by Cathy Sharp
‘I will look at it and if I like it, we may strike a deal, Jez.’
The gypsy laughed, showing teeth that looked very white against his olive skin. He spat on the palm and held out his right hand. ‘Bathsheba will come if she wishes but she is a law unto herself and no man commands her. Now, I will show you a horse that runs like the wind …’
Arthur stroked the horse he had bought and smiled. Jez had driven a hard bargain but in the end they had reached an agreement and mutual respect. The horse was broken but still a little frisky and would need a strong hand, but mated with good mares its wild blood would help breed strong foals.
Walking into the inn to order his dinner that evening, Arthur was thoughtful. He now knew that the story of a gypsy cursing Mistress Brent if she ever sold Bella was true and he had been told a story of how the babe came to be given to the workhouse in the first place. It was probably all true in the main, but told him little of the mother’s past. He wanted to believe Bella was Marianne’s child but knew that he was grasping at straws. Even though the location sounded as if it might be right, and the facts he knew fitted, nothing he’d learned had proved it to him.
Katharine was dead and the ache was still there inside him. If Marianne was also dead then all he could do was to take the child back to London and place her where she would be cared for. It would be an end to his quest, though not an end to his grief.
Arthur ate his meal, exchanged a few pleasantries with the landlord, and then decided to retire. Bathsheba had not come and he was disappointed, but it was late and perhaps she had not returned from her foraging for herbs soon enough to make her journey here before nightfall.
‘I trust your meal was satisfactory, sir?’ the landlord asked and Arthur smiled.
‘Very pleasant. I shall sleep well in your comfortable bed.’
He took the lamp he was offered, its bulbous glass shade casting a yellow glow as he climbed the stairs, feeling unusually weary. With Katharine gone, life stretched endlessly ahead, and though he knew that it was his duty to live and help others, he could find little joy in it for the moment.
Unlatching his bedroom door, Arthur stiffened for he sensed rather than saw the figure by the window and then he smelled the pleasant scent of herbs and instinct told him who his visitor was. ‘Bathsheba?’ he asked softly. ‘Why did you seek me here and not in the parlour?’
A woman moved into the light as he set down his lamp. For a moment he was startled by her beauty and her pride. She looked like an Eastern princess, her face haughty and her nose aquiline, her mouth soft and generous. Her eyes, which held his, were dark and deep like the velvet of night, and then she smiled and he caught his breath as a shaft of desire pierced him suddenly. Her laughter was as clear as a church bell.
‘So you are the man Joe my nephew told me of,’ she said and her voice was like a caress. ‘I came because he liked you – and I am glad I did. I can see that you were in need of me.’
Arthur could not speak as she glided towards him. Her hands touched either side of his face, cupping it as she looked deep into his eyes, and then softly kissed his mouth. He felt naked, as if his soul was bared to her and yet he could not move or speak.
‘You carry too much sadness,’ she said at last, moving away from him, but her eyes never left his, mesmerising him. ‘You think you have lost all, but a greater love awaits you. The woman you mourn would not have loved you the way you should be loved; you are not of common clay and need an equal spirit to match yours – and you would have lived to a time of disappointment.’
Arthur jerked away angrily, breaking the hold of her gaze. He had not asked her to tell his fortune! ‘You did not know Katharine,’ he said and turned to face her once more.
‘No, but I have seen into your heart and you know what I have told you is true, Arthur Stoneham. Grieve for your lost love but know that you will find love again and this one will not disappoint.’
Arthur shook his head. ‘What I wish to know is the name of the woman who gave birth to Bella. Do you know aught of her?’
Bathsheba smiled triumphantly. ‘You are not ready for the truth, my Joe’s friend. Yet it will come and you will not forget me …’
Arthur persisted, ‘The child’s mother – was she Katharine’s sister, Marianne?’
