‘N-no. I must get to the railway station. P-please, can you direct me?’
‘You’re heading the wrong way.’
He took her elbow and turned her around the way she had come. She shuddered, afraid she would run into her pursuer. They walked a few yards and the policeman slowed, and looked down the entry where the man had disappeared. He thought he saw a figure flattening himself against a brick wall. He raised his voice.
‘I can do better than give you directions, miss. I’ll escort you there myself and make sure you’re safe.’
Emma wondered if he thought she was deaf. The narrow rutted lane was full of puddles and she was struggling to keep pace with his long strides.
‘Can I carry your basket for you, miss?’ He noticed the wedding ring on her finger as she gave him the basket. ‘This is heavy. What have you been buying today?’
‘It’s the irons, smoothing irons. For ironing clothes,’ she said, seeing his puzzled expression. ‘This is the first time I’ve been to a town. I-I’m sorry to trouble you,’ she added when they came to a busier road with people around. It was not the one she had seen before. ‘I–I could find my way from here.’
‘It’s no trouble, Miss … er, Mrs … I’d like to be sure you’re safe.’
‘Y-you do believe there was a man? He was following me, I’m sure.’
‘Aye, I caught a glimpse of him myself. Greasy fair hair sprouting from under his cap and a brown coat. Is that the one?’
‘Yes! If he’d asked for money to buy a cup of tea I would have given it to him, but he didn’t look like a tramp. He didn’t speak.’ She shivered. ‘His eyes were like grey glass staring through me.’
It didn’t seem too long before they reached the station but the police constable went in with her. There was a train already in and Emma went to get on it.
‘Just a minute, miss! Which train do you want? Where do you live?’
‘Silverbeck. I need to get to Silverbeck station,’ Emma said urgently, afraid the train would leave without her. The constable stopped a porter and asked if it was the right train.
‘Silverbeck? No, it left a good ten minutes since. There’ll be another in about an hour.’
‘An hour!’ Emma gasped.
‘Don’t worry, miss. I know the stationmaster here. His daughter is a friend of my younger sister.’ He took her elbow again and steered her to the stationmaster’s office. He explained that Emma had had a fright and that she wanted the train to Silverbeck. The two men went outside the door, speaking quietly.
‘I reckon he was after more than her purse,’ PC Brownlee said grimly. ‘We’ve had four cases of women being attacked in the last eighteen months, all from other parts of the country. The sergeant thinks there could be more but the women don’t report it in case their husbands blame them.’
The two men came back in. PC Brownlee said, ‘I need to get back to my beat now, miss, but I’m leaving you in safe hands. Mr Hanson is the stationmaster and he’ll see you onto the right train for Silverbeck.’
‘Thank you, I–I canna thank ye enough, Constable,’ Emma said.
‘That sounds like a Scots tongue to me,’ the stationmaster said. ‘We had some boxes to deliver to Moorend Farm at Silverbeck for a Scotsman about three weeks ago. Would that be a relation of yours, miss?’
‘My husband arranged for two chests to be delivered. His name is William Sinclair.’
The stationmaster nodded. ‘That’s the name. Generous he was, even though they say Scotsmen are tight with their brass. She’ll be all right with me, Constable.’
‘She’s still shaking. She had a nasty shock,’ PC Brownlee said as they went outside together. ‘She’d never been in a town before. She was completely lost, poor lass.’
‘I’ll give her a cup of tea and see she gets the right train.’
When the stationmaster returned, he rinsed a pint pot in a bowl of scummy water and dried it on a grey-looking cloth. He lifted an enamel teapot from the rib in front of a small fire and poured the black liquid.
‘There, miss, I’ll stir in plenty of sugar. Sweet tea’s good for shock and it’ll warm you. Let me shake some of the rain off your shawl. I hope you don’t get a chill by the time you get home tonight. You drink up while I see to this train that’s coming in.’
Emma’s teeth chattered against the thick pot. The stewed tea tasted horrible but she drank it. Thank goodness William would not have missed her yet. He and Cliff had worked until dark every night since they arrived at Moorend. The cows would be waiting for her to milk them though, and Jamie would be starving. Poor Polly, she hoped the girl was managing.
True to his word, the stationmaster saw her onto the train to Silverbeck in a carriage with two other women. He seemed to know one of them.
‘This young woman is a stranger to these parts. Will you tell her when the train is approaching Silverbeck station, Mrs Armstrong?’
The woman promised she would but Emma clutched her basket and sat on the edge of her seat and offered a silent prayer of thanks when at last she stood on the Silverbeck platform again. It was raining hard now but she clutched her shawl tighter and set off as fast as she could along the deserted lane towards the main road between Silverbeck and Moorend Farm. She had almost reached the road when she saw a man heading up the lane towards the station. She slowed nervously but common sense told her few men would notice her, even less follow her. Still her insides churned with nerves as she hurried on, her eyes fixed on the ground.
‘Emmie! Emmie …’ The man was running towards her now. ‘Oh, thank God you’re back.’ He pulled her into his arms.
‘William? Oh, William, it is you,’ she almost sobbed with relief.
‘Of course it’s me, my love. Who else could it be? Thank God you’ve come back,’ he said fervently and hugged her tighter to his chest. ‘You’re soaking, Emmie,’ he added with tender concern. ‘I must get you home and into some dry clothes before you catch a chill.’
