A Time Like No Other

by Audrey Howard

  The two men stared at her transfixed. She was a lovely woman, even in her present state, and Jed Weaver had not had a woman for a long time. His hatred of the Sinclairs who had turned his family off the land that had supported them for years was deep and ferocious. When they had had their way with this one there’d be such a hue and cry he and Ham would at last be forced to flee and he’d never see his home again. These woods on which he and his brother had lived so freely, so easily, would be finished for them. But on the other hand they had managed to outwit gamekeepers and stewards for years now and even if they had to run for it they could always come back. It was a risk, for she had seen their faces but he told himself she was so petrified with fear she’d not remember.

  ‘Oh bugger it,’ he cried to his brother, ‘us’ve waited a long time fer this.’ He moved purposefully towards the cowering woman in the dark at the back of the cave. She slapped at his hands as they reached for her and began to scream like a hare caught in a trap but with an oath he clenched his fist and hit her on the chin, rendering her senseless. She fell limply into his arms and he liked it.

  ‘Come on, lad,’ he said thickly to Ham as he began to strip her of her cloak and the lovely blue silk dress, tearing them from her flaccid body, but Ham seemed, at the last moment, to be strangely reluctant. Jed had her down to her pretty lace bodice and drawers, both articles of clothing fine and clinging and it was then Ham spoke.

  ‘Eeh, our Jed, lass is ’avin’ a bairn. Us can’t—’

  ‘Gie over! What’s that got ter do wi’ owt?’ Jed was ready to tear the undergarments from her but it seemed Ham, always backward, always the follower of his brother, had something in him his brother lacked. He took hold of Jed’s arm and did his best to pull him away from the semi-conscious woman whose rounded belly proclaimed her condition.

  ‘’Ere, what’s up wi’ yer?’ Jed snarled as Ham tugged at his arm.

  ‘Yer can’t, our Jed. She’s ’avin’ a babby. Yer can’t . . .’

  ‘Don’t be ser daft. She’ll never know’t difference then.’

  ‘No, I say, Jed. Leave ’er be. Babby . . .’

  ‘Bugger babby. I’m ’avin’ a go an’ so are you. It’s what us always wanted.’

  ‘No, Jed, I say no.’ Ham, the bigger and stronger of the two, began to pull his cleverer brother away from Lally, forcing him to leave go of her. She fell at once to the floor of the cave and lay still but Jed, ferocious in his lust and fury, turned on his brother, grunting like a wild animal, aiming a blow at his brother’s face.

  ‘Leave off, our Ham,’ he yelled, swaying in his need to get away to his prey but Ham, reluctant to hurt him, pushed him instead. Jed lost his balance, falling clumsily, his arms flailing, and as he went down his head hit one of the stones that encircled the fire. There was a horrid crack and at once blood began to flow across the rocky floor. Ham sank to his knees, crying his brother’s name, dragging his body into his arms, cradling him against his chest. The woman on the ground was forgotten.

  They did not miss her for two hours, each member of the household getting on with whatever they were meant to be doing and each thinking she was with someone else. It was a Sunday and it wasn’t until the carriage drew up at the front steps and the smiling face of Susan appeared at the window that they realised that their mistress was not here to greet her as she was brought home from hospital. Carly jumped down from his seat, opening the door to Mr Elliott who had gone to fetch her from the infirmary, and who lifted her carefully through the open door of the carriage, her splinted legs sticking out straight before her, and placed her in the long wheelchair that Doctor John had ordered for her. It had an extension at the front so that she was able to stretch out her injured legs and rest her badly bruised back against the padded seat.

  They were all there to greet her, even the children, for she held a very special place in the household. Jack was shy, as he had not seen his mother since the day of the explosion, not awfully sure he cared to see her in what he thought of as a perambulator. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and hung back but the others, Jamie, Alec and Cat, who was held in Dora’s arms, shouted and clamoured to greet her. Boy, barely recognisable as the draggled child who had been pulled out of the devastated mill, moved towards her, his face creased in a tentative smile. He was dressed in one of Jamie’s outfits, for though he was obviously older than Lally’s elder son, he was very small, emaciated, rickety. He had put on some weight with the good food Biddy stuffed down him and was clean, his hair, which had proved to be blond and curly, rioting about his small head. A handsome lad whom they all did their best to bring out of his withdrawn shell.

