For a few days she concentrated her attention upon Matthew Brooks, beaming the radiance of her smile upon him with such effect that the poor fellow was dazzled. Her resolve lasted until church on Sunday. There was Matthew, eager and boyish, in the squire’s pew, and there was Cal, manly, upright and solid. There was no comparison. When his letter came, rain or no rain, she knew she would be waiting.
The message was a long time in coming, nearly a week later than she had anticipated. When she met him at the disused quarry which was one of their favourite meeting places, she flung herself into his arms.
‘Oh, how I’ve missed you,’ she cried, lifting her face for his kisses. Cal happily obliged with an enthusiasm which pleased her: He had missed her too. Victoria revelled in her minor triumph, for once she held the upper hand. This was more like it. She had not given up hopes of bringing Cal Whitcomb to heel.
‘You said two weeks and it is now three since last we met,’ she chided.
‘I said probably two weeks. One can never be definite in farming.’
‘But an extra week! What took so long?’
‘It has been an extremely good harvest, the best in years. It took time to gather in and store,’ he explained patiently. ‘And, of course, I lent my neighbours a hand.’
‘You bothered about other people when you knew how desperate I was to see you?’ Her chiding tone slipped, betraying an underlying anger.
‘That is the way of it in the countryside. My neighbours help me and I help them, particularly at harvest. There was a chance of thunder too, after the hot weather we’ve been having. I couldn’t let good wheat lie to rot in the fields, could I?’
‘Yes you could,’ she retorted, ‘if it were a choice between it and me.’
He gave a sigh and maintained his calm with increasing difficulty. ‘Why do you refuse to understand? Farming is not a game that can be taken up and let fall at will. It is our livelihood and must take priority always.’
‘Not where I am concerned. I refuse to come second to a load of corn.’
‘Now you are being silly. Silly and immature.’
She noted the growing exasperation in his voice and realised that she was trying him too far.
‘Don’t think me silly,’ she pleaded in a small voice. ‘I try not to be, and I do want to understand. I admit I find it hard when I want to see you so desperately and you insist upon digging up a field or sitting with a sick cow or something. You always seem to have such a lot to do. You see, I’ve never met anyone who was not free to do exactly as he pleases.’
‘That nephew of the squire’s who made sheep’s eyes at you all last Sunday, he’s in the navy. Surely he isn’t free to do what he pleases?’
‘Not when he’s at sea, of course. But when he has a long leave he can. All the other gentlemen of my acquaintance are exactly the same. They have nothing to do but amuse themselves the entire day.’
‘Poor souls.’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘You really mean that!’ she said.
‘I do. The thought of nothing to do, no purpose in life…’ He gave a shudder.
Victoria considered him carefully, conscious for the first time that the gulf between his world and hers consisted of more than money and breeding.
He looked at her face and laughed. ‘I do believe I’ve shocked you,’ he said. ‘You can’t comprehend a man who wants more from life than filling in time between lunch and dinner at his tailor’s or his club. Never mind, although I may not have much spare time, I promise you that what I have will be spent with you.’ In a fit of high spirits he swung her up in the air, depositing her gently on the low branch of a tree. ‘You can look down on me for a change,’ he grinned.
Victoria enjoyed it when he behaved with such physical exuberance. There was a solidity in his grasp and in his strength which gave her an extraordinary sense of security. She put her hands on his shoulders drawing him closer, then, with what she was convinced was tantalising slowness, kissed him.
‘There,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that better than harvesting?’
‘Infinitely,’ he agreed, pausing to return her kiss in good measure.
‘Good, then let’s forget stupid old harvesting. We don’t have to think of it for a whole year. We’ve lots of months in between to be together.’
Cal roared with laughter. ‘I love your idea of farming,’ he chuckled. ‘I’m sorry to disillusion you, my sweet, but it is only the corn harvest that’s finished. I can doubtless snatch some free time during the next three or four weeks, after that I’ll be busy with the cider-apple gathering, then the cider pressing.’
She looked at him with dismay. ‘How long does that last?’
