by Linda Finlay
‘You always look delightful, my dear,’ he said, smiling happily back at his new wife.
Obviously, harmony had been restored whilst they’d been in Sudbury, Rowan thought, wondering if she dare explain she’d really bought the ribbon to trim her own dress.
‘Anyhow, I’d best go and see how Sab’s getting on,’ Edward said, pulling on his cap.
‘We really need to go through the farm’s accounts soon, Father,’ Rowan reminded him, still fretting. ‘I noticed the flour’s getting really low and we’ll need to take more grain to the miller. That’ll cost.’
‘Rowan, my child, haven’t I told you your days of worrying about the farm are over?’ Fanny simpered in that false voice she adopted when she was out to get her own way. ‘From tonight, I shall take over the accounts,’ she announced triumphantly. Rowan stared at her father, willing him to refuse but he was nodding eagerly.
‘It does a father’s heart glad to hear you thinking of his daughter’s welfare, my dear. You’re becoming quite the farmer’s wife,’ he said, kissing her cheek and disappearing outside.
‘Did you have a good time in Sudbury?’ Fanny asked, eyeing her speculatively. Rowan opened her mouth to explain about her ribbon then noticed the latest orphan lambs were not in their customary place beside the fire.
‘Where are the lambs?’ she asked, fearing the worst.
‘Out in the barn with all the others, where they should be. That shepherd man came in to see to them whilst you were away and said they’d be better off with those who could show them some warmth. I guess he meant with the other sheep and their woollen fleeces.’ Knowing just what old Davey would have meant, Rowan smothered a grin. ‘Now, dear, you must tell me about your day. Did you meet anyone nice?’
Again she was subjected to a penetrating stare. Not wishing to face Fanny’s questioning and with tiredness threatening to engulf her, she shook her head and yawned.
‘It’s been a busy day, Fanny, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll say good night,’ she muttered, and, without waiting for an answer, hurried up the stairs.
Although she was exhausted, sleep failed to come and she lay in her bed thinking back over the events of the day. It had been good to get away from the farm, and she’d enjoyed exchanging free and easy banter with Sab and the stall-holders in the market. She was really pleased with the money she’d made, although who that slimy gentleman had been, she’d no idea. There had been something unsavoury about him and she sincerely hoped she wouldn’t see him again. Then there was the emerald ribbon. She was furious at the way it had been snatched from her. Why should she let Fanny have it? She’d have it out with her stepmother tomorrow, she decided. Aunt Sal was right; it had taken her a while to make her uncle’s socks and she deserved a little something for her hard work.
She must have fallen asleep eventually, for she was woken by the sound of banging. Prising her heavy eyelids open, she could see a faint loom through the window and realized it must be early morning. Then she heard the noise again, only quicker and more persistent. Jumping out of bed, she gasped when she saw her mirror frantically banging against the door. It was warning her someone unwelcome was trying to get in. Sure enough, she saw the latch lift and then heard the thud of a body against wood when it refused to budge.
‘Rowan, are you there?’ Fanny called. No, I’ve sprouted wings and flown to the moon, she wanted to cry, not yet ready for another interrogation. She covered her mouth with her hands so that no sound could inadvertently escape. ‘Rowan, open the door. I need to speak to you.’ Again the mirror clattered its warning and Rowan was thankful for its protection. ‘Rowan, either let me in or come out this very moment. Mrs Stokes is here to see to the laundry and needs some wood ash for grease stains. Can you come and show me where it is?’ Feeling laughter bubbling up at such a ridiculous question, Rowan bit down on her lip. Didn’t the woman know anything? Then she heard her father’s step on the stair.
‘What’s wrong, Fanny?’ he asked. ‘I could hear you shouting from outside.’
‘I’m trying to get into Rowan’s room. Mrs Stokes needs wood ash, Edward, and …’
‘Leave the girl to sleep. She had a long day yesterday. All you need to do is empty the pit out from under the fire.’
‘But, Edward, I must keep my hands soft for you, my dearest. Look, this can wait. Why don’t we go back to bed and … ?’ The rest of her sentence was lost as the door to their room was pushed firmly closed. Then she heard giggling and the creak of the bed. Rowan shook her head in disgust. Not for what they were doing, but for the way Fanny used her wiles to get out of the household chores.
