CHAPTER SEVEN (Part One)
The following morning Eliza Gilbert ordered George Dobbs, the groom, to drive her into the village in the trap. She went once a month normally to order provisions and suss out the gossip.
People might think it unusual that she was making a second trip and so she decided to make pretence of calling on the Rector, Mr Timpson, to see how he was on behalf of Sir Leopold. But it was Joshua Tucker she was hoping to see in private.
The front door of the Rectory was opened by Mr Timpson’s housekeeper, Mrs Collins. Eliza was always wary of her for there was no bigger scandalmonger in the village.
Mrs Collins, in her early sixties, was short, thin and wiry, with sharp eyes that missed nothing. She regarded Eliza with raised eyebrows.
‘Well, Mrs Gilbert. What brings you twice to the village in one week? Must be something important.’ Mrs Collins was nothing if not direct in satisfying her curiosity.
Eliza sniffed. ‘I’m here on behalf of Sir Leopold,’ she replied archly. ‘Enquiring after the Rector’s health.’
‘You’d better come in then,’ Mrs Collins said with obvious reluctance.
She stood aside and Eliza sailed through. They stood together in the hallway. Eliza was hoping to be shown into the drawing room but Mrs Collins had other ideas.
‘We can talk in the kitchen,’ the woman suggested.
‘But I’m here on behalf of Sir...’
‘So you said,’ Mrs Collins interrupted quickly. ‘Mr Timpson is not seeing visitors. He’s abed.’
‘Mr Tucker...’
‘The curate is in the study writing his next sermon.’ She gave a derisive sniff. ‘If you can call it a sermon.’
‘I think I should speak with him,’ Eliza said firmly. ‘Sir Leopold will expect a proper report.’ She looked down her nose at Mrs Collins. ‘I hardly think he’ll be satisfied with what a servant has to say on the matter.’ Mrs Collins’ lips thinned. ‘If you insist I’ll see if he can spare a minute.’
She scuttled across the hall to a closed door and rat-tatted on it. ‘Mr Tucker,’ she called out in a high voice. ‘A messenger is here to see you from Sir Leopold Trevellian.’
The door was opened immediately and Joshua Tucker stepped out, an eager expression on his face. He paused when he saw Eliza.
‘Mo...!’ He clamped his lips shut and straightened his wide shoulders. ‘Mrs Gilbert,’ he began again in an even tone. ‘Do I understand it that you are calling on me on behalf of Sir Leopold?’
‘No!’ Mrs Collins said rudely. ‘She’s here to enquire after the Rector’s health.’
‘That will be all, Mrs Collins!’ Joshua said in a stern voice. ‘Fetch a tray of tea if you please.’
‘I’m run off my feet as it is,’ the housekeeper grumbled. ‘Up and down them stairs, up and down.’
‘If you can’t manage, the Rector will employ someone younger.’
Muttering under her breath, Mrs Collins turned and scuttled away towards the back of the house.
‘Come into the study, Mother,’ Joshua said.
‘Be careful, you fool!’ Eliza exclaimed glancing after Mrs Collins retreating figure.
‘It’s all right, the woman’s deaf.’
‘Huh! If you believe that you’ll believe anything,’ Eliza said. ‘That woman’s ears are as sharp as a cat’s.’
They went into the study. Eliza sat on a much worn leather chesterfield while her son took a seat behind the Rector’s desk, his elbows on the arms of the chair, his fingers making a steeple. His expression was expectant.
‘Why have you come, Mother? Have you a message for me from my father?’
Eliza regarded him with impatience. Her son was a fool if he still nursed any hope that Sir Leopold would acknowledge the rights of a bastard offspring, especially of the ilk of James Gilbert.
She reminded herself that she must never use that name. It was best she bury it in the back of her mind and think of her son only by his assumed name. It was much safer that way.
But she saw that she could play on his desire for acknowledgement and use it for her own ends. That was why she was here.
‘No Joshua. Sir Leopold knows nothing of my visit,’ she said flatly. ‘I’m here because I need your help.’
He looked sceptical. ‘I have no spare money, Mother,’ he said quickly. ‘My stipend is meagre enough.’
‘Money is the last thing I need.’
‘Then what is it?’
