to them than the Lady Eleanor. They crowded outside the chapel and lined the pathway, heads bowed and silent in respect.
When it was over, Aidan again smoothed the way for Tessa, tactfully suggesting she needed time to herself and escorting the guests to their various conveyances. Though Tessa sensed Cedric would have made his offer after the funeral with any encouragement from her, she simply could not face the prospect of deciding whether to marry him at that point. She sent him off with a look meant to portray fondness and the suggestion he return in a week. Aidan sent him and the ladies off with just the right mixture of friendliness and respect.
“I must say,” she told him as the carriage bumped away down the dry cart road, “you’ve been wonderful. I hope Sir William appreciates you enough.”
“It’s a fact he doesn’t,” Aidan said, but his brown eyes sparkled. “Nobody knows what I can accomplish when I put my mind to it.” His face sobered. “I had to do it, you know. She made life bearable for me when Lady Brixton died. William, I think, might have sent me on my way. I’m sure you know the story?” Never having been able to lie when asked a direct question, Tessa nodded. “I don’t mind making myself useful, but I was afraid I’d be sent to become a soldier, like Jeffrey. It may be his way, killing masses of people, but it isn’t mine.”
He stopped, as if remembering. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make Jeffrey sound—“
“It’s all right,” Tessa told him. “I’ve never explained that day to you, because I don’t know how to explain it. I know Jeffrey and Eleanor were…fond of each other—” She stopped, not knowing how much Aidan knew and unwilling to tarnish his memories of Eleanor.
Aidan’s eyes were on her, and again she got the feeling he was sensing her thoughts. He looked blank for a moment, but a look of understanding finally appeared. “Oh, you know about Jeffrey and Eleanor.” He stopped, evidently unwilling to put words to the thought. “Yes, I’m sorry you had to see that. It was distressing to me. I tried to talk to Jeffrey about it once, but he felt he was getting a bit of his own back from William for the poor treatment he’d received. It was sad to see him so bitter.”
“I am sure it was. But my awareness of—of that—” She tried again. “What you saw between Jeffrey and me was an accident. I have no hold on him, nor he on me.”
Aidan’s smile got wider. “That’s good, then, isn’t it? Room for the rest of us, perhaps.” And with that, he left the hall, whistling.
The second blow to the peaceful life Tessa had found in England came just a week later, in fact, on the day Cedric was to visit. Tessa had not slept well. Grief for Eleanor and her knowledge of the decision that awaited her combined to prevent slumber. Could she marry Cedric? Eleanor had accepted an arranged marriage and made the best of it, but she had not been happy with William, only without him. Did Tessa want a life such as that?
A sudden memory came into Tessa’s mind of a servant in her uncle’s castle at Inverness who had done something terribly stupid. “Cream-faced loon,” Macbeth had called him, and the name fit Cedric as well, at least to her. She was faintly repelled by the man, which did not bode well for a happy marriage. Still, what else was she to do? Other men made it clear they found her attractive, but most found her lack of property an insurmountable problem. Could she afford to delay Cedric in hopes a man more to her liking might appear? Probably not now that Eleanor was dead. William would be anxious to have her gone.
The box now hidden in her room also occupied her mind. What had Eleanor wanted Jeffrey to have, and why did she choose Tessa to present it to him? She decided the answer was that Eleanor had trusted Tessa not to reveal their affair, which of course she would never do. It was their secret, and she had to preserve it. Aidan had confirmed it, surprised, it seemed, that the secret was known to someone else. Did Auntie Madeline know, she wondered? Unabl
e to decide who might be able to explain the box, Tessa kept its existence to herself.
Because she was awake, Tessa heard the knock at the door first and went down to answer it. A boy of about ten stood there, shivering in the morning chill. He was wet from travel through damp fields and muddy from last night’s rain. His thin linen smock and coarse breeches could not be much protection from the elements, and his nose ran. “Message for the master of the house, mistress.”
Tessa took the proffered paper. “Come in and we’ll give you breakfast and let you dry. Have you come far?”
“Flamborough Head, Mistress. They said there the master here should get that paper right away.”