  He moved slowly towards Susan and with a simple gesture took her hand, then stroked her face. For a moment there was silence and they all wanted to weep but Susan drew him into her arms and held him for a moment, a lovely, emotional moment, and at once all the children, including Jack, were all over her. Who did he think he was, this boy who had been thrust on them? This was their Susan who had been in an accident but Adam was having none of it. ‘That’s enough,’ he roared. ‘Susan is . . . has hurt her legs and you must be very gentle with her. She will be glad of a . . . a kiss . . . and a hug but one at a time and gently.’

  At once they stood back respectfully while Adam and Carly carried the wheelchair up the steps and into the hall. A silent stream of sympathisers followed her. Biddy, Jenny, Clara, Tansy and even Dulcie who was the lowest of the low in the kitchen, and at the bottom of the steps, watching her go up, were Barty and Froglet who called out their good wishes since Mrs Harper was a heroine in their eyes. At the kitchen door Wilf and Evan, Caleb and Ben waited for news and on the stairs, leaving his patient for a moment, was Martin.

  It was Susan who looked round for Lally who, though she was slower than usual on account of her condition, was mysteriously missing.

  ‘Just a minute, Adam,’ she said. ‘Where’s Lally? Everyone is here to welcome me but not Lally. Is she with Mr Sinclair?’ She turned enquiringly to Martin who took a step down, puzzled as they all were.

  ‘No, no, she’s . . . she’s not.’

  ‘Then where is she? Biddy?’

  They all exchanged glances, their faces reflecting their sudden anxiety, for Miss Lally had known very well that Mrs Harper was due home this morning and there was no way she would miss being here.

  ‘Well, she was with Mr Harry earlier,’ Martin faltered, for the tension was palpable among the servants, extending even to Susan herself. Biddy, who had been on her way to the drawing room ready to place Susan comfortably next to the sofa where Mr Elliott could sit beside her and hold her hand as he so obviously wanted to do and where Miss Lally could talk to her friend, whirled about, her face, for some reason, losing its colour. The children were still jumping about, doing their best to behave because Mr Elliott had ordered it, and the servants huddled together, their hands to their mouths.

  ‘Jenny, run and ask Barty if he’s seen the mistress. See, before they get far,’ for both Barty and Froglet were making their way back to cutting the edges of the lawn which they had interupted when the carriage drew up.

  Their bewildered reply to her shouted question made Jenny leap back up the steps and she burst into the hall where, since Mrs Stevens had said nothing to them, the maidservants still stood, waiting for news, or orders, or whatever was to happen next.

  ‘She went . . . to the paddock . . . three hours ago and . . . oh, Jesus, she must have fell or . . . Mrs Stevens, what shall us do? She went out three hours ago,’ she repeated.

  In the drama that was taking place, the hullabaloo that reached every corner of the great house, no one noticed Harry Sinclair and his increasing agitation. Every man in the place took off to search Miss Lally’s route to the paddock, and beyond when she was found not to be there, calling her name which could be heard clearly through Harry’s open window.

  The nearest farm was Folly where Sean and Polly McGinley were alerted and from where Sean and his son Denny began their systema
tic search of all the outbuildings – though why she should be in one of those they did not stop to think – and along the dry-stone walls that bisected their fields. Barty and Froglet, since they knew the grounds in which they worked every day better than any of the other outside staff, quartered the flower gardens, the kitchen garden, the fruit orchards and all the places a body could be hidden, sheds, glasshouses, the dovecote, hen coops, though why the lass should be in any of them was a mystery to them, unless she had fallen. Wilf, Evan, Caleb, Carly and Ben from the stables split up and spread out towards Moor Wood, though again they could not think what their pregnant mistress would be doing there.

