The House Of Lanyon. Valerie Anand

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ merchants. Now he says we can have the wool for a discount if he can have a regular cut off the profits when we sell the finished cloth and yarn. He asked a lot of questions and we went into another room and he clicked a few beads round his abacus, arriving at a figure. I reckon he’s judged his offer finely. He’ll come out on the right side more often than not. In effect, we’ll pay more for his wool, not less, only not all at once, but…”

      “Looks as if he’s takin’ advantage.” Great-Uncle Will didn’t like to walk far, so he spent his days sitting about. At the moment he was in a bad temper because the smoking fire had driven him from the settle by the hearth, where he liked to sit on chilly days, driving him back to his summer seat by the window. His voice was sharp. “We want to get Liza off our hands. He’ll oblige if he’s paid!”

      “Quite. We’ll have to look on his cut from our profits as part of Liza’s dowry,” said Nicholas. “Getting the wool cheap won’t offset it, most years anyway. But he also pointed out that once we’re all one family and one business, there are things we can do to help each other. Put opportunities each other’s way—things like introductions to new customers, or brokering marriages. Word to each other of anything useful like new breeds of sheep. He’s thinking to buy a ram from some strain or other with better fleeces. If he does, we’ll gain from that after a while. Meanwhile, we’ll have got Liza settled and she’ll be eating his provender, not ours.”

      “You must admit the man’s got ideas,” said Laurence, and Dick Weaver nodded in agreement. “What of the girl herself?” he asked. “Has this been mentioned to her?”

      “Why should it be?” demanded Aunt Cecy. “She’d be well advised to do as she’s told.”

      “Not yet,” said Margaret. “But she won’t be difficult. When was she ever? She’s a good girl, is Liza, whatever silly gossip may say.”

      “She’d better not be difficult. If ’ee don’t get that wench married,” said Great-Uncle Will, “she could get into trouble and then what’ll ’ee do? Get her shovelled into a nunnery while you rear her love child? I’ve heard that there gossip, too, and if there’s truth in it, the fellow can’t wed her anyhow. In orders, he is. That’s what the clacking tongues are saying.”

      The entire family, as if they were puppets whose strings were held by a single master hand, swung around to look at him.

      “I’ve not heard this!” Nicholas said. “You know who this fellow is that Liza’s supposed to be meeting? Well, who is he and how did you find out so much?”

      “Gossip!” said Margaret, interrupting forcefully and snagging her thread in her annoyance. “Liza’s a sensible girl, I tell ’ee!”

      “She knows all the ins and outs of the business,” said Nicholas. “I grant you that. She’s handy with a loom and an abacus, as well. She understands figures the way I do and the way that the rest of you, frankly, don’t! But she gets dreamy sometimes. Don’t know where she gets that from. And now folk are asking why’s she still single and is there some dark reason? Sounds to me as if there maybe is and the whispers have something behind them after all! Well, Uncle Will? What have you heard?”

      “I sit here by this window on warm days and folk stop to talk to me,” said Will. “I didn’t want to repeat the talk. Not sure I should, even now. These things often fade out if you leave them be. Don’t matter if she’s had a kiss in the moonlight or a cuddle in a cornfield, as long as she don’t argue now.” The fire belched again, swirling smoke right across the room, and he choked, waving a wrinkled hand before his face. “Devil take this smoke!”

      There were exclamations of protest from all around. “That won’t do, Great Uncle!” said Nicholas bluntly. “If you know a name, then tell us. Who does gossip say the man is?”

      “Young fellow working up at the castle, studying with the Luttrells’ chaplain, that’s who,” said Great-Uncle Will. “I don’t know his name, but I know the one they mean—he’s stopped by to talk to me himself. Redheaded young fellow. In minor orders yetawhile, but he’ll be a full priest one of these days. So he b’ain’t husband material for Liza or any other girl. You get her fixed up with Peter Lanyon, and quick.”

      “I can hardly believe it.” Margaret had stopped her spinning wheel.

      Aunt Cecy gave her a look which said, I told you you couldn’t keep on with that and attend to this business as well, and said aloud, “Where is Liza, anyway?”

      “In the kitchen,” said Margaret. And then stopped short, looking through the window. Liza, far from being in the kitchen, must have slipped out the front door only a moment ago. She was crossing the road, going away from the house on some unknown errand.

      Uncle Will turned to peer after her. “There she goes. Well, let’s hope all she wanted was a breath of air and that she b’ain’t runnin’ off with her red-haired swain yetawhile. You take an old man’s advice. Say nothing to her about him. Pretend we don’t know. No need to upset the wench. But get her wed, and fast. Get word off to Richard Lanyon tomorrow and tell him yes. That’s what I say.” Another wave of smoke poured out of the fireplace and he choked again. “Can’t anyone do something about this? Put a bucket of water on that there fire and get to sweeping the chimney!”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      ONE MAGICAL SUMMER

      Peter’ll do as far as I’m concerned. When Liza heard her father say those words, she had heard enough. She sat back on her heels, miserably thinking, while the murmur of voices continued below her. At length she rose quietly from the floor, picked up a cloak, unbolted her door and stole out. The stairs were solid and didn’t creak. She went softly down them, glad that in this house they didn’t lead into the big main room as they did in many other houses, but into a tiny lobby where cloaks and spare footwear were kept, and from which the front door opened.

      She could hear a buzz of talk and a clatter of pans in the kitchen. If anyone saw her, she would probably be called in to help and chided for having left it in the first place. She opened the front door as stealthily as she could, darted through, closed it and set off, crossing the road, trying to lose herself quickly behind the stalls in the middle of it, in case anyone should be looking from the window.

      Bearing to the right, past the last cottages and the Abbot’s House opposite, she hurried out of the village. Then she turned off the main track, taking a path to the left, crossed a cornfield and emerged onto the track that led to the next village to the west, Alcombe, two miles off.

      She felt uneasy as she crossed the field, for here, as at Allerbrook, the corn had been cut and a couple of village women were gleaning in the stubble. Although they were some way off and did not seem to notice her, she was nervously aware of them.

      Beyond the cornfield stood a stone pillar on a plinth, a monument to the days of the great plague in the last century. Villages then had kept strangers out in case they brought disease with them, but commerce had to go on; wool and yarn, cloth and leather, butter and cheese, flour and ale must still be bought and sold and so, outside many villages, stone pillars or crosses had been set up to show where markets could be held.

      “I’ll be by the plague cross at ten of the clock on Tuesday,” Christopher had said at their last meeting. “I’ll have an errand past there that day. The Luttrells send things now and then to an old serving man of theirs in Alcombe. He’s ailing nowadays. They often use me for charitable tasks like that, and lend me a pony. Meet me there if you can. I’ll wait for you for a while, though I’d better not linger too long.”

СКАЧАТЬ