‘I know only that she was gently born, the daughter of a pastor I believe – and her hair was the colour of moonlight. She spoke of her home near the church, and of a sister she loved, whose name might have been Kathy, but she spoke no other names. Her mind was lost in the terror of the beast’s attack and the horror of bearing a child.’ She hesitated, then, ‘My brother wanted to travel to Ireland and Marie was too ill so we lingered, travelling from place to place, but as the child grew so did her distress.’
‘She ran from you – do you know why?’
‘Jez wanted her. You know his son, Joe. My brother already had a woman but he wanted Marie and she feared he would keep her his prisoner. My brother is a good man, sir, but he is sometimes harsh in his manner and Marie is not the only one to fear him. I have always stood up to him, but he often intimidates others and she was a gentle soul. I tried to tell her that she was free to go home but she said it would shame those she loved and that in truth she did not know where her home was …’ A look of sadness came to Bathsheba’s face. ‘I would have protected her from Jez’s lust, but her mind was confused and she ran when my back was turned. Jez searched for her for days but then he grew angry when he discovered she had sought shelter in the workhouse and so we moved on. The weather was bitter and we did not know then that Marie had left the workhouse, had given birth alone and taken her child to the church, hoping the babe would be safe. One of our people had travelled through the village and told me Marie had been found dead, her child taken to the workhouse. I wanted to bring the babe back to us but Jez forbade me and in this even I dared not defy him.’
‘Had Marie stayed with you she might have lived,’ Arthur said and Bathsheba shook her head.
‘I do not think she wished to live. The beast that violated her body destroyed her soul and her mind. Had it not been so she might have been happy as Jez’s woman.’ She shook her head and her perfume was a heady haze about her that invaded his senses. ‘I am sorry, Arthur Stoneham. I know you hoped for more – but I cannot give you the certainty you desire. Yet in your heart, I think you know what you must do to end your torment …’
‘I feared it would be so,’ Arthur sighed. ‘Yet I think I have reached the end of my quest, for the child reminds me a little of Marie’s sister Katharine.’
‘What will you do with the child?’ Bathsheba frowned. ‘I sense that she is in pain and fear of her life and that is another reason I came.’
‘She was well when I saw her. She cared for the wife of the chain-maker near the village of Sculfield. I asked if she needed help but she said no.’
‘Yet, she needs it,’ Bathsheba said and her hand clasped his arm, sending a shaft of heat through his body. ‘Find Bella and care for her as if she were your own and you will receive the gift of peace …’
‘Yes, I shall,’ Arthur said, because he felt it was true. He had come to the end of his quest and in time that would bring peace. ‘What do you wish in return, Bathsheba? I promised gold – but what will satisfy you?’
‘Not gold,’ she said, a twist of contempt on her lips. ‘Take the child back with you and see she is safe and I am repaid. I came for her sake, Arthur Stoneham, and because Joe liked you.’
‘You do not wish to have her yourself?’
‘No, though I would have taken her for my own had my brother not denied me when she was a babe. Her ways are formed now and she could not live my life. She belongs to you, Arthur Stoneham. I give her to you.’
‘If you save a life it belongs to you …’ He saw the answering smile in her eyes and nodded. ‘Thank you, Bathsheba. I shall heed your advice.’
‘Then I have not wasted my time …’
She moved softly towards the do
or. As she stood with her hand upon the latch, Arthur thought of something. ‘The door was locked, I’m sure it was – how did you get in?’
A smile touched her mouth and then she was gone. He stared after her. There was some mystery here, for no one could walk through a locked door … could they? She had left in the normal way and yet he had a feeling that she had not been real. Had he conjured her up in his mind? No, the touch of her hands and her kiss had been real and he’d felt her mind probing his. Perhaps he had assumed the door was locked, believed he’d left it so earlier. Unless there was a spare key and Bathsheba had taken it and entered while the inn was busy? Of course that must be it … and yet there was still a hint of the power of the woman even after she had gone.
