He wondered momentarily why he was here, but then remembering the events of the previous day, hoped that Kenneth did not want him to deliver the letters today. If he were to survive the winter, he had to spend the day putting a roof over him.
He slowly uncurled. The pain of stretching was immense as he had tensed himself against the cold, even as he slept, and allowed his muscles to stiffen. He bent and stretched, turned and pivoted, until most of his muscles allowed movement. His feet felt more like stones, giving no sensation of life as he forced himself forward.
As the day warmed, he gradually felt the strength returning to his body. He was hungry but ignored the discomfort and set to work building himself a shelter. The barn was blackened from the fire and would take an age to clean and to disperse the smell of burning. Using an outside wall of the old place and the garden wall which ran some seven feet away, he thought a reasonable shelter could be made within the space of the short day.
First he needed tools and he went to ask Mary for the loan of a spade and axe. She heard his story with tight lips, not pretending to approve but concerned enough to help him find himself a home.
‘There’s a couple of old woollen blankets when you’ve finished building,’ she promised. ‘And a kettle that’s more mending than kettle that will do you for a start. And here’s a packet of cheese and a small loaf – I expect you’ll find hunger makes the work harder.’
He thanked her, then set about his work, laboriously chopping down trees and searching the beach for driftwood. Once he had covered in the space between the barn and the boundary wall, and built a rough wall to one side, he waterproofed the top with turves patiently dug from the field nearby.
At midday, when he had stopped to eat, and drink some water from the spring close by, he heard footsteps approaching.
‘Hey,’ Dan called. ‘Want an extra pair of hands? Finished the fishing and Mam has gone with Dad to sell it. I can spare you an hour or two.’
Companionably the two young men worked to make the small shelter safe from the worst weather, and by the time darkness fell a few hours later, Barrass had a home. They had built up the walls with stones robbed from the old barn, and had even begun to build a hearth and chimney. Soon, unless someone came to throw him off the land, he would be comfortably set up for the winter.
When Dan had gone, Barrass sat contemplating his life and wondering what to do next. It was only then that he remembered Ben Gammon’s message, a clue to the whereabouts of his father. It had been the second blow that day to be told that Kenneth no longer needed his assistance, and that, on top of the news of Violet’s condition, had put it out of his mind. It was too late, and he was too tired to even think of the long walk into Swansea to meet Ben and learn more. He curled himself up in the blankets, and slept.
Next morning he woke with none of the discomfort of the day before, and stepping out from the low building, he was pleased to greet his first visitor.
‘Dan!’
‘Mam insisted I brought you some food,’ Dan said. ‘She knows we would be in difficulties if you hadn’t got the boat for us, and she’s grateful.’ He handed Barrass a cloth bag from which the appetizing smell of freshly cooked girdle scones came. They were still hot and dripping with honey. Barrass stood and ate them there and then, licking his lips like a child, while Dan went back to the boat.
He had a second visitor that morning – a small boy, shabbily dressed in thick, oversized boots tied with string and a waistcoat over his thin, torn shirt. He told Barrass he was to go and see Markus – and at once.
* * *
The meeting at Ddole House, which began with Dorothy’s announcement of a Christmas party, was delayed by an hour. William had arranged the meeting to discuss future business plans with Edwin Prince, John Maddern and Markus. John was a late arrival, having just stepped out of the coach from London, and ridden from Swansea on a hired horse.
He was travel-weary and dishevelled, but he at once asked for Penelope and, defying William’s request for urgency, stopped for a few moments to talk to her. He extracted a promise of a walk around the garden before luncheon, then went to join the others.
They discussed the arrangements for the cargoes expected the following evening, and the storing of them in the room below Edwin’s piggeries.
‘It’s inconvenient, Kenneth being so ill. Damned unfortunate him being hit by a thief,’ William grumbled, as if the attack were the fault of the sufferer.
Edwin nodded agreement, his head down in case the sharp eyes of his host saw the guilt in them.
