Charlie was awestruck. “Does Uncle Tom ever call them by the wrong name? I’m sure I would…”
“It’s worse now he is a Member of Parliament as well as being squire.”
“Be quiet, boys,” an irascible voice said.
Joshua lapsed into shocked silence as his father turned to the hapless cause of the incident, cowering at the roadside. It was the church verger.
“What the devil do you mean by dashing into the road, Drakestone? You could have caused me to overturn the chaise. It was a damn fool thing to do.”
The man was too mortified to speak, but the smartly dressed woman who swept through the lych-gate in his wake was not intimidated.
“I beg your pardon for stopping you, sir,” she said, “but there is something we think you ought to see.”
Squire Norbery immediately modified his tone. Joshua could not hear his father’s words, but whatever he said made the woman’s cheeks flush with pleasure, and she kept smiling. What a relief, he hated acrimony.
As he glanced towards Charlie, his attention fixed on the woman’s hat. It was an amazing creation, the like of which he had never seen. It was formed in a dark blue material to match her pelisse, and trimmed with an array of flowers in various shades of pink, red, white, yellow and little trailing bits of blue, which looked so realistic he suspected they were hand-picked from her garden. He could almost smell the scent. Clearly, she was a person of some importance.
With an effort, Joshua dragged his attention back to the conversation, just as his father said, “About what was it you wished to consult me, Mrs Grimble?”
That was the name of one of their tenant farmers.
“Well, sir,” said the woman. “I was just putting flowers on Grimble’s mother’s grave, and the verger called to me to come to the porch, because he had found a basket of rags.”
Joshua giggled and bit his lip when Charlie nudged him.
“Be silent, Joshua,” his father rebuked. “A basket of rags, Mrs Grimble, and is that all it contained?”
“Oh no, sir,” she said. “There was a baby in it. Ever such a tiny tot and it don’t look more than a few days old.”
“Is the child still in the church porch?”
“Yes, sir, but it shouldn’t be left there. We were wondering if you could tell us where we should take it.”
Joshua waited to hear his father’s decision.
“Where is Reverend Snitterfield?” Squire Norbery said. “I would have thought he was the proper person to deal with such matters.”
“Well, sir,” the verger cleared his throat. “He is… and he isn’t, if you know what I mean.”
“No, Drakestone,” said Squire Norbery. “I’m not sure I do understand. Perhaps you could enlighten me.”
Mrs Grimble interrupted. “It’s because the Reverend’s sister, Miss Petunia, doesn’t approve of bastards, sir. She would send it to the Westbridge poorhouse, without any thoughts about its feeding needs. Unchristian, that’s what she is – for all her prating hypocrisy about helping the poor.”
That was strong language indeed, which left them in no doubt of the woman’s opinion about the parson’s sister.
“Do you have any suggestions on where the child should go, Mrs Grimble?” Squire Norbery asked in a quiet voice.
Joshua did not expect that. People in his father’s position usually made decisions for other people. Luckily, the woman had an answer.
“Indeed I do, sir. The wife of one of Grimble’s labourers had a stillbirth about a week ago, and I was wondering if you thought it might be a good idea if she was to look after the babe, seeing as she has milk to feed it. I wouldn’t want to do that if you thought it was not the right thing to do. Of course, I doubt if she could afford to take it without some sort of recompense…”
“Is this woman a reliable person, who would care for the child?”
“Yes, sir, Peggy Walcote has worked for me on the farm for the last three years. She is a bit slow in the head, but is a kind soul, and hard working.”
“Show me the child, if you please, ma’am. Drakestone, be so good as to stay with the horses.”
“Papa, can we come with you?” Joshua could not wait to ask.
“Yes, Joshua, but you must behave yourselves.”
With that, Squire Norbery and the woman turned towards the church.
Eager to follow, Charlie called for Sophie to join them, but she shrugged her shoulders and affected not to hear. No sooner did they pass through the lych-gate than she clambered up onto the seat of the chaise.
“She’ll be all right sitting there with the horses, Josh, and the man’s holding the reins.”
The boys dawdled along the church path behind the grown-ups, kicking stones that came within their reach.
