The Favoured Child. Philippa Gregory
John,’ I interrupted, but when he turned his severe face towards me, I could say little except, ‘I don’t understand.’
He glanced at my mama. ‘You have told them nothing?’ he asked.
‘As we agreed,’ she said steadily. ‘We agreed they should not be burdened with such a past while they were young. I have told them nothing but that there was a fire and the Laceys and Acre were ruined, even though at times they pressed me for more information. I think they are ready to know the outlines of the story now.’ I fancied she emphasized the word ‘outlines’.
John nodded. ‘Very well, then. You will have heard that the estate was farmed well by Julia’s papa, the squire, and his sister, Beatrice. But that was not so. They wrung the land dry to meet mortgages to pay to change the entail so that the two of you could inherit jointly. Both Celia and I opposed them. We opposed both the changing of the entail and the planting of nothing but wheat.
‘The countryside was very poor, and there were starving mobs. One night a mob came to Wideacre Hall. We had received advance warning, and Celia and I took you children away to Havering Hall. But Beatrice decided to stay. She died in the fire. Julia’s papa died of an attack of apoplexy. He always had a weak heart. It is a family weakness.’
Richard and I exchanged one long bemused look.
‘Oh,’ Richard said blankly. ‘My mama was left all alone at the hall with the mob coming?’
‘Yes,’ Uncle John replied levelly. ‘It was her choice, and we had not lived as husband and wife for some time. It was not my duty to make her leave, nor to stay and protect her. I considered my duty to be to protect the two of you. Beatrice elected to stay behind. She could have come in the carriage if she wished.’
There was a bowl of pale primroses on the table, and I was staring at them. Staring at them but hardly seeing them. They were wilting over the rim of the silver bowl and they reminded me of another silver bowl and the heavy heads of cream roses looking down at their reflections and my mama’s voice saying so bitterly, ‘You are a wrecker, Beatrice.’
They had left her in hatred. I knew it. I did not know why. But I remembered the silence of the dream and the sense of peace I had felt to know that at last they had all gone and the house was empty. That all the work and the lying and the cheating were over. And I remembered Beatrice looking down the drive, waiting for the mob.
‘Did they have a leader?’ I asked suddenly, thinking of the old god who was half-man, half-horse.
‘No one was ever taken,’ John said steadily.
‘Where did they all come from?’ Richard asked.
‘No one ever knew,’ John said again in the same level tone.
I looked up from the flowers and saw his pale-blue eyes upon me. I knew he was keeping back the truth from us. Beatrice knew the mob. I thought she even knew the man they now called a god in Acre. But I had a strong sense of grown-up secrets and long-ago fears, and I knew nothing for certain.
‘What does this mean?’ I asked. ‘What does this all mean for us?’
‘It means I want to set the estate to rights,’ John said. ‘It is time for a new chance for the estate. A new life for all of us. I have some detailed ideas about new crops – fruit and vegetables which we might sell in Chichester or London. And I want us to try to share the profits with the village. That will bring them back to work, and draw them into the new century which is coming.
‘I have been following the events in France,’ John said, and his eyes were bright with enthusiasm. ‘I truly believe that there is a new age coming, a time when people will work together and share the wealth. A time of science and progress and a brushing away of old restrictions and superstitions. The new age is truly coming, and I want Wideacre to be part of it!’
We were all silent, a little overwhelmed by Uncle John’s fervour, and also by the prospect of a changed Wideacre.
‘Julia will have a proper season,’ my mama said slowly. John nodded.
‘And the hall can be rebuilt,’ Richard said.
‘Rebuilt, and the parkland refenced, and the estate growing and fertile again,’ John confirmed.
‘And no more poverty in the village,’ I said, thinking of the children and the parish overseer due for another visit to take paupers away to the mills in the north.
‘That is my first priority,’ Uncle John said.
There was a silence while we absorbed the fact that all our dreams might be a reality.
‘I am counting on all of you,’ Uncle John said. ‘I shall find a manager to run the farmland. But I shall need all your advice and support. This is your inheritance we are setting to rights, Richard, Julia.’ He nodded gravely to each of us in turn. ‘I shall need your help.’
‘Shall I not go to university, sir?’ Richard asked eagerly.
John smiled, his eyes suddenly warm. ‘You most certainly shall,’ he said firmly. ‘The time for squires who know nothing but their crops is long gone. You shall go to Oxford, and Julia shall go to Bath for the season and to London also. There will be time enough during the summer months for you to work on the land.’
‘Good,’ said Richard.
Uncle John looked at me. ‘Does that suit you, Miss Julia?’ he said with an affectionate, jesting tone.
I beamed at him. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes, indeed. Ever since I first made friends in the village I have been longing for the day when it would be possible to put it right. I am very, very happy.’
Uncle John exchanged a long look with my mama. ‘Then we are all content,’ he said. ‘And now I shall unpack my bags and see if I have remembered to bring you all anything from my travels!’
Uncle John set himself out to please us at supper. We were all still strange with him. Mama was anxious and loving, and I was shy, showing my country-bred awkwardness; but Richard was as relaxed and as charming as only he knew how to be. Uncle John sat at the head of the table in Richard’s seat and smiled on us like the father of a fine family. He had unpacked his presents and had some wonderful yards of silk and muslin for Mama and me, as well as a slim velveteen box for Mama.
He pushed it towards her when Stride had cleared the plates, and he smiled mysteriously when she asked, ‘What is it, John?’
She opened the catch and drew out a necklace. It was exquisite. They were matched pearls, hatched from oysters in the warm waters of oceans thousands of miles from Wideacre, each one a perfect, smooth sphere.
‘But they’re pink!’ exclaimed Mama as she held them up to the candlelight.
‘Pink pearls,’ Uncle John said with satisfaction. ‘I know pearls are your favourites, Celia, and I could not resist them. There are matching ear-rings too.’
‘Wherever did you find them?’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh! India, I suppose.’
‘And the devil’s own job I had getting them!’ John said, his face quite serious. ‘Pearl-diving every Sunday after church in a shark-infested sea is no joke, Celia, I can tell you.’
Mama gave a gurgle of laughter, sounding as delighted as a courted girl at his nonsense, and put the necklace around her neck. I waited as she fumbled with the catch in case Uncle John would put them on her. But he was deliberately holding back from playing the part of her lover before our bright curious gazes.
‘They’re wonderful,’ she said with pleasure. ‘Must I save them for best?’
‘No!’ John said. ‘You shall have finer things for “best,” Celia, I promise you. This is just a home-coming present, for everyday wear.’
She smiled down the table at him, her eyes very warm. ‘I shall wear them every day then,’ she said. ‘And when they