Heiress on the Run

by Laura Martin

  ‘Well, I really had better get going,’ Amelia said, deciding to let the housekeeper and the estate manager have a bit of privacy.

  ‘Good luck, my dear,’ Goody called after her.

  Amelia knocked quietly on Edward’s study door, wondering if he would agree to her plan. She felt surprisingly nervous and wondered if it was because she wanted today to be a success or if it was down to her remembering the urge she’d had to kiss Edward the last time they’d been in the study together.

  ‘Come in.’

  Pushing open the door, Amelia summoned up her courage and stepped inside.

  ‘Are you busy?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’ His answer was curt and he immediately returned his attention to the papers in front of him.

  ‘I’ve got something planned for today. Will you join me?’

  ‘I’ve got a lot to do.’

  Amelia felt her heart sink, but rallied. Over the past few weeks she had become an expert in drawing Edward out. He was a reticent and solitary man, but Amelia had learnt that perseverance and a sunny smile often won over his initial reluctance to engage with her.

  ‘I won’t take no for an answer,’ Amelia said, wondering whether he was regretting asking her to stay for the foreseeable future.

  ‘What have you planned?’ he asked eventually.

  Amelia suddenly felt a little nervous, but bit her lower lip and ploughed on. ‘I thought we would go and see your tenants. You were only saying the other day they were well overdue a visit.’

  He regarded her in silence for almost a minute.

  ‘What about keeping your presence here a secret?’

  ‘You said yourself McNair will have moved on by now and we can be suitably vague when introducing me. Just give my name as Amelia and tell people I’m your guest.’ Amelia didn’t say it, but she rather thought the tenants would be more interested in their landlord and his emergence from Beechwood Manor after all these years.

  Edward frowned and looked down at his papers for a minute and Amelia thought he might decline, then he gave a short, sharp nod of his head.

  ‘Good idea.’

  ‘Mrs Henshaw has made hampers for us to take.’

  ‘Hampers?’

  ‘With food. As a gift.’

  Edward grunted, but she could see he appreciated the thought she had put into their outing.

  * * *

  Half an hour later Amelia was dressed in a riding habit that was a few sizes too large, but certainly much more comfortable to ride in than an ordinary dress. She was waiting for Edward in the courtyard by the barn that was currently stabling the horses.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Edward asked as he strode from the house and gave his horse a hearty pat on its flank.

  Amelia was just about to answer when Tom, the new groom, came rushing from the barn, a look of panic on his face.

  ‘Sorry to bother you, sir,’ he said, his words tumbling out of his mouth as though they were being chased.

  ‘What is it, Tom?’

  ‘It’s Milly, sir.’ Tom blushed and quickly corrected himself. ‘The pregnant mare.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I think it’s her time and I’ve only ever birthed one foal, sir.’

  Amelia peered over his shoulder into the darkness of the barn, but could not see anything.

  ‘Come on.’ Edward grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, then he paused. ‘You’re not squeamish, are you?’ he asked.

  Amelia gave him a scornful look and brushed past him, following Tom back into the barn.

  Milly, the heavily pregnant mare, was in her stall lying down. On the floor there was a copious amount of liquid soaking into the otherwise fresh hay. As they entered the horse let out a small whinny and stood clumsily, tossing her head and tottering a little.

  ‘Her waters went about ten minutes ago,’ Tom said quietly.

  ‘What should we do?’ Amelia asked. Although the barn was quiet and peaceful Amelia felt an awful sense of panic welling up inside her.

  ‘Nothing. Mares have been birthing foals for hundreds of years without man’s intervention. Just stay quiet and watch, and we’ll be ready to step in if there are any problems.’ Edward was calm and cool and Amelia wondered how many times he’d done this before.

  They watched silently as the mare settled back down on the hay, breathing heavily.

  Edward stood right next to her, leaning on the wooden gate and watching the horse in front of him. Amelia felt his shoulder brush against hers and cast a quick glance at his profile. She felt as though she were getting a glimpse of the man Edward had been before tragedy had struck his life. She’d seen this side to him before, usually when a situation needed a cool head and quick thinking. Then Edward would emerge from his protective shell and take control calmly and authoritatively. Now was no different. He had instantly soothed the panic-stricken groom and inserted himself into the barn unobtrusively in case anything went wrong.

  ‘How long will it take?’ Amelia asked as the mare gave a whinny of pain.

  Edward shrugged, never taking his eyes off the horse. ‘It varies.’

  The mare was back on her feet now, snorting and stomping her front left hoof. Amelia found she was holding her breath as the horse seemed to become more and more agitated.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she whispered, biting her lip. She prayed nothing would go wrong for the mare and a foal would soon emerge alive and well.

  ‘She’s in pain and distressed,’ Edward said, still focused on Milly.

  He gripped hold of the gate and watched the horse whinny and snort for another thirty seconds before seeming to make up his mind. Quickly he vaulted over the wooden partition and into the stall, murmuring soothing words to Milly under his breath as he approached her. Amelia felt her heart begin to pound as he got within touching distance. One wrong move and he could be trampled by the distressed animal.

  ‘Be careful,’ she whispered quietly. ‘Please don’t get hurt.’

