Mary nodded. “I’ve known for weeks, madam, but didn’t like to say considering the circumstances. I’ve been waiting for you to draw the same conclusion. You needed time to recover from what happened without further anxiety. But Sam and I have things organised. We can be ready to leave any time you want.”
Sally Harris, who had been turned off by her previous employers, had joined them a few days after their arrival at Home Farm. The young woman now acted as her abigail. Isobel turned to her. “Sally, I shall be returning to Hertfordshire, to Newcomb, are you willing to accompany me?”
“I’d be delighted, madam, if you’re sure the likes of me will be allowed to serve you at such a grand place.”
Isobel stood up, smiling at the young woman she’d become quite fond of these past weeks. “It will be very different from living here.I intend to have my own people around me. You’ll be answerable to me and no one else.”
Sally curtsied. “I’ll get started packing your clothes, madam, if you don’t require my services.”
“No, I wish to speak to Mrs Watkins. I shall ring if I need you.”
The two basins were removed to the dressing room leaving Mary alone with her. “I’ll not be browbeaten by the staff this time; I intend my return to be on my terms.”
“You have our full support, and I’m certain sure the others you’ve taken on here will be more than happy to come with us.”
“Bill has made an excellent footman so he shall be my butler. His experience serving as a valet to a brigadier during the war, has given him all the skills he needs for this post. His leg injury has been no impediment to his efficiency so far.” Isobel considered the other staff. The cook and kitchen maid, a mother and daughter had been made homeless when the man of the house died. These two would be pleased to accompany her. However the two women who came in to do the heavy work had families of their own. They would wish to remain in Norfolk. She would leave the maintenance of the house in their capable hands.
“Will you please inform everyone, Mary? Betty and Ada will require sufficient funds to tide them over until our return.”
“Yes, madam.” Mary fiddled with an apron before continuing. “Shall we call you by your title in future? Being plain Mrs Baverstock is all very well out here in the country, but at Newcomb things will be different.”
Isobel was relieved her friend made no comment about her intention to return. “I have no choice so I suppose it’s better to resume my title now and become used to hearing myself addressed by it. I wish to leave the day after tomorrow; I’m sure the roads will have dried by then.”
They would need both the gig and the ancient travelling carriage Sam had purchased in order to transport everyone to Newcomb. The two outside men were competent with horses so could act as coachmen leaving Sam to ride Sultan, the gelding she’d acquired from a local farmer.
She had been thinking about her return for the past few weeks. She had guessed she was pregnant but refused to accept it. When the baby was born, whether boy or girl, she intended leave the infant with her husband and return to Home Farm. Alexander would never let her take the baby with her. Unless she was prepared to live with him again she must abandon her child. She swallowed the lump in her throat at this hideous thought. She blinked back tears—time enough to consider her options when the baby arrived safely.
The farm was almost self-sufficient and with good management it might even produce a surplus to be sold on. The day workers must continue to take care of the livestock in her absence.
“Mary, I don’t mean to move into Newcomb; I shall occupy the east wing. The old part of the house has not been used for many years. This will require a deal of cleaning and refurbishment but will be ideal for my purposes.”
Mary ignored this unusual suggestion. “Sam is sending one of the men ahead to reserve accommodation for us, your grace. In your delicate condition it would be best if we completed the journey slowly.”
“Thank you, Mary. I’m not looking forward to being jounced around when I feel so sick and will be happy to travel an easy stages.”
Being left in idleness gave her too much time to think. She was not the quiet, timid girl who had married Alexander a year ago. Today she was able to stand her ground and insist her husband did as she requested. The horror of a public scandal should work in her favour this time. She would agree to act as his hostess if there were guests, but the remainder of the time she would remain in the east wing surrounded by those she trusted.
She prayed the baby would be a boy. Although she no longer had any feelings for Alexander she had spoken her vows in the house of God. By refusing to share his bed she was breaking them. Therefore, if she produced an heir at least she could leave knowing he had the son he so desperately wanted.
The Marquis of Newcomb, as his son would be called, would have everything a baby needed without his mother being in residence. No doubt the baby would be removed from her as soon as he was born even if she did remain and be given over to an army of retainers. A nanny brought out of retirement would hand him to a wet nurse. Isobel would have no control over his well-being and only see him when the nanny chose to bring him down. Someone of her status was not expected to be involved in childcare, merely to produce the necessary children.
This was a highly unsatisfactory system but quite normal in wealthy and aristocratic households. Even in her own home she had seen little of her parents when she was young. Fortunately her nanny had been a kind and loving soul and provided everything a small child required. Not until she was out of leading strings did her mother begin to take an interest.
However she’d recently read in a pamphlet about such matters—this had stated quite categorically that all mothers, not just the poor folk, should feed their children themselves. The author was calling for women at every level to do what nature intended. She shrugged. This was another decision she could put off for a few months.
She would dearly like to have visited with her family during the few weeks she had been in Norfolk. Although Home Farm was less than fifty miles from her birthplace she hadn’t dared to go to Bracken Hall. Her father would have sent word immediately. He knew which side his bread was buttered and would not risk offending the duke. Being with child was making her maudlin—she must stifle the feeling and be strong.
They travelled at a leisurely pace taking three days to complete the distance. The gig, which contained staff and baggage, had gone ahead in order to ensure the overnight accommodation was suitable. When the carriage turned through the gates of Newcomb Isobel’s confidence slipped. Making rash decisions was one thing, but carrying them through in the face of her formidable husband might prove a different proposition.
Mary fussed with her bonnet, shook out the folds of the travelling cloak and smiled a trifle nervously as the vehicle rocked to a halt outside the enormous building. Isobel expected the usual army of liveried footmen to pour from the front door. Foster and Maynard would no doubt be waiting to greet her with sneering faces.
To her astonishment the door remained closed. She stepped down and stared at the building only now seeing the shutters were closed. The house was unoccupied. Alexander had removed to Grosvenor Square. He had shut the house and given up on her.
She felt a moment’s regret but forced it away. So much the better; she would have free rein to set herself up before he heard of her return. There must be a skeleton staff, fires had to be lit on a regular basis or the place would become damp and uninhabitable during the winter months.
“Mary, ask Sam to hammer on the door. There must be someone in.”