POVERTY'S PRIDE

CHAPTER NINE (Part Three)

                        CHAPTER NINE (Part Three)

Tuesday morning Eliza Gilbert was walking along the gallery overlooking the great hall at Cliff House when the door bell rang. She paused, surprised. The unswerving custom of the local gentry hereabout was to make calls of an afternoon. It was barely ten o’clock. Who could be calling at this hour? No one of importance for sure.

     She looked over the banister to see the maid Linda Bream cross the hall to answer.

     ‘Who is it?’ she called impatiently.

     Linda paused in her stride, looking up startled. ‘I don’t know, Mrs Gilbert.’

     ‘Well, answer the door, you dolt,’ the housekeeper snapped. ‘Ask them their business.’

     Eliza watched with interest as Linda opened the door and then on seeing the visitor stepped back a few steps as though troubled.

     ‘Well, who is it, girl?’

     The voice that answered her made her start with sudden dread and she clutched convulsively at the banister.

     ‘It is I, Mrs Gilbert,’ Joshua Tucker said and then stepped into view in the hall. ‘I have called to pay my respects and condolences to the family in their dire need. I understand Mr Jonathan Trevellian is on the brink of death.’

     Eliza clutched a hand to her throat with apprehension to see him standing there.

     ‘This maid can announce me,’ Joshua continued. ‘Show me into the midst of the family, girl.’

     ‘Wait!’ Eliza cried out hurrying down the staircase. ‘I’ll deal with this, Linda,’ she said sharply. ‘Go back to the kitchen immediately.’

     The maid seemed only too willing to rush away towards the baize door at the back of the hall.  

     Eliza joined the man who was her son in the hall.

     ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked him, feeling her throat swell with anxiety.

     ‘There is sickness in the family,’ Joshua said calmly. ‘What is more natural that the local clergy should call and offer comfort?’

     ‘Are you mad?’

Eliza felt a great heat envelop her. She could not let him present himself. While the rest of the family would take him at face value, Sir Leopold knew the truth about him. For them to come face to face would be her undoing.

‘There is no danger, Mother.’

‘Don’t call me that!’ she glanced around apprehensively. ‘Come into my parlour where we can talk.’

‘I’ve had enough of that,’ Joshua said angrily. ‘The housekeeper’s parlour is beneath my position as curate. Now, present me in the proper way.’

Eliza’s lips stretched into a sneer. ‘Were you really clergy you’d know that the gentry do you receive visitors during the morning time. To call at this hour is a show of bad manners.’

Joshua looked uncertain. ‘You should’ve warned me, Mother.’

‘Damn you!’ Eliza said passionately. ‘You’ll destroy us both.’ She stepped away towards the back of the hall. ‘Come to my parlour or leave the house,’ she said imperiously.

With a coarse oath he followed her through the baize door. In the privacy of the parlour Eliza felt more secure.

‘We have much to talk about,’ she told him as they sat down opposite each other. ‘Our scheme to oust Rosalind Trevellian has failed. She remains and seems to be under the protection of Mr Cedric for some reason.’