  She might not ever be able to have Edward’s heart or his love, but Amelia knew she would be completely devastated if anything happened to him.

  Carefully Edward reached out and began to stroke Milly on the nose, all the time talking to her in his soft voice. Even just his presence by her side seemed to calm the mare and slowly she relaxed. After a couple of minutes Edward helped to guide her back into the hay. He sank down with the horse, stroking her flank and talking to her softly.

  ‘Nearly there,’ Amelia heard him say as the mare tensed and snorted. ‘You can do it, girl.’

  Amelia didn’t know a single other landowner who would sit in the hay coaxing a labouring mare through giving birth. Every new thing she learnt about him made her care more, to want something that could never happen between them more.

  ‘Look,’ Amelia whispered suddenly. ‘I can see a hoof.’

  Sure enough one hoof and then another came into view, followed shortly by a nose. Amelia found she was holding her breath, waiting for a little more of the foal to appear with each contraction. For a moment she forgot her troubles and instead focused all her attention on the mare, willing the foal to be born safely and wishing there was something she could do to help.

  Edward remained where he was, stroking and talking, but Amelia could see the excitement and anticipation in his eyes. He looked more alive than she’d ever seen him and she felt as though she wanted to capture this version of him and keep it with her for ever.

  Suddenly, with a rush, the foal was born. Immediately he was moving, uncoordinated and unsteady, but moving. Milly looked back, exhausted, at her baby, and allowed it to nuzzle in to her.

  ‘Foal should be up and about in half an hour or so,’ Tom said, smiling now the danger had passed.

  ‘That was miraculous,’ Amelia said, unable to take h
er eyes off the mother and baby. They were curled together, both sticky and wet, but both two halves of a whole.

  Edward stood up slowly, careful not to disturb the mare and her foal. With a backwards glance at the two animals he vaulted back over the fence and took Amelia by the arm.

  ‘Come, let’s leave them to bond,’ Edward said quietly, leading Amelia away. ‘We can return and see how they’re doing later.’

  Out in the courtyard Edward helped Amelia to mount her horse, boosting her up and holding her steady whilst she rearranged the heavy material of the riding habit.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything so wonderful,’ Amelia said, still unable to think of anything else but the new life inside the barn.

  She’d never really considered children before, but seeing the foal cuddle up to its mother had sparked some hidden maternal part of her. When she had been infatuated with McNair Amelia had never been overly keen on the idea of a family of her own, it just hadn’t really fit in to the idea of soirées and parties that McNair had painted for her, but maybe there was a part of her that would like to be a mother. Only if she found the right man to be a father to her children, of course.

  Glancing quickly at Edward, Amelia tried to suppress the image of him as a father. From how he had talked of his son and the stories Goody had told her Amelia knew Edward had been a wonderful father. He’d been loving and involved, not distant like some. Just the sort of man she would want to be father to her own children.

  Pushing the fantasy away, Amelia smiled brightly and urged her horse forward. Today was about Edward bonding with his tenants. She wouldn’t make it about her. Nothing could distract her from her aim.

  Edward was quiet as they rode over the green slopes and Amelia left him to his thoughts for a while. As they approached the cottages she reined in her horse and slowed.

  ‘Tell me about your tenants,’ she said, wanting to know just a little about the people they would be visiting.

  ‘The estate owns twenty-four houses in total,’ Edward said, allowing himself a smile at the surprised look on her face.

  ‘I only brought three hampers.’

  ‘Most of the houses are in the village itself. The cottages we saw the other day are rented out to the farmer labourers and their families.’

  ‘The ones that work on Beechwood Farm?’

  It was the farm surrounding the quaint farmhouse Edward had pointed out the other day.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘So who lives in each?’

  Edward thought for a minute, his fingers tapping the leather of the reins gently as he stared off into the distance.

  ‘The first cottage is rented to the Wilsons. They are a young couple without any children, or at least they didn’t have any when I last saw them. In the second cottage are the Turners, Mr Turner has worked for the family for many years. They have seven children in total, but I think the eldest three have left home.’

  ‘There’s six of them living in that tiny cottage?’

  ‘You have led a sheltered life. That’s considered spacious for some families.’

  Amelia bristled slightly. She’d probably seen more poverty than Edward could imagine. In India whole families often lived in one room with no access to clean water or sanitary facilities. Disease spread quickly in the heat and it wasn’t uncommon to have whole villages wiped out in the course of a week.

  The difference of course was the weather. Although whole families might only have one room, most of the living was done outside. Cooking, washing, sometimes even sleeping when the nights were clear and balmy. What she couldn’t imagine was being cooped up in a gloomy cottage with so many other people in the dark, cold days of an English winter.

  ‘And the third cottage?’

  Edward grimaced and looked a little bashful.

  ‘Mrs Locke and her three daughters live there.’

  ‘I thought you said the cottages were for farm labourers.’

  ‘They are. Mrs Locke’s husband worked at Beechwood Farm until he died five years ago.’

  ‘How awful.’

  ‘I’ve never had the heart to turf them out, even though it means some of the other farm labourers living further away in the village.’