‘It has meant the letter of instruction has not yet been sent,’ William explained.
‘Is there no one else we can ask to deliver it?’ John asked.
‘I did think of that Barrass fellow,’ William mused. ‘He has made a big fuss about not becoming involved, yet helped to prove that we were all innocent – or—’ he added amid laughter, ‘—or at least not so clearly involved! Some nonsense about keeping a good name for when he becomes a King’s Messenger. What does he think Kenneth does to earn the fat bank balance he has, pick stones for the local farmers in his spare time? If the letters he handles were counted there would be a serious shortfall, and no mistake! Our self-righteous and pompous Kenneth is not above a little dishonesty to swell his bank balance, whatever stories he fills the boy’s head with!’
‘With his letter-carrying, our deliveries and Betson-the-Flowers he certainly has a very busy life!’ Markus said, looking from one to the other as if his eyes were not sightless.
‘We could trick Barrass into helping us. Then, when he complains, we’ll promise not to tell Daniels if he helps us again,’ William said.
‘That usually works,’ Markus agreed, stroking his smooth check in a worried gesture, ‘but Barrass is not greedy, and he has no vices that I’ve heard about.’
‘I know of one to my cost,’ Edwin said quietly, and he told his friends about the disappointment in his plans to marry Violet, whose pregnancy was blamed on Barrass. Their reaction was thought-provoking.
Markus laughed again, turning in the direction of the speaker unerringly, and said it was Edwin’s own fault for being too hesitant.
John said it at least proved the girl was capable of giving him a child, and that was never certain.
William’s response was kinder.
‘I have never wanted any other woman but Dorothy,’ he said. ‘I have no understanding of men who have to prove their irresistibility by finding women who succumb to their attractions and their money. It has always been sufficient for me that I won the love of one woman. I suspect, Edwin, that you are not clear of guilt, and it’s only the impossibility of blatant proof of your behaviour – such as a woman cannot hide – that prevented her from feeling the same distaste that you are feeling.’
‘Damn it, he’s right,’ Markus said. ‘If she has done no worse than you, why not wed her anyway?’ He laughed again. ‘A man can never be sure the child he gives home and love to is his own. What difference that you know the truth from the start?’
‘I confess my first instinct, when I was told of her – condition, was to go and seek comfort with Betson-the-Flowers,’ Edwin said. He was looking very thoughtful as the subject was further discussed, but jerked out of his reverie when John spoke.
‘I have a strong premonition that Barrass is not to be trusted in any way, not only with a pretty woman,’ he said. ‘I never feel easy about a man who runs with the hare and the hounds. I cannot understand fully what he and Arthur were doing on the beach the night Markus’s tubs were taken by the soldiers.’
‘He does say quite openly that he disapproves of the trade, refusing to see how poor the village would be without the money it brings them all. How does he think they feed their families?’ William said.
‘He is no fool, yet refuses to see how impossible it would be for the cottagers to survive and bring up a houseful of children without the extra money the trade brings them? For a couple of hours’ work they can add to
their income almost as much as they earn from a long hard day’s labour,’ Markus agreed thoughtfully.
‘He refuses to understand. He has this addiction to honesty that distorts everything in his mind. Yet,’ John went on slowly, ‘he willingly assisted Olwen in that most dangerous plan of gathering the harvest of tubs in the belief that it would save the men imprisoned. How can he be so adamant on one side, yet turn easily to the other?’
After a long discussion, they decided to spread the word that Barrass was to be considered an enemy and treated accordingly.
‘We will help him with food, and make sure he does not freeze to death this coming winter,’ William said. ‘I cannot condone his being harmed.’
‘Of course, but he must never work in the alehouse again, and if Olwen continues to befriend him, then she too must be watched and treated with caution.‘
‘I will have a word with Spider,’ John promised.
As the meeting ended, John went to find Penelope, and Edwin spoke to William again about Violet’s disgrace.