‘Off and on, for a couple of months. The apples aren’t all ripe at the same time. The Oakwood fruit, what there is of it, should be ready in September, while the Church Farm orchards go on into October, maybe later.’
‘You are making this up!’ Her playfulness had disappeared, swallowed by anger and disappointment. ‘You can’t seriously expect me to hang about waiting for the pleasure of your company for the rest of the year.’
The laughter was also wiped from his face. ‘What you do is entirely up to you,’ he said coldly. ‘I have an apple crop to gather in.’
‘It’s a lie!’ She fairly spat the words at him. ‘I should have seen it before. You have done nothing but lie to me. Harvesting and apple crops! They’re nonsense! You’re seeing some other female, that’s what you’re doing.’
‘That is an extremely silly accusation, even for you.’
Something in his tone reminded her of the way her father addressed her mother, and the fury inside her grew.
‘Silly, is that what you think of me?’ she cried. ‘Then I wonder you bother seeing me at all. Goodness knows you find enough excuses not to!’
‘I do not need excuses,’ he retorted. ‘If I no longer wish to see you then I only need to say so.’
‘Indeed?’ she exclaimed haughtily. ‘Then say it! Say you do not wish to see me again!’
‘I do not wish to see you again.’ His voice was cold and hard.
She looked down at him in shocked surprise. ‘You don’t mean that?’
‘I do,’ he replied. ‘Victoria, you can be amusing company when you choose, but I’ve had enough. You either cannot or will not understand my situation and I refuse to suffer your tantrums every time I am obliged to put earning my living before seeing you. Therefore it would be better if we do not meet again.’
He lifted her down from the branch and this time she gained no pleasure from his touch.
‘You don’t mean it,’ she repeated. ‘You are cross because I was stupid. Of course you must work on your farm. I’ll try to understand, truly I will. Say you’ll see me again. Please! Please!’
‘No.’ The one word had a terrible finality about it.
She scanned his face, looking for some sign that he might relent. There was none. She found it hard to take in. Cal could not be abandoning her! She was meant to be the dominant one in this relationship, she the one to say whether or not it ended!
‘You can’t finish with me,’ she cried, her voice rising. ‘I won’t let you. You will see me again, I say! You will!’ She flew at him. Grasping the front of his coat tightly in her small gloved hands, she tried to shake him.
He disentangled himself from her grasp and, holding both of her wrists in one hand, gently pushed her away from him.
‘Victoria,’ he said firmly, ‘it was amusing while it lasted, but now it is over. Admit it, we neither of us took this affair seriously.’
‘How do you know?’ she demanded. ‘You are speaking for yourself.’
‘Oh come now! You know your affections were never involved, any more than mine were. The game has run its course.’
‘A game? Is that what you considered it to be?’
‘Yes,’ replied Cal bluntly. ‘I work hard. Like you I enjoy a little diversion now and again.’
‘And am I nothing more to you than
a diversion?’ Her lip quivered and tears began to trickle down her cheeks.
‘I have enjoyed our times together,’ he said, for the first time showing signs of uncertainty. ‘I thought that we had an excellent understanding – that we met for the pleasure of each other’s company, nothing more. If I have misinterpreted the situation and your feelings have been hurt then I am desperately sorry. But you have to acknowledge that there was never any question of anything permanent. We could have no future together.’
‘I should think not,’ Victoria retorted, forgetting her tears in anger. ‘As if I could ever have any warm feelings for a person of your class! The idea! My father would chase you from the house with a horsewhip for such presumption.’
‘I was not considering things from that angle exactly,’ admitted Cal honestly. ‘More your unsuitability to be a farmer’s wife.’
‘Oh!’ Victoria gave a gasp of fury. He would not even give her the satisfaction of rejecting him for his low birth. ‘You are the most insulting man I’ve ever met!’
‘Then it will be no hardship for you if we part.’ Cal was relieved. For a moment he had been afraid he had misjudged her feelings and that she was genuinely fond of him. ‘Now be a good girl, call Robbins from wherever he is dozing and go home.’