Arthur laughed at his thoughts. He was not such a fool as to believe in such powers, but oddly, his feeling of emptiness and deep loneliness had gone. He felt alive once more and ready to continue with his life – but first he must return to Sculfield and find Bella. Whether she was Marianne’s daughter or not, he could not be certain, but he knew that she was a child that needed rescuing and that was more important for the moment …
CHAPTER 11
Bella looked fearfully at the woman sprawled across the bed. She’d heard her master raging at his wife, trying in vain to rouse her. Annie looked as though she were a rag doll, limp and lifeless. Approaching timidly, Bella touched her mistress on the arm and discovered that she was stone cold. Was she dead? Her eyes were closed and she might just have been sleeping, but there was no sign of life and she was so cold.
Ought she to cover her mistress and run for the midwife once more? Bella feared that she would not come, for the master had all but thrown her from the house the last time. Perhaps the doctor …? Undecided, she threw a coverlet over Annie’s body for modesty’s sake and then, as the child whimpered, went into the next room. The babe had still not been named. Annie had called him Karl’s son and given him as little attention as possible. His wails had been strong when he was first unwell but they grew weaker all the time.
Bella did not know what to do. She was terrified of approaching her master and the work was piling up in the house. She had washing and cleaning to finish and there was the meal to prepare for that night, but little food in the house. No one had bought anything since Annie fell ill. Bella could boil potatoes and root vegetables but there was no meat to cook, just some cheese and bread she’d baked earlier. Unable to think of anything better, she made a thick vegetable soup with the last remnants of a ham bone to give it flavour. She would serve it with the bread. Bella knew that her master and his nephews would be angry, but she had no money to buy food.
Going back to the child she fed him with a little warmed cow’s milk but he brought most of it straight up. Now that the soup was made, she moved it off the hob, wrapped the babe in his blankets and left the house. Perhaps the doctor or the midwife would tell her what to do for the child.
Bella walked as fast as she could to the village. She was lucky and found the doctor at home. His housekeeper took her into the room where he saw patients and he came through to her, still munching some bread.
‘What is the trouble now, girl?’ he asked impatiently.
‘The babe is ill, sir – and I think my mistress is dead. Her eyes are closed as if she sleeps but she is ice-cold to the touch. I tried to feed the little one but he brings the warmed milk straight up again – and his nappies are yellow but hardly filled.’
‘Let me look at him. Come, place him on the table.’
Bella did as she was told, looking at the tiny body in pity. He was small and cried so faintly now that she feared he would die – and even if by some miracle he lived, how would he fare with a brute as a father and Annie dead?
‘The child is very poorly and like to die without its mother’s milk,’ the doctor said and frowned. ‘If I allow you to take the babe back to that house I condemn it to death. Hmm … There is a woman from one of the farms who has milk in her breasts for her own babe died. If she will feed it, the child has a chance.’
‘I am not sure my master would let the babe go.’
‘I shall send my groom to take the child to the good woman – and I’d best return with you to see whether your mistress is truly dead, girl.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Bella waited while the doctor arranged with his housekeeper and groom to take the babe to the farmer’s wife who had lost her child. Bella was relieved that the responsibility had been lifted from her but dreaded what Karl would do when he discovered what had happened.
The doctor took his gig after ordering Bella to climb in beside him. She was silent on the return to the cottage, for she did not know what to say. When they reached the cottage she followed the doctor up to Annie’s room and watched as he made a brief examination of her mistress. He turned to her, looking grave.
‘Her death was imminent but her neck has been snapped by a brutal shaking, possibly after death, perhaps before …’ He shook his head. ‘Who would do such a thing?’
‘I think my master tried to wake her.’
‘He is a thoughtless brute but I cannot say he caused her death for I think the fever would have taken her.’ His eyes narrowed as he studied Bella. ‘You did not take it from her even though you nursed her?’
‘No, sir. I did what I could to ease her but she was too sick. My master threw the midwife out and I think the birth was too hard for my mistress.’
‘Yes, I think that may be the case.’ He frowned. ‘It is not fitting that you should stay here now, child. You are too young to have all the cares of the house on your shoulders.’
