Where There's A Will (Part One)

Josiah gripped the pen feebly in his right hand, ink spattering across the page. With a supreme effort, he dragged the nib into something resembling his signature, then sank back onto his pillows, defeated.

“Fetch the boy,” he croaked hoarsely.

But by the time the servants had dragged Master Richard from his gaming table, the old man was already dead.

*

Blanche sat, statue-like, at the polished mahogany table, scarcely able to believe what she was hearing. Her father had left the estate to Richard – well, that was to be expected since he was the heir; but it was the codicil to the will that had made her blood chill within her.

“And to my daughter, Blanche, I leave the sum of five hundred pounds as a marriage dowry – on the condition that she marry only a gentleman and that their union take place within six months of my death. If these conditions are not met, the money will revert to her brother and Blanche will have nothing.”

Five hundred pounds was not a fortune but at least it was something. Those other stipulations, though – how would she find a husband at such short notice? Had her mother still been alive, Blanche had no doubt that there would have been balls and parties at which she could have been introduced to suitable young men. As it was, the only socialising that took place at the Hall were the nightly gambling sessions at which her brother lost increasingly larger amounts of money. She was worried that he would gamble away his entire inheritance if he continued in this vein.

Mr Hardwick had finished reading all the details. She thanked the solicitor; then, excusing herself from the library, made her way to the stables, needing the comfort of a friendly face to help her heart stop fluttering.

*

Lady gave a whinny of approval as her mistress approached. Blanche buried her face in the mare’s comforting mane and breathed deeply. No doubt Richard would reprimand her for entering the stable in her morning gown, but she didn’t care. Her brother had a wild streak in him, whereas she (or so people said) took after her mother: calm, patient, prudent. For a brief moment, she allowed her thoughts to dwell on the woman who had given birth to her but not lived long enough to see her daughter’s first birthday; and then she thought of Alice, her old wet-nurse, and of the happy years she had spent as a child playing not with her own brother but with Alice’s son, Will. Will and Richard were much of an age, with Will being only three months older; and she had often wished that Will had been her brother instead: he was so much kinder to her than Richard had ever been.

“Miss Blanche?”

The gentle voice in her ear made her start. She spun round, her heart pattering as it so often did in Will’s presence.

“My ma said old Hardwick had been over to read the will.”

She nodded.

“And are you provided for?”

She gave a bitter laugh in response to the question. “Only if I marry a gentleman within the next six months.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” he asked calmly. “You’re a bonny lass, Blanche. There must be plenty of your brother’s friends who’d want you as a wife.”

“Not with a dowry of only five hundred.”

Will shook his head. The sum seemed like a fortune to him.

“Besides,” she continued, “my brother’s friends are as reckless as he is. They care little for anything other than drinking, gambling and whoring.”

She half expected him to express shock at her last comment – to use such a word was not ladylike; but instead, he nodded slowly as if in agreement.

“For all their fine, fancy education, they don’t have an ounce of common sense atween them,” he said.

She looked at the face she knew so well: Will’s deep, brown eyes radiated honesty and for an irrational moment, she wished she could drown in them.

“Do you want me to saddle Lady?” he asked.

“I’m not dressed for riding, Will. I just needed to escape for a while, that’s all.”

“You can come back to the cottage if you like,” he offered. “You know how much my ma thinks of you.”

Blanche patted Lady’s velvety nose one last time and turned to leave the stable. She and Will walked slowly through the apple orchard. Autumn sunlight filtered through the trees, dappling the ground with shifting shadows, and she could hear birdsong in the trees.

“That’s a wood pigeon,” Will said. “Can you hear the call it makes? ‘I don’t want to go! I don’t want to go!’ He’s talking to his lady-love.”

She liked the way he told her things like this. He had always seemed relaxed in her company, despite her higher status.

“Have you ever been in love, Will?” she said now, half-wondering why he hadn’t been snapped up already by one of the village girls. She felt sure that she was not the only one who’d noticed his handsome features.

Will blushed. “Aye,” he admitted slowly, “but she doesn’t know, and it’s likely I’ll never tell her.”

“Why not?” she pressed.

He stopped walking and turned to face her. “Because she’s too far above me. She has to marry a gentleman and I’m just a labourer’s son.”

“But if you think she might love you-“

He cut her short. “You’ve read too many of those novels,” he said dismissively, “and they’ve filled your head with nonsense. What would your brother say if he saw us now, talking to each other as if we were equals? And if he thought for a moment-“

He stopped suddenly, afraid he’d said too much.

“If he thought what?” she prompted softly.

“Eh, Blanche...” He was no longer using her title. “You must know how I feel. But I’ve said nowt till now. I know they’d never let us wed.”

Stunned by his confession, for a moment she did not move. Gradually, her senses began returning to her and she was aware of her rapidly beating heart and an impulse to feel his mouth on hers.

And then his arms were about her and he was covering her face with kisses, light and gentle at first and then becoming more confident, almost as if he were taking ownership of her. And it was all so natural and so right, as if she’d waited all her seventeen years for this moment of perfect happiness in the orchard.

He broke away from her abruptly then and stood at arm’s length from her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. But if you knew how much I’ve wanted you and for how long...”

“Will...” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I wanted it too,” she confessed in a whisper.

“But you’ll be sold like a blood mare to whichever of your brother’s friends’ll take you,” he said bleakly. “Your da knew what he was doing when he made that will, Blanche. He knew the sort of men your brother keeps company with – and rakes and drunkards don’t make good husbands.”

“But you would. Will, why can’t we marry? You’d take me without a dowry, wouldn’t you?”

For a moment, a spark of hope gleamed in his eyes, only to be extinguished a moment later.

“You can’t marry without your brother’s permission,” he said, “and I can’t see Mister Richard welcoming me into the family.”

Her hand reached for his and he laced his fingers through hers. “I don’t know what we can do,” he admitted. “If we ran away together, he’d have me up on a charge of kidnapping. I’m sorry, lass. I shouldn’t have kissed you when I did, only...”

But she’d already broken free and was running back through the orchard, towards the house.

*

“What’s on your mind, lad?”

His mother set a plate of stew in front of him, waiting for him to give thanks before he answered her. He closed his eyes briefly, wondering if even God could do something to set this situation right, then tore a piece from the loaf on the table and dipped it into the sauce.

“I talked with Blanche today,” he began. “Her da’s will says she has to marry within six months’ time – and he’s only left her five hundred.”

“Five hundred’s not to be sneezed at,” she said mildly.

“Aye, but she won’t see a penny of it.” His voice shook with anger. “It’ll go to the man who marries her – the one her brother chooses. He’ll not be thinking of Blanche – he’ll just want to get shot of her as soon as possible.”

“It’s not your problem.” She could already see where this conversation was going.

“I love her, Ma. And she loves me too. And we know it’s impossible, but you must be able to think of something. You care for her nearly as much as I do.”

She was the only mother the girl could remember. She’d nursed her and her brother – Will had been only a few months old when Master Richard was born and her breasts were heavy with milk – more than enough to spare for the squalling mite that was the Master’s first legitimate son. She wondered if Josiah had ever suspected the truth. He’d probably long forgotten those lazy summer evenings when he’d first accosted her in the village and turned her head with his kisses and his promises. Before she realised she was with child, he’d married Lady Francesca – not that it would have made any difference anyway had he known: everyone expected the squire to sow his wild oats and wives always looked the other way. She’d been lucky to find John – and to marry him so quickly. She’d spun him a tale about the baby being his, and by the time it was born – surprisingly healthy for a six months’ child, people said – Josiah and his wife were awaiting their own happy event.

At first, she’d been worried that Josiah would recognise her, but one of the servants had brought the baby to her cottage and the child had remained there for the next eight months. Lady Francesca was not strong, and the amount of blood she had lost in childbed had rendered her incapable of anything other than resting in her boudoir. From time to time, when she knew the Master was out, Alice had taken Master Richard to see his mother. She’d been shocked at first to see how frail the lady was, but Francesca’s face had lit up each time the baby was placed in her arms. Once he was weaned, the child had been returned to the manor house and a nursemaid had cared for him until he was old enough for a tutor.

Francesca must have recovered from her malaise at some point in the next four years because news filtered down to the cottages that the lady was with child once more. Alice had lost two of her own in the meantime and was hopeful that the one she carried now would live long enough to see its first birthday; but it was not to be. The little brother she’d wanted for Will was stillborn only a day before the doctor was called out to Francesca. As before, the birth was a difficult one and the swaddled child was brought to Alice straight away. She felt her breasts tighten at the thin, reedy wail and knew that her milk was coming in. As she held the child to the teat, she found herself thinking how strange it was that every child she had suckled had been Josiah’s.

She faced her son now, knowing he would have to know the truth of his origin. “You and Blanche can’t marry,” she said gently. “Will, she’s your sister.”

He looked at her in horror. “No! She can’t be!” But he knew his mother would not lie.

“I should have told you before,” she said, her heart breaking for him, “but I never thought you’d feel that way about one another. You grew up under the same roof – she spent more time here than at the manor until she was ten.”

“How could you keep such a secret?” he asked now. And then, “If she’s my sister, then that must mean...”

“Master Richard’s your brother,” Alice finished. “You share the same father.”

“So I’m not really a Carter like you and Da?”

She shook her head.

“Does Da know?”

Again, she replied with a negative movement.

“I was only young,” she said defensively. “Much of an age with Blanche now. I thought Josiah loved me, but he only wanted one thing.”

Will was silent, thinking of his own longing for Blanche and how he’d kissed her. No! He could not let his mind remember their sinful behaviour; but still, his breathing quickened at the thought of her.

“You’ll have to tell her why you can’t love her,” Alice said.

Will’s face paled. “I can’t tell her the truth! She’ll hate me.”

“What else can you do?” Alice asked practically.

He would think of something; but for now, he just wanted to howl with frustration.

*

“Blanche!” Richard’s peremptory tone echoed around the rose garden. “Where are you?”

His sister put down her book with a sigh and arose from the bench where she had been reading quietly.

“I need you to go inside now and dress in something decent.” Richard’s lip curled at the tea gown she was wearing. “A few friends are coming over to play cards tonight and I thought it would be a good opportunity to show you off as a prospective bride. You can pour our drinks for us – show ‘em you’re domesticated.”

“No, Richard.” She surprised herself with her forceful answer. “I am not going to dress up for your friends to gawk at me. I do not consider any of them to display good manners and Father’s will most specifically said I was to marry a gentleman.”

“You insolent jade!” he snarled at her, grabbing her roughly by the arm and thrusting his face towards hers. “What makes you think you have any say in the husband I choose for you? Pretty yourself up for tonight or I’ll give you away to the first tinker who comes begging at the door.”

Ignoring her protests, he began dragging her back to the house. “You have half an hour to get ready – make sure you look as if you made an effort.”

*

Safe in the sanctuary of her room, Blanche found that she was trembling – not with fear but with anger. How dare Richard treat her in this manner! She was not a pair of cufflinks that he could dispose of as he willed. Nevertheless, she called her maid and set about changing her simple gown for a more lavish affair in emerald taffeta. The dressmaker had insisted that the low cut neckline was becoming, but her arms and shoulders felt somewhat over-exposed. Allowing her red hair to be twisted in an elegant knot on top of her head, she regarded the results in the ornate mirror atop her dressing table: she was a lamb dressed for slaughter, she thought wryly.

*

Busy carrying an armful of logs into the gaming room, Will’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. He should not look at his sister in this way, but firelight cast a glow on the pale, white column of her neck, lending her skin a translucence that made her almost ethereal. Bile rose within him at the thought of one of these drunken gadabouts pawing her. He could not leave her unprotected. He hung about anxiously, polishing each of the crystal decanters with his handkerchief in an attempt to look occupied.

Blanche stood to one side of the card table, her pulse racing as she observed the raucous conviviality. Richard’s companions were all wastrels like himself. She wondered how long it would be until he had squandered all of their father’s money and whether any so-called friends would remain once it was gone.

Richard had been drinking heavily since late afternoon and his eyes glittered with intoxication. He addressed the assembled company with an air of exaggerated importance, brandy glass in his hand.

“As you know, my father died recently. All his effects are now mine – including my lovely sister. My father left her a small dowry – it is not much, but it will afford her husband a few crates of wine.” His remark was punctuated with cheers and laughter. “And what better way,” Richard continued, grabbing Blanche’s hand and dragging her into a position where the others could appreciate her beauty, “is there to choose a husband for her than to let Lady Luck decide?”

Will froze in horror, his eyes unable to leave the terrible scene that was unfolding before him.

“You will all roll dice...” – Richard was obviously pleased with himself for thinking up such a grand game – “... and the one with the highest number will win my sister for his bride.”

Blanche closed her eyes. The room seemed to be spinning and she wondered if she might be about to faint.

Seconds later, a pair of strong arms caught her and gently lifted her from the ground.

“Begging your pardon, Sir,” Will’s voice sounded deferential, but Blanche knew he was challenging her brother, “but the lady’s not well. She needs to lie down.”

“There’s a fainting couch next door,” Richard snapped. “Carry her in there and bring her back when she’s revived.”

Will strode out of the room, Blanche in his arms. As the door closed behind them, he whispered, “We’re going to the stables. I’ll saddle Lady. You need to leave now.”

(To be continued...)