  Carly took charge in Tangle Wood and he and the others shouted her name and beat the undergrowth with sticks until it occurred to Carly that the lass, should she be injured and unconscious under a clump of bushes, might be hurt even more by their thrashing about. ‘Carefully lads, carefully,’ he cautioned, shouting the mistress’s name once more, as they all did, the sound echoing across the woodland, the farmland, the park and the heather moor near Lord Billington’s river.

  The woman who cowered on the floor of a cave lifted her head when she heard her name being called but they still crouched in the entrance to the cave, one of them making the most peculiar sounds and she was afraid to draw attention to herself. She curled herself up into a ball as well as she could in her pregnant state, and lay perfectly still. Her child was kicking and she cautiously put her arms about it and at once it quietened as though soothed by the pressure of her arms.

  The Higgins lads from Thickpenny Farm passed close by but she made no sound. John Graham from Cowslip, Robert Archer and his two sons from Prospect, Bert Jackson and the labourers from the Home Farm and even Mr Cameron, the steward, astride his horse Jasper, ranged the whole of the estate through the rest of the day and into the night, which had turned cold, and in the house Tansy and Dulcie wept for their little mistress who was out in what they thought of as the wilds of the woodland and it so dark.

  No one thought to look in on Harry Sinclair. Martin was out with the men, accompanied by Adam, believing Mrs Stevens was seeing to her employer, and Susan, tucked up now in her bed, though she did not sleep, thought only of Lally.

  Philly and Dora had been hard put to calm the children who were all upset, the boys Jamie and Alec ready to cry at the absence of their mama. Her name, which they knew was Lally, carried to them from the gardens surrounding the house as the men shouted for her and though Philly, who was calmer than Dora, ordered the nursery window to be closed they could still hear her name being called.

  ‘Why is Barty shouting for Mama, Philly?’ Jamie asked anxiously, doing his best to keep his hand in hers lest she vanish like Mama.

  ‘Well, sweetheart, Mama went to see Mrs Polly and got herself lost in Tangle Wood so the men have gone to bring her home.’

  ‘It’s dark in Tangle Wood, Philly. I wouldn’t like to be lost there. Will Mama be home before we go to bed? I’ll need my bath soon.’

  ‘An’ Mama’s got my book ’bout the five little kittings and was going to say it to me,’ Alec cut in.

  ‘Well, Dora will give you your bath with the others, Jamie, and I shall find your book and will say it to you, darling, and all of you can listen. As soon as Mama comes home I’ll send her up to say goodnight.’

  It was hard to settle them, the two women doing their best to calm their fears but their own were so strong it was difficult not to transfer them to the children. Jamie, Alec, Boy and even young Jack, sensing there was something wrong, continued to put uneasy questions to them.

  When at last they fell asleep, Dora stayed with them, dozing in the chair before the fire and still, faint on the night air, she could hear the occasional male voice and still there was no sign of the woman they had all come to hold in great affection. The men returned now and again to snatch a hot drink and to warm themselves, since as night came the mild spring day had turned increasingly colder. Biddy, surprisingly, had a violent fit of hysterics, swearing she would leather Miss Lally when they finally found her for worrying them all like this, but the others calmed her, understanding the strong bond that held her to Miss Lally. None of the maidservants could bring themselves to go to their beds, sitting about the kitchen, constantly making cups of tea and reassuring themselves that their mistress would soon be home. They all looked increasingly drawn, for what could have happened to her on the short walk from the house to the paddock and her pregnant? Every belt of trees had been gone over a dozen times and even the dogs, Fred and Ally, snuffled through Tangle Wood and Moor Wood and out on to the moor but they were house pets not tracker dogs; though they sensed something was wrong and that something was expected of them, they treated the whole thing as an unexpected outing.

  The long night ended and the outside servants shuffled back from their search, for they all had work to do, with the horses and other daily jobs about the yard. The tenants returned to their farms and the milking, the ploughing, the planting, the care of their stock which was their livelihood. They were very subdued, drawn and haggard, weary and worried, for what could have happened to their young mistress for whom they had searched for getting on for twenty-four hours?

  Martin was mortified, as was Mrs Stevens, when he returned to find that his master had been left alone all night. They both rushed upstairs, Martin still dressed as he had been the day before, unshaven and unwashed.

