by Mary Nichols
Her agitation was calmed as they came to a wide expanse of reed beds and water whose ripples reflected the rays of the sun. ‘Black Fen,’ she said. ‘There were many more fens like this before the fields were drained. It was a huge undertaking and in some areas is still going on, with men digging ditches and emptying the water from the fens into them. That is why the fields are divided by dykes, not hedges. The re claimed land is very fertile.’
‘But people still live by the water?’
‘Yes, shooting ducks, gathering reeds and sedge for thatching and baskets, catching eels, which are sent to the London markets in barrels. In winter the fen floods the surrounding land and in spring when the water drains away we have excellent pasturage.’ She dismounted at the water’s edge and pointed to a tiny cottage on the edge of the lake that looked as if it were about to tumble in, so lopsided was it. Beside it was a landing stage where a rowing boat was moored. ‘A ferryman lives there. He will take you wherever you want to go.’
He jumped down to stand beside her. ‘Perhaps one day I will hire a boat to explore the water and bag a few ducks.’
‘You mean to stay a while, then?’
‘Yes, I think so. My business is like to take longer than I thought.’
‘This is a rather remote place for a city gentleman to have business,’ she said.
‘It is not business in that sense,’ he said, wondering whether to tell her why he had come to Highbeck, but they were getting along so well, he did not want to introduce a discordant note. He was learning more about her all the time; the more he was with her, the less he could believe she would consort with criminals. ‘It is more of a personal nature…’
‘I am sorry, Captain, I did not mean to pry,’ she explained hurriedly. ‘I am forever asking questions. Since the accident, I have been reading all I can about Highbeck and the Manor, about the artistic community in London, the news of what is happening abroad, quizzing everyone who comes to call, anything to help me to remember and understand who I am. Please forgive me.’
‘My dear lady, there is nothing to forgive.’ He was saved from going on because she was turning to remount and he hurried forward to bend and offer his clasped hands, lifting her easily into the saddle when she put her foot into them. She picked up the reins and settled herself while he mounted his stallion, then they proceeded in silence until they reached the village again, but it was a companionable silence neither seemed inclined to break.
As they were passing the church, he wondered if there was anything to be learned there. ‘Shall we go inside?’ he suggested.
They tethered their horses and went into the cool interior of the church. Although not large, it was a beautiful building. They knelt to genuflect and then wandered about, reading the names on the memorials, many of them of the Hardwick family. ‘We go back a long way in the village,’ she said, pointing to a plaque commemorating Sir Charles Hardwick, who died aged forty-six in 1645. ‘I wonder if he fought in the war between King and Parliament. Perhaps he died in battle.’
‘Perhaps. Many did,’ he said. ‘But here is another Sir Charles. This one lived from 1627 to 1676. And yet another. It seems that every eldest son was Charles. No, I am in error, for here is a Sir Robert. He was born in 1660 and died in 1720.’
‘I believe he was my grandfather.’
There were others, younger sons, sisters and daughters and they spent some time studying the inscriptions and figuring out who was related to whom before leaving and resuming their ride.
At the cross roads by the inn, she chose another way to return to the Manor. ‘Then you will have seen all there is to see,’ she told him. ‘Another day you might like to ride further afield to Downham Market or Ely, which are the nearest towns. Or there is Lynn and Wisbech, both busy ports, but a little further off. You see, we are not so isolated as people from the great metropolis believe.’
He laughed. ‘You are a great advocate for the area, Mrs Macdonald. I saw a little of Ely as we passed through on our way here. The cathedral looks worth a visit.’
‘Indeed it is.’
‘I shall endeavour to visit all the places you spoke of while I am here and if you would be my guide, I shall enjoy it all the more.’ Once again he surprised himself that he still knew how to pay a compliment to a pretty woman.
