The Tanner’s Daughter – Episode 48
The Tanner's Daughter by Pamela Kavanagh
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Whether it was the good herbs burning in the dish doing their work or Margery’s capable presence – or maybe both – for a first babe it was an easy birth.
“A boy, mistress!” Margery exclaimed as the infant’s first wail rose, indignant and lusty, to the ceiling of the bedchamber.
“He is whole? Let me hold him. Ah, the sweet babe!”
Joy flooded Jane’s exhausted face as she took her child in her arms.
“You did well, mistress. Let me make you comfortable and you shall sleep.”
She added raspberry leaf to a drop of wine.
“Drink. ’Twill help you heal.”
Hours later, Jane awoke to find darkness pressing against the window and candles lit.
Margery sat by the half-tester bed, rocking a wooden cradle hastily retrieved from the attic.
“He sleeps?”
“Soundly, the lamb.” Margery looked up. “Do I hear a horse?”
“Why, yes. It will be some messenger for Thomas. Margery, did Mother say? He and I are to be wed.”
“Nay, madam did not say, and you are not wedding anyone, since you have a spouse already – mule that he is! But there, one must make allowances for men.”
At Jane’s startled expression, Margery told all that had happened.
The easy tears of a new mother filled Jane’s eyes.
“Will spoke the truth and I turned him away! Ah, how I have regretted my haste.”
At that moment there was a commotion in the hallway below.
“Dammit, woman, of course I must see her.”
“Sir, ’tis not seemly.”
The protests of the housekeeper accompanied the sound of pounding footsteps on the stairs.
Margery opened the bedchamber door as a figure appeared.
“You took your time, Will Leche. In here, and do not tire her. I shall leave you for a short while.”
In the bedchamber, Will approached the bed.
“Jane! My dearest love, you are well?”
“I am now,” Jane replied, struggling up against the bolsters to accept Will’s embrace. “I am so sorry.”
“Nay, the fault was all mine. Ah, Jane!”
“Peace, husband. Are you not going to greet your son?”
“A boy? Let me look.”
Will peered into the cradle and his face took on such a look of wonderment and tenderness that Jane felt the moment would be imprinted on her memory for always.
“The sweet infant.” Will gently scooped the child up. “Has he a name?”
“’Tis customary to call a firstborn son for his sire. So let it be William, and Nicholas, I thought, for my father?”
“Nicholas! What better? Well, then, Nicholas William Leche, what say you?
“See, Jane, his eyes open. He smiles at me.”
“Wind.” Margery had entered the room. “Now, let Mother rest.”
Downstairs in the library, Glasier sat with his port and his wolfhounds before a roaring fire.
With the turmoil of the past hours over and all else apparently resolved, he was conscious of a glad sense of release.
Wedlock and fatherhood had been his lot once and, in truth, the tranquillity of his own company and his dogs in his later years was not to be taken lightly.
He would always have affection for Jane and, as the peace of the book-lined room washed over him, his thoughts mellowed and he began to feel more kindly towards Will Leche.
He might put in a word for Will with the Guild of Tanners.
They’d be sure to take notice, and membership would open up new avenues for the fellow.
Some weeks later, family and staff were gathered together in the Eastgate Row kitchen.
Changes had occurred. Dorcas Blunt was dismissed and Margery re-employed.
Not in her old position of maidservant, but in new premises in a more acceptable quarter of town where could she continue her work as goodwife.
She would always be there for Jane and was trying to abandon the address “mistress” and call her by name.
A new general maid had yet to be engaged.
Constance, sobered by past events and besotted with her new grandson, made an announcement.
“You young people are best having this house to yourselves.
“Ann and I have decided to set up home together. There is a small place by the river that will suit us splendidly.”
Exclamations followed.
“Remember, Mother-by-marriage, there will always be a place for you here. Mistress Lovett, too,” Will declared.
Perivale gave a nod, Rolf grinned and Martha Renfrew wiped a tear.
Constance inclined her head graciously and Ann Lovett murmured words of gratitude.
Jane, her baby in her lap, felt her heart swell with affection for them all.
Will filled goblets to proclaim a toast.
“To the newly formed company, Hatton and Leche.”
“Hatton and Leche!” went the cry.
It was a new chapter in the life of the firm.
Jane felt, for a moment, that her father was there, giving his blessing.
THE END
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Illustration: Gerard Fay
