I Belong to the Earth (Unveiled Book 1)

by J. A. Ironside

  I showered with my broken arm shoved awkwardly out through the shower curtain. After finally managing to do up my last clean pair of jeans one-handed, I pulled on an over large T-shirt with a baggy sweatshirt over the top. My hair hung in wet dark tendrils but putting it up was beyond me for now. Anyway my lack of a fashion plate exterior didn't seem to bother Ciarán. I smiled secretly, feeling warm at the thought.

  I trotted down the stairs, taking a deep breath before stepping into the cold spot. A blast of frigid air. A moment of horrified recognition that came from outside of me, then I was thrown backwards and out onto the stairs. My back hit the edge of a higher step along the same purple bruise line I'd gotten after being flung at Kate's head stone. Pain flared and died to a dull throb. I gritted my teeth. I was getting sick of being battered about. And apparently Helen didn't want to play.

  Too bad.

  I grimaced and pulled myself up, back and broken arm complaining. Fine. If Helen wouldn't volunteer I would try persuasion. I summoned up that feeling of electrical force I'd flung out when Haze and Ciarán were fronting up to each other on the moor. Holding it in my mind, I stepped deliberately into the cold again.

  Something battering at me furiously but I held my ground.

  Go away! Leave! Helen's voice. She'd never spoken to me before.

  No.

  He'll find out. You don't know what he's capable of.

  Really? I raised my broken arm slightly.

  You'll get worse than that. I'll get worse.

  You're already dead! What can he do to you now? Please… show me. Show me the rest. What happened? And stop jumping around this time. I was fed up of trying to work out where we were on the time line of events. Show me in order.

  You'll wish you'd never asked for this.

  Helen sounded as though she relished the thought. Before I had a chance to reply, she shoved me to the back of my mind. I didn't fight.

  I step down, taking a moment to shake my plain grey skirts straight. They rustle around my ankles. Kate was sent off by carriage yesterday and I had no word from her. She ignored me even as I helped her to dress. I can only hope the stay with her aunt improves her temper.

  Ada waits for me in the kitchen.

  "He wants you, Helen." Her voice is subdued. Her eyes look bruised and wounded.

  "Who wants me?" I feel a prickle on the nape of my neck. I fear I may already know.

  "Robbie. He's at the lower end of the orchard." She turns back to the sink where she is scrubbing vegetables. Foolish girl. Jealous cat. Will she never see him for what he is?

  Then my heart turns cold in my breast. There's no question of not going to him. I should tell John. I should and then the gypsy lad would be sent off. But he would come back. Nothing puts him off for long. And I'm sure John is afraid of him too. Shivering, despite the warm day, I make my way across the dew soaked grass. The hens cluck their contentment. I can hear that new horse John bought, whinnying in the stables.

  Robbie detaches himself from a patch of shadow by the wall. I stop a few feet away. Just out of reach.

  "Well? I've come. Say your piece and be off. You well know you shouldn't be here." I clench my shaking hands beneath my apron.

  "Where is she?" Robbie sounds reasonable. His black eyes promise violence.

  "I don't rightly know." I take an involuntary step back.

  "Stay! If I wanted to beat the truth out of your sneaking hide, my hands would already be about your thick neck. As it is you'll tell me, I think." He sounds very sure. I fear he is right. Why did I think to defy him?

  "I've nought to tell you. Her father thought her under a bad influence here and sent her to live with her aunt and cousins. He means for her to be a lady. It's over fifty mile away and they've grounds with dogs and men with guns, so you'd best not think you'll be visiting!" My voice shakes badly.

  He smiles without mirth. He can see through my assumed bravado.

  "She'll come back, Helen. She always does. Your meddling has effected more inconvenience this time that is all." He pins me with those pitiless eyes. I swallow hard. "You'll not be interfering again though will you, Helen? It'll be the worst for you if you do."

  I shake my head, trying to repress the tears of fright that have sprung to my eyes.

  "Say it then."

  "I…I won't come between you and Miss Kate again…" I sniffle quietly.

  "No you won't. Nothing can come between us, Helen. Nothing. Go on now."

  "Will…will you wait for her?" I had not meant to ask that. "Only, you're turning young Ada's head. She is a child…"

  "She is useful. Mind your own business on that score. As for your other question, heaven holds no appeal for me without her and hell is no torment if she is by my side. I will wait. Be thankful I don't curse you for every day of waiting."