“I’ll see that he does if you rest and eat before starting for home. Will you do that?”
“I will,” came the sturdy answer, and she pointed him toward the kitchen where the fire was already kindled and the breakfast started.
As she turned back, William came down the stairs, a heavy robe wrapped around him against the morning chill. He stopped on the last step, waiting wordlessly for an explanation of the noise that had woken him. “A boy has brought this for you.” Tessa handed him the paper. “From Flamborough Head. Isn’t that on the coast?”
Without answering, he broke the seal. Tessa watched his face and saw shock as he set his jaw.
“My brother Jeffrey is dead, it seems. Lost from a boat during a storm on the North Sea. They don’t suppose—What’s this?” for Tessa had fainted dead away on the cold stone floor below him.
When she awoke Tessa was surrounded by the four Brixton women, all in tears themselves but also concerned for her. “Are you all right, dear?” Madeline asked.
She meant to say she was, meant to get up and behave as if nothing had happened that should concern her except as a mild sorrow that the family had lost another member so soon after Eleanor. Instead, she wept bitterly.
It was three days before Tessa could get off by herself to think. The cousins, especially Mary, were concerned the two deaths so close together had unhinged her mind. Tessa had to fight to maintain control, fight to assure them it was only the shock of the news that had caused her fainting spell, fight to avoid Aidan’s eye when he looked at her with sorrowful concern. Jeffrey was dead. Life would go on, she told herself. He had never been anything to her, should in fact have been her enemy, so now she must go on without him and pretend his death didn’t matter.
But it did matter somehow. “You will find happiness only among the dead,” the old woman had said. And now it did feel like her happiness was dead, as if the life that stretched before her could offer nothing.
In a daze, Tessa went through the motions of another funeral. In a fog she heard Cedric promise to make her forget her unhappiness if she would say yes to him. In a dream she said yes and heard those around her say it was for the best. A wedding would dim the memory of Eleanor’s death and her brother-in-law’s drowning. But Aidan’s brown eyes watched her, and she knew it was not a dream.
Preparations for her wedding began immediately. William had his way, at least partially, and there were to be two ceremonies combined, hers and Mary’s. Cedric argued for a Christmas wedding, but good sense—or in this case his mother’s opinion—prevailed, and it was decided spring was soon enough. Mary theorized privately that William hoped Alice would be settled by then and he could toss in a third bride and groom for the money.
The winter was mild, and Tessa occupied herself with her trousseau, sewing and embroidering with the help of Cecilia, making over dresses that had been Eleanor’s. This made her feel sad and yet satisfied somehow to keep bits of Eleanor near her. The family, in deep mourning, did little outside the home, and the holidays were observed in somber mood. Eleanor’s room was closed off. After a month, William returned to London to resume his presence at court. A new king ruled England, Edward, and Lord Brixton wanted to be in the midst of things. Aidan made trips back and forth as necessary, so they saw him often. He never mentioned Tessa’s wedding and was always polite, but his eyes said he thought she was wrong to marry Cedric Acton.
The weather broke in April, and they had three days running that were warm and dry. William came home for a week to meet with his staff about the year’s crops and the tenants’ duties. On the third day, though the ground was still damp, the four girls went walking, just to be outside in the sunshine for an hour. As they returned to the house, a man came out, closing the heavy wooden door behind him with a disgusted thud. He was dressed in Scottish fashion, a huge, ferocious specimen with wildly tangled hair and a full growth of beard. On his left hand the last two fingers were chopped away, as if he had raised it to ward off a sword blow. He ignored the women and went on with some speed, as if glad to be away.
“Who was that?” Tessa asked William as they entered the hall.
“Only a rascal I have sent on his way,” was his answer, and he went no further word.
At the end of the week of William’s stay, the rain began again. Aidan rode in just before supper, looking tired and out of temper. He said nothing to Tessa and very little to the other women of the household, but he spent an hour closeted with William, their voices low and incomprehensible. Dinner was a silent affair, although the girls had planned special dishes for William’s last evening with them. He appeared not to notice and when the meal was over spoke brusquely to Tessa. “I would see you, Mistress macFindlaech, in my office.”
