‘Feel how heavy it is!’ he told her proudly. ‘’Twill cook very sweetly for my supper. So, will you catch one now? I’ll bait the hook for you.’
She hesitated. ‘I’d best go home,’ she said. ‘Or they’ll send Matt again to search for me.’ She sighed.
He twisted the net to make his fish secure. ‘I’ll walk with you to the stepping stones,’ he offered, ‘if you promise not to wed me.’
She stared at him, laughed and ran away. Then she flung up her arms and turned a cartwheel with a flurry of petticoats. She fell and sat up laughing and tousled, jumped up, ran ahead and turned another one.
Thomas lay in the bed at Ladyford. His eyes were closed but he was not asleep. He was conscious of Melissa’s hand holding his and felt the brightness of sunlight against his eyelids. He was very ill, he knew. Weak and ill and so very tired. It would be so easy to fall into a sleep and to slip from there into the longest sleep. There were times when the idea almost appealed — when his body burned with fever, and his mind grew dark with strange fantasies or his chest pained him beyond all tolerance. The physician had prescribed a draught that took away the pain, but it sent him to sleep also, and into such horrid nightmares that he woke in a sweat of fear and cried for Melissa to comfort him. Usually it was her sweet face he saw when he opened his eyes. Occasionally it was Maggie’s. He preferred not to take the draught and now felt that he drifted like a rudderless ship somewhere between life and death. He wanted to stay alive to be with Melissa.
Her fingers stroked his hand, gently and rhythmically and occasionally she bent forward and lifted his hand to kiss it. Sometimes she murmured his name and he would move his fingers in return, to show that he was still conscious — still with her. When she sighed, he wanted to put his arms round her and comfort her, but he had no strength left. If she wept it was silently and he knew she did not want to distress him. Once he heard a choking sob and managed to make a small inarticulate sound in his throat that was meant to be ‘Melissa’. She had flung herself onto the bed in a paroxysm of passionate weeping and he had lain powerless to help her, until Maggie happened into the room and he heard her homely voice comforting and sensed that Melissa was being led away to rest.
The door opened and Maggie entered the bedchamber.
‘I’ve brought hot milk,’ she said cheerfully, ‘and I’ve stirred a good spoonful of honey into it and a generous drop of brandy. Shall I feed him while you stretch your poor legs?’
Melissa hesitated, wanting to do everything for her husband, but she recognized Maggie’s need, too. She had no one in the world to call her own and she valued the opportunity to care for Thomas.
Melissa stood up. ‘Try him with it, Maggie, while I just take a turn around the room. I confess my limbs grow stiff. You will hear my bones creak.’
Eagerly Maggie sat down on the vacant stool while Melissa watched from the window.
‘Now then, my dear,’ said Maggie cheerfully. ‘Here’s Maggie with a drop of something warming. Milk, honey and brandy and I don’t know what else. Oh, and a pinch of nutmeg. A few sips of this and we’ll have you well again in no time. You’ll be leaping about the room like a frisky horse, I’ll warrant. Open your mouth, my dear — a little wider and I can slip the spoon in — So! There, ’tis good and nourishing and light for the digestion. Never been known to fail, has this. Now, let’s see if you can do it again — wait. I’ll mop your chin. In goes the spoon! I could do with a drop of this myself. Make a new woman of me and not before time … Ah, Melissa! He’s opening his eyes! Quick, come and see!’
Melissa needed no second bidding and flew across the room to the bedside. Thomas had opened his eyes and he turned his head slowly towards her.
‘Oh my dearest Thomas!’ cried Melissa. ‘How splendid. You are awake and taking nourishment! ’Tis a very good sign, isn’t it Maggie? Oh do say ’tis a hopeful sign.’
‘Why, ’tis most certainly,’ Maggie agreed, equally thrilled. ‘We shall have you up and about in a week or so, perky as a cricket. In goes another spoonful — Ah, Melissa will wipe your chin. What a fortunate man you are. Two devoted nurses, one on either side of your bed. There’s plenty of men would be in your shoes, Thomas Benet, I’ll be bound.’