She turned to look at him, unaccountably pleased by the flattery. He was undoubtedly still mourning the loss of his wife—it showed in the way he spoke of her and the way his eyes clouded at unspoken memories—but in spite of that he knew how to make himself agreeable. Was he perhaps the person Widow Twitch meant when she spoke about someone being sent to help her? But why should he? His own business would surely be more important to him. No, she decided, anyone helping her to regain her memory would be someone known to her, who knew her and could en lighten her about herself, someone who also knew her husband. Perhaps Duncan himself. If only he would come! Until he did, she found it difficult to believe she was a married woman. Why did she still feel so fearful? A tight knot of apprehension lodged itself in her stomach. Had she taken more note of Widow Twitch’s words than was healthy? Whom should she trust?
In the space of a quarter of a mile, the countryside had changed. Away from the water were lanes with hedges of hawthorn, bramble, elder and climbing convolvulus, along side fertile fields and meadows where cows grazed. There was even a small copse of trees. They passed a farm house and some tiny cottages. She pointed to one standing a little apart from the others. Chickens and pigs rooted in the small yard and a cat sunned itself on a low wall. ‘Widow Twitch lives there,’ she said, pointing with her crop. ‘She is the local wise woman.’
‘And have you consulted her?’
‘Yes, but she spoke in riddles. She talked about a search for treasure.’ She paused suddenly. ‘Oh, that is not what you are searching for, is it?’
He laughed. ‘No, I have not been lured here by the prospect of riches. Tell me, what treasure did she mean?’
‘I have no idea, but people are always visiting the area looking for King John’s lost gold. She surely did not mean that? And what would it have to do with me?’
‘I have no idea. As you say, a riddle. What else did she say?’
‘She talked of trials to come and a death. I found it all very disturbing,’ she confided.
‘Take no note of it. I am not inclined to believe anyone can look into the future. If they did, we should all be better off, do you not think? We could avoid the pitfalls life throws at us and embrace only the good things.’
‘Perhaps she was talking about something that had already happened. The death of that man on the coach, perhaps.’
‘Perhaps. Have you started to remember anything of him at all?’
‘No. And Aunt Harriet definitely did not know him. She has a strong stomach and peeked at him when he was laid out for burial. Aunt Matilda is the more squeamish of the two and would not look.’
‘You are very fond of your aunts, are you not?’
‘Indeed, yes. Since the accident I have come to know and love them all over again and am quite certain I always did. It is not Highbeck or Blackfen Manor that frightens me.’
‘But you are frightened?’
‘Yes, a little, but I think it is only of the unknown.’
‘That may be said of everyone. Perhaps that is why wise women are so much in demand,’ he commented drily.
‘Yes, I suppose I was very silly to go to her.’ She sighed.
They were clattering over the draw bridge into the courtyard. ‘Will you come in and take refreshment?’ she asked, as a groom hurried forwards to take her reins and help her dismount.
‘Thank you.’ He jumped down, threw his reins to the groom and followed her indoors.
They found the Misses Hardwick in a small parlour where one was sewing and the other reading. They rose to greet him, bade him take a seat and ordered refreshments to be brought.
‘Did you enjoy your ride, Captain?’ Matilda asked him.
‘Yes, indeed. We have explored the village, looked upon the fen, investigated the church and talked of how people about here make their living, including…’ He paused to turn to Amy. ‘What was the wise woman’s name?’
‘Widow Twitch,’ she said.
‘Oh, she is harmless enough,’ Harriet said as the refreshments arrived and she set about making tea and handing out little almond and cherry cakes. ‘There are some who believe every word she says, but it is my contention she fabricates most of it. Every young girl would like to believe a rich handsome man is coming to carry her away and every young man dreams of finding a pot of gold. It is nonsense, of course.’
He smiled and looked at Amy, who flushed a becoming pink. ‘We came to the same conclusion, did we not, Mrs Macdonald?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, looking from Harriet to Matilda, who was shaking her head imperceptibly. It was Aunt Matilda who had suggested calling on the old lady and Amy supposed she did not want to be scolded for it.
