Snowflakes in the Wind

by Rita Bradshaw

  ‘So you did.’ His smile widened. ‘And I should have known you would keep your word.’

  ‘How?’ Now she smiled too. ‘You hardly know me.’

  ‘I feel I’ve always known you.’

  It wasn’t so much the words as the intensity with which he spoke them that made her feel trembly inside. And then he broke the moment which had seemed to lengthen by taking her hand and saying, ‘Come on, there’s a spot further on that’s more sheltered.’

  He led her to a small curve in the lane where the hedgerow combined with the direction of the wind had left the ground almost clear. The snow was coming down thickly but few flakes reached their spot, and Abby had the strange feeling they were enclosed in an enchanted circle cut off from the outside world. He had let go of her hand but was standing close enough so she could see the tiny bristles on his chin coming through where he had shaved that morning, and again her knees weakened.

  Nicholas looked down at the girl who had filled his every waking moment since yesterday. He hadn’t been able to sleep for thinking of her but had sat at his bedroom window all night staring out into the darkness. He couldn’t have put a name to the feeling that had enveloped him; it was part excitement, part turmoil, part hunger for another sight of her and above all a physical and mental longing that was so strong he could taste it. Now that she was here in front of him she was even more beautiful than he remembered. ‘Happy Christmas,’ he said softly. ‘Have you had an enjoyable day thus far?’

  ‘I would say more of a memorable one.’ There had been a touch of wryness in her voice, and when Nicholas said, ‘Oh, yes?’ she went on to tell him about Rachel and what had happened, finishing with, ‘You’re probably shocked but I can assure you not all working-class families are like Rachel’s.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that but believe me, in many fine houses up and down the land the same sort of disturbing scenario is played out behind closed doors. One of my mother’s aunts has been separated from her husband since I was a little boy because he was violent towards her and their children. It is never talked about, of course, not socially, but everyone knows.’

  Her eyes had widened and his tone was rueful when he continued: ‘You think wealth and influence protect against violence and unhappiness in the home? Not so. Human beings are the same the world over and the outward trappings are merely a veneer.’

  ‘A veneer that can make life very comfortable nonetheless.’ She wasn’t quite sure why she was emphasizing the difference in class between them except that it was to combat what was in his eyes. They couldn’t have a relationship, they couldn’t even be friends, and he must know that as well as she did. She shouldn’t have come today; it had been foolish.

  ‘True enough, but . . .’ He paused. ‘I think I would rather live in a hovel where happiness reigned than a mansion where it didn’t, and before you remind me that I am speaking as one who has been privileged all his life, let me say in my defence that since I have been working as a doctor I have seen more of life than I could have imagined when I was growing up in my ivory tower.’ He paused again. ‘And that was bad enough.’

  Abby said nothing because she didn’t know what to say; the conversation was not going as she had expected. And then he began to talk. He talked about his boyhood, the loneliness, the feeling of being a square peg in a round hole, of not belonging to anyone. She had heard a little of this the day before but she hadn’t realized how deep the scars were. ‘I was eleven years old when my father insisted I accompanied him on my first hunt, and when I saw what happened and was violently ill he took pleasure in humiliating me in front of the assembled company. Not that that was a shock – he had always made it plain I was a disappointment – but from that point on there were a hundred and one things he did to point out I was girlish in my thinking. Weak. An embarrassment to the family name. And I believed it then, he was my father after all.’

  ‘But you don’t now.’

  The deep-brown eyes smiled at her. ‘No, I don’t now. I finally know myself. Does that sound strange?’

  It didn’t. She knew exactly what he meant because since she had made her decision about nursing she’d felt she was growing into her own skin at last.

  She said as much, and Nicholas nodded. ‘I look at my patients sometimes, and wonder what has gone on in their lives and how they are feeling inside. They might have come to me with broken bones or a disease or goodness knows what, but that’s just the part that is obvious.’

