Betrix left the house promising to return when things settled. I would hold her to that—Hiske or no Hiske.
I’d half expected the head of the Kontor, the foreign trading post set up by the Hanseatic League in Elmham Lenn, Captain Hatto Stoyan, to call. Amid all the other visitors, I felt his absence acutely. Though Mother’s death had put a strain on his relationship with Father (he’d known Mother’s family for years and would deliver news from Maastricht whenever he returned from there), I’d thought he’d make the effort. Despite Father, he’d always had a kind word for me and made a point of bringing the odd cask of wine or two from Bordeaux, cheeses from Ghent, and ribbons or lace from Italy for our pleasure. Excuses to visit they may have been, but I always enjoyed the captain’s presence and Mother’s spirits were visibly buoyant after he’d visited. Though I’d barely seen him since Mother died, I regarded Captain Stoyan, possibly unrealistically, as a link to her. Puzzled and hurt by his absence at first, I later discovered he was in London. I considered writing to him; I wanted him to know about Father, about us. But there were others who needed to be told first.
Bad news is bold, a jackanapes, spreading faster than a plague, whereas good news is like a freshly hired hand, circumspect, afraid to overstep the mark. Just as I’d told the twins, I wanted to be the one to let Tobias know. Even though I was sure Lord Rainford would have dispatched a messenger to his son, I wrote briefly but, I hoped, lovingly. Tobias may have let correspondence between us falter, but I’d never done so. Though, since Mother died, I’d not had to deliver such bad tidings.
After organizing the making of mourning clothes, a task readily undertaken by Mistress Taylor in town, I pulled Adam aside and shared with him the rest of what Master Makejoy had told me. Adam listened respectfully as I explained my situation (ours, he gruffly corrected, and I wanted to throw my arms around his neck as I had as a child), his strong jaw clenching and unclenching, his hand occasionally rising to run through his thick, gray hair or graze the fine stubble on his cheeks. I finished by asking him to elucidate where we stood as a household and business. I thought maybe I could throw myself on Lord Rainford’s mercy, but in order to do that I needed to understand the costs of running a house our size. If Lord Rainford was, as Master Makejoy inferred, to offer the lease to someone else, why could it not be me?
For the next three nights, Adam and I waited until everyone was abed, then equipped with candles and cresset lamp, retired to the office. There was nothing surreptitious in our action; it was just that I preferred Hiske remain, for the time being at least, ignorant of what I was doing. On the first night, Adam made a fire and, as the kindling took, he opened a big ledger on the table. Inviting me to take Father’s chair, he sat beside me. Moving through the columns of neat figures and annotations he’d made over the weeks and months, I learned, to my dismay, that the day-to-day costs of running the house were more than I anticipated. While the tenant farmers paid reasonable tithes and supplied a variety of meat, grain, and dairy produce, like most of the town we were beholden to the Friary of St. Jude’s for our ale and purchased wood and coal from the respective merchants. Cloth and other sundries were bought when needed. Occasionally, small amounts went to the thatcher, farrier, cooper, cobbler, and all other manner of trades for repairs to and replacements of objects I had taken for granted. Then there was the servants’ wages . . .
To ensure we maintained the household, even at the most basic of levels, more income was required. If we reestablished the vegetable garden, planted some more trees in the orchard, and started making our own ale again, we could make some savings. Wood could be collected from the forest, coal we’d have to ration. Mother’s and Father’s clothes could be recut for Karel and Betje and shoes patched; apart from mourning clothes, I could make do. I drank in all this information like a thirsty pilgrim. There was still some produce awaiting sale in the shop, but I no longer had the rights to it.
I closed the pages we’d been studying, and tied the boards protecting them together. We sat companionably, staring at the flames. The office looked quite welcoming in its cheerful light, the halo of the candle we’d lit possessing an unearthly quality, the lamp aglow.
“I feel most foolish. I’d no idea the house cost so much to run. And please don’t even think it.” I shook a finger in his direction. “No one will be asked to leave. Not yet. Not ever if I can help it.” I sighed and threw my hands up in the air. “What do we do now, Adam?”
He looked at me sadly. “Pray for a miracle, Mistress Anneke. Pray.”
“Well, then,” I said, slapping my thighs and rising. “Let’s make a start on that, shall we?”
Four
Elmham Lenn
After the Nones of October
The year of Our Lord 1405 in the sixth year of the reign of Henry IV
Over the next few days, Hiske took every opportunity to remind me of my situation and to refresh her offer of employment. Doreen had taken to putting on airs, earning a scolding from Saskia and Blanche. Unperturbed, the cocky girl raised her chin and strode off with the confidence of one who knew her place would soon be higher than those to whom she currently answered. From the looks that were exchanged, so did Blanche and Saskia.
To make matters worse, five days after the news of Father’s death and our changed circumstances, Master Makejoy returned with another letter from Lord Rainford. Passing it to me, Master Makejoy waited while I read the contents. Quite simply, it was a notice to quit the premises. We’d four weeks. The housekeeper, steward, and cook were invited to remain for the new tenant, while the rest of the servants would be paid a small sum and given “goodly references as they deserve” from his lordship. There was no mention of the twins or me. It was as if we didn’t exist.
I sat staring at the letter, arms loose by my sides. My mind refused to still as a thousand thoughts flew around like caged birds. I could not capture one. My stomach churned. Four weeks.
Master Makejoy rested a hand on my shoulder. “Our offer still stands, Mistress Sheldrake. Myself and Mistress Jabben, soon to be Mistress Makejoy, would make you most welcome.”
I gave a deep sigh. “I’m sure that you would treat your servants very nicely, Master Makejoy—”
Puzzled by my tone and words, Master Makejoy shook his head. “You’d be no servant.”
I didn’t correct him but continued. “Only, it’s difficult for me to consider such a reduction in circumstances when I’ve been accustomed to a very different life. You can understand that, can you not?”
“I do understand, Mistress Sheldrake, I do indeed. You’ve also enjoyed the help of your good cousin for many years, so it wouldn’t be so strange, surely, if this was to continue longer? Is it not time for you to repay your debt to her?” When I didn’t reply, he coughed into his fist. “Forgive me for saying so, but those who have no choice cannot be so fussy, can they? You can’t change what the good Lord intends.” He gave a crooked smile to lighten the severity of his words. It only succeeded in rendering them cruel.
As I escorted him to the door, I wondered, What could I do? Even as I tried to think of ways of earning an income, of supporting the household, I knew I would have to inform Saskia and the others about Lord Rainford’s generous terms, that they didn’t have to leave the house or Elmham Lenn. It was the one bit of bright news. Was that what bothered me? The idea that educated as I was, trained to be a good wife and mother for some impoverished noble or wealthy merchant, I would suddenly be relegated to the status of servant? Surely, we were all servants in God’s eyes? Was it that or was it the idea of working for Cousin Hiske and Master Makejoy that perturbed me, indeed, made me rebel with every fiber of my being?