  I can feel blood draining from my face at the thought. I know his real name but not how to use it. I've no wish to be cursed by a Romani. Robert, he were called when Mrs Greer took him in and drank away the money for his keep. Robbie. But he was never christened and that other name still lingers underneath. Few know it. If there's a man alive with one foot in hell already, it's him. My nerve breaks. I gather my skirts and run.

  "Remember, Helen…" His voice drifts after me.

  It was the strangest feeling. I saw and felt what Helen saw and felt, but I could think as myself too. As Emily Lynette. Helen had paused, stumbling with fright over the centuries old memory. I couldn't help a twinge of sympathy. It wasn't easy to stand up to Haze, or Robbie as she'd known him. But this was getting me no closer to ending the Pattern for good. If I didn't know that Helen was paralyzed with fear, I'd think she was playing for time. I had to get her to move on.

  What then? What happened when Kate came back? I prodded, trying not to sound as impatient as I felt.

  Miss Kate had changed. My plan worked. In part.

  Why did you interfere? Yes, why? It just didn't make sense the more I thought about it…

  They were bad together…wicked…Just watch…

  We wait for the carriage to roll up the long lane. It is far finer than the one Kate went away in a year ago. After my dreary, day-to-day grind without a mistress, I almost look forward to her peppery presence in the house again. Time dims memories of bad happenings. I forget, for a time, her vindictive temper. I am hopeful of some excitement and powerful curious to see the cousins who are to stay a few days.

  I keep well back as the coachman pulls the matching pair of chestnut horses to a halt. A lone rider reins up nearby. He tosses his reins to the stable lad and opens the carriage door. A dainty white- gloved hand takes the rider’s outstretched hand and the lady descends from the carriage. I am glad I stayed back. I can feel the shocked expression on my face. Kate has grown very fine. She was always considered a beauty. Now she is a vision in a fine green traveling gown. Her hair is artfully arranged, with a few long glossy ringlets escaping from under her matching bonnet and half veil. In truth I have never seen her look so well.

  She sees me and breaks away from the young man. She flings herself into my arms as if we are sisters who had been parted and found each other long years later. I return her embrace feeling like a sparrow next to her bird of paradise.

  "Helen! I missed you." She smiles into my face. She means it. And haven't I missed her too? My life has been a series of dull grey minutes since she went away. Now spring has come. Now I am more alive than I have been these past eighteen months.

  "And I you, miss." I curtsy.

  "Oh Helen, call me Kate. Please." Wonderful solicitude this. I feel immediately as if I should be on my guard but I cannot resist her charm, any more than that young man who follows her can.

  "As you wish, Miss Kate." I cannot help smiling in return. Whatever may come I am glad to see her now. "I should never have known you, Miss. You've become quite the lady."

  "Do you like it?" She spins and her skirts swirl and bell around her.

  I look on in admiration. I am not al
one. Ada watches Kate with a kind of wistful hunger that makes me tense with disquiet. And the young horse-man watches her with a hot gleam in his eye. I suppose his person is pleasing enough. He is very fair with blue eyes and light hair. His features are regular and even. There is clear breeding in every line, yet, looking closer he has a rather weak chin, a narrow chest, long fingered hands that look white and soft when he removes his brown leather gloves. The disquiet grows but I quickly banish it. Looks are all very well but hardly the sum of a young man's parts. I suppose him to be Kate's eldest cousin, Clayton Lynfield.

  I realise Kate’s gaze is fixed over my shoulder and a small tremor of excitement vibrates through her. I don't need to see the glowing look in her eyes to know who she had seen secreted in the shadows under the apple trees.

  Of course he would know when she came back. Curse him. Cannot he stay away? Cannot he see she is not for him?

  A glimpse at the expression on Kate's face tells me that it is not so clear a matter as I could wish. The day is warm but a chill passes over me. I shiver. This reunion will be a short-lived joy. Robbie will ensure he has his reunion later. I will have to watch Kate. Reverend Weston has made that clear. Kate's father wants her to have no more to do with that vagabond. I glance around in irritation. Where is Reverend Weston? Could he not come and greet his daughter this once? Kate is indifferent to her father's absence. The merry party makes its way in doors. Except for Ada, who gazes towards the orchard with hungry eyes.

