by Linda Finlay
When she’d got her emotions under control, she opened her eyes and gasped. The daffodils had all splayed out and seemed to be forming the word ‘beware’. She blinked in surprise but when she looked again the flowers were bobbing and dancing in the breeze. It must have been her imagination, she thought. Her ribbon tightened.
‘I know you’re trying to tell me something about Fanny, Mother. I just wish I knew what to do about the woman,’ she sighed, getting to her feet and pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. ‘I’ll be back to visit you soon.’ No, you won’t, the breeze seemed to sigh. She shook her head, thinking that was fanciful even for her, and, heart heavy, she made her way back down the path.
Back in the farmhouse, all thought of warning winds and daffodils disappeared as she shrugged off her shawl and saw the note Fanny had left. Beside it lay a lilac blouse and the emerald ribbon.
Dear Rowan,
As your father and I will be back late, please prepare supper for our return.
I’d be obliged if you would sew my new ribbon on to this blouse. Fanny
Rowan felt her temper rising. Screwing up the note, she flung it into the fire. Really, that woman had the cheek of a thousand devils, never mind one. Well, she knew the men would be hungry so she’d prepare their meal, but there was no way she was going to sew that ribbon on to Fanny’s blouse. Going out to the vegetable store, she snatched up some roots from their dwindling supplies then picked herbs from the garden. Back inside, as she prepared a broth she couldn’t help staring at the ribbon, a plan forming in her mind. Throwing more wood onto the fire she set the pot to simmer.
After rinsing her hands, she snuggled down beside the hearth with her sewing. Magic appeared as if from nowhere and settled on her feet. Then, in the cosy atmosphere of crackling logs and purring cat, she spent a pleasant afternoon stitching and musing. She couldn’t help remembering sitting here with her mother teaching her to sew. Then, after she’d died, Auntie Sal had helped her with the difficult tasks of turning the collars on her father’s shirts. Thoughts of her auntie reminded her that she and her uncle hadn’t visited in a while, which was quite unlike them. Maybe it was because of the snow. She must ask her father about it when he returned.
Just as the shadows were lengthening and a savoury aroma was rising from the pot, she held up her work and nodded in satisfaction. Skipping upstairs, she laid the lilac blouse on Fanny’s bed. Then going into her own room she kissed her mirror and put her handiwork away for later.
She’d just finished setting the table when her father and stepmother clattered through the door. Magic hissed at Fanny and bolted upstairs.
‘Something smells good,’ Edward said, sniffing the air appreciatively.
‘I’m pleased to see you followed my instructions, Rowan,’ Fanny said graciously. ‘I think we will all eat together tonight.’
Wondering what had brought about Fanny’s change of mind, for she knew there must be a reason, Rowan set extra places around the table. She cut bread and was serving up the broth when Davey appeared. Seeing Fanny sitting at the table, he collected his dish and returned to the barn, muttering he had to see to a ewe that was about to give birth. Apart from the scraping of cutlery on plates, there was silence as they all ate ravenously. Finally Edward pushed his empty platter away.
‘That were a nice drop of broth, Rowan, my dear,’ he declared, patting his stomach.
Sab nodded in agreement. ‘Glad you’re back to cooking our meals, Rowan,’ he said, looking pointedly at Fanny.
She sniffed, but said nothing, just sat there looking smug, like a cat that’s cornered a mouse and is waiting to pounce.
Sensing tension, Edward began talking about the warming weather, and when the moon phase would be right to sow the crops.
‘Well, we’re into March now, so by my reckoning the water table will be right for carrots and tubers soon after next market day,’ Sab commented.
‘And then we can see about sowing the grain up in Five Acre Field,’ Edward said.
‘Does this all really take place at night?’ Fanny asked, suddenly taking an interest in the conversation.
‘No, my dear, we can’t broadcast at night, we can only plant the root crops,’ Edward told her, smiling apologetically.
‘And when will this be exactly?’ asked Fanny, looking up from her list.
‘Probably at the vernal equinox – or Eostre for you, Rowan,’ Sab answered with a grin.
‘Do talk English, boy,’ Fanny snapped. Silence descended like a blanket of death. ‘Well, think how difficult this all is for me, a city girl who has no knowledge of your country ways,’ she simpered.
