Bitter Inheritance

by Ann Cliff

  ‘Thank you Jeanie, that was most thoughtful. Could you pack me up some candles and two oil lamps? With that, a cheese and some bread I can last for a week or two.’

  After that Marcus was caught up in the familiar routine, learned in childhood. Radfords were progressive farmers and controlled as much as they could of the processes which earned their living. But we can’t predict the weather, Marcus thought grimly as he rode up to the isolated farm. If there was late snow he could be stuck here for weeks.

  Slapestones made his own home look positively urban. Up here, Marcus thought as he looked round, there’s only the sheep for company and a few curlews and grouse. The system involved keeping the lambing ewes together in a paddock near the farmhouse and checking them as often as possible, in case one of them needed help. The Radford shepherds were expert in delivering lambs and ‘mothering them up’ if the ewe was not sure what to do next. There were stone buildings ready for use in very bad weather, or for sick animals.

  Every lamb saved was a victory. All the Radford workers knew that every lamb saved would help to pay their wages. Records were kept so that shepherds could compete with each other in the percentage of lambs reared successfully for each flock. It was years since Marcus had needed to attend ewes himself, but he had a reputation to keep up. His records would be carefully watched by every worker on the estate. After that there was no time for thinking about anything other than sheep. Nights were broken by the need to go round the flock three or four times, and sometimes it was hard to get to sleep again, although Marcus was very tired after the first week. He could hear their incessant bleating, day and night.

  If Marcus’s conscious mind was fully occupied by sheep, at another level he was thinking of Sally. One night in one of his shallow naps he dreamed about her. In the dream he was trying to save her from falling off a precipice, but she was slipping away from him.

  It would have been so pleasant to find some business in Ripon on Thursday and to see Sally and Emma for an hour or so. He desperately wanted to see her again, to wander with Sally and Emma through Ripon’s old streets. Surely it was a modest enough ambition?Living up here on top of the moors made you get back to essentials. Marcus decided the next day that as soon as the lambing was over and he could send a labourer to tend the ewes, he would go to see Sally. But first, he reminded himself, he must go to the wood.

  Snow did not fall but there was rain: constant, bitter, cold rain, driving in on the wind from the North Sea. Marcus spent most of his time damp if not wet, and always had clothes drying before the fire. He imagined that down in Thorpe Sally would be working in the same weather. Her sheep would be lambing too and the cows would be cold and miserable in the fields. She’d be keeping them in the shed for most of the time, and struggling in the mud. Winter was exhausting for everybody on the land.

  A few Slapestones lambs were lost, chilled by the rain before they could be warmed by their mother’s milk. A few were taken by foxes. Some of the weaker ones were bedded down with their mothers in the barns and needed extra attention to ensure their survival.

  No wonder there’s no family at Slapestones, Marcus said to himself. Father could never get any of the men to live here permanently. The climate up here is twice as bad as it is lower down the hill. The constant rain was depressing and Marcus found himself descending into a settled gloom. Catching sight of himself in a mirror one day he was shocked by the stern, black-bearded stranger looking back at him.

  It was nearly a month before the young shepherd Daniel came limping back and Marcus could go home. Four weeks of broken sleep, hurried meals and damp depression. The moors with their wide expansive views, so lovely in the summer, shrank in the rain to a few yards of sodden heather. Marcus was glad to leave, to get back to the lower land where spring was softening the harsh winter landscape. ‘I’ll send up another man to help you,’ he said as he rode out of the yard. ‘It’s miserable here by yourself!’

  After two or three days of warmth, good food and sleep, Marcus felt more like himself again. But some of the depression remained: he could not rid himself of the feeling of hopelessness. He found his thoughts always returning to Sally. It was hard to imagine that the Mason feud would ever be settled; it was all too long ago to find out the truth. And even if he did, the truth might not be palatable. After his time on the moor any dark, tragic thing seemed possible. Sally seemed to be forever out of reach.

  Just at that time Marcus had a letter from an old friend who had been working in London and who came back to Kirkby several times a year on holiday. ‘Come over and see me when you can!’ The letter was cheerful, invigorating. It would be good to see Harry again. He was a medical specialist and full of interesting stories and good jokes. And Kirkby was quite close to Foxholes Wood. He could take a ride through the wood, just to confirm to himself that there was nothing left to see.