  The snow continued to fall as they talked on, and it was with a little shock some time later that Abby realized the winter twilight was beginning to take hold. Suddenly panic-stricken, Abby said quickly, ‘I have to get back. It’s getting late.’

  ‘Don’t go.’ He heard the note in his voice and cursed himself for it. He didn’t want to frighten her by coming on too strong, damn it. They’d talked so freely; certainly he had told her things he had never admitted to anyone else, and he got the impression it was the same for her.

  ‘I must.’

  ‘Can I see you tomorrow morning? Before I have to leave?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She was silent for a moment, her head averted, and then she looked straight at him. ‘You know why not.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’ She turned from him, stepping out into the driving snow that was fast becoming a blizzard so he was forced to accompany her. ‘People wouldn’t understand us being friends,’ she said so quietly he had to bend his head to hear her. ‘They would put two and two together and make ten – that’s the way of it round here – and it would be my grandfather and brother who would bear the brunt of their gossip with me being away.’

  ‘Then can I see you when you are in Galashiels?’ he said eagerly. ‘I could come and visit when I have leave and no one from here need know. Not that I would mind,’ he added quickly, in case she had thought that, ‘but if you wish to keep it a secret for now that is fine.’

  The beating of her heart was threatening to suffocate her. He couldn’t be suggesting . . . But he was, he was talking as though they could start seeing each other as a couple. Didn’t he realize how impossible that was? And it wasn’t just the furore it would cause at the farm and in her own family which would be great. Robin and her grandfather had nothing but disgust and hatred for the laird and all his kind who made their lives so hard. But Nicholas’s father, the laird, he would be quite capable of throwing her grandfather out of his cottage and seeing to it that her granda and Robin got no work anywhere else. The laird’s power was absolute, everyone knew that. And besides all that, a relationship between them could never be. They came from different backgrounds, a different class; he would wed a society woman whose family was as wealthy and influential as his, that’s how things were done with the upper class. And she would be left with nothing, not even her good name.

  Summoning all her strength, she said quietly, ‘I can’t see you – you must know that at heart?’

  ‘I don’t, I don’t know that. Why not? Tell me why not?’ Even as he said the words Nicholas knew he was lying. He knew exactly why a relationship between the two of them would be verging on madness, but he didn’t care. He wanted her.

  She didn’t answer him; she merely stared into his eyes as she stopped walking. The snow was covering both of them and coming down so thickly you couldn’t see a hand in front of your face, but as she remained silent he shook his head as though she had spoken. They stood tense and still, their gaze holding, and it was then that Abby heard her name being called.

  ‘It’s my brother.’ She turned to the direction of his voice. ‘He’s come looking for me.’

  ‘Don’t sound so distraught – you haven’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘He won’t see it like that.’ Nicholas didn’t understand, but then how could he? His father was the man who held all their lives in his capricious, cruel grip, the man who expected his pound of flesh from his tenants and then much more.
‘Please, he can’t see you.’

  But it was too late. Even as she spoke, Robin called again and before she could explain further, she saw him come out of the snow. ‘Abby?’ There was a wealth of relief in Robin’s voice but then he saw who it was who was with her. Stiffly now, he said, ‘Granda’s worried to death. Where have you been? You said you would only be a few minutes.’

  ‘I’m sorry, it was my fault.’ Nicholas spoke, his tone easy as though he couldn’t see the hostility and suspicion on the face of the young man in front of him. ‘I happened to meet your sister in the lane and I’m afraid I detained her too long. I recognized her as the child I came across at the Cut years ago and was just asking how things were. She tells me she is off to start her training as a nurse in the New Year and I was wishing her well. As I am a doctor myself we got talking about hospital life and so on.’