And so they continued, chiding, teasing, encouraging him until he’d taken all the hot milk and a warm soothing glow spread through his body, giving him an illusion of returning vitality while the two women exchanged hopeful glances across the bed.
*
Downstairs, Nina sat by the fire spinning. Through the window, when she glanced up from her work, she saw Jacob chopping wood with regular swings of the axe. The chips of wood flew thick and fast and fell like rain over Della, who crouched nearby watching and laughing. She saw the child straighten up and point and Jacob turned to see two horsemen appear. Nina watched, her usual calm expression on her face, and saw that one of the visitors was Hugo. The other man she did not recognize at all. They dismounted and Hugo swung Della into the air, caught her again and kissed her. Nina smiled and went to the door to open it.
‘Nina, this little one of yours grows more like her father every day!’ He kissed the child again and swung her to the floor where she ran to hide behind her mother’s skirts.
‘I have brought a friend to meet Melissa and Maggie,’ Hugo went on. ‘This is Hans Bucher who is in England for the first time. Bucher, this is Nina Benet, my cousin’s wife.’
Nina dropped a curtsey and the stranger bowed with an elaborate sweep of his hand. He was very slim and his movements were effeminate. His pale face was downy, his mouth small and his large eyes a very pale blue. He looked very young and ill-at-ease, and he smiled nervously from one to the other. His clothes were rather flamboyant in colour and the cut was not English. He was wearing perfume and Nina noticed that he wore no dagger at his belt.
She smiled at him and, in mime, indicated that the other women were upstairs and she would fetch them. Hugo thanked her and she made her way upstairs.
Melissa looked up as she came into the bedchamber. ‘Thomas is awake!’ she cried. ‘He looked at us and recognized us. Come here and let him see you. Thomas, here is Nina come to see how you are.’
Thomas made a feeble movement with his right hand and tried to smile. Nina went forward and kissed his cheek while Melissa beamed on them both. Then Nina pointed downstairs and mouthed Hugo’s name and raised one finger for his companion.
The other women were rapidly learning her simple sign language and Melissa said, ‘Hugo and another? I’d best go down. Maggie shall stay here with you, Thomas, and I will be back directly. Now I wonder who ’tis?’
Downstairs, Hugo introduced her to his companion.
‘Master Bucher, welcome to Ladyford,’ said Melissa. ‘My cousin tells us you are a very wise man and Heron has great need of you. We all look to you to help us through this difficult time.’
‘I shall be most willing,’ he answered. His English was good but he spoke with a marked accent.
‘We have just come from the mine,’ said Hugo. ‘Bucher has several new ideas which I think will solve some of our problems. If only the tinners will delay their judgements and give themselves time to assess the innovations fairly and without prejudice. They are so resistant to change of any kind.’
‘They did not like me,’ said Bucher regretfully. ‘I read it in their eyes and heard it in their voices.’
Hugo nodded apologetically. ‘They resent your presence because they do not understand.’
Melissa nodded, bustling about to offer them cinnamon biscuits and ale. ‘They are frightened men,’ she said. ‘They see their fellows out of work and the fear infects their minds. ’Tis a sorry state of affairs to see your neighbours beg and steal from sheer necessity. But enough of such sad talk. We must talk of other matters.’
‘May I enquire after your husband?’ said Bucher. ‘I believe he is — in poor health.’
‘A little stronger today, I’m pleased to say. He drank some hot milk and is taking an
interest in his surroundings. ’Tis very hopeful. But your own family?’
He shook his head. ‘Alas, I have no wife as yet but I hope to wed one day. At present I am — how do you say it? — wedded to my work!’
They all laughed.
‘Seriously, he is unrivalled in his field,’ said Hugo. ‘I hope most earnestly we can persuade him to stay in England for a year or more. If we can find the money, his ideas will revolutionize the Heron mine. We shall then recoup our losses and start to thrive again.’
‘I do hope so,’ said Melissa. ‘From what little you have told us, ’twill need nothing less than a miracle.’
Hugo waved a hand towards his companion. ‘Bucher is our miracle,’ he said.