  Reverend Weston regards his daughter with a keenly. Kate stands pretty and demure under his scrutiny. Only I catch the wicked gleam in her down cast eyes. We shall have games aplenty before too long.

  "So Kate, you've turned out a lady after all." Mr Weston sounds approving, as well he might.

  "As you see father. My aunt was very strict about some waywardness I had grown into. I am grateful to her for her guidance." She smiles prettily at her Aunt Evelyn, a stout, well-preserved dowager of some five or six and forty. I watch and remember.

  "And this is young Mr Lynfield, then?"

  "How do you do, Uncle." The young man bows. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance at last. Miss Weston has spoken much about you."

  If this surprises Reverend Weston he doesn't show it. Perhaps he thinks all neglected, un-regarded daughters speak well and often of their fathers.

  "Well you've turned her into a credit to me, Evelyn." His attention for his daughter is exhausted. "Won't you take some refreshment? Helen, bring us some tea."

  Helen, please stop dawdling! None of this was helping at all.

  Very well. Her voice was stiff with irritation. Watch.

  It is past midnight when I hear a footfall on the stair. Kate. Sneaking out to Robbie, like as not. Well, I won't have it. I wrap my shawl about me and tip-toe down behind her. I pause on the stair listening. The orchard door opens and shuts. I hurry through the kitchen and out into the night. Cat-quiet I slip bare-foot through the trees, the damp ground chilling my feet. The pair are at the far end where John's poor excuse for an orchard breaks onto the moor. I hear their voices and stop to listen.

  "I waited for you all day." His voice is flat without inflection.

  "I came as soon as I could. Do you suppose I am not being watched?" Kate sounds defensive.

  "I waited nearly two years."

  "I never forgot you for an instant."

  "Why won't you take my hand then? Why stand so far apart?"

  "I am not so far. But for one waiting for my arrival for so long, you might have…" Kate is oddly reluctant, it seems to me.

  "I might have what? Washed in the horse trough? I see you think so. Has that besotted youth with pomade in his hair and milk-white hands turned your head then? My Kate would have been out to me and across the moor laughing the instant the carriage stopped!" He is savage with disappointment.

  "Perhaps I am not your Kate! Yours indeed! I never before realized how ignorant you are. There are ways, Hardiman; ways of behaving in society that let one get what one wants…"

  "Ah, it's clear now. You always loved a game. You now play the games of fine folk." Robbie's voice is almost a snarl. Then anguish breaks through so that even I, who knows the depth of his wickedness, almost pity him. "Kate! Their baubles and trinkets can't compare to what we have!"

  I cannot see his face but he has seized her hands now.

  "Come now. Come away. We shall laugh at them and be free and belong to no one save each other!"

  "Hardiman are you mad? I'd as soon laugh at you! What? Do you wish me to run away in early spring wearing only my nightgown?" She pulls her hands free and laughs haughtily. It sends gooseflesh up my arms.

  "When did you have a care for fine clothes? Or ornaments? If that's what you want I shall get them for you. But don't sport with me, Kate. I've waited. I know your heart as I know my own. You will never be happy without me." This last he says almost like a curse. A vow.

  "There are other considerations in life than love, Robbie. Other needs to meet." Her voice is grave. "I have only just returned. I won't leave just yet."

  He breathes out explosively. I think for a moment he will shake her. Then he collects himself.

  "I will wait. You will come to me. I will wait."

  "I must go now." She glances around and runs fleetly back to the house.

  "You'll come back, Kate. You'll always be mine. As I am yours."

  From the outside, love looks curiously similar to loathing. At least to me.

  I decide I ought to be back indoors too. I shudder at the thought of Robbie finding me here. I start back towards the kitchen. A glimpse of fair hair and white nightgown in the depths of the orchard makes me pause. Who…? A huge hand closes around my upper arm.

  My breath catches like a blade in my throat. I try to scream but Robbie's other hand clamps over my mouth. I see that glimpse of white again but pay it no mind. I am far more concerned about what Robbie might do, for surely he is in an ungodly rage.

  "Good evening, Helen. You heard all of that, I trust?" Why does he speak so pleasantly when he is about to do violence?

  I nod against his palm, eyes wide. How my heart pounds in my breast.

