Free Love and Money by Phyllis Bentley Page A

said William Lees with contempt.
    â€œYou are wrong there,” said Thomas steadily.
    There was a pause.
    â€œMaster Thomas Bellomont,” said the weaver at length: “My wife has always spoken well of you, as an honest and well-meaning young gentleman. Let me ask you then to speak out plainly what Sir Richard’s intention is in sending you here, and I for my part will strive to hear you with patience.”
    â€œSir Richard is concerned about his daughter Isabella, lest if she go to New England she will suffer grave hardship, yet if she stay here and be separated from her mother she may suffer more. He desires Mistress Lees to say what she wishes for the child, and Sir Richard will endeavour to accomplish it.”
    â€œI will take no money,” said the weaver, his colour deepening.
    â€œIsabella shall never go back to Bellomont,” said Joanna.
    Thomas looked from one to the other. He had always liked Joanna, and now he felt a considerable respect for her husband. It was strange, he reflected; he could well understand how William Lees regarded Sir Richard as a sinful, tyrannical, useless cumberer of the earth, and how Sir Richard regarded William Lees as a canting hypocrite who wished to take all joy out of life by his unreasonable puritanical restrictions; yet Thomas himself liked both men and would have been glad of either at his side in an awkward fray. However, he must do his errand.
    â€œI must see Isabella,” he said firmly.
    â€œIsabella!” called William Lees up the ladder.
    â€œCome down here, love,” called Joanna.
    The child Isabella ran lightly down the ladder and stood at her stepfather’s side.
    â€œShe is a child of sin,” said William Lees firmly, placinghis hand on her head: “But yet I have a great affection for her, unruly though she be.”
    Thomas’s heart seemed to turn over in his breast. The child was of a singular beauty, with copper-coloured hair which lay in great waves about her face. Her eyes were a very dark blue, sparkling and dancing like Sir Richard’s, her complexion a pure and dazzling ivory. She was neatly though soberly dressed, and clearly well fed and well cared for. At her stepfather’s speech she did not stir, but into her lovely eyes came a look of such insupportable anguish that Thomas wondered her mother did not leap across the room and take her in her arms to comfort her—it was all he could manage not to do so himself. What could it be like to be called constantly
a child of sin,
thought Thomas; Sir Richard and Joanna and William Lees all wish Isabella well, but between them they are killing her. If her spirit lives, she will turn strumpet; if not, she will sink into a drudge. Thomas gathered himself together, and calmly and steadily and with an air of entire conviction, lied.
    â€œSir Richard’s wish,” he said, “is that Isabella should come to my house at Mesburgh, and live there under the protection of my mother.”
    â€œIf Sir Richard desired his daughter to be a gentlewoman, he should have wed her mother before she was begotten,” said William Lees in an angry tone.
    â€œWhat like of a woman is your mother, Master Thomas?” enquired Joanna.
    â€œShe is a very worthy, kind and somewhat anxious lady, notable in housewifery,” replied Thomas. “My household is sober and godly,” he continued on a bitter note, for he was quite as angry as William Lees: “There is neither gaming, dicing, drinking nor any other such diversions in it. I am a poor man as gentlemen go, and I live a plain hardworking life. Nevertheless, I believe Isabella would fare better with us than in a house where her birth can never be forgotten, and I believe you would fare better in New England had you only your own children to care for.”
    â€œIt is not a question of faring better or worse,” said William Lees, “but of our duty as servants of the Lord.”
    â€œWe