Kissing the mirror and giving thanks to it for confusing the enemy, she beseeched it to continue its good work. Then quickly throwing on her dress, she brushed the tangles out of her hair and ran downstairs to find Mrs Stokes. As usual the woman was checking the garments for stains before sorting them into separate piles.
‘Morning, my dear,’ she said, when she saw Rowan standing in the doorway.
‘Sorry I slept in, Mrs Stokes. I was that tired after going to market yesterday. Fanny said you needed some wood ash – oh!’ she gasped, seeing the full pail standing in its usual place inside the door.
The woman chuckled. ‘Just my little joke. Mrs High and Mighty was getting on my nerves so I thought it’d do her good to get her hands dirty. I never thought she’d bother you, Rowan, girl.’
‘You mean Fanny’s been out here already this morning?’ Rowan asked in surprise.
‘Oh, yes. Going on about having to supervise the hired help, she was. I tells you, girl, the day I need someone watching over me’s the day I quit,’ she muttered, scrubbing the cuffs of Edward’s shirts with unnecessary vigour. ‘Anyhows, I’ll finish this little lot and leave it soaking, then be back on Monday to do the wash as usual.’
‘Thanks, Mrs Stokes. I don’t know what we’d do without you,’ Rowan said.
‘I prays you won’t have to find out, me dear,’ Mrs Stokes answered, grimacing as she rubbed the small of her back. ‘There seems to be a lot more for me to do these days, so happen I’ll ask Fanny to pay me extra for seeing to her fancy finery,’ she chuckled.
Rowan smiled and privately agreed, for the woman did work extremely hard.
As Rowan made her way down to the privy, she saw Sab busy digging.
‘Morning, Sab. I thought you’d be preparing for sowing,’ she said.
He rested on his shovel and gave a wry grin. ‘Fanny told me I had to build this ’ere path like yesterday. Old Davey was saying that whilst we was at market, Fanny got chased by the gander on her way to the privy. Seems the toe of her fancy shoe got caught in the mud and she had to hop back indoors on one foot. Davey said he didn’t know who was squawking most, her or the goose,’ he said, chuckling. ‘She made a right tap and toe, and told Uncle the path’s got to be done before the sowing.’ He shook his head. ‘Uncle said he’d help, but I don’t know where he’s got to.’
Thinking it best not to mention what she’d heard earlier, Rowan changed the subject.
‘How’s Blackthorn this morning?’
‘Sore, bless her. The tinks was here earlier. Said he had a message for Fanny. Anyhow, he’s going to call in at the farrier on his way past and ask him to come over when he can. Probably try and flog him a new pan while he’s at it, knowing him.’
‘Since when has the tinks been delivering messages to Fanny?’ Rowan asked, frowning.
‘Don’t know. Reckoned he called before the snow to see if we needed anything. Fanny said we didn’t, but gave him a note to deliver. Anyhows, I better get back to it,’ Sab said, picking up his shovel.
As Rowan hurried into the privy she wondered at her stepmother’s cheek. How would she know if they needed any pots or pans? The woman hardly graced the kitchen with her presence, let alone cooked anything. Still, whatever was going on with Fanny and her messages it had nothing to do with her. Or did it? Could Fanny have anything to do with that Slimy? She shivered. She’d be on her guard next time
she went to the market, she resolved. Having finished her ablutions, she popped into the barn.
‘Come to see the little uns?’ old Davey asked, pointing to the corner where the latest two lambs were on their feet, bleating for food. ‘Happen that charm worked a treat, along with your tender care. Nearly had another couple for you to look out for earlier. Ewe over there rejected her young uns but no sooner did I show her the dog than she went into protective mode. Now she won’t let me anywhere near them, which is as it should be, of course,’ he laughed. ‘That Fanny’s a queer one, though. Only asked me if I knew how many sheep there were on Dartmoor. Told her, if I ever had a spare month of Sundays I’d go and have a count of them.’
Although Rowan smiled, she couldn’t help wondering what her stepmother was up to now.
