“Mama isn’t speaking to me at present. She didn’t like the wrestling match. Or something. Oh, there’s no need for that pitying look. I don’t care a damn. Was that all you wanted to tell me? About you and Max?”
“No, but wait. I want you to know I gave up Max because a much finer prospect came in view.” She tried shooting him a seductive look.
“Well, I’m very happy for you.” He spoke without conviction. Then he reached over and picked up the book lying on the table and stared at its spine.
Daisy tossed her head, and her shoulders went up. Really, men could be so dense at times. But then, in the past, she’d often found the most handsome men the hardest nuts to crack. She wasn’t one to give up easily. Like some of the others, Henry needed a more subtle approach. She could start winning him over by sharing her secret—she knew he would have to be grateful to her for that.
“What I have to say concerns your sister. Did you know she had a little lover boy in the town?”
Henry put the book down slowly. For a moment, his eyes looked like stone, his face fixed. Her heart pumped in anticipation. There—she’d known he’d be grateful for this piece of information. But then his head went back, and he let out a great roar of laughter.
“You fool of a woman! She doesn’t know anybody here. Little Bella? Why—I hardly let her out of my sight. A good jest, nonetheless, Daisy, a good jest.”
“It is not a joke. I saw them meet at the gate last night. You’d disappeared, and I was looking for you. I thought you might have gone outside.”
He moved forward in his chair. Yes, yes, he was beginning to take her seriously now. “Describe him then, this man,” he demanded.
“It was dark. But he was tall, taller than you. Hair darkish, but it could be paler in daylight. I don’t know about his eye colour—”
“Thank God I’m not asking you to describe a murder suspect.” Henry’s expression was grim. “But do go on. You’re almost convincing.”
She refused to show her annoyance. She knew what she’d seen and what it meant, and Henry would thank her for the disclosure, she was sure he would. “He looked sort of middle class, not quite a toff. Very refined features, nothing heavy. No beard or moustache. She called him Jack.”
Henry went very quiet. His hand, still touching the book, clenched itself. She jumped and let out a screech as the book left his grip and smashed against the library door, only just missing her face. She backed away as Henry stood up with such violence, the heavy chair slewed back across the polished floor and collided with a tantalus.
At the sound of smashing glass, Daisy decided it was not a good time to suggest he be grateful for her disclosure. She ran for the door.
Chapter 68
Jack had been so shaken up by seeing Bella again, he’d neglected to tell her he’d already met her grandfather, and was, in fact, now staying with him. And enjoying his company, and that of Finchdean, very much.
After a troubled night, he rose late and breakfasted alone, his host having already donned his apron and headed into the shop. Leaving Finchdean to recover his energies indoors, Jack spent his day pacing the streets of Ashwell, eager for the coming evening when he could have Bella in his arms once more. Last time had been all too brief.
He didn’t return to the butcher’s shop until supper time, where he found Mr Hart and Finchdean ensconced in the tiny living room behind the shop. Peter was busying himself in the kitchen, cooking something that smelled rich and meaty.
Jack was immediately subjected to an inquisition about Bella.
“Yes, she seemed fine. A little anxious, I suppose, but then I must have just given her the fright of her life. She looked upset before she came up to the gate, but that didn’t last for long.”
Mr Hart frowned. “Did the lass tell what’d upset her?”
“No, sir. We talked… of other things.”
“Talked eh?” Finchdean had a twinkle in his eye.
“Yes. What else could we do with an eight-foot wrought-iron gate between us?”
“So tha’ll be seeing her again the night?” Hart raised his eyebrows.
“I shall. Do you want me to convey your regards?”
“I’d like you to tell her to come by again if she can get away from that jumped-up brother of hers. She should come and give her poor old grandfather a kiss. And she ought to meet Mr Finchdean here an’ all, seeing as how he’s been trying to help her.”
“We’ll be able to talk properly tonight. I shall make sure she’s really alright. I think she’d tell me the truth.” At least, he hoped she would.
