32
‘Good morning, Nelly.’
I enter the kitchen without warning, surprising the woman hunched over the pot of what smells like stew on the hearth. The steam has reddened her face, made her blonde curls limp. I’ve slept well past breakfast. Ena is sitting in a high chair by the large wooden table, chewing on a rusk, and she’s wearing a spattering of it and spittle across her pink skin and down the front of her bib. The little girl smiles to see me and bangs the wooden tray top. Nelly’s expression darkens.
I go straight to the child, picking up a damp cloth from the carved stone sink. I wipe Ena down to make her presentable, and she giggles, then I fill a bottle and feed her a decent breakfast. She’s biddable and quiet, happy for the having of an attendant. Nelly throws me an irritable look. Knowing what I know of her – that she was hired only to be a wet nurse – I cannot imagine she is happy being lumped with housekeeper duties and all the menial domestic work as well as being the cook. Obviously the decision was not hers; I wonder how long my uncle’s presence in her bed will keep her biddable?
Then I wonder how long they’re planning to stay on here. I wonder how much forethought went into all of this scheme, how long they’ve known each other? Was Edward the father of poor Meraud, burned to a cinder that night? I wonder if, even as I fortuitously arrived, had they already been preparing to move on? What would they have done with Ena? Having lost her own babe, how attached is Nelly to my little sister? Is she already thinking of the child as her own? A replacement for what was lost? Would they take Ena with them? Or leave her behind. With one of the villagers or alone here in this big empty house for someone to find or no one?
‘Can I do anything to help, Nelly?’ I ask pleasantly. ‘I feel that I have not been pulling my weight. I’m sorry for that. How can I make things easier for you?’
She just looks at me, stunned, eyes narrowed.
‘Perhaps we could have some of the village girls come up once a week to assist with the cleaning? It seems a ridiculous amount of work for one woman to be expected to undertake. All those rooms, all that dust.’
‘I manage,’ she says and sounds defensive.
‘I’m not saying otherwise, dear Nelly, I simply want to ensure you are happy and rested. I know caring for my sister takes much of your energy and you cannot be expected to do that and keep the house in order.’ I frown. ‘Are your nights still interrupted? Are you ridden by nightmares? Some other disturbance?’
‘I sleep well enough,’ she says, then asks, ‘Who says I don’t?’
Nelly is not the sharpest nail in the jar. My uncle is a charming and convincing liar, light on his feet always with a ready answer come easily to his lips; no wonder Nelly is so easily dominated. Too convenient for them to have simply met on the road on their way here.
‘Where were you working before, Nelly?’ She stares at me and I take a chance, thinking that my father would have travelled regularly to one place. ‘Was it St Sinwin’s Harbour? I hear it’s an interesting place. Was your position there a good one? I hope my parents offered you a fine living to come here. Blackwater is so isolated, so very quiet, rather lacking in diversions.’
‘I’m not the sort who needs diversions.’ She almost spits the words at me. ‘Do I look like some port whore?’
Yes, I think, and not one of the expensive ones.
‘Oh, Nelly. I didn’t mean to imply anything of the sort. We… we just seem to have got off on the wrong foot and, as we have to continue to live together, perhaps we should try to be civil with each other?’ It’s too late to try to make friends or even pretend – and I don’t believe it was ever an option, with whatever Nelly is carrying about in her mind – but in appearing to make an effort I am fairly sure I can begin to destabilise her. Didn’t Aoife O’Malley teach me how to deal with enemies? I think of Aunt Florrie and her husband, both of whom spilled spite about Aoife for so many years until my grandmother set her charm on Uncle Silas, managing to seduce him out of a sizable portion of his fortune (a mere drop in the ocean of our debts). With one fell swoop she humiliated Florrie and made a fool of Silas. Divide and conquer, play upon frailties. Nelly’s the weak link, she’s the one who reacts with anger; Edward Elliott merely smiles and thinks quickly. Nelly has the answers and they can be plucked from her and in those answers lies the secret to my purported uncle’s downfall.
Seeking a wet nurse, would my father have known what to look for? At Hob’s Hallow, Maura looked after me; here, Ena would have been the first child for whom he had to take some responsibility. How was Nelly presented to him and by whom? “Uncle” Edward, might he have been the conduit? Might he have met my father in a drinking establishment? Edward is very charming, did my light-minded father find him so?
Why are you here in St Sinwin’s?
Business, my dear fellow, and I must find a wet nurse for my infant daughter.
Why, my good man, I have just the woman, of fine character and sound moral virtue!
I imagine them laughing over their shared last name (if that isn’t another lie from Edward), my father paying the bills, making no secret of the weight of his purse. Being taken to meet Nelly Daniels who clearly managed to put up a better front