‘I will consider what you have said, William,’ he said as they walked towards the stable for his mount. ‘It would be a mistake to abandon the idea of marrying Violet for I suspect that once she was under my roof I would have little desire to visit the cottage of Betson-the-Flowers again, nor she to even think of the likes of Barrass!’
* * *
Barrass went down the cliff path to the isolated and gloomy house where Markus lived. The door was opened to his knock by a small servant girl in muslin apron and cap over a black, full-length dress that swamped her thin body, the sleeves falling over her red hands, the hem threatening to trip her up. When he gave his name, she stepped back to allow him to enter and, holding the offending skirt high above her trim ankles, led him to Markus.
The day was bright, with a weak sun showing in a watery blue sky, but inside the house all was dark. Being blind, it seemed that Markus needed no brightness and begrudged it others. Only the fire burning in the great hearth offered any welcome, and it was towards it that Barrass stepped.
The man he had come to see was sitting in a large armchair half hidden from him. The man’s head bobbed forward and faced him without rising.
‘I have a letter for you to deliver,’ Markus said, appearing to stare into Barrass’s eyes, although the boy had not said a word.
‘Begging your pardon, but it’s Kenneth you want. I only carried the letters for a while after he was hit by thieves.’
‘This one is urgent and needs to be carried at once. Will you do it? There is sixpence for you if you do.’
Sixpence would pay his weekly allotment to Mrs Powell for the boat, he thought at once, and he nodded, then, remembering that the man could not see, said,
‘Yes, thank you, sir. I’ll see it gets to its destination without delay.’
‘Best that you do, or I’ll have to remind William Ddole that the old barn needs pulling down to make way for more corn growing,’ the man said with apparent politeness.
‘It will be seen to at once,’ Barrass said.
He stepped forward to take the proffered letter, and felt his hand grabbed. Pulled towards the seated man, bent over trying to retain his balance, Barrass listened while Markus reiterated his warning, staring up with those sightless eyes and a dangerous smile on his face.
Markus looked thoughtful as Barrass left the room. He wondered if the message would reach its destination without its contents being disclosed to the Keeper of the Peace.
* * *
Once Barrass was out of the room, even the pretty ankles of the servant girl could not delay him. He ran as fast as he could down the long drive to the narrow track, not even looking to see where he needed to go to deliver the letter until he was too breathless to run any further. Then he saw with dismay that it was addressed to Pitcher – and he had forgotten to ask for his sixpence!
* * *
Kenneth was still suffering headaches, and failing to find where Barrass had gone, set out on the two-day journey. He asked Enyd to find out from Olwen where the boy had got to, but warned Enyd not to go to see Barrass herself. He did not want a baby to add to the difficulty of finding his daughter a husband!
* * *
Enyd decided that Violet’s disgrace might be something she could benefit from. Perhaps Pansy and Daisy were right and she was capable of catching the attention of someone better than Dan. Instead of calling at Ddole House to talk to Olwen, she went to Edwin’s house where the new building work was almost complete. On being told that he was not at home, she pushed confidently past the servant and walked in.
She went through the older part of the house and looked at the new extensions. While she sipped an ale brought by the servant girl, she looked around her, imagining how she would furnish the place should she be given the chance. She did not find herself particularly drawn to Edwin, but a marriage to him, one of the wealthiest of the local farmers, was worth considering. He was handsome enough and she would have plenty of time to decide whether she could happily become his wife. With Violet shamed and abandoned by him, now was the time to get under his guard, while he was vulnerable and hurt.
She sat down and spread her skirts becomingly about her, pulling at her hair and retying her ribbons to make as pretty a picture as she was able.
* * *
As he rode home, Edwin contemplated what his friends had said with regard to his feelings towards Violet, and decided to go and see her to discuss reviving the plans for them to wed. Being told he had a visitor, and seeing Enyd waiting, he was irritated at the delay.