Eyebrows were raised and shoulders shrugged. None of the cousins could decide what the audience was about. Tessa had an idea, but she said nothing. Aidan avoided her eyes for once and said he was going for a walk, even though rain dripped noisily from the roof.
The “office” she was called to was a closet that had been converted for the brief times William spent at the manor. At other times it was a storeroom, so during his residence the stored items were piled out of his way and a table was set up for his use. The result was rather chaotic, with bags of flour and pots of ink vying for space. For all his strictness with those around him, William was not prone to neatness himself, and the place was littered with apple cores and the shavings of pen nubs. A candle burned beside him, since the room had no windows, and Tessa noticed the wax had made a stain on the table that would probably never come out.
Sir William sat on a stool behind a table littered with papers and the paraphernalia of writing. Most landowners were illiterate, depending upon clerks to do their paperwork, but since William did not trust easily, he had taught himself to read and write in order not to be cheated. Aidan had whispered to Tessa one day that his brother’s eyesight was not what it had been, however, so he depended more and more on Aidan for his information. Now he held before him a paper, looking down at it rather than at Tessa. Knowing he could not read it with his poor eyesight and the dimness of the room, she concluded he was unwilling to face her directly. She was not invited to sit and so stood before him like a disobedient child.
“Mistress, I have had a letter.” He swept his hand across the rough surface. “I don’t suppose you read?”
“As a matter of fact, sir, I do.” Tessa held out her hand, and, with some surprise, William handed the letter to her. She scanned it briefly, having guessed its contents. It was from a lawyer in Scotland who had investigated “as requested” the background of one Tessa macFindlaech and discovered no relationship between the girl and Eleanor, nee Ardonne, the late Lady Brixton. The lawyer reported the macFindlaech clan was now the ruling clan of Scotland, under Macbeth macFindlaech, the king.
Tessa returned the letter to Brixton with no comment. He did not look up but set it aside and began to write on another sheet. “I have no idea why my wife made up this lie, but I blame you as much as Eleanor, for you have continued it even after her death, allowing me to support you, a stranger: sleeping in my house, eating my food, even taking the clothes on your back from my kindness, all the while knowing you had no right to them.”
There was nothing to say. He was correct, and no argument she could make would
change his view that she had taken advantage of him. He wouldn’t see she had had no choice but to seek the protection of marriage or starve in the streets. The only two people who could corroborate her situation were now dead, and William was not interested anyway. “I am grieved that I must make Lord Acton aware of your treachery, for I will not have a valued friend take a snake into his bosom unknowing.”
More likely he feared the loss of Cedric’s support with England’s king more than anything else. “If you will allow me, I will tell Cedric myself when he comes here tomorrow to accompany you to London.”
There was a snort of derision from William. “No doubt you will want to couch your confession in terms that make it seem less vile. Rest assured, I will speak to him of it as well, and he will see you for what you are, a Scottish Jezebel sent by her evil uncle to undermine England.”
Tessa almost laughed aloud at that. If he only knew how unwillingly she had come to England! As for her uncle, she would have liked to reply that Macbeth had no cause to bother the English if they would leave him alone to rule his own country. But again, there was no sense talking to William.
“I will speak to Cedric in the morning, Sir, and I will be gone from your house anon.” She spoke calmly though she had no idea where she would go or how.
“See to it, then. I’ll not have you here with my nieces any longer.” As if he cared about them, she thought bitterly, but she turned and left the room without further comment, keeping her head high until she was out the front door and into the garden, where it was quite dark. Here she broke down and wept: for Eleanor, for Jeffrey, and for herself. All had started life eager to find happiness, and all been thwarted in some way by William Brixton and others like him who sought only their own ends. Perhaps there was happiness only among the dead, as the crone had predicted.
Not the type to mourn reality for long, it was only a few minutes until Tessa pulled her tattered emotions back under control and repaired the visible damage to her person. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and composed her facial expression. She would never betray to Lord Brixton any sign that she suffered.