Eliza paused unwilling to admit it to another but knew she must. ‘A situation has arisen at the house which makes my position there dire, very dire,’ she said at last. ‘Sir Leopold has come under the spell of that witch, Rosalind Trevellian, to such an extent that he denies he loves me.’
Joshua nodded. ‘It doesn’t surprise me,’ he said. ‘She’s a beauty beneath that drab dress she wears, and he has no wife to curb his lusts.’
‘You imbecile!’ Eliza exploded. ‘Don’t you see what this means for you as well as myself?’
He sat forward, his face darkening. ‘Have a care with your tongue, Mother,’ he said nastily. ‘Remember my position as curate in this village.’
Eliza bit back her anger with him. She needed his help so riling him was foolish.
‘Although he denies it, I’m convinced the girl has turned Leo’s head to the extent that he says now he never loved me after all these years.’ Eliza could not prevent a sob on remembering the bitter exchange. ‘And will never marry me.’
‘I don’t see how I can dissuade him.’
‘A further scandal would dissuade him,’ Eliza said with a nod. ‘He lives in fear of scandal after the disgraceful affair of his daughter-in-law. If Rosalind could be discredited in his eyes and in the eyes of the village, I know he would come to his senses.’
‘I see.’
‘She must be stopped,’ Eliza said bitterly. ‘She has also got her claws into Mr Cedric. My position in the house is becoming untenable. If I lose that I lose everything.’
‘I don’t see what I can do, Mother.’
‘Well you’d better think of something,’ Eliza snapped. ‘Your only hope of gaining your rightful place as Sir Leopold’s son and live a life of privilege is for me to become Sir Leopold’s wife. How could he deny you then, Joshua?’
He looked thoughtful. ‘So Rosalind Trevellian is standing in my way.’
‘Yes!’ Eliza said. ‘She’s denying you the life you deserve. Without her Sir Leopold will come to his senses.’
He was silent for a while, his expression brooding. When he spoke at last his tone was heavy.
‘It would be better if Rosalind were dead. She could have an accident. She might fall from the cliff path.’
Putting a hand to her mouth Eliza sat back appalled at his words and at the look on his face. She had sensed he was unscrupulous from the start, but now she saw something more in his face that frightened her.
‘Dead! No!’ she exclaimed. ‘The last thing we need is for the authorities to start making enquiries, Joshua. Who knows what they would discover?’
He glanced at her quickly. ‘You’re right, Mother. We must be careful.’
At that moment someone tapped at the door. Joshua got up immediately to answer. He took the tray of tea from Mrs Collins without letting her step into the room and closed the door on her.
In that pause, Eliza’s mind was working fast. She must keep control of the situation. She had glimpsed Joshua’s true nature in those few seconds. His malevolence, if unchecked, could destroy them both.
Joshua put the tray on the desk and Eliza sat forward to pour the tea. She must weigh her words.
‘If Rosalind’s dishonour is great enough she will be banished from Cliff House and driven from the village for good,’ she said.
‘And how do you propose I bring that about?’
‘My idea is that you publicly denounced her from the church pulpit as a common strumpet. Paint her as scarlet woman of degradation and low morals.’
‘I still ask – how?’
‘Link her name to men in the village. There must be several possibilities.’ Eliza thought of the groom waiting in the trap outside. ‘George Dobbs, for example.’ She looked at her son. ‘Destroy her reputation and you destroy her.’
‘What you ask is risky, Mother,’ he said uncertainly. ‘I’d have to substantiate such accusations.’
Eliza shook her head. ‘Rosalind is a servant, nothing more. Village people are willing to believe anything disreputable. Your standing as curate will be sufficient to support your word.’ She paused. ‘If necessary you can bribe one or two men you can trust.’
Joshua sat forward taking his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger, his expression thoughtful.
‘There are one or two men in the village that I suspect of smuggling. Twm Beynon for one.’
‘But he’s the village watchman!’
Joshua gave her a sneering look. ‘In my experience watchmen are as corrupt as the people they watch, if not more so.’
Eliza flicked her hand impatiently. ‘I leave that side to you,’ she said. ‘I want you to denounce Rosalind this coming Sunday. The sooner we’re rid of her the better.’