  Robin stared at the laird’s son. It sounded plausible enough; but for Abby insisting she walk out this afternoon in such weather and her manner now, he would have believed Nicholas Jefferson-Price, but he felt in his bones there was more to this meeting than they were letting on. Abby had never been able to lie convincingly – her face always gave her away – and it was telling him she was more than a little flustered. But then he supposed meeting the laird’s son like this, especially after what had happened when she was a child, would make her feel that way. Nevertheless . . . His voice as wintry as the weather, he repeated, ‘She said she’d only be a few minutes,’ as his eyes took in the expensive thick coat Nicholas was wearing, his hat, his polished leather boots. If this man was up to no good, if he thought he could turn Abby’s head and use her like the gentry always used women who were beneath them, then he’d got another think coming.

  ‘Oh for goodness’ sake, Robin. I haven’t been that long.’ Abby had recovered herself and now her voice held nothing more than the irritation of an older sister to an unreasonable younger brother. ‘Mr Jefferson-Price has been telling me what to expect when I start my training.’

  ‘Aye,’ he said. Nodding curtly to Nicholas, Robin took Abby’s arm. ‘Granda is waiting.’

  Shaking off her brother’s hand, Abby turned to Nicholas. ‘Goodbye, Mr Jefferson-Price,’ she said quietly, ‘and thank you for our talk. It was most interesting.’

  ‘Goodbye.’ Nicholas was inwardly cursing Robin up hill and down dale. ‘May I wish you all the best for the future?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  This time when Robin took her arm his grip made it plain he meant business. Abby thought about defying him, but a scene in front of Nicholas was not how she wanted their meeting to finish, and so she let Robin lead her away. She had never felt in such turmoil.

  Nicholas watched them go, drawing his hand around the back of his neck in frustration at his powerlessness. But this wasn’t the end. Long after Abby and Robin had disappeared into what was fast becoming a blizzard, he stood quite motionless. No, by all that was holy, this wasn’t the end, he told himself. He would write to her at the hospital in Galashiels and demand that she see him. She had to understand how he felt. He didn’t care about class or his family or what people would say, none of that mattered. He would make her see that, and together they could face her family and the rest of them. He had decided long ago that he would make his own life away from the ancestral home, and there was no reason why she couldn’t be part of it. Somehow he would convince her. Somehow. He had to . . .

  Joe McHaffie waited for a full five minutes after Nicholas had walked away before he moved from his spot deep in the hedgerow on the other side of the lane. He had caught sight of Abby leaving the cottage earlier when he had been standing gazing morosely out of the window, his parents snoring softly in front of the fire after the huge Christmas dinner his mother had cooked. He hated Christmas with its forced gaiety; the only bright spot in the day had been when his father had nearly choked on the silver sixpence his mother had put in the plum pudding. There hadn’t been too much of the Christmas spirit after that.

  Pulling on his cap and jacket, he had followed Abby down the track away from the farm, making sure he was far enough behind her not to be seen, the dark excitement he always felt when he was close to her knotting his stomach. He couldn’t imagine what she was doing out in such conditions but she was walking with purpose and his curiosity was aroused. The thick snow muffling any footsteps and making visibility difficult, he almost walked up on them before he heard a man’s voice a little way in front where Abby had gone. He stopped abruptly. She was talking to someone up ahead. A man. And it was no chance encounter from the way she had been walking; neither did she want to be seen.

  He stood for some moments hesitating, unsure whether to continue walking and give her a fright when she realized she’d been rumbled, or to backtrack to where a farm gate would give him access into the field beyond the hedgerow. He decided on the latter. He wanted to hear what they were saying and determine who this bloke was.

  Retracing his steps he found he was grinding his teeth in fury. Like mother, like daughter, meeting this man on the sly. He’d bet his last penny the bloke was someone old Wilbert wouldn’t approve of and she knew it. Perhaps he was married? He wouldn’t put anything past Molly’s daughter; blood was thicker than water. There were some lassies who didn’t want good reliable men but hankered after the bad ’uns or other women’s blokes; more exciting, he supposed. Molly had wanted excitement. She hadn’t known her fella more than a few days when she had scarpered with him; wanton through and through she’d been, but with an angelic face that would have fooled the devil himself. And her daughter was the same.