Her mind tossed about for options. What was she to do? There was no money to pay for passage back to Scotland, and it was plain Sir William did not intend to help her. She paced back and forth across the garden, cool as it was, examining possibilities.
“Tess?” a voice stopped her and she turned. Aidan stood uncertainly at the edge of the walled enclosure, barely visible in the fading light. “Are you all right?”
“You know better,” she challenged, and saw his head droop in embarrassment.
“Yes. I knew William was investigating your relationship to Eleanor. I didn’t know whether to tell you or to keep silent and hope nothing could be found.” Distress was evident in his voice.
“I must leave, Aidan. I cannot stay here now.”
“You don’t have to go.” His voice was low, and she thought for a moment she had misheard.
“Of course I do, Aidan. William just said—”
“You could marry me.” Tessa was speechless, but Aidan rushed on, coming closer in the fading light and grasping her hands in his. “Oh, I know it’s not the same as marrying Lord Acton, but I will provide for you. I shall ask William to give us the little house where my mother and I once lived. It isn’t grand, but we could be comfortable there. And someday I shall be the Lord of Brixton Manor, and then you would have a title.”
“Aidan, it isn’t the title!” How could she explain? “I don’t want that or the money—”
He grunted with disgust. “No, of course you don’t. Everyone wants the title and the money, Tessa, even younger brothers. Do you think William gives me a penny for myself? Never! I am to do the work he sets me to and be glad I get meals, a bed, and a new suit each year so I don’t shame him in public.” His voice was bitter, more than she had imagined it could be. “But he has no children, and I am the only one left now. That is the reason I don’t show him my back.”
Tessa realized this was what Aidan held on for, a future that had recently become more of a possibility. A brother in the church, a brother dead, and William with no heir. It would all go to Aidan, the bastard son, if he were patient—and servile—long enough.
“When I am Lord Brixton, Tess…” There was a pause as he searched for the words, “I—I know you loved Jeffrey.”
Surprising herself, she admitted it. “Yes.” Eleanor’s words came back to her: “—a man who makes you feel alive.” That had been Jeffrey. She had felt alive in his presence, even when she thought she hated him.
“Perhaps if you look hard enough, you will find something in me to love.” Aidan’s tone was earnest, and he stepped closer. “And if I do become Lord Brixton, you would be Lady Brixton. That would have made Eleanor very happy, I think. Perhaps Jeffrey too.” He was using all his persuasive powers now, but Tessa turned away.
“I see things in you that might inspire love, Aidan, but I don’t love you as a woman should love her husband.”
His face flushed in the fading light. “And you do find things to love in Lord Acton?”
“No, I don’t.” She understood the difference but wasn’t sure she could explain it to Aidan. “But Cedric doesn’t love me either. He wants me. That isn’t the same as love. We each would have gained something from marriage with no harm done, a business arrangement of sorts.”
She stopped, realizing how cold it all sounded when put into words. “If Cedric does not want a wife who has misrepresented herself, it will not be hurt he feels, only regret that he must find another suitable candidate. But you, Aidan would seek love in return for your own. I would do you a great wrong.”
“Perhaps today’s Lady Acton sounds better than someday’s Lady Brixton,” he said, his voice turning bitter again.
There was no talking to these Brixton men, Tessa thought. “I’m sorry you don’t understand, Aidan.”
“Tessa!” His tone was sharp, but the next words softened it considerably. “Think about my offer. You don’t think you can love me now, but you may come to do so in time. I am willing to take that chance, but time is what you do not have. You must make a decision, and I am the best choice, for as you admit, Cedric does not love you, only the image of a beautiful wife.”
“But don’t you see, Aidan? That is all I can be now, the image of a wife, for there is no love in my heart for any man.”
You will find happiness only among the dead.
The crone’s words came from the very air around her. There was no one living who made her feel alive. The man she could have loved was drowned in the sea, and the man who stood before her, humbly pleading for her love, could not replace him. Better to leave this place forever than to stay where their frequent meetings would only be a source of discomfort to them both. “I’m sorry, Aidan,” she said softly, and left him standing in the garden alone.