He was still holding her by the wrists. With unnecessary vigour Victoria wrenched herself free. ‘Stop patronising me!’ she cried. ‘And stop telling me what to do. I won’t go home. I’ll stay here until you promise to see me again. I’ll make you say it! I’ll make you!’ Used to getting what she wanted, she did not know how to cope with this situation. Anger, fuelled by frustration, humiliation, and a totally unexpected level of distress, rose within her in an hysterical tide. ‘You’ll be forced to see me. If you don’t I’ll make sure you’re ruined.’ In a frenzy she tore the hat from her head, and began shaking her hair loose.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ demanded Cal.
But Victoria had already ripped at the front of her riding habit The buttons gave way beneath the force of her onslaught, exposing the swell of her small, rounded breasts above the lace edge of her camisole.
‘What are you about?’ he demanded. ‘Button yourself up again, you stupid girl. What do you hope to achieve? Be reasonable.’
By now Victoria was past being reasonable. ‘How dare you insult me!’ She was sobbing uncontrollably. ‘You wretch! You seducer! I’m going to call Robbins, then the whole world will know what a beast you are. You’ll never dare show your face again, not here, not anywhere. I’ll see to that.’
‘Think what you’re doing!’ There was a rare element of alarm in Cal’s voice. ‘You can’t appear in front of Robbins or anyone else like that. Think of your reputation!’
But it was Cal’s reputation Victoria was thinking about, and how best to ruin it. All the time she had been yelling she had been wrenching at the front of her camisole, determined to expose herself completely. Unfortunately the border of broderie anglaise, ribbon, and insertion lace proved extraordinarily durable. Uncontrollably hysterical at being thwarted, Victoria stripped off her gloves and raked her nails down the front of her bosom until the blood ran, then throwing back her head she screamed at the top of her voice.
* * *
Maddy heard the screams as she walked along a sheep track above the quarry. Setting down the basket of wild blackberries she had just gathered, she ran in the direction of the high- pitched shrieks, her heart pounding with dread at what she might find. The last thing she expected was to come upon a decidedly ruffled Cal Whitcomb and a half-naked Victoria Fitzherbert.
‘For pity’s sake, Victoria,’ Cal was pleading. ‘Think what you are doing. Stop this racket before someone comes.’
But Maddy had already come. Without another thought she strode forward and slapped Victoria hard across the face. As if by magic the screams stopped. Somewhat belatedly Robbins was puffing up from the thicket where he had been enjoying a doze. Swiftly Maddy summed up the situation. Turning to the groom and to Cal she said briskly, ‘Lose yourselves for ten minutes. This is no place for either of you.’
The two men looked at one another then thankfully did as they were told. Victoria had sunk to her knees, sobbing and nursing her slapped cheek.
‘Oh, do get up,’ said Maddy unsympathetically. ‘I didn’t hit you that hard, though goodness knows I was tempted.’
‘He attacked me,’ wept Victoria, making a last-ditch attempt to ruin Cal. ‘He was like a wild animal.’
‘He didn’t and he wasn’t.’ Maddy’s voice was matter-of-fact.
‘How do you know?’ demanded Victoria, her tears forgotten in her indignation.
‘Because I can recognise hysteria when I hear it. There wasn’t one bit of fear in that row you were making. You’re having a rare old tantrum and nothing more.’
‘He did attack me.’ Victoria tried repeating her accusation, but it was a half-hearted effort. Then her tears began to flow again, and this time they were genuine. ‘What am I going to do?’ she wept.
‘First we’d better get you tidy,’ said Maddy. ‘You can’t go home like that. What on earth were you up to? Didn’t you give your reputation a moment’s thought? If one whisper of this ever got abroad, the local gentry would cut you for ever. They’ve only just started sending you invitations after your last escapade.’
‘How do you know that?’ demanded Victoria.