“Aye, Bella never stints at telling the truth, do she? So, what then though, Mr Henstridge—what’s to be done if there’s trouble up there?”
He’d pondered this during his hours of wakefulness. The answer was simple. “I’ll ask her to come away with me.” And be damned to the consequences.
“Oh, aye? And drag my own kin away from me when I’ve only just got her? Thanks, lad. And then I suppose tha’ll whisk her off back down south, and Finchdean too, and I’ll be left to cope with a fretful daughter and a furious grandson.”
Finchdean patted Hart’s arm. “Maybe she won’t want to leave.”
Jack had considered that possibility, agonising as it was. “Maybe not. I shall respect her choice, in that case. But now I’ve come all this way, I’m bound to do my best to make her decide in my favour. I’m sorry, Mr Hart, but there it is.”
Hart reached for his pipe and knocked it against the fender, jettisoning tobacco ash into the hearth. Then he gazed up at Jack. “Tha’rt honest—I’ll say that for you. Well, us don’t none of us know what the future holds, but I reckon we’ve all got one hope in common, that it holds a better life for Bella Hart than what the poor lass has had so far. If you reckon you can give ‘er that, Mr Henstridge, then I’m behind you all the way.”
Finchdean sat back and pointed his hob-nailed boots towards the fire. “It’s grand to see you again, Gilbert Hart,” he said. With a glance up at Jack, he added, “It’s hard to believe this gnarled old butcher was once a wild youth. Even after he settled down to a good trade with a pleasant wife and a beautiful daughter, he still had that fierce streak in him. I’ll never forget how he emerged out of the night looking like a vengeful Fury, out for the blood of the spineless aristocrat who had interfered with his daughter. I could see the man had pluck.”
“You could see the moonlight glinting off the meat cleaver,” amended Hart. “Scared the life out of you, didn’t I?”
“I knew it was an idle threat. You’d never use a blade on a man. At least, I bargained on that. Anyway, Mr Henstridge—Jack. I’d like to come up to Linden Hall with you. Only for a moment, to see the child again. I’ll just say my bit to her, then leave you both in peace. Would you mind indulging an old man?”
Jack smiled. “Of course, I wouldn’t mind. I’m sure you’ll know when it’s time to make a discreet exit. But we’ll need to get you wrapped up warm. There’s been no cloud all day, so we can expect another frost.”
“This’ll warm you all up.” Peter appeared in the doorway with a trayful of steaming bowls. Hart quickly cleared some space, and soon everyone was accommodated and able to eat their hogget stew in relative, if close-confined, comfort.
As soon as all was done, Jack leapt up and fetched his own and Finchdean’s coats, then asked if he could borrow an extra muffler for the elderly man.
“You fuss over me like a mother hen.”
“Well, I can’t see the point of getting you through a consumption only to take you out to catch pneumonia. And what would Lucy say to me if I brought you back a wreck? It’s a long way back to Somerset, and you’ll have to make the journey sometime soon, won’t you? Let’s try and keep you fit.”
Hart chuckled. “Peter and me will have hot toddies waiting for you when you get back, better’n they could muster up at the inn. Less water in them, anyhow. You mind and give the girl my message—tell her to come by any time.”
“Ye
s, sir—I won’t forget.”
“I’ll keep the fire in, and get Peter to wait up for you in case I drop off. It’s not so easy staying awake sometimes, at my age.”
Though he seemed a bit rough on the outside, Jack had really warmed to Bella’s grandfather. “At your age? Nonsense—you’re as spry as anyone I know. I bet we’d all be grateful to be so fit as you when we’re in our dotage, wouldn’t we, Finchdean?”
Well muffled up, and with a hip flask of whisky to share, he and the Sutcliffe’s former butler stepped out onto the street. The cobbles dimly reflected back the yellow of the gas lamps, but their light was eclipsed by the brightness of the moon, nearly full tonight.
Jack tilted his head back and looked at the stars. “I don’t do this enough back home. I’ve usually got my head in a book or over the drawing table. I’ll make a point of it, when I get back, to walk out more at night and enjoy it all.”