He did not listen to her first remark, but assumed that due to her father’s sickness, and Barrass’s absence, she had called for the letters. He thrust them at her, politely thanked her, and ushered her out before she could find her gloves. Humiliated and angry, Enyd walked back home at a rate that had her breathless.
On the cliffs she paused and, seeing Mary washing clothes in a barrel by banging them with the end of a thick stick, she went to talk to her.
‘Mary, I was passing and called to see if you’ve heard the news about Violet. What a shock it must have been for “Lady” Emma to find her dear daughter had succumbed to the advances of a common orphan.’
‘I’m afraid that isn’t the end of Barrass’s troubles,’ Mary said, thankfully resting from the steady thump-thump of the washing dolly. ‘Shall we have a mug of tea while I tell you about it?’
While they sat near the fire and drank the warming tea, Mary explained to Enyd the distrust felt by the local men regarding any involvement by Barrass in the smuggling scene.
‘Will this mean that Barrass can’t help my father any more?’ Enyd asked. ‘He is still far from well and there are days when he is glad of a helping hand.’
‘I think for a while people will be afraid to be seen talking to him. Messages have gone around, warning people that he is not to be trusted, and it will be a long time before things will change for him.’
‘I think the men are jealous of his good appearance,’ Enyd said hesitantly, ‘and the women glad of it! I fear there will be more announcements soon, and the population of the village will increase rapidly, unless he finds a wife and remains true to her’
‘There is another girl in trouble?’
‘Unless I’m mistaken, Carrie Rees, the servant at Ddole House, will be wearing more layers of loose clothing soon in an effort to delay the inevitable request for her to leave.’
‘Surely not Barrass?’
Enyd nodded affirmation.
Dan and Spider walked up the path from the beach as Enyd stood to leave, and Dan offered to walk with her. He was taller than her by a head, and a pleasing companion. She was still smarting at her curt dismissal by Edwin Prince, and because of it she took his arm and smiled her pleasure at his invitation.
‘Will you come with me to the Interludes?’ he asked as they walked across the wet, prostrate winter grass.
She hesitated for a moment, thinking regretfully of her brief h
ope of interesting Edwin in her acquaintance, but then she smiled and nodded.
‘Yes, Dan. I would like that.’
Dan stopped and turned her towards him, his head lowered in the expectation of a kiss. She again hesitated and he allowed her time to move away without too much embarrassment. The movement she finally made was slight, but Dan read in it her consent, so held her tightly in his arms and kissed her. She responded more strongly than he expected and his heart began to race with the hope that she had at last accepted his love. He kissed her again more firmly, but still half afraid of offending her, with the result that the kiss was without much skill, and unsatisfactory to them both. They walked on in silence.
They had not gone far, each with an arm about the other, when the sound of a galloping horse approaching made them stop again. Dan looked towards the sound, then, with a shout, grabbed Enyd and fell into the bushes with her. They were just in time to escape from the hooves and allow the horse carrying Dorothy Ddole to race over the spot where they had been standing.
Enyd had screamed with fright, and now she groaned with the pain of the thorns sticking into her flesh. Dan was contrite.
‘I’m sorry, Enyd,’ he said, pulling her free with gentle concern. ‘I should have pulled you on top of me and protected you from the thorns, but there was so little time. All I could think about was you being trampled. Come, we’ll go back to Mam and she’ll make you comfortable.’
‘No, I want to go home. There isn’t an inch of me that isn’t screaming with agony.’
‘Then I’ll carry you.’ He scooped the sobbing girl up in his deceptively strong arms and walked down the path, his face set with anger. How could Mistress Ddole ride like that, with such complete disregard for others? He wanted to run after her and tell her what she had done – injured Enyd, and made him feel ashamed for not being able to prevent it. But he knew that talking to such as the Ddoles would be a waste of time. They made the rules to suit themselves and no one would support him if he dared to complain. Walking fast, filled with impotent rage, he carried Enyd back to her home.
Summer’s Last Retreat Page 21