  ‘How do they pay their rent?’ Amelia asked a little suspiciously.

  Edward coughed and urged his horse forward.

  ‘Mrs Locke takes in sewing and I think the eldest daughter has just got a job as a maid.’

  ‘You don’t make them pay, do you?’

  ‘No.’

  Amelia suppressed a smile. He’d been brought up to be a fair landlord, she was sure, but also to ensure his properties were profitable. She didn’t think many men would take pity on a widow and her daughters for so many years.

  They stopped outside the first cottage and Edward dismounted before helping Amelia down. Expertly he secured both horses to a fence and led Amelia carefully up the neat little stone path.

  A woman in her late twenties opened the door with a baby in her arms and a toddler clinging on to her skirts. As she realised who was visiting her eyes widened with shock and she dipped into a nervous curtsy.

  ‘Sir... Sir Edward,’ she managed to stutter.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Wilson. I hope we haven’t come at an inconvenient time.’

  ‘Oh, no, of course not, my lord, it is a pleasure to welcome you into our home at any time.’

  She stood aside and ushered them into a small kitchen with a few solid pieces of wooden furniture.

  ‘May I introduce Miss Amelia? A friend who is currently staying with me at Beechwood Manor.’

  ‘It’s lovely to meet you, miss.’ Mrs Wilson paused, switched the baby to her other hip and then ploughed on nervously. ‘And may I say it is wonderful to see you out and about, my lord. I pray every week for your family.’ She blushed, wrung her hands and looked at Amelia beseechingly as if worried she had said too much.

  Edward remained silent and Amelia could feel Mrs Wilson’s concern building.

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Mrs Wilson. I know Sir Edward is grateful to everyone who has prayed or sent good wishes in these difficult times.’

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘That would be wonderful, but you must let me make it. You have your hands full with these little darlings.’

  * * *

  Amelia and Mrs Wilson talked for twenty minutes about the children and by the time they were ready to leave the older woman had relaxed considerably.

  ‘Is there anything you need, Mrs Wilson?’ Edward asked on their way out the door.

  Mrs Wilson glanced at Amelia, who smiled encouragingly.

  ‘Well, the roof over our bedroom does leak a little. We’ve managed to patch it up for a while, but after the last storm it’s got much worse. We never wanted to bother you, but it would be nice not to have a bucket in the middle of the room to catch the water.’

  ‘I will send someone to look at it later this week,’ Edward promised. ‘And you must tell me if anything else ever needs doing. That is what I am here for.’

  The second visit was just as successful, with Edward even relaxing enough to scoop one of the younger of the Turner children on to his shoulders whilst they were having a tour of the small garden.

  Amelia watched him as the young boy gripped his hair and Edward laughed. He had picked the boy up so effortlessly, as if it were second nature to him. She could imagine him as a father, playing and laughing and loving his son. It made her heart constrict to realise just what he had lost.

  ‘Will you be my horsey?’ the little boy asked.

  ‘Hush, Timothy, don’t bother Sir Edward,’ Mrs Turner said with an apologetic smile.

  Edward tilted his head back, gave Timothy a mischievous smile and then began to trot around the garden, making the
young boy squeal with delight.

  ‘Faster, faster!’ Timothy yelled.

  Edward obliged, picking up speed and jiggling Timothy up and down until both man and boy collapsed panting and laughing.

  Amelia realised it was the first time she’d seen Edward properly laugh. There had been a few self-deprecating chuckles, the odd smile and one or two twinkles of amusement in his eyes, but she’d never actually seen him let go and laugh like this.

  ‘Sir Edward is a good man,’ Mrs Turner said as they watched Edward and Timothy sit up, only to collapse back again on to the grass. ‘And he’s suffered so much.’

  Amelia nodded wordlessly. Even when he’d told her about the loss of his wife and son Amelia hadn’t realised quite how it must have destroyed his entire soul. Seeing him with the children showed her how he must have lived for his son.

  * * *

  After Edward had been completely exhausted by the Turner children and Amelia had eaten far too much of Mrs Turner’s fruitcake they bid their farewells and moved on to their final visit of the day.

  As they approached the last cottage the door opened before Edward could raise his fist to knock.

  ‘Sir Edward,’ the middle-aged woman said, with worry apparent in her voice.

  ‘Mrs Locke, I hope you are well. This is Miss Amelia. She’s a friend staying with me at Beechwood Manor at the moment.’

  ‘Please come in.’

  No sooner had the door closed than Mrs Locke was ushering them into the small kitchen and nervously tidying up around them. Two young girls peeked round the doorframe, both as anxious as their mother.

  ‘You have a lovely home, Mrs Locke,’ Amelia said, trying to put the older woman at ease.

  ‘We’re very grateful for all your generosity over the years, Sir Edward, and of course I understand the time has come for you to move one of the farm labourers into the cottage, but I beg you please let me find somewhere else for my girls first. I don’t want them to end up in the workhouse.’

  As she spoke the tears began running down her cheeks and her two youngest daughters rushed into the room to cling on to her.

  ‘Mrs Locke,’ Edward said, quietly but firmly, ‘please don’t worry. That is not why I am here.’