‘I wonder if you can tell me if there is a house to let hereabouts,’ James said, addressing Miss Hardwick. ‘You see, I think my business may take longer than I thought and it would be more convenient to have my own establishment. It need not be very large, I do not intend to entertain on a grand scale and I have only one servant at present.’ How much of this idea was a conviction that the answer to the riddle lay in Highbeck and how much to a reluctance to go back to his own empty home, he was not prepared to speculate.
‘One cannot run a house with one servant,’ Miss Matilda put in.
He acknowledged this with a slight bow. ‘I shall take on more as necessary.’
Matilda looked at Harriet. ‘Harriet, what about the Lodge?’
Her sister looked thoughtful for a moment, then brightened. ‘Do you know, I think that is a capital notion. If it is occupied, it might keep Cousin Gerald off our backs.’ She turned to James. ‘Our cousin has been trying to persuade us to move out of here into the Lodge. He calls it the dower house.’
‘He may call it what he likes,’ Matilda said hotly. ‘We are not dowagers and he cannot treat us as if we were. He has no right to dictate to us. The Manor is ours unentailed, whatever he might think or say.’
‘Now, now, Tilly,’ her sister admonished. ‘The Captain does not want to hear of our troubles.’
That they had troubles was news to Amy. She had met Sir Gerald Hardwick once, soon after the accident. He called to see how she did, which she thought very civil of him, but he had had no patience with her loss of memory and thought browbeating her would restore it in no time. Aunt Harriet had sent him on his way, saying, ‘Amy will make a full recovery, no doubt of it, so you may take your rapacious self back to Ely.’ Amy had thought that was somewhat harsh, but her aunt said he deserved it, a statement she had been obliged to accept, knowing nothing of what had gone before.
James bowed. ‘I would not wish to cause dissent between you and your relation,’ he said. ‘I can look else where.’
‘Indeed you will not,’ Harriet told him. ‘You will be doing us a good turn if you move into the house.’
‘Then I accept your kind offer. If there is anything I can do to be of assistance, then please tell me.’ He looked from one to the other, wondering if they might satisfy his curiosity, but all the reply he received was a chorused, ‘Thank you.’
‘You should see the house first,’ Matilda said. ‘It may not be to your liking. Amy will take you, it is but a stone’s throw away.’
‘Of course,’ Amy said. ‘Shall we go now? Your horse will be looked after until we return.’
He agreed and waited while she hurried up to her room to change out of her habit into something more suitable for walking.
‘I collect you have not told Amy the real reason for your visit?’ Harriet said, as soon as she was out of earshot.
‘No, she has accepted me as a friend of the family. I do not want to spoil that. If you think I should…’
‘No, no,’ Harriet said quickly. ‘You must work in your own way. I only asked so that we might know how to go on. It is important that we are in accord.’ She paused before going on. ‘Have you learned anything today?’
‘Very little. She is, I believe, coming to remember her child hood here and that is a start, but any questions about her life in London draw a blank. I think something must have happened there before she ever boarded that coach.’
‘Our view exactly,’ Matilda said. ‘But we are fearful of what might happen if she were to return there. We have discouraged her from attempting it.’
‘I think you are right. Until we know the truth of it ourselves, she is best here being looked after by your good selves.’
‘How are we to find out? We never travel to London.’
‘I shall send my man back to the capital to fetch things I need. We rode here, not expecting to stay above a day or two, and I have but one change of clothes. I shall instruct him, while he is there, to try and find out who this Mr Billings was and what happened at the house. And if there is any news of Mr Macdonald.’
‘He is trustworthy?’
‘I would trust him with my life, madam. And he knows how to keep his tongue between his teeth. You need have no fear.’
‘Good.’ She paused as foot steps sounded on the stairs. ‘Here comes Amy. I think we will not say anything about your man for the moment.’
‘Very well.’
He rose to his feet as Amy came into the room, dressed in a cool muslin gown with a light shawl thrown about her shoulders. Her cottager hat was tied on with a ribbon beneath her chin. ‘I am ready,’ she said.