Making her way back towards the farmhouse, Rowan could hear water dripping off the buildings and outhouses. A weak sun was washing the sky, and now with temperatures rising, the thaw had set in. Thoughts of warmer weather and the coming spring lifted her spirits and she felt ready to tackle her bread making. Her mother had always said that a happy heart and warm hands made the best bread. Grabbing an armful of faggots from the rick, she hurried indoors and set about lighting the bread oven. Then, having measured out her ingredients, she set about her task. As ever, the rhythmic kneading soothed her senses and she was just putting the dough to rise when her father crept down the stairs. Seeing her busy at the table, he looked shame-faced.
‘Fanny needed me upstairs,’ he muttered.
‘Sab’s been working on that path for some time now, Father, and I reckon he could do with a hand. Now the thaw’s set in you’ll need to have it finished before the moon’s right for sowing,’ she pointed out.
‘Since when do I need you to tell me what needs doing around my own farm?’ he grunted, slamming the door behind him so hard the pots rattled on the dresser. So much for a nice peaceful morning, Rowan thought.
Later, with the bread cooling on the table and Rowan about to go out to the dairy to make more cheese, Fanny appeared.
‘Good morning, Rowan,’ she chirped. ‘I see the weather’s improving, so I thought I’d get Edward to take me shopping. Before that, though, I need to see to the accounts. How much did you make at the market yesterday?’ Rowan put her hand in her pocket and drew out a handful of coins. ‘Is that all?’ her stepmother asked, looking suspiciously at her.
‘Actually, that’s more than we usually make, Fanny. Of course, I did buy the green ribbon but that was with the money Aunt Sal gave me. And, Fanny …’ she stuttered to a halt as the woman’s pebble gaze bore into her.
‘Yes, Rowan, do go on,’ she said, moving closer so that she towered over Rowan.
‘Well, the thing is, I actually bought that ribbon for myself. I was going to trim the homespun I’d dyed with elder,’ she said, refusing to be intimidated.
‘I see,’ Fanny said, silence hanging in the air. Then she gave a brittle laugh. ‘Well, I knew that all along.’
‘You did?’ Rowan asked.
‘Yes, of course. It’s not as though you particularly like me, is it, Rowan?’
‘Well, I …’ she mumbled, feeling awkward yet not given to lying.
‘It’s all right, Rowan. I don’t particularly like you either. However, for Edward’s sake we need to rub along, at least for the time being. But I really like that emerald ribbon so how about we do a deal? I will allow you to continue wearing that red scrap you refuse to take off and in return I will keep the green.’ Fanny’s eyes glinted as she gave Rowan a supercilious look. Rowan hesitated, her hand instinctively going to her wrist. ‘If you insist on having the green one, then you must hand over your red, which if you had an ounce of sense you’d realize would be the better deal. After all, the green is new, the red nothing but a frayed old rag.’
Rowan could feel her temper rising. ‘Mine is not a frayed rag, Fanny. It belonged to Mother and is my most treasured possession,’ she declared.
‘Well, if you will insist, then I will keep the green,’ Fanny said, a malicious gleam of satisfaction flaring in her eyes. ‘Now, I need to go through the farm accounts, so perhaps you can get them for me.’
Rowan went over to the dresser and took down the well-worn book, placing it on the table. Carefully Fanny counted out the coins Rowan had given her and entered the figure at the end of the last column. Then she totted up the figures so quickly Rowan gasped.
‘Is something wrong?’ Fanny asked, frowning.
‘No. It’s just that I’ve never seen anyone add up so fast,’ Rowan admitted. ‘It takes me much longer and I’ve been doing the accounts ever since Mother passed away.’
Fanny sighed. ‘I can assure you that keeping tabs on money is something that comes naturally to me, so you can rest assured the farm accounts will be in good hands.’
Forcing a smile, Rowan hurried out to the dairy where she set about making more soft cheese to replenish their supplies. The cool temperature helped calm her temper, and while her hands carried out their task automatically a plan formed in her mind. She would buy more ribbon when she next went to market and justify the extra cost by making more caps and mittens to sell. Fanny might be able to add up quicker than she could, but Rowan knew how to balance the budget.