“Did you hear what they said?” Joshua asked.
“It sounds like they have found a baby, but nobody would leave a live one in a church on its own,” Charlie said.
“Have you seen one of… what she said before? I haven’t.” Joshua was loath to admit the deficiency in his knowledge.
“Not that type,” said Charlie, “but we did have several babies at home when I was young, but they didn’t stay very long before going to live with Jesus. Everyone thought Sophie would go the same way, but she didn’t, and look at her now – she’s a real beauty.”
Joshua would not have chosen those words to describe Charlie’s sister, but he did not want to offend him. After all, they had only lived at Linmore for a few weeks, and Charlie was a better friend than his brother had ever been.
On reaching the church porch, they saw a basket of plaited rushes on a low stone shelf near the inner door. Rather than interrupt the grown-ups’ conversation, the boys sidled around them and peered into the container.
All Joshua could see was a tiny face, surrounded by a ragged shawl. He assumed from the closed eyelids, the baby would remain sightless for several days like farm kittens.
“What a funny little thing,” he whispered. “It has only a few tufts of hair, the colour of the chestnut foal born last month.”
“They don’t have much to start with, silly; but it grows if they survive.” Charlie seemed to know about such things.
Joshua did not like to think the baby might not live. He had never encountered anything like it before. That was the trouble with being the squire’s youngest son. Everything happened before he was born.
He wondered what his father would decide. The baby was ever so small, quite helpless, and from what he could see, it would not know how to feed itself.
When he reached out to stroke the baby’s cheek, it brought a startling response. Two bright eyes opened, and a tiny hand grasped his finger.
“Hey, look,” said Charlie. “He likes you. Be careful though, it might bite.”
“Has it any teeth?” asked Joshua, touching the baby’s bottom lip. No, he could only see gums. The little mouth started to work around the tip of his finger. Its tongue tickled. “What’s the matter with it?”
“It’s probably hungry,” said Charlie. “Your finger won’t satisfy it for long. Babies drink milk.”
“Papa,” Joshua called. “Charlie thinks the baby is hungry.”
That drew the grown-ups’ attention.
“Yes,” his father said, “I expect it is. That settles the matter, Mrs Grimble. I think you had better take the child to your labourer’s wife to care for. Here is some money for her trouble.” He placed a handful of coins in her palm.
“But sir, there is five guineas here. Peggy won’t expect that much,” the farmer’s wife said with certainty.
“I will leave it with you to decide how best to distribute it.”
“If I find some clothes for the baby, and give the woman a shilling every week, she can bring the little one when she comes to work at the farm. That way I’ll know she’s taking proper care of it.”
“An excellent idea, ma’am,” said Squire Norbery. “Later, if the child thrives, she can be educated in the village school, and repay your good nature by working on your farm like the mother.”
Relieved the matter was resolved; Tom dispensed a coin to the verger for his trouble, and climbed into the chaise. The boys settled back in their seats, with Sophie on the floor, apparently unconcerned by their absence.
He’d had enough mediating for one day. It must be the season for abandoned children. First, it was Charlie and Sophie, now a newborn baby.
Probably the mother was a country wench who found herself in trouble, and risked losing her home. There were always young men ready to sow wild oats. Tom hoped his eldest son was not the cause of this problem. It would not be the first time. He knew Matthew had faults aplenty, but did not think women featured prominently in his life – quite the reverse. He used them to be cruel.
With his mind filled with the events of the afternoon, Tom turned the chaise around and headed out of the village along the drovers’ road that bordered the rear of Linmore estate. He glanced at Joshua sitting at his side, a look of deep concentration on his face. Eventually, he had to ask, “Is something bothering you, Joshua?”
“Why did you say,
her
, Papa? We thought it would be a boy.”
“Mrs Grimble said it was a little girl, and she should know.”
“Mmm.” Joshua nodded his acceptance and turned to Charlie.
On reaching the back drive to Linmore, Tom drove the chaise through the gates into the park, and headed for his sister-in-law’s woodland cottage, situated half a mile beyond the lodge.