CHAPTER NINE
Eloise stood beside her bed, her naked body bathed in white moonlight. She brushed her hair with long even strokes, admiring the soft curves of her breasts and the smooth taut flesh of her abdomen. Her thighs were sweetly rounded, she thought, and, raising one leg, she looked with satisfaction upon her slim ankle and well shaped foot.
Allan would have all this, she reflected, and he would have no cause for complaint. She was flawless and she knew it and derived an almost sensual pleasure from the knowledge. As she drew the brush through her rich brown tresses, she tried to imagine how Martin would react to her, if he could see her. He would not bother to hide his delight — or his desire! She wished he had not returned to school. It was exciting just to know he was around the house and aware of her. Or Oliver — Oliver admired her, she knew. He could not do otherwise. But had he desired her, she wondered anxiously? He had that strange wife, Nina. Eloise frowned slightly. Whatever had induced a man like Oliver to marry such a girl? He was too good for her by far. She had flirted with Oliver quite openly on several occasions and he had not responded. He seemed to find her amusing. On one occasion she had flaunted herself before them both in her new russet silk and he had complimented her on the effect. But when he turned to his wife Eloise thought he winked, although she could not be certain. Her cheeks still burned at the thought of it. Yet the thought that he mocked her made him more of a challenge. Still, he had gone back to sea. She sighed and shrugged, dismissing him.
There were footsteps on the stairs and she heard Allan and Bucher pass the door on their way to their respective beds. Bucher laughed and, soundlessly, she mimicked his reedy voice and took a few mincing steps across the room. Hans Bucher was very impressed with her charms and quite unable to pretend otherwise. Everyone knew that he stammered when he spoke to her and his command of English, usually so good, temporarily deserted him. She laughed as she recalled the look of embarrassment on his girlish face. A pity he was that way, she thought. It was pointless to inspire devotion in such a man.
She shrugged again and laid down the brush. What did Hugo think of her, she wondered? He was so deeply involved at the mine he was rarely at home, but when he was he treated her with respect and affection. He paid her compliments in a vaguely distracted way as though his mind was on other, more important matters. Yet he looked at her in an admiring way and possibly he compared her with Maria. In which case — Eloise ran her hands over her breasts, down to the curve of her waist and over her tight buttocks — Maria would rate a poor second, for she had had two children late in life and her figure would never recover.
There were more footsteps. It was Hugo and Maria, talking quietly together. One day they would both be gone and she and Allan would be master and mistress of Heron. She turned round slowly until the moonlight fell across her back and she imagined the silvery light glinting on her hair. Tossing her head from side to side she could visualize the rise and fall of the rich chestnut waves and sighed deeply. She thought of Allan and, covering her face with her hands, uttered a small despairing sound. He had never even touched her breasts; had never even seen them in their full glory! He had never explored her body, except with his eyes. She wanted him to desire her so passionately that, in spite of her protests, he would take her. They were betrothed, and it happened to others. Her sister Bridget had told her, with ill concealed delight, how her husband-to-be had ravished her two weeks before the wedding. But Allan kept his distance. Flinging herself on to the bed, she clenched her fists until the nails bit into her palms. Time passed and still she lay there, without moving, her anguished face hidden in the coverlet, her ripe body sprawled carelessly. She might just as well be ugly and deformed, she told herself bitterly.
Around her the house grew quiet. Everyone was in bed and downstairs the dogs snored by the dying fire. Somewhere in the wood an owl screeched and then another. Stubbornly, Eloise refused to get into bed as though by so doing she would be giving in to her unhappy fate. She grew cold and uncomfortable, but in a perverse way felt that her physical discomfort suited her emotional turmoil. If she was doomed to be wretched she would be unutterably so. A small voice whispered within her that she was being foolish but she ignored it, wallowing in her self-inflicted misery.
A tap at the door brought her to her senses. She sat up, then sprang to her feet and stared down at her nakedness as though it surprised her. She reached for a robe then hesitated and crossed to the door.
‘Who is it?’ she asked, her voice low.
‘’Tis only Allan. I must speak with you. Let me in, I beg you.’
She was startled and for another moment hesitated, then opened the door.
Allan’s eyes swept her from head to foot.