He wondered then, if he would be going back alone, or if he would have someone close with whom to share it all. He could just imagine the feel of Bella’s small hand in his own as they walked side by side, enjoying a fine night.
He grinned. “I have a good feeling, Mr Finchdean—I think things are going to turn out for the best.”
Chapter 69
When Henry burst into Bella’s room, he didn’t say a single word. He just pulled his fist back past his ear and aimed a hefty blow at her jaw. But she was used to fists—she’d collided with many in her time in the workhouse. She ducked, and Henry reeled forward under his own momentum as she slipped off to the side of him. He made to come at her again, his face a mask of fury, but she side-stepped and chased to the other side of the bed. As he lunged one way, she darted the other, shouting, “Don’t you dare lay a finger on me, Henry Sutcliffe, don’t you dare!”
“Come here, you little slut—I’ll give you the hiding you deserve.”
“Don’t call me names. Who are you to call me names, you and your unnatural habits, your cruelty? I’m ashamed to call you kin, so I am. I’ve met a few bad people in my time but none as vile as you.”
His pallor changed to an angry red. He threw himself onto the bed and made a grab at her, but she flung herself under it and scrambled out the other side. While he was struggling, his feet caught up in the counterpane, she grabbed an old warming-pan down from its hook and menaced him with it.
“What’s got you in such a stew? What’ve I done?”
“I know about you and Jack.” He untangled himself and jumped to the ground. “I ordered you not to have any contact with him, yet you’ve been sneaking around the grounds, meeting him after dark. I sincerely hope you haven’t let him lay a hand on you—you know what my plans are.”
“Your plans never took account of my wishes.” She was more angry than frightened. “You just barged in and dictated to me, told me what I could and couldn’t do. And just when I’d got me freedom! This place is worse than a prison. It’s worse than the workhouse with a… a… tyrant like you in it.”
Henry’s eyes were flickering around the room, plotting his next move. Bella crouched, like a cat waiting to pounce, her weapon held next to her ear. Before she could move, he’d judged the distance between them and sprung at her. He caught the heavy brass pan and twisted it out of her hand, so sharply she felt something snap, and collapsed on the floor in agony.
“Me wrist—you’ve broken me wrist!”
He was on her now, his weight bearing down on her as he growled in her ear, “Has he bedded you? Tell me, you dirty bitch.”
The hot tears were coursing down her cheeks, and her breath came in gasps. “You bastard, you bully! You don’t know what love is and you never will. I’ll not tell you anything. I’ll see you rot in hell first.”
“Oh, we’ll see about that. You’ll talk, and if you don’t, I’ll have you examined. No husband is going to want used goods, so you’d better hope for your own sake you’re still clean.”
Then he got off her, and she curled up on the floor, nursing her injured wrist. The pain was so strong she felt dizzy and sick. Through the haze of her tears, she saw Henry stand up, straighten his jacket, and head for the door. He removed the key from the inside, then flung the door open.
She squinted up at him, panting, her hair falling out of its pins and sticking to her damp cheeks. “Where are you going? What are you going to do?”
He held up the key and bared his teeth. “I’m going to keep you out of the way while I teach him a lesson he won’t forget.”
The door slammed shut, and the key was turned in the lock. Bella dragged her self across the floor and thumped against the wood with her good hand. “You can’t just leave me here—I’m hurt. I need a doctor. Please!”
There was no reply, just the sound of feet striding down the carpeted corridor. Bella pounded more loudly. “Mama! Watson! Can anyone hear me? Help! Help!”
Chapter 70
“That’s odd,” said Jack, as the gate gave way beneath his touch. “I thought she’d be here waiting for me. That’s what we agreed.”
Finchdean pulled his muffler tighter. “Perhaps she found it was too cold. She might be up near the house.”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t want to walk up there. There was a guard dog yesterday.”