  Once he was in the field he waded through snow that was waist deep in places, keeping to the hedge line where he could but treading slowly and warily to avoid any ditches. When he came to the place where Abby was standing on the other side of the hedgerow he couldn’t see through the dense vegetation blanketed in snow, but he could hear the odd word or two that was being said. After a while when it dawned on him who the man talking to her was, his eyes opened wide in surprise before narrowing into slits. He’d gathered pretty quickly the bloke was a toff from the way he spoke, but it wasn’t until he heard Abby call him Nicholas that the penny dropped. She was aiming high, the laird’s son no less.

  He pictured the scene on the other side of the hedgerow, his stomach muscles tightening in rage as he imagined Abby smiling up into Nicholas Jefferson-Price’s face.

  What did she think the man would do once he’d had his fun with her? The gentry used such as her for one thing only. But perhaps she didn’t mind? From the moment he’d heard from his father that Wilbert’s granddaughter was leaving in the New Year to train as a nurse, he had known it was with a view to nabbing some rich old man under her care, or a younger one maybe. Men were vulnerable when they were ill; they let their defences down and everyone knew nurses were easy and got up to mischief. All those blokes they handled, it was obvious, wasn’t it. No nice girl would want to do that. And you heard about wealthy old blokes marrying their nurse and then dying; there had been a case in the paper not so long back. Disgusting, he called it.

  By the time Joe heard Robin calling Abby he couldn’t feel his feet and was shivering from head to toe, but he hadn’t contemplated moving from where he was. He heard the exchange between brother and sister quite clearly; they spoke louder than Abby and Nicholas had done, and then after a while he heard the laird’s son leave, his footsteps crunching in the snow.

  He continued to stand where he was for a minute or two more, his face dark with brooding temper. She was a little trollop through and through, even worse than her mam.

  He stirred, only to find that his frozen feet refused to obey him, and it wasn’t until he had stamped about a bit and massaged his legs that he started for home, his thoughts as bitter as the air around him. She’d give it away to anyone, would Abby. Anyone but him, that was, but he’d fix her. Oh, aye, if it was the last thing he did, he’d fix her all right. She had it coming . . .

  ‘Wha
t are you talking to the likes of him for?’ They were barely out of earshot when Robin rounded on her. ‘He’s the laird’s son, woman. Have you gone mad?’

  ‘Don’t “woman” me.’ Abby glared at the brother she adored. ‘I can talk to whoever I like, thank you very much.’

  ‘Not him.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, we were just talking. He was telling me about hospital life like I said. Where’s the harm in that?’

  Robin’s ‘Huh!’ spoke volumes. They walked in silence for a few moments before he said, ‘It’s a good job you’re off to Galashiels soon, that’s all I can say.’ And the silence lengthened.

  Abby was glad when Boxing Day was over. Despite all she had said to Nicholas, she was worried he would take it into his head to call at the farm and ask to see her. It had been the look in his eyes as she had walked away with Robin.

  But he hadn’t come. And she was glad, she was, she told herself over and over again. It would have caused problems she could well do without. However much he liked her – and he did like her, she believed that – whatever he felt, any affair between them was doomed. He was a man of standing and wealth and he would marry a woman who was his equal, that was how things were done. He might tarry with her for a while but it could be no more than that, and she wasn’t prepared to be any man’s plaything, even Nicholas’s. Just saying his name in her mind made her heart leap and race, and if that wasn’t a warning that she would be playing with fire, she didn’t know what was. No, she had to forget their brief encounter and get on with her life.

  Brave words, and in the time before she left for Galashiels she could cope with her decision in the day as she showed Rachel what her duties would be, getting to know the girl better in the process and finding she liked what she found. But at night in the pallet bed her grandfather had brought up to her bedroom because she’d insisted Rachel have her more comfortable bed, she had tossed and turned until dawn as she fought the longing to see Nicholas again.