  A pleasant April day did a little to lighten the mood as Marcus rode down from Colsterdale to Kirkby. Spring had come earlier to Kirkby and the gardens and orchards were in blossom. The air was full of the sound of birds and the sun was warmer, once Marcus dropped below the moor wind.

  It was disappointing to find that Harry was not at home. Marcus settled himself on a garden bench to wait for his friend, planning to ride through the wood on his way home. Kirkby was quiet that day; Marcus could hear sounds of sawing from the carpenter’s shop and the bleating of lambs. There was nobody on the street, not a soul that he could ask about Harry’s whereabouts.

  Hearing the creaking of a horse and trap, Marcus looked out over the garden wall. And there, trotting down the street, was the young horse Jed and his owner, Sally Mason. The red-gold hair was covered by a straw hat, but he’d know that trim little figure anywhere as well as that ungainly young horse, the one that turned her over up on the moor. Marcus saw with a sudden shock that Sally was not alone. Beside her was a handsome, fair young man, talking earnestly and looking at her with a turn of the head that showed great interest.

  Marcus turned away, sick at heart. While he’d been trapped on the moorland, some other man had stepped in. He should have expected it: Sally was too lovely, too vital to be left alone for long. He’d known from the start that there was no one in the world quite like Sally. And now more than ever, it was impossible. Time had taken her away. Why should this girl mean so much to him? Someone else sat beside her now where Marcus should be! He watched hungrily as the trap passed out of sight. For a long time the tall man sat in his friend’s garden. Harry did not appear and eventually when his horse stamped impatiently Marcus pulled himself together, mounted and rode off. He had no heart for anything else; he would go home.

  Marcus couldn’t blame Sally. She had not heard from him for weeks and life has to on. While he was on the sodden moor, Sally had been making new friends. Marcus was surprised at himself. At twenty-eight he had not expected to be so devastated. It wasn’t jealousy so much as utter misery, like a physical pain. The dream of her slipping away came back to him with a new reality.

  Sally had done the rounds with her eggs that day and Simon had come with her for the ride. They both enjoyed the spring weather and Simon planned to make a quick sketch of the Kirkby church, as they passed it on the way back to Thorpe.

  It was not easy, but Sally was keeping the young man at arms’ length without upsetting him too much. She tried not to be alone with him in the house and out in the trap there were plenty of distractions.

  One day when she was making up the fire in the dining-room they’d had a private conversation of the sort she had dreaded.

  ‘I want to talk to you Sally, but there never seems to be a chance.’ The young man’s voice was low and urgent.

  Sally sat down beside him; now for it, she thought. We’d better get it over.

  ‘I told you back in the winter that I love you.’ The grey eyes were clear and honest as they looked at her. ‘And the more I get to know you the deeper it is. Unfortunately I can’t ask you to marry me. My health makes that impossible, it wo
uld be unfair to you. But – can you love me a little, Sally? You are so kind to me. I would be so happy with your love!’ Simon sat back in the chair and waited.

  What can I honestly say? Sally thought furiously. Simon was civilized and cultivated. He was a perfect house guest and most thoughtful. She was fond of Simon; he was far more than the commercial undertaking that Emma had once recommended. But he was not Marcus Radford. That was the problem.

  Sally was bound in some deep way to Marcus, even though there were skeletons in family cupboards, even though she hadn’t seen him for weeks. Did that mean he had found it all too hard? And even though he’d not asked her to marry him. But whatever happened, Sally knew that a commitment to someone else would be a betrayal of her own deepest feelings. ‘To thine own self be true….’ her mother had quoted and Sally had always remembered. She couldn’t give Simon what he wanted, the committed love of a woman to a man, and be true to herself.

  ‘Yes, Simon dear. I do love you, as the brother I never had. And I admire you, you know – the brave way you manage your illness, with no complaints. We all enjoy your company and we’re very fond of you. You’re one of the family at Badger’s Gill. Will you be my brother?’