“Well, you’re not telling me I’ve hiked up that hill for nothing. I say we go on ahead. Unless you’re offering to go back to the shop for a pound of sausages for the dog?”
“I suppose, if we walk up the main drive, like bona fide visitors, it might leave us alone.”
“You may not know much about the ways of the nobility, Mr Henstridge, but I’m sure you’re aware that nobody admits callers at this hour.”
Jack groaned. He hadn’t come all the way to Derbyshire to be defeated by a single dog.
“We’ll move quietly, and hope the beast is elsewhere. And that Bella will join us soon—she seemed very friendly with it.”
“If she’s keeping close to the house, I reckon we should make for the kitchen door. There’s an outside light there, so she can keep a look-out for you, and a fair-sized bay tree she can slip behind if she wants to stay out of sight of the house.”
Jack was just thinking it was lucky he’d come with someone who knew Linden Hall so well when the sound of a dog barking froze him in his steps. Almost immediately, the great door at the front of the house was flung open, flooding the drive and the clipped lawn with light. A sharp voice rang out, and the dog bounded towards the man who stood at the top of the curving steps.
Even though he was some distance away, Jack knew who it must be.
“Come in, gentlemen. I’ve been expecting you. Don’t worry—Caesar is under control.”
“There doesn’t seem any alternative but to beard the lion in his lair,” Jack muttered to Finchdean as they made their way towards the steps. “I was hoping to avoid this for a while, but I suppose it’s best to deal with Lord Linden sooner rather than later. I wonder where Bella is?”
He held his head high as he climbed the steps and entered the echoing entrance hall of the great house. It was very quiet—he might have expected Henry’s guests to be carousing at this hour—but maybe they’d already had their fill and gone to bed. There was no sign of any servants either, which suggested the master of the house had dismissed them early so he could deal with his visitors personally.
Which indicated Jack was expected, and that Bella’s secret was out. He fought to hide his concern.
In a tone brooking no opposition, Finchdean was told to make his way to the kitchen and help himself to some refreshment. Apparently, Henry intended to have no witnesses to whatever transpired between himself and Jack.
“I had thought,” he said, as he ushered Jack into the library, “That you were a stupid man, and now I see I was right.”
“And I had thought,” retorted Jack, planting his feet firmly on the Wilton rug, “That a nobleman knew how to behave, but I see I was wrong. I didn’t come here to bandy words with you. I came to see Bella. Wh
ere is she?”
“Locked up in her room, safely away from you.”
“Locked up! What kind of a man does that to his sister?” Jack was furious.
“One who wants only the best for his family.”
Was Henry a madman? This would make it much harder to reason with him. “You think it’s for the best to lock Bella up? Good God, man—she’s been in the workhouse most of her life. Isn’t it time she had some freedom?”
“She’ll stay there until I can talk some sense into her. I have only her best interests at heart.”
Jack took a step closer, battling to contain his anger. “Best interests? And what are those, pray?”
“She’ll marry well. Not some low-life tradesman like you.”
He should have expected this man would insult him. For Bella’s sake, he mustn’t rise to the bait. “So, you plan to marry her off, without her say-so, to some nobleman like yourself who’s never done a day’s work in his life?”
“Hah! What would you know about it, you jumped-up guttersnipe?”
Jack squared his shoulders, his fists clenched at his sides. They were aching to make contact with Henry’s face, but he forced them down. He must stay calm, as he couldn’t predict what Henry might do.
“I must warn you, Lord Linden, I have no intention of leaving Bella here in your evil clutches. Don’t think to buy me off—I already have as much money as I need.”
Henry was smiling now, showing his teeth. He took his jacket off. “And I must warn you—I’m considering messing up your face. Bella won’t like you so much with your nose flattened and your front teeth missing.”
So, that was the lie of the land, was it? Henry was spoiling for a fight. Well, he’d give him one, if that was what he wanted, but it wouldn’t solve anything in the long run. It never did.
Henry was standing on tiptoes now, his body bent at the waist. “Come on then. Put ‘em up!”
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