Maddy looked at her pityingly. ‘In a village there’s not much gets by the local gossip, which is why you’d better hope and pray you don’t meet anyone on your way home. Now, let’s fasten your buttons, you aren’t decent with your chest hanging out like that.’ It was not an easy task, for half the buttons had been ripped off. However, Maddy did what she could, with ham-fisted assistance from Victoria. She regarded their mutual handiwork. ‘I suppose it’s better than nothing. I’ve got a clean handkerchief here. I’ll go and wet it in the stream to wash your face, while you do something with your hair.’
She was back within a few minutes, nevertheless Victoria’s hair showed no improvement.
‘Come on, make an effort,’ Maddy snapped. ‘I’ve a lot to do today. I can’t spend all my time tending to you. Tidy your hair, for pity’s sake, you look like the mad woman of Bedlam. If you’re short of pins you can have some of mine.’
Victoria half raised her hands to her head, then let them fall again. ‘I can’t,’ she wailed.
‘You can’t what? asked Maddy, perplexed.
‘Do my hair. I don’t know how. My maid always does it for me.’
Maddy regarded her with astonishment, and then with something like contempt.
So much for the gentry, she thought, who claim to be our betters and to be set in charge over us. Aloud she said, ‘All right, I suppose I’ll have to do the best I can. Here, take the handkerchief. I presume you can wash your own face?
She was no skilled hairdresser, but she had often done Annie’s hair for her when her friend’s hands were bad.
As she smoothed Victoria’s hair into some kind of order, the other woman said, ‘Don’t you want to know what happened between Mr Whitcomb and me?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s none of my concern.’
‘You took Mr Whitcomb’s part without question, yet from what I’ve heard you don’t like him.’
‘I don’t like either of you,’ said Maddy bluntly. ‘I just happen to owe Farmer Whitcomb a favour and I always pay my debts.’
‘Without waiting to see whether or not he was in the wrong?’
‘But he wasn’t in the wrong, was he? I don’t suppose you can put your own hat on, either? Here, pass it to me.’ Maddy took the stylish creation, brushed off as much of the mud as she could and set it on Victoria’s head. ‘There,’ she said critically. ‘That will have to do. Let’s hope I never have to earn my living as a lady’s maid.’
Victoria accepted her ministrations without a word of thanks. ‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked.
‘It’s not to help me, is it?’
‘No.’
‘Then why? I know you’ve said about a debt owed and all that, but I’d have thought you’d have enjoyed seeing that Whitcomb wretch humiliated.’
Maddy considered carefully. ‘Although I can imagine Cal Whitcomb guilty of all sorts of things quite easily, I don’t see him as a ravager of women, even if your performance earlier on had been more convincing,’ she said. ‘You were in no danger from him, I’m certain, so whatever he did to get you in such a paddy is none of my business.’ Ignoring Victoria’s snort of annoyance she added, ‘Since you’re as respectable looking as you’re ever going to be I suggest we call the men back.’
Cal and Robbins returned in answer to the summons, both looking awkward and uneasy. Maddy addressed the groom first.
‘You’d best get your mistress home, and by the quietest roads you can manage,’ she said. ‘And remember, you didn’t see anything because there wasn’t anything to see.’
Robbins nodded enthusiastically. Whatever it was that had been going on, it looked as if Miss Victoria had come off worst, and he wanted no part in it if he could help it.
‘Come along, miss,’ he said. ‘Let’s be mounting up and getting home. We’ll go the back way.’
An unusually subdued Victoria allowed herself to be helped into the saddle, and together they rode off.
Maddy was left with Cal Whitcomb – an acutely embarrassed Cal Whitcomb; and she would have been less than human if she had not relished his discomfort.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘you got yourself into a right pickle there.’
‘I did,’ he agreed. ‘And you have my grateful thanks for getting me out of it.’
‘I came along at the right moment. Not so long ago, in the churchyard, you came along at the right moment for me. Now we’re equal.’
‘Please understand I never touched her.’
‘You don’t have to convince me.’
‘No?’ He sounded surprised. ‘I thought you Shillabeers considered me capable of every crime under the sun.’
‘Of most crimes under the sun,’ Maddy corrected him. ‘I’ve never heard you were one to force yourself upon women.’
Daughter of the River Page 17