  "I am going to release you. You will not scream and you will not run. Understand?" His breath on my neck. I shake in his grasp.

  I nod again. His skin smells like earth and something coppery – for a moment I recall that poor black hen from all those years ago. He releases me and black spots swim before my vision, and then resolve themselves into Robbie's face. Even now, I won't call him by his true name. He watches me with fathomless dark eyes. I shudder.

  "I'll not hurt you, Helen. Not while she requires you." His face is hard.

  "You…you act at her whim then?" I bite my tongue. Fool thing to say.

  "Or my own, if one doesn't contradict the other." He nods.

  I search for anything human in his face, and fail to find it.

  "What a good little spy you are, Helen. Does Mr Weston know what a devoted follower he has?" He mocks me now. A spark of resentment mingles with the fear. It makes me bold.

  "I don't act for him, though doubtless I should. What do you want?"

  "Your services. I understand you're quite the listener. Servants usually are. You've the wit not to speak on what you hear though, except to the right people."

  "What do you mean?" My heart has slowed a little. I watch Robbie warily all the same.

  "You will come to me with your tales, Helen. No one else. You shall listen to that damnable fop of a cousin of hers and you will tell me what is said, what is unsaid, what is happening."

  "I'll not spy on my mistress for the likes of you!" I say. His expression tightens and I quail inside.

  "But you will spy on your own account?" Robbie's voice is still pleasant.

  "If I pass on nought then it's not spying is it?" My voice trembles despite my best efforts.

  "What curious morals. Very well. I have other spies. But you will spy on the cousin. Helen, come. It i
s by your own will that we have never been friends." He gives me a mocking half-smile.

  I think this laughable, since he cares for none save Kate. The best he can do for the rest of us is to ignore us. He reads something of this in my face, no doubt.

  "I've no quarrel with you Helen. But you have set me back in my plans with your meddling. You will help to mend that breach." The first hint of anger colours his tone.

  "So she didn't just fall into your arms after all?" I spit at him, foolish of my safety. For a moment I think he will strike me but he masters himself.

  "It is superficial." He grimaces then shows white teeth in a dark smile. "I've said I shall not harm you, Helen but you try my patience. Have you thought how many ways there are for a servant to lose her position? I need not bruise you much at all. No blame ever attaches to the man after all…"

  Robbie lets his sentence trail off and I grow cold with horror. He leans in close so I feel his breath on my cheek.

  "I'd not normally touch you. Too sour for my taste but you're a bonnie enough lass…"

  I jump back from him heart thudding once more. I am trapped. Once again. Trapped between the two of them. Kate and Robbie. They toss me back and forth for their amusement while they pursue their twisted romance.

  "You'll keep me informed, Helen." It is not a request. Hardiman slips off into the dark as though he's made of it.

  I bow my head. I would. He can have no doubt of that. But I swear I will see them together in hell before I see them together on earth. I swear it by…

  "Emlynn?!

  …a flash, again, of something white…

  "EMLYNN!"

  …someone running back to the house…

  "Emlynn! What are you doing?" A small hand on my shoulder.

  …it's not Kate…

  "Emlynn!" A hand squeezed mine and I squealed in fright. Helen had gone. I was back, heart clenching. The hand was warm though.

  Amy watched me, concerned. "Sometimes I really worry about you. Who were you talking to? Haven't you noticed it's raining?"

  I peered up at the night sky through the apple leaves. Fat drops of rain water dripped onto my face, chasing the disorientation away.

  (that last flash of something white…someone running…)

  "Aren't you supposed to keep that cast dry?" Amy sounded exasperated now.

  (…it wasn't Kate. Someone else listening. Important…)

  "Yuh yes! S-sorry Amy. G-guess I'm st-still out of it from the juh GA." Helen hadn't snuck to the back of my mind but slipped away entirely. At the end, she almost let something important slip. I was sure of it. And that flash of something white… No good. I'd overdone it. My head ached in chorus with my back and arm. A concert of pain.

  "Come on. It's getting heavier. I've made hot chocolate." Amy said. I followed her back into the house. The nagging feeling of missing something wouldn't go away. But the more I chased it, the more it slid away from me. I admitted defeat for now. Tomorrow I would figure it out. Tomorrow when my head was clearer.