Once Beloved

by Amara Royce

Helena could only imagine the woman’s string of complaints and epithets. Her stomach twisted at the thought of her niece suffering abuse on her behalf.

  “Don’t give her another thought. Her words mean nothing to me.”

  “She called us whores, didn’t she? When she was in the back?” Vanessa shot back, indignantly. “No one has ever called me a whore. And you are one of the most admirable women I know. She doesn’t know a thing about us, and yet she spewed such slander!”

  “Shh. It’s over now. Perhaps if we need anything else while we’re here, we can take a small jaunt to Bradford instead.”

  “That is how you plan to respond, Auntie? You cannot be run off by such horrible people. That’s not right. It’s not fair.” Her niece looked at her, affronted and resolute.

  “Dear heart, as unpleasant as the streets of London can be, you haven’t seen this kind of nastiness up close. I can only hope Gran’s health will improve soon, and we won’t have to seek supplies again. If I’ve caused so much trouble that it hasn’t dissipated over the past twenty years, I don’t expect to mend such a massive breach in a week or two. It would take too much valuable energy to combat that level of animosity now. Gran needs our attention, not this ancient history. Believe me, all will be well.”

  “If you say so,” Vanessa replied, as if tired of the conversation. “But it’s still not just, and you shouldn’t have to suffer it. Oh, look at those lovely flowers! They would certainly brighten Gran’s rooms!” With her characteristically swift shift in attention, Vanessa veered into the field and quickly picked a handful. They continued on their way in what Helena hoped was a companionable silence, having left the village and its unpleasantness behind them.

  The clouds had thickened considerably by the time they reached the milestone Helena knew was their halfway point. The sun was no longer visible. The gray skies and shadowed hills were achingly reminiscent.

  “What are you thinking of, Auntie? You look so far away, suddenly.”

  “I’m just missing your uncle. We first met along this road to Marksby, you know. Or perhaps you don’t. My boys have heard the story countless times with endless amusement, but I don’t know if you ever heard it.”

  “I don’t think so. Was it romantic?”

  “Hardly, unless mud and embarrassment are now considered romantic. One never knows with you young ones.” She flicked a flower petal in the girl’s direction and caught a distant, dreamy look in her niece’s eye. Was it put there by thoughts of whoever had prompted her parents to send her out of London? All too well she remembered the feelings suggested by that look, and she wasn’t exactly in an authoritative position to chastise her niece for developing impulsive romantic attachments. A heavy cloud slipped in front of the sun again, placing them in a small circle of darkness while the rest of the hill glowed. An answering darkness slipped over her heart as bittersweet memories flooded her mind. “I was returning home from visiting my grandmother, in fact. This was when my grandfather was alive, and they lived at the Grove. I’d brought over some of my mother’s wonderful pies, and in return Gran sent me back with a package of very special treats she’d received from a friend on the Continent. She assured me they were like nothing Elizabeth and I had ever tasted. She went on and on about them, making me promise to treat them with care.”

  “Didn’t you just want to tear into them on your walk home?”

  A pang shot through her. How like Vanessa she’d been!

  “Oh, absolutely! It was temptation such that I’d never known before,” she admitted. “After all, Gran’s words made it such a challenge. What could possibly be that good? But I wasn’t a child anymore, so I was determined to behave appropriately.” That was perhaps the last thing she’d done back then that her family would deem appropriate. “I never did get to taste them.”

  “What happened?” Frowning down at the ground, Vanessa picked her way carefully around some large ruts.

  “When I left Gran’s house, the skies were ominous. Much worse than today. Still, I thought I could get home before the rains began. I was very wrong. I’d just reached this main road when the skies opened. Within minutes, my clothes were sopping, and the package was soaked through.” Even now, she could feel the chill and the weight of her waterlogged cloak and skirt. “The rain came so hard and so fast that I ended up walking in mud up to my ankles and was at risk of losing my boots. At one point, I lost my footing, and my left leg got stuck in a deep rut that I hadn’t seen because of all the water on the road. The mud was so heavy I couldn’t pull myself out.” A bitter taste flooded her throat as a flare of panic raced through her. She’d been trapped and alone. So long ago, and yet the sensations were imprinted on her skin. “I remember getting down on my hands and knees to try to work my foot loose. So then I was up to my elbows, my dress completely covered. I could feel dirt spattering on my face as the rain continued to pour. It was so cold and slimy, and that awful mud was everywhere.”

  A noise of disgust lifted her out of the memory, and Vanessa’s horrified expression made her chuckle. If anyone would appreciate the total awfulness of the situation, it would be her fastidious niece.