  Simon moved towards her and kissed Sally gently on the cheek. ‘Any kind of love you can give me, I’m grateful for. Maybe brotherly love is the best kind for me! But how I wish things were different!’ He couldn’t quite hide his disappointment. He took Sally’s hand and she felt his tremble slightly.

  Love hurts, Sally thought bitterly. I know it and I can’t help it, Simon. It was time to look on the bright side. ‘Let’s try to be as happy as we can. Let’s enjoy each day, Simon. Come out with me in the trap and do some more drawing.’ Sally had turned away to hide her tears.

  Jed pulled up smartly at the gate, and Simon slipped into the churchyard with his pad and pencil and a small stool. ‘I’ll wait here,’ called Sally. Jed was rather young to be left in the street on his own. She slipped the reins over his head and led him into the yard of the Queen’s Head on the opposite side of the road. There she tied him to a rail and then sat on a low wall, enjoying the sunshine. Simon was out of sight. Ten minutes went by, fifteen … through the open window of a nearby house Sally could hear a piano. Scales, exercises at first, and then the pianist played some wistful drifting notes that seemed in perfect harmony with the drowsy afternoon. She listened in a dream, the music carrying her away until she heard a horse approaching quietly down the main street. The rider turned into Church Street and Sally saw that it was Marcus.

  At first she hardly recognized him. His eyes were on the ground, he looked sterner, older. But – it was Marcus! Sally felt her whole being light up with joy. She stepped out into the road and held out a hand, in case he had not seen her. Marcus stopped motionless and looked down at Sally. There was no answering smile of greeting. Just a lifeless ‘Good day’. Then he sighed and squared his shoulders in the old way and looked straight ahead.

  ‘Marcus! What’s wrong?’ Sally held out her arms to him, there in the middle of the road. He must be ill!

  ‘Oh, Sally!’ It came out like a groan.

  ‘Get down off that horse!’ The red-gold hair fell over her face as Sally took off her straw hat, and she pushed it back impatiently. ‘Please!’ It was a command.

  Stiffly, Marcus climbed down and followed Sally into the inn yard. Her arms went out towards him and then dropped back, as she looked up into the unhappy face. ‘Whatever is the matter, my dear Roman soldier?’

  She saw Marcus relax a little. In the middle of the yard they stood close together, almost touching. Sally could feel the tension between them. His horse pushed its head forward, seemingly wanting to be included and Sally patted its nose, laughing ‘Back, Odin!’

  Marcus smiled too. But then he drew back, shaking his head. ‘Sally, you’ve found someone else, I know. I saw you going by with a young man … I don’t blame you, it’s all so difficult and I’ve been away. It’s too late in any case.’ His voice was low and infinitely sad. ‘I can’t see a way out. You should be happy with someone else.’ A labourer went by leading a carthorse and looked at them curiously.

  Sally felt her volatile nature begin to fizz and tried to hold it down. ‘Simon is not Someone Else! He is my paying guest – a commercial transaction. I am his housekeeper, if you like. And he’s an artist. He’s drawing the church, you see, and I’m waiting like a good employee should, for him to finish.’

  Marcus looked down at her and she thought how handsome his dark face was, and how miserable. ‘He’s in love with you. You passed me earlier, I was in a garden. I could see it from the way he was looking at you. But that’s a good thing if you like him, he might be able to look after you. And you’d better forget about me. We have no future, you and I. There’s no news about the murder and my father is still implacable.’ Marcus paused and Sally said nothing to help him. She was still fizzing inside. His father had written another rude letter, but left her on the farm for a further year. That wasn’t entirely implacable! And then, what if they hadn’t met by chance today? Was he just going to ignore her for the rest of their lives?

  ‘It’s no good, we’ll have to give up and we both know it. Let’s not pretend any more, Sally.’

  This didn’t sound in the least like the Marcus she knew. What had happened to the man who was so decisive and strong? He must have had a change of heart, somehow. But it wasn’t fair! Sally’s redheaded nature asserted itself and her eyes sparkled with anger. ‘You are impossible!’

  Marcus drew back, shocked.

  ‘I haven’t seen you for so long, and I wonder where you are. You meet us in Ripon a few times and then we never see you again!’ She paused to draw breath. Better not let him know how disappointed she’d been. Jogging down to Ripon in the trap as soon as the snow cleared, hoping and wondering … and for weeks now, no Marcus.