‘My master paid for me. He owns me …’
‘No man owns another – or a woman or child,’ the doctor said and looked angry. ‘I should return you to the workhouse for there is nowhere else you can go.’
‘The mistress there hates me,’ Bella said apprehensively. ‘She will not want me back.’
‘I believe there have been changes at the workhouse, though I do not know exactly how things stand,’ he said and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I must inform your master of his wife’s death and the situation with his son – but my advice to you is to return to the workhouse. I cannot offer you a home but I think you will find they will take you in if you go to the gates …’ He hesitated as they heard the sound of men’s voices. ‘Go to your room while I speak to your master, girl – and in the morning, when he goes to work, leave this house.’
Bella saw the door opening and fled through to the scullery. She could hear the doctor’s voice and then her master’s angry tones. He was shouting at the doctor, threatening him. Bella heard the door slam and knew that the doctor had gone.
She heard the men talking and one of them discovered the soup.
‘Is this all there is to eat?’ one of Karl’s nephews said. ‘That lazy slut! She deserves a thrashing. Where are yer, girl – come and get our meal!’
‘There is nothing in the pantry,’ another voice said. ‘Who buys the food here?’
‘It was Annie’s job!’ Karl’s furious voice answered the elder nephew. ‘We’ll manage with the soup and bread tonight. Bella, get out here now or I’ll thrash yer until yer bleed!’
Trembling, Bella crept out of the scullery. One of the younger men grabbed her and shook her and then slapped her ear. ‘Lazy little slut,’ he muttered. ‘You’re not worth the bread yer eat.’
Bella’s stomach rumbled, for she had eaten nothing since a scrap of yesterday’s bread at breakfast. ‘Where is the meat and pudding?’
‘There is no food in the larder,’ Bella whispered. ‘I have no money to buy food.’
‘No, fer yer would steal it!’
‘Let her be for now,’ Karl commanded. ‘Warm that soup through again, girl, while I cut the bread. I’ll order food in the morning – and now that you’ve nothin’ else ter do yer can get this place cleaned up and cook us a decent pie for our supper.’
Bella swallowed hard. She wished that she’d
run away while the doctor was still here, because she did not like the way her master’s nephews looked at her. She was afraid of what they might do now that she had no mistress to protect her. Annie had kept some sort of decency in the house, but these men looked at her with hard uncaring eyes and she knew they were not above abusing her in any way they thought fit.
While Bella warmed the soup, Karl sliced bread and ate two slices with cheese. His nephews did the same and they broke the rest of the bread into chunks to eat with their soup. No one offered her even a crust and she had begun to feel very hungry.
There was a large pan of soup and she saved a cup for herself and drank it quickly in the scullery while they ate, cowering in there until she heard heavy feet going upstairs.
About to creep back to the warmth of the kitchen, she stopped as Karl’s large figure filled the doorway. He stood looking down at her as she waited for the blow she expected.
‘Can you cook?’ he asked gruffly. ‘More than a soup or some bread?’
‘My mistress was teaching me but I know very little, master.’
‘As I thought …’ He frowned. ‘I should’ve left yer at the workhouse and insisted on an older girl or a woman – my wife might have lived then.’ For a moment Bella thought she saw regret in his eyes, but then it was gone. ‘I’ve paid fer yer and I’ll not get a penny back. Yer will learn ter cook or I’ll put yer to the chain-making. Suit yerself, girl. I’ll see food is delivered and then it’s fer yer to decide – learn fast or yer will discover what work truly is!’
Bella nodded fearfully. She did not doubt he would carry out his threats if she did not please him.
‘Get these pots washed and clear up or I’ll give yer a thrashin’ meself!’
‘Yes, sir …’
Bella trembled as he left and then she heard him treading heavily up the stairs. She got the pots washed then made a dough and left it to prove overnight, waiting until everything was quiet before running up to her little cubbyhole in the attic. There was no lock on the door but she wedged a chair under the handle just in case one of Karl’s nephews decided to visit her in the night. They were brutes and bullies and though they both feared Karl, she did not trust them.