‘Sorry, my dear,’ Edward said, giving an embarrassed cough.
‘And do you have a part in this?’ she asked, turning to Rowan and giving her a penetrating stare.
‘Oh, yes, I shall be carrying out the ritual Mother taught me to draw upon the earth’s natural energies. It will be the time when day and night are of equal length and in perfect balance. We need to ensure the continuum –’
‘For heaven’s sake, will you stop spouting this mumbo jumbo,’ Fanny interrupted.
‘Yes, my dear,’ Edward muttered. ‘Did the farrier come, Sab?’
Sab shook his head.
‘Happen he’ll drop by tomorrow then. Right, if we’ve all finished, I’ll go and bring in the flour,’ he said, rising to his feet.
‘Just a minute, Edward,’ Fanny said, putting out her arm to detain him. ‘Now, Sab, have you finished my path yet?’
‘Almost,’ he muttered.
‘Good. Remember that I decreed it must be done before planting. I cannot afford to ruin more shoes. Now, when I was in Sudbury I engaged the services of a cook-cum-housekeeper, so first thing Monday morning, we will go through her duties together, Rowan. Then you can show her where everything is,’ she said, smiling her supercilious smile.
‘You didn’t tell me about this, Fanny,’ Edward said, looking shocked. ‘How much is this woman going to cost?’
‘Now, my dear, we agreed that you’d see to things around the farm and leave me to deal with running of the household.’
Edward shook his head. ‘I’m not sure we can afford …’
‘Edward, you promised to leave the accounts to me and we did agree that Rowan shouldn’t have to cook and clean any more, didn’t we?’ she said, smiling sweetly.
Feeling there was more to it than this, Sab and Rowan exchanged puzzled looks.
‘Well, that’s all arranged then,’ Fanny said, getting to her feet. ‘Mrs Dunmore will be arriving by carter, along with the household items I purchased this afternoon.’
Rowan took special care with her appearance on Monday morning, but waited until she heard the cart arrive before going downstairs. The kitchen was alive with activity as the driver, helped by Sab, unloaded numerous parcels and packages.
‘Looks like Fanny’s gone crazy with Uncle’s money,’ Sab whispered as she passed.
Rowan shook her head, wondering just where everything was going to be stored.
Fanny, who’d already shown Mrs Dunmore into the parlour, looked up as Rowan appeared in the doorway. Her eyes widened in surprise, the smile freezing on her lips as she took in the emerald ribbon adorning Rowan’s homespun. Involuntarily, she glanced down at the same ribbon, which Rowan had sewn prominently down the placket of her lilac blouse. Rowan grinned to herself. Just as she’d thought, the bright emerald did nothing to enhance Fanny’s cold grey eyes. It was only when the matronly looking woman jumped to her feet that Fanny remembered her manners.
‘Rowan, this is Mrs Dunmore, who is coming to look after our household matters,’ she said frostily.
Rowan smiled at the woman, taking in her meek, accepting eyes, iron-grey hair twisted into a bun and the well-worn, yet clean coat. Nervously the woman nodded back.
‘I have already agreed terms of employment with Mrs Dunmore,’ Fanny continued. ‘However, I would be pleased if you could familiarize her with what food Edwar
d likes to eat and when. Then I’d like you to show her where everything is kept. When you are satisfied Mrs Dunmore knows what is expected of her you will return. There are things I wish to discuss with you.’ Fanny was staring pointedly at the emerald ribbon on Rowan’s dress.
It took Rowan only a couple of hours to explain their daily routine and show Mrs Dunmore where everything was kept. Then, to her surprise, the carter returned and the woman bade her farewell.
‘But aren’t you staying?’ Rowan asked.
‘Oh, no, dear, I’m to wait until I’m summoned,’ Mrs Dunmore replied, climbing quickly into the cart.
Rowan shook her head. The workings of her stepmother’s mind were beyond her. Her stomach growled and, remembering she’d had nothing to eat, she hurried back to the farmhouse. She’d just finished her bread roll when Fanny appeared in the doorway.
‘Ah, Rowan, I trust everything went well?’ she enquired, eyeing her dress speculatively.
‘Yes, but I thought Mrs Dunmore would be starting straight away.’
‘Well, we have to be mindful of the household budget, don’t we?’ her stepmother answered.