  “Oh, my sweet, it was even worse than you can imagine! I was no stranger to dirt and muck, having grown up on the farm, but this was truly a mud bath. And not the kind of mud bath that’s come into fashion recently. It was in no way soothing or medicinal.”

  “It sounds ghastly!”

  “Let’s not forget that not only was I practically immersed, I was also immobilized. At one point, I tried to scoop the mud away from my leg, but I still couldn’t see very well because of the murky water that had collected in the rut. I could only feel the mud flowing in as fast as I tried to dig it away. ” She shivered now at the memory and felt panic returning, rising. Only one thought could calm her. “So you can imagine what a sight your uncle encountered.”

  “Oh, Auntie, how mortifying! That was how he found you?”

  “Worse than that, dear, it was how he almost ran me over in his gig! There I was, bent over, plastered with mud, in the middle of a raging storm. Anyone driving by could have mistaken me for a boulder, I’m sure, if they saw me at all. I didn’t even hear or see him until he had passed me and called his horse to halt. When he stepped down, oh, you can’t imagine my combined relief and horror. Here was a stranger, a gentleman by his bearing and attire, and there I was, trapped and covered in muck. I was entirely at his mercy.” He’d been such a welcome sight! Thinking back, she should have been at least a little fearful of him, given her vulnerable position. But she hadn’t been. He’d been her savior, her strong and handsome knight rescuing her in her hour of distress. Yet again, she marveled now at how fortunate she’d been. How many girls had had those same thoughts only to find far too late that it was all an illusion? “When he saw my predicament, he simply yanked me up and out of the hole and asked me where I lived.”

  No need to mention how he’d reached into the muddy water to gauge the depth of the rut, how her skin had burned at the fleeting stroke of his hand against her leg, how her whole body had reacted to his nearness.

  “I tried to tell him that I could make my way home on my own, but he wouldn’t hear it. Said his mother would never forgive him for leaving a woman in such a predicament. So he drove me home. By the time we arrived, it was near dark and the storm had grown even stronger. My parents were so relieved that I was safe. They invited him to stay for the night since the roads to Bradford, where he was staying, would be impassable. That was how our courtship began.”

  No need to tell Vanessa about the heart of it, the way he’d talked with her on that drive as if they were the only two people on Earth, as if her thoughts and opinions mattered, as if he wanted to assuage all her curiosity about the wider world and indulge her adventurous ambitions. Within a fortnight of their meeting, she’d built quite grand plans about traveling Europe with him, about exploring Greek ruins together, about ocean voyages and train expeditions. When he’d proposed marriage a few weeks
into their acquaintance, it had felt as if she were dreaming. Even now, it felt as if she’d inhabited a fantasy world. His sweet deference, appearing only in his most private, most vulnerable moments, had completely enthralled her. And everything he’d shown her about himself remained true throughout their marriage. God, she missed him so!

  “Auntie! Watch your step!” Vanessa’s abrupt exclamation pulled her from her reverie, and she just barely skipped around some muck in the road, pulling her skirts tight against her. She blinked as she took in their surroundings, surprised at how far they’d gone without her noticing. They should have left the road already to cross the fields toward home.

  “This way,” she said as she led the way into the grass, following a line of trees up over a gentle hill. In the shade, the cool scent of earth and moss brought her back to the present moment.

  Vanessa asked, “What’s that horrible cacophony?”

  Chapter 12

  “That sound, Vanessa, means we’re about to meet quite a lively Tparty.”

  As they crested a ridge, the discordant noises coalesced into the natural symphony of what must have been a hundred sheep or more roaming the hillside. At the sight, a hitch in Helena’s throat left her momentarily speechless. She was twelve again, she and her mother on their way home from visiting neighbors, watching her father in the saddle talking to the sheep as if they were his children. Now a stray breeze tried to dry the tears welling in her eyes. Those days were long past. These were just sheep, nothing more. Sheep roaming naturally, until such time as their shepherd came to collect them.

  An indelicate outburst from her niece caught her attention.

  Apparently, a ram had taken an interest in Vanessa’s skirt and was now butting up against her, advancing each time she retreated. “Go away, you silly sheep! Oh, do go away!”

  “You need to be a bit more forceful than that, Ness! Try an angry ‘Shoo shoo!’ and perhaps follow it with a gentle push.”

  She had to stifle a laugh when Vanessa’s “shoo” came out more as a whimper than a command. But then she heard “Oh, no, you don’t! My dress is not your dinner! You go on and shoo! There’s plenty of grass around for you to eat. I’ll not appear slatternly because of a sheep who can’t tell real flowers from fake ones.” That was the Vanessa she knew.

  Unfortunately, it still didn’