They set off on foot, crossing the draw bridge and turning away from the drive and the main entrance to go across a green sward and taking a path through a small copse. ‘The trees were planted by one of my ancestors to protect the Manor from the prevailing east wind,’ she told him. ‘It can go right through you in the winter.’
‘That I can imagine,’ he said with a laugh. ‘There is very little between here and the Arctic to stop it.’
‘Perhaps that is why fen folk are so hardy,’ she said. ‘This path leads to a back entrance to the grounds, which is where the Lodge stands. See, there it is.’ They had come out of the trees and she pointed to a squat red-brick house, two storeys high, with a door in the centre of the façade and windows either side. It was neatly thatched. Beyond it were tall gates set in the wall surrounding the estate, on the other side of which was a lane. ‘It guards the Manor, just as the tower guards it on the other side. I am sure it was intended to with stand a siege.’
‘Has there ever been a siege?’ he asked.
‘I do not know. Perhaps in the past there might have been, perhaps in the struggle between King Charles and Parliament.’
‘This was strong Cromwell country, I believe.’
‘Yes, but I have been told the Hardwicks were loyal to the king.’ She took the key Harriet had given her from her pocket and unlocked the front door.
‘Ah, then they would need strong defences.’
They stepped inside and looked about them. They were in a small hall with doors to right and left and an oak staircase going up from the middle. ‘It is the first time I have been in here since the accident,’ she said. ‘It smells musty from being shut up and no one living here. If we open the windows, I am sure it will clear it.’
‘How long has it been standing empty?’
‘I do not know, nor why. Shall we explore?’
They wandered from room to room, flinging open windows just like a young couple looking for a first home, Amy thought, and smiled at her fancies. She was married and had a home, even if she could remember neither husband nor house. How did Duncan compare with the man who walked beside her? Was he as hand some, as for bearing, as amiable? Did he make her laugh? Realising her escort was speaking, she shook her foolish thoughts from her. ‘I beg your pardon, I was daydreaming.’
‘Remembering?’
‘No, wishing I could. What was it you said?’
‘I was saying I would need furniture. There is very little here.’
‘Yes, I had not realised that. No doubt my aunts thought it unwise to leave sofas and soft furnishings in place for fear of them going mouldy. I am sure it can be remedied.’
‘Of course. A visit to the shops to buy what I need will soon have it comfortable.’
What hard furniture there was, like a few tables and chairs, cup boards and shelves, was in good condition, though thick with dust. ‘I think a cleaning woman must be your first concern,’ she said, running her finger along the banister as they made their way upstairs. ‘I have no doubt Aunt Harriet will know of someone.’
There were five rooms on the upper floor, all half-furnished. They looked in each and he decided which one he would take and which Sam could have. ‘I shall need a cook-house keeper to live in,’ he said. ‘But cleaning and laundry women can come in daily.’
She went to the window of the main bedroom and flung it open. ‘Come and see,’ she said. ‘The view from here is better than I imagined it would be.’
The window was not large and they stood very close together, so close she could feel his warmth. It gave her a feeling of being protected, as if he would always stand at her side and keep her safe. It was a strange sensation and she came to the conclusion she was remembering that bareback ride cradled in his arms. Until that moment, she had been feeling cold and alone. Now, how did she know that? Was she truly remembering or simply making things up to suit herself?
‘I can see the lane leading to the Manor, and a glimpse of the chimneys above the trees,’ he said. ‘And the tower on the far side. I suppose, given a siege, it would be possible to signal from here to there.’
‘But we are not preparing for a siege, are we?’ she said, laughing to cover her embarrassment. He had put his hand on the wall on the other side of her in order to lean out and she was very conscious that it was only inches from her shoulders. He had only to drop his arm casually and he would have her in his embrace and that was followed by the thought that she might enjoy it. She shook herself. She was a married woman and should not be indulging in such fancies.