‘Come in,’ she said quickly, fearful that he would even now change his mind.
He stepped inside the room and glanced at the bed. ‘I thought you would have been sleeping,’ he said, seeing that the bed had not yet been turned down.
Eloise picked up her robe, pretending modesty. ‘Excuse me,’ she murmured. ‘I had best cover myself.’ She waited for him to disagree but he merely nodded and she was forced to put it on.
She smiled demurely. ‘What brings you to my room at this hour and with so serious an expression? Will you sit beside me on the bed and tell me?’
‘No — ’ He looked ill-at-ease she thought. ‘What I have to tell you will not be easy. I don’t think you will … ’
‘Will what?’
He swallowed. ‘ … will want me next to you.’
Her mind raced and she felt a different coldness to that she had known lying on the bed. Sweet Heaven, what was he going to say that could not be said in daylight? Why come to her room at this hour if not for her body? She was bewildered, torn between anger and fear. Allan moved to the window and stared out while she waited beside the bed, nervously twisting the cords of her robe.
‘Tell me then,’ she demanded. ‘Face me, if you have the courage, and tell me this dread news.’
He turned to her and she could no longer see his expression, only the slim, well-shaped head silhouetted against the moonlit window.
‘You are a beautiful woman, Eloise,’ he began haltingly, ‘and you deserve a suitable husband.’
Her pulse quickened. Dear God, he was going to retract! He was not going to marry her. She would never be mistress of Heron and she would go home in disgrace. Her thoughts swam and she almost swayed. Feebly, she put a hand to her forehead and he stepped forward at once and guided her to the bed.
‘Forgive me,’ he begged. ‘I’ve no wish to shock you but I must say it. Then ’twill be your decision.’
‘Mine? My decision?’
‘Aye, you will decide whether or not you still wish to wed me.’
‘I do Allan! Nothing you can say — Dear God, ’tis another woman! You are in love with another woman!’
‘Another woman? Eloise, no! Be calm, I beseech you, and let me tell it before my courage fails me. ’Tis the Kendal blood — my blood. Damnation! I am telling it badly. My father was illegitimate and — ’
‘Is that all?’ gasped Eloise. ‘I care nothing about such niceties. You are the Kendal heir — ’
‘Let me finish,’ he interrupted fiercely and moved back to the window so that she would not
see his face. ‘Isobel Gillis, my grandmother, was … ’ His voice dropped to a whisper, ‘ … a madwoman and her mother … ’
‘What’s that you say? I can scarcely hear you.’ Her heart thumped painfully. ‘A madwoman?’
He turned towards her. ‘Aye,’ he said harshly, ‘and her mother was hanged.’
‘Hanged? Sweet Heaven, Allan! Hanged for what crime?’
There was a long pause and then he said flatly: ‘For witchcraft.’
Eloise sat as though turned to stone. For a while the shock dulled her senses and the conversation seemed unreal. The words drummed in her brain — Madwoman! Witchcraft! She felt choked, unable to breathe and gasped for breath like one drowning.
He was still speaking and she tried to concentrate on his words, but the sounds he made came to her as an unintelligible gibberish and she wished he would stop.
‘ — and as you see I am unaffected. There is no real danger. The physician has assured us. No risk at all and yet I felt you should know. I want us to be wed with no secrets between us. I want nothing to hurt you. You know that I want you Eloise. Mayhap you do not know that I love you. I want to protect you from all harm and yet I am the one who must hurt you if this matter is to be open between us.’
She was aware again and listening intently.
‘You shall have time to think it over,’ he went on, ‘and then if you want to wed elsewhere I shall honour your decision and release you from our contract.’
‘But why?’ she said. ‘Why did he marry this madwoman?’
‘She was very beautiful. They were in love and she was pregnant. She was not mad then, only later. Their marriage was not legal. My grandfather was already betrothed, and he kept Isobel and her child secret.’
‘Sweet Heaven!’
At last he went to her, sat on the bed and put his arms round her. ‘I want you to know,’ he said quietly, ‘that whatever you decide to do I shall always want you. I wanted to tell you so many times, how I feel for you, but — this knowledge has prevented me. I could not risk losing you.’
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