Rowan stared around the kitchen at the piles of packages. ‘Shall I get Sab to tidy these away?’ she asked.
‘Ah, Sab. Let us go through, Rowan. There are a few things I wish to discuss with you, and he happens to be one of them,’ Fanny replied, disappearing back into her parlour.
‘Now, first things first. I suppose you found it amusing to trim both our garments with the emerald ribbon?’ she said, staring at Rowan with those stony grey eyes.
Rowan swallowed but, determined to stand her ground, she stared boldly back.
‘Well, Fanny, although I bought that ribbon for myself, you made it quite plain you wanted it for trimming your blouse. It occurred to me that with careful cutting there would be enough for both of us,’ she explained. She waited for her stepmother to explode but, to her amazement, the woman nodded in agreement.
‘It makes sense when you think about it, I suppose. In future, though, you will not wear that dress at the same time I’m attired in my lilac blouse. That way, we will not be classed as being from the same stock,’ she said, laughing at her own little joke.
Rowan smiled politely but did not answer. It was for her to decide when she wore her green dress, thank you.
‘Now, about Sab – such a ridiculous name. Why is he called that?’ Rowan stared at her stepmother, surprised at the change of subject. ‘Well, Rowan, am I talking to myself?’ Fanny demanded.
‘Sorry. Sab is short for Sabbath. As he was discovered by the sisters of the foundling hospital on the Sabbath, they named him accordingly. He hated that, so we shortened it to Sab.’
‘When was this exactly?’ Fanny asked, peering intently at Rowan.
She frowned, trying to remember. ‘It must have been about ten years ago, I suppose. Mother couldn’t have any more children after me. She was so small, you see …’
‘Yes, yes,’ her stepmother cut in abruptly, her eyes calculating. ‘And he’s what, about fourteen years old now?’
Rowan nodded. ‘Why, has he done something wrong?’ she asked, puzzled by the woman’s questions and anxious not to get Sab into trouble.
As was her way, Fanny abruptly changed the conversation again.
‘You didn’t tell me how you got on at the market last Thursday. I expect you saw all the old faces, but did you meet anyone new?’ Fanny’s gaze bore into her, making her feel uncomfortable. She thought of the slimy man, but some inner sense told her to hold her tongue.
‘Well, I expect you will be making more bread and cheese to take to the market on Thursday?’ Fanny said into the lengthening silence.
‘Oh, yes, I could have sold lots more last week if I’d had the produce,’ Rowan said.
‘Well, I suggest you spend the next few days making sure you have sufficient for this time,’ Fanny said. ‘We shall share the household duties until Mrs Dunmore starts.’
As her stepmother smiled graciously, Rowan felt the ribbon tighten around her wrist and a prickle of unease crept up her spine.
Rowan spent the next few days making her produce, but as she chopped herbs for her soft cheese and kneaded dough for her bread, her mind kept going back over the strange conversation she’d had with her stepmother. She wanted to discuss it with Sab, but with the path finished he must have been put to work elsewhere on the farm. Unusually, he hadn’t put in an appearance at mealtimes and she’d been so busy she hadn’t had a chance to go and find him. Still, they’d have plenty of time to chat on their journey to market. They’d be by themselves and would be able to talk freely.
By Wednesday afternoon, Rowan was satisfied she had enough cheese to meet demand. Wanting to make sure she had more bread than the previous week, she sought her stepmother’s permission to make her loaves that evening after they’d finished their supper. Unusually the woman was obliging, and by the time Rowan went to bed that night the kitchen table was completely covered with cooling loaves and rolls. She fell into bed exhausted but satisfied she’d made enough produce to make a decent profit.
Creeping downstairs at daybreak the next morning, she found the kitchen quiet and the kitchen table empty. Puzzled, she hurried out to the dairy, and saw to her dismay that all her cheese was missing, too.
CHAPTER 12
Thinking Sab might have risen early and packed everything onto the cart, Rowan ran outside. The yard was empty and everything eerily quiet for this time of the morning. With an uneasy feeling uncurling in her stomach, she threw open the shippon door but there was no sign of Sab or her father, and she could tell by the placid way the cows were staring at her that they’d already been milked.
