No, it was one of his guests. She paused, waiting, then added. Are you not going to invite me in?
The house is all in a muddle, he said. Not fit to be seen. This slut he indicated the girl at his side, who had continued to stare at Margaret with unveiled amusement Nellie, here, dont go much on keeping house.
Taint what I came for, the girl retorted. Im not a servant. If you dont like it you know what you can do.
Margaret was wondering if she was ever going to be allowed over the threshold, and he was looking at her with bright little eyes, almost buried in the flesh of his cheeks, as if he wished her anywhere but on his doorstep. It was a wish she shared. At last he said, Better come in, though this aint the place for a well-brought-up young lady.
The girl he had referred to as Nellie laughed as she led the way through a dusty hall to an even dustier drawing-room with heavy old-fashioned furniture and faded velvet curtains. Thats a fact and no argument, she said, with a chuckle that hinted at something Margaret was not sure she wanted to know.
Get us all a drink, Henry ordered the girl, then, turning to Margaret, indicated the settle. Sit down. Tell me what happened.
The telling did not take long, and he was silent at the end of it, his many chins resting on his chest and his eyes glazed. The glass in his hand was empty and so was the girls, but Margaret had not touched her wine.
My, thats a turn up for the books, Nellie said. What are you going to do now?
Margaret looked from her to her uncle, who did not deign to answer for several seconds.
I dont know, he said at last. I dont know. Aint you got anyone else you can go to?
No, or I would, believe me.
Wheres your father?
He died in India. I was born out there in 1727, but the climate did not suit my mother and, when my father died, she brought me back to England. I was only a baby then; I do not remember him.
Nineteen years old, he murmured. Felicity took her time about producing, considering she left here in 15.
My parents were married two years before I was born, no more.
Hmm, he mused. Fancy that little chit managing on her own all that time. What did she do? For a living, I mean.
She was a mantua-maker, and a very good one.
Is that so? Hardly the occupation of a lady of breeding.
Perhaps she had little choice, Margaret snapped in defence of her beloved mother, though she had no idea what had happened in the past. If Great-Uncle Henry was a sample of her family, then she did not blame her mother for never mentioning them.
And you expect me to welcome you with open arms? her uncle asked.
Nellie giggled. Why not? You do everyone else
Shut up, you witless cow, he said to her, then to Margaret, Youd do better turning right round and going back where you came from.
I cant. Ive no money.
Neither have I and thats a fact. He sighed. Youd better stay, I suppose. Just until we can think of something else. Nellie, my dear, show her where she can sleep and tell Mistress Clark therell be one more for dinner.
The house, neglected as it was now, had once been very fine, Margaret decided as she followed Nellie up the carved oak staircase and along a wide landing. The people who had built it must have been quite wealthy and had some standing in the community; the building materials would have had to be transported some distance because, apart from willows and a few aspen, there were no trees locally. The proportions of the house were on a grand scale too; lofty ceilings and long windows with leaded panes. Some of the doors along the landing were standing open and revealed large rooms full of worn furniture which had once been good.
One room was obviously in use. It was even more untidy than the rest of the housethe bed was unmade and garments were scattered all over the bed and the floor. Margaret could not help noticing that there was a mans night shirt and hose as well as womens clothes. She averted her gaze hurriedly; so Nellie was her great-uncles wife! She was younger than Margaret herself and she was certainly not a lady of breeding. But who was she to criticise? Margaret asked herself as she followed her hostess into a bedroom at the far end of the corridor.
You wont be disturbed here, Nellie said. I hope youre not used to being waited on, because there arent any servants except Mistress Clark, and she dont sleep in. She laughed suddenly. She dont approve of Henrys goings-on, as she calls them, but she stays on account of she knew the old master.
My mothers father?
Yes; I suppose it would have been Henrys brother. He was a few years older than Henry. Before that, of course, there was your great-grandfather. Henry dont talk about them.
Is there no one else in the family?
Not that I know of, but then I aint known Henry that long. She paused, looking round the room. Its a bit dusty. It aint one of the rooms we use often.
Do you entertain much, Mistress Capitain? Margaret asked, going over to the wash-stand and noticing the scum on the top of the water in the jug.
Nellie threw back her head and laughed. Bless you, I aint Henrys wife.
Margaret was shocked to the core. She was not blind to some of the things that went on in the less salubrious parts of London; she knew men took mistresses and some wives took lovers, but she had never expected to find it happening in her own family, nor in the family home away from the capital. She sat down heavily on the bed, sending up a cloud of dust.
Dont look so stricken, Nellie said. Henry and me, well, were just good friends. I came down here cos I needed to get away for a bit, understand?
Margaret didnt and she said so.
Never mind, the girl said, and laughed again. Youre like a fish out of water, here, aint you?
Yes.
Id find somewhere else to go, if I were you. It was said almost kindly. Later on, or mayhap tomorrow, theres a whole lot more coming.
More like you? It was out before Margaret could stop it.
Yes, only worse. Men and womentheyre coming to gamble and Well, you know.
Margaret shuddered. Her mother could not possibly have known it would be like this when shed told her to come here. Now where was she to go? For a fleeting moment she thought of Charles Mellison and his friend, Lord Pargeter, looking for a wife who would be prepared to live in this outlandish place. She had heard that fen people were all slightly mad, and she was beginning to believe it. What could she do? She lifted her chin. Perhaps you should be the one to leave, she said. After all, you have no ties here .
It was a silly thing to say and she realised it as soon as Nellie began to laugh. She was still laughing as she went back downstairs, leaving Margaret alone in the grubby bedroom.
It was a corner room, having windows on two sides which would have made it a pleasant bedchamber if it had been clean. It had a bed, a dressing-table and a cupboard, standing on a carpet so faded as to be colourless. She did not unpack, but went to the window and looked out on a landscape so bleak that she didnt know how anyone could like it. She saw nothing but acres and acres of flat land, some of it meadow, some of it ploughed, intersected by dykes, whose banks were higher than the surrounding land. From the other window the view was of water, with clumps of frost-blackened sedge and reeds. A rowing-boat rocked on its moorings beside the landing-stage. Overhead, in the great bowl of the sky, a heron flew. But her mother had loved her childhood here and had spoken of the special magic of the fen countryits glorious sunsets and red dawns, its plentiful wildlife, fish and fowl, its close-knit communities and hardy, superstitious people. What she had never told Margaret was why she had left and why she had never been back. As she stood at the window, a little of the atmosphere communicated itself to her and for the first time she began to understand.