  They were both relieved to find Mr Harry sitting fully dressed in the same chair where he had been left, apparently none the worse for it.

  ‘You go to your bed, Mrs Stevens,’ Martin said kindly, for the housekeeper, who was not as young as she once was, looked done in. ‘Have a rest for an hour or two while I see to Mr Sinclair.’

  But to their astonishment Mr Sinclair fought for the first time ever against being ‘seen to’!

  28

  No matter how Martin and Mrs Stevens coaxed, persuaded, pleaded, Mr Sinclair refused absolutely to get out of his chair from where he stared fixedly at the garden and the stand of wood beyond it. His hands gripped the arms of his chair and his face was rigid with some tension. He needed shaving and the casual suit that Martin had put him in the day before was crumpled as though he had slept in it.

  ‘Mr Sinclair, sir,’ Martin murmured, for his employer’s frozen state and intent eyes alarmed the man who cared for him and he had no wish to startle him. Mr Sinclair did not respond but continued to gaze at some spot in the distance as though he were waiting for something to happen. He even shook off Martin’s concerned hand. Martin circled him while Biddy watched, for if Mr Sinclair had been alone for almost twenty-four hours how had he attended to his personal needs, the bodily functions that it was Martin’s job to supervise?

  ‘Leave him, Martin,’ Biddy whispered, wondering why the pair of them were being so hushed in their speech. There was no reason for it, since Mr Harry had sat through the children’s racket, the maids gossiping, conversations between herself and Lally and had not even turned his head. It was just that he was being so . . . well, the only word she could think of was peculiar . . . odd . . . not himself.

  ‘Yes, we’ll leave him for a minute, Mrs Stevens,’ Martin said in a low voice. They stood in a state of uncertainty, watching Mr Harry, undecided what they should do. The bairns needed checking, Biddy was thinking, although Dora and Miss Atkinson were quite capable of seeing to them in the ordinary sense but they had been so upset yesterday she wanted to see for herself and this was not an ordinary day, was it? Their mam was missing and the first thing they would ask was where she was, especially Master Jamie who at four years old was as sharp as a tack and would remember the events of yesterday, and young Master Alec at two and a half would be looking for his mother who came in every day to see them all, to take them for walks, to play and read to them. Aye, where was she they all wanted to know.

  The little figure struggled through the undergrowth, falling constantly to her knees, tearing her flesh on the thorns of the bramble bushes t
hat grew in profusion, tripping on fallen branches, clutching her belly to protect what it contained. The beech trees, hornbeams and oak which had been bare all winter were now bright green with new leaf, throwing dappling, translucent shadows across the glade where she rested for a moment, the sunlight falling on wood sorrel, wood anemone, sweet violet and hellebore nestling in the roots of the trees. She lay so still, crumpled against the trunk of an oak tree, that a wood mouse darted out from its thick cover and above her a woodcock fluttered among the budding leaves.

  After a moment’s rest she rose to her feet, grasping at the trunk of the tree to help her up, staggering on towards her goal. A holly bush caught at her cloak, snatching it from her shoulders but she did not stop to retrieve it despite the state of her gown which was ripped down the bodice revealing her dainty lawn camisole and the edging of lace. She stumbled on, mindless, blind, an automaton that has been set on its course and will not deviate, resting now and then on a fallen log or a cushion of springy grass but keeping in an almost straight line from where she had been to where she was going.

  Knowing he could not stand about all day waiting for Mr Sinclair to allow his daily ablutions, Martin was busy in the adjoining bathroom, sorting out clean towels and fresh soap when a great shout from the bedroom made him nearly jump out of his skin, he was to say later, and he dropped the soap which skidded across the black and white tiles. Mrs Stevens had gone and Tansy had made up the fire which had gone out during the night. She was just leaving the bedroom with the ashes when the shout made her drop the ash pan, its contents scattering all over the lovely carpet.

  Martin shot out of the bathroom and both he and Tansy rushed towards their master, their faces agape with astonishment, as Mr Harry bellowed, his face to the glass, over and over again the name of his wife.