She was just letting the chickens out when she heard the high-pitched squeal of an animal in distress. Hurrying over to the barn, she saw old Davey, hand inside a struggling ewe, shaking his head.
‘Lamb’s breech and I’ve been trying to turn it. Can’t get me big old hand up far enough, though,’ he muttered, and from the beads of sweat running down his face, Rowan could see he’d been trying for some time.
‘Here, let me try,’ she said, quickly pulling up the sleeves of her dress.
Under Davey’s guidance she gently but firmly twisted until finally the lamb was turned the right way. No sooner had she removed her hand than the tiny animal slithered from his mother, landing with a soft plop on the straw at her feet. Immediately, the ewe nuzzled the lamb and began licking away the membrane covering it. Wondering at the miracle of Mother Nature, Davey and Rowan exchanged relieved looks and then went over to the water trough to wash the muck and blood from their arms. Collapsing onto a nearby bale, they watched with satisfaction as the mother completed her job. Tenderly old Davey encouraged the lamb to its feet and directed it towards its mother’s teat. As it began to suckle, its midwives gave a triumphant cheer.
‘Phew, that were a near thing,’ old Davey said, wiping the sweat from his face with his kerchief. ‘Thank heavens you was here. I couldn’t have managed without you, girl.’ His words jerked Rowan back to the present.
‘That’s just it, Davey, I’m not meant to be here. It is market day and I should be on my way to Sudbury with Sab. I’ve spent all week preparing my produce. Why, I even worked late into the night baking extra bread as there seems to be a demand for it. I left it cooling on the kitchen table but when I got up this morning, it had all disappeared. There’s no sign of Father or Sab either. It’s almost as if Fanny’s intent on keeping me away from them,’ she wailed.
‘Are you sure?’ Davey asked, wrinkling his forehead. ‘Mind you, I vaguely remember hearing the cart rumbling off some time ago, but I was that busy in here, I didn’t take any notice.’
‘Why would Sab have gone without me? It’s not like him. But then he’s been ignoring me all week. And Auntie Sal and Uncle Silas haven’t visited in ages. It’s so unlike them.’
‘Happen I agree it’s that Fanny who’s behind it all. Divide and rule, that o
ne,’ he said, scratching his head.
‘What do you mean?’ Rowan asked.
‘That lady will go to any lengths to get her own way. Things is becoming a bit strange all around here. She was even asking if we dealt with them owlers.’
‘Surely not. Everyone knows decent folk steer clear of those hoodlums,’ Rowan cried.
‘Said she’d heard we could get a better price for our wool. Told her, she’d be a right fool to get mixed up with them,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘But Father would never deal with owlers, Davey. You know how he despises them.’
‘True enough, but that woman’s got him eating from her hand. Never seen a sensible man change as fast as Edward since her’s been here. When I looks in her eyes, all I sees is greed. Don’t worry,’ he added, seeing Rowan’s look of alarm. ‘Old Davey will see he stays on the right track, for this year at least.’
‘Why only this year?’ she asked, looking at him in alarm.
He gave a deep sigh. ‘After that it’s going to be up to you, little un. Old Davey here won’t be seeing another spring,’ he said, shaking his head. Rowan gasped. ‘Oh, don’t worry; ’tis the way of things. The circle of life, as your dear mother used to say. Come next year, old Davey here will be returned to the earth.’
‘No, Davey, please don’t say that,’ she cried, grabbing hold of his arm.
‘Don’t you fret; old Davey here’s had a good life. But you needs to look out for yourself, Rowan. Promise me that, eh?’ he begged, staring at her with blue eyes that were surprisingly all-seeing and clear for an old man. Too choked to speak, she nodded. ‘That’s all old Davey needs to know,’ he said, patting her shoulder. ‘Now, I expects her ladyship will still be in bed, and I’ve a feeling she be behind all your problems. Go and speak to her, eh? This be the last of the sheep to lamb this year, so old Davey’ll do as he’s been told and take himself back to his hut.’
‘Do as you’ve been told? I don’t understand,’ Rowan said, although she had a hunch.
‘The old besom said I’m not welcome to bed here in the barn no more, and old Davey don’t stay where he’s not wanted. Thing is, I knows I’ve seen her afore but I’m blowed if I can remember where. It’s that smell, you see. Gets right up your nose and stays there.’