By the time she’d made the cheese, her stomach was rumbling. Going to the larder, she snatched up the remains of a fitch of bacon and some gherkins, then hurried indoors. The table was littered with crumbs where Fanny had helped herself to some of the freshly baked bread, cutting the tops off and leaving the bottoms, as was her way. Fighting down her irritation, Rowan prepared the men’s midday snack and carried it out to them. Her father still looked shame-faced as she approached, but she smiled sweetly and handed over the basket.
‘Is there enough for three in there?’ he asked.
‘There is enough for four, Father,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’m sure old Davey will be hungry, too.’
‘You’re a good girl, Rowan,’ Edward said, digging his hand in his pocket and drawing out a coin. ‘Best get yourself another ribbon next week, eh?’
So he knew, Rowan thought.
With Sab carrying the basket, they made their way over to the barn. Pleased that harmony was restored between them, Rowan linked her arm through her father’s. As he smiled fondly back at her, they didn’t notice Fanny glaring at them from her bedroom window.
CHAPTER 11
They perched on hay bales at the far end of the barn and, with the bleating of sheep in the background, tucked into their snack.
‘That were a feast, Rowan,’ Sab said, finishing his food before the others as usual. ‘How is the lambing, Davey?’
‘They be coming along, Sab. A couple could be breech so if it’s all right with you, Ted, I’ll bed down here a while longer?’
‘Of course, Davey; you know the animals best. Anyhow, you’ve no need to ask, you know that.’
‘Didn’t used to, you means. Things are different now, though, aren’t they?’ Davey grunted. ‘No disrespect, like, but that new wife of yours was asking about price of wool. Mighty unusual thing for a woman to concern herself with, old Davey thinks.’
‘That’s probably because she’s taken over the farm accounts,’ Edward replied.
‘Why would you let her do that? Bodes bad that, you mark my words,’ Davey muttered, shaking his head.
‘Well, thank you, Davey. When we need the opinion of hired help we’ll ask,’ Fanny said, appearing in the doorway. ‘Come along, Edward, you promised to take me into Sudbury and I have no wish to be late for my appointment,’ she said, adjusting her bonnet.
‘I didn’t know we were timed, Fanny. I thought you were just going shopping,’ he said, jumping up and brushing the crumbs from his trousers.
‘I am, but I also need to see someone about domestic matters. Nothing for you to concern yourself about, though, Edward,’ she added hastily, when he looked at Davey in alarm.
‘Right, in that case you’d best load the grain o
nto the cart, Sab. I’ll go on to the mill whilst Fanny is about her business. I’ll just get Bryony ready, dear. If the farrier should come, show him the problem with Blackthorn, Sab.’
‘And make sure he doesn’t overcharge us,’ Fanny added. ‘Now, I’ll expect you all to get some work done whilst we are away. Sab, I want to see real progress made to that path by the time I return. Rowan, I have left a note for you on the kitchen table. Please hurry up, Edward; I shall be waiting in the farmhouse,’ she called.
They watched in stunned silence as she picked her way carefully back to the farmhouse. Never had they been spoken to like that. Edward shrugged, and Sab followed him out of the barn.
Rowan picked up her empty basket. ‘Why would she leave me a note?’ she asked Davey. ‘Couldn’t she just tell me what she wants me to do?’
‘Depends if she wants Edward to know what it is,’ Davey answered sagely. Rowan frowned. ‘You are innocent of guile, young un, but regrettably not everyone is.’
‘Well, I’m going to visit Mother first. I haven’t been to see her for ages and I’ve so much to tell her.’
‘Aye, good idea, girl, and say hello from old Davey, too,’ he said, grinning as he turned back to his beloved sheep.
A breeze had got up whilst they’d been having their noon piece, and Rowan walked briskly through the farmyard, making her way to her mother’s final resting place. Daffodils were dancing where the snowdrops had been on her previous visit, their golden trumpets a welcome splash of colour against the dark red Devonshire soil.
Throwing herself onto the ground, Rowan told her mother everything that had been going on at Orchard Farm since her last visit.
‘Fanny’s horrid, Mother. She says she knows I don’t like her and that she doesn’t like me either. Apparently we have to rub along for the time being.’ She felt the ribbon tighten and automatically her hand went to ease the material. ‘Why does that keep happening, Mother? It never used to,’ she said. ‘Oh, I do miss you and wish you were still here,’ she sobbed, closing her eyes to stem the flow of tears.