  ‘I’ve been away lambing, on the moor.’ He didn’t sound very convincing.

  ‘And then we meet by sheer chance and you decide my future for me, just like that in the middle of Kirkby! It’s NOT GOOD ENOUGH!’ Sally’s voice was low, but extremely forceful. She was almost dancing in the road by now, thoroughly irate.

  At last the stern face became more human, the amused quirk of the mouth came back. Marcus laughed. ‘If you could just see yourself, Miss Mason! So, I’m not allowed to give up. I am trying to do the right thing!’ He was equally forceful. ‘I don’t want you to waste your time on me when I can’t sort things out. Youth is soon overed with, as they say round here. How can I keep you hanging on, waiting for a solution to the old mystery?’ The smile faded and Marcus let out a huge sigh. ‘I blame myself, of course. And lately I must admit that things have looked very black.’

  Sally was aware that the piano music was still floating out into the street, weaving silver threads of enchantment in the air. If only they could live in a fairytale with a happy ending! Slowly her anger subsided. Who was she to order Mr Radford of Radford Estates off his horse? With a quick change of mood Sally drew him into the side of the yard beside the trap, where they would be less conspicuous. ‘I’m sorry, Marcus. I shouldn’t get angry with you, I know. I admit that I’ve been feeling the same way, that this family feud thing is very serious and makes it difficult for both our families.’

  Marcus nodded. ‘I suppose it depends on whether I can find out more, to lay the ghosts to rest. There must be some way!’ But he didn’t sound hopeful. ‘If we can prove it wasn’t a murder, my family might be easier to persuade to meet you. I think they must have jumped to conclusions, at the time.’

  They stared at each other and Sally realized in that moment how much she loved this man. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. They should have children together … but she was too proud to throw herself into his arms. She had been quite forward enough already. Thank goodness nobody they knew had seen them together! Sally Mason, a young single woman living alone, apart from her guests, had to be very careful of her reputa
tion. Marcus was prepared to give her up, she reminded herself bitterly. Well, she could be independent too.

  Marcus’ horse scraped its foot impatiently and was ignored. Jed in the trap was chewing at his bit. Somewhere, a blackbird was singing its evening song. Marcus stood silent, looking at Sally. Head up, shoulders back, he was evidently struggling to be his old self again.

  ‘Where were you, Marcus, all last month?’ All this time, Sally thought, I’ve been agonizing over you and wondering whether I would see you again.

  ‘As I just said, I had to work as a shepherd. One of our men was injured. I couldn’t get away. And it rained, of course.’

  She believed him this time. Perhaps it was time to normalize the conversation, to be civilized. ‘My little flock have all lambed, very good lambs too, just as you said. And Mr Radford said I could rent the farm for another year, but after that I was to get out! A year’s grace is better than nothing.’ She looked up at him. My chief worry has been about you, but I’m not going to tell you that.

  ‘Good. I’m glad to hear it.’

  The sun was beginning to go down behind the row of cottages opposite the church and Marcus picked up his reins. ‘I must go now, dear Sally. I want to get to the wood before dark, just to ride through there again and see whether there is anything unusual to be seen….’ Marcus looked at her with eyes full of love. But Sally didn’t want to have false hope.

  ‘That is not really likely, after all this time.’ Sally wished she felt as cool as she sounded.

  He slipped the reins into place and put his foot in the stirrup. A whisk of the horse’s tail and they were gone.

  There was no possibility of solving the problem. How could there be anything in Foxholes Wood, fifty years later? Perhaps the feud was just an excuse to back out of the friendship, if they had such a thing. Perhaps Marcus rather fancied her but had no intentions of getting too involved with a poverty-stricken tenant farmer, a woman who did rough farm work for a living. He was a gentleman, he would find a polite way to back out of any relationship. Sally patted Jed, trying not to cry. She felt that the situation was now clear. Even when he’d thought that Simon was her new man he’d said it was a good thing! Swallowing hard, she went over the road to find Simon. It was hard to appear normal, to pretend that nothing had happened when her heart was aching so much. But Simon was bent over his drawing, completely absorbed.