He took her cold face in his hands and kissed her lips. His mouth was warm and soft and lingered. Emma was surprised. She knew he never showed emotion in public, even though there was nobody to see them.
‘You’re shivering, my wee Emmie.’ He peeled off his jacket and insisted she put it on in place of her shawl. ‘I’ll carry your basket.’
‘But I’m wet already, William, and you will be soaked to the skin before we get home.’
‘Home,’ he echoed softly. ‘Dearest Emmie, I thought you’d left me and gone back to your family.’
Emma stopped and stared up at him.
‘I’d never leave you, William! You are my family now, you and Jamie.’
‘Are we, Emmie? I couldn’t blame you if you had gone. All you’ve had is hard work, but I do love you, Emmie. I know now no place would be home unless we were in it together.’
‘Oh William, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.’ His arm tightened around her shoulders and they hurried through the rain together. ‘There’s a lot more things I want to say to you, Emmie, as soon as you’re warm and dry again.’
‘I shall have to change before I milk the cows.’
‘I’ve milked the cows and put them back in their field. Polly gave Jamie some warm milk with a spoon. I er … I’m afraid I upset her. I was worried when you weren’t at home, Emmie, and I bit her head off. I didn’t mean to upset her. She thinks the world of you and Jamie.’
‘I’m sure she’ll forgive you,’ Emma said. ‘I promised to be home to feed Jamie and milk the cows.’
As they walked, she told him what had happened and how frightened she had been. He stopped and held her tightly in his arms again.
‘Thank God the policeman came along when he did.’
‘I heard him tell the stationmaster he thought the man wanted more than my purse, but I had nothing else, no jewellery or anything.’
William looked tenderly down at her. She was still his innocent, modest Emma.
‘Dearest Emmie. I’m glad you’re m
y wife. You’re a very pretty woman, even though you don’t seem to realize that. I can’t blame any man for wanting you but I’d like to kill the man who frightened you so badly.’
Polly greeted them with relief as soon as they entered the kitchen.
‘Oh, Mrs Sinclair, I’m glad you’re back. I knew you’d be soaked walking from the station. I brought one of the stone pigs from the cellar. I’ve washed the dust off. The kettle’s boiling. Shall I fill it to warm your clothes? I don’t know how we’ll manage if you’ve caught a chill.’
‘Thank you, Polly. You’re very thoughtful.’
‘You go on up and change, Emmie, I’ll bring the hot water bottle up.’
‘But you’re wet too because I had your jacket.’
‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be changed in no time.’
Even as he spoke, he unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it over his head. Polly gasped at the sight of her master stripped to the waist. He realized she didn’t know he and Cliff did the same every evening and washed under the pump outside when they had been hot and dusty. He grinned and reached for the kitchen towel, rubbing his hair until it sprang into dark curls and then drying his neck and shoulders. He went to the kitchen door and stood at the top of the steps to aim his shirt and the towel expertly towards the wash tub.
‘Thanks, Polly, I’ll take this up to your mistress.’
He was about to lift the stone hot water bottle but Polly yelled, ‘No! No, ’tis hot. I’ll wrap it in a towel or else it’ll burn you.’ She crossed to the dresser and brought out a clean towel and wrapped it round the bottle. William took it from her.
‘You’re a good lassie, Polly. I’m sorry I was impatient earlier.’ He smiled at her, unaware how charming that smile could be now that he was happy again.
Emma stepped out of her best woollen skirt and carefully hung it to dry, hoping she would be able to brush off the mud later. Everything else would go to the washtub. Shivering, she peeled off her blouse. She hadn’t heard William enter the bedroom in his stockings. He rolled the hot water bottle into the bed and wrapped her nightgown round it, then wrapped the warm towel around her, gently rubbing her back and shoulders.
‘Oh, that’s lovely and warm,’ she said.
He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. He pushed aside her petticoat and pantaloons. Emma gasped and blushed.
‘Step out of them, Emmie,’ William said softly against her ear but without waiting he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the big bed. He set aside the hot bottle and her nightgown and laid her on the warm mattress.
‘That’s wonderfully warm,’ Emma said but her cheeks burned as William smiled down at her, taking in her nakedness. His blue eyes sparkled as he stepped out of his own damp trousers and jumped in beside her, moving the hot bottle and nightdress to the floor.
‘I will warm you better than any hot bottle, Emmie,’ he whispered, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close so that every part of their bodies were skin to naked skin. ‘I love you, Emmie, and you’re even more desirable than you were the night we spent together on the hill. I knew then you were as innocent and pure as the first rose of summer.’
‘I didn’t know I loved you, William, but I do.’
‘Then nothing can separate us. We shall spend the rest of our lives together. I shall make you happy, Emmie.’
He talked softly but his hands were doing magical things, moving over her body, warming and thrilling every part of her, arousing a greater joy than she had ever dreamed of. She turned into his embrace, her mouth seeking his as they found again the passionate rapture of their first loving – and so much more.
By the same author
Another Home, Another Love
Darkest before the Dawn
Beyond Reason
© Gwen Kirkwood
First published in Great Britain 2015
ISBN 978 0 7198 1928 5 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1929 2 (mobi)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1930 8 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1705 2 (print)
Robert Hale Limited
Clerkenwell House
Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.halebooks.com
The right of Gwen Kirkwood to be identified as
author of this work has been asserted by her
in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and
Patents Act 1988
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