The children were talking amongst themselves, and he was glad they showed no ill effects from when he’d brought the chaise to a sudden stop. It was safe enough when Joshua and Charlie sat together on the seat beside him, but not with Sophie huddled on the floor between their feet.
He had tried to insist that there was not enough room for all of them to sit in comfort, but she refused to stay behind. Truth to tell, she was no trouble when he let her do as she wished. She was definitely an original character, and Tom was growing accustomed to her quaint little ways. He wanted her to feel at home at Linmore.
Almost before he had drawn the horses to a halt in front of the stone-built single-storey cottage, Joshua jumped down and dashed along the garden path to be first to relate the news. Charlie followed close behind. The front door opened immediately and Jane emerged.
“Aunt Jane, we found a baby. Papa said it was a girl, but we don’t know for sure.” Joshua stopped to catch his breath, and then hurried indoors to impart the news to Jessie, the maid.
“Yes,” said Charlie, “someone left it in a basket of rags.”
Jane looked enquiringly at Tom. “Where was this?”
The sight of her always warmed his heart, but he kept his tone light.
“In the church porch at Hillend, of all places,” he said, then stepped down from the chaise and handed the reins to the waiting outdoor servant.
“Thank you, William Rufus.”
He looked back to the lone little figure squatting on the floor of the chaise.
“Are you coming with us, Sophie? I think we are staying for tea.”
She scowled when he held out his hands, offering to lift her down. After a brief moment of deliberation, she shuffled towards him. When he set her feet on the ground, she dashed after the boys into the house.
Jane walked beside him towards the front door, but instead of entering the house, they walked around the side and traversed the length of the garden to an arbour containing a wooden seat. It was an idyllic spot, hidden amongst the trees and shrubs, sheltered from prying eyes, and a suntrap on a warm summer day, such as this year was producing.
It was always a joy to spend time at the cottage. It was Jane’s home, and the only place where she could escape from Kate. That is why Tom built it for her – for them – and somewhere Joshua could come when life at the Hall became too much for him.
“Was it a newborn baby?” she said.
“Yes, a little girl, only a few of days old by the look of it. Drakestone, the verger, dashed out of the churchyard gate to intercept the chaise. It was a stupid thing to do, frightening the horses, which could have killed him. I was all set to give him a rare trimming but the farmer’s wife from Oak Apple Farm was with him. She wanted to consult me about what should be done with the child.”
“Did you advise them?” Jane asked.
“I simply agreed to her suggestion that she take the infant to a woman in the village who lost her baby, but was still lactating. Mrs Grimble said the young woman was one of her servants, and could be trusted, so I gave her five guineas for the woman’s trouble. It saved the baby going to the Westbridge poorhouse.”
“And the breast milk will be put to good use. Poor little mite, I wonder to whom it belongs.”
“Apparently, there was a piece of paper with the baby’s name, amongst the rags in the basket, but nothing to indicate from where it came.”
Jane nodded and changed the subject. “I presume that would be the younger Mrs Grimble? At least, she was twenty years ago, when my father was alive. I imagine she has aged like the rest of us.”
“She is decidedly matronly, whereas you don’t look any older to me than you did then, Jane.” His voice deepened as he raised her hand to his lips.
“Flatterer,” she said softly, but her grey eyes shone. “Let us be practical. I am long overdue a visit to Hillend. Would you like me to drive over to see Mrs Grimble during the week to see if her plan came to fruition? Now you have taken an interest, I have a curiosity to see this little waif for myself. I am sure Jessie can find some baby clothes and linen to take for the child.”
“But she was only the size of a doll. She was lost in the basket.”
“All the better, they will fit her for longer. Did she have any hair?”
“Yes, Joshua described it as being the colour of the chestnut foal born last month. He was enthralled. He’d never seen anything like her.”
“That’s a wonderful tawny colour. I wonder what happened to the mother. How sad if she was forced to abandon her babe.” Her voice wobbled.
“I doubt if we will ever know,” he said. “Maybe she did not survive childbirth. We don’t even know if the little one will thrive.”
A shadow crossed her face. “We must do our best to ensure she does. I will leave some money with Mrs Grimble. How much do you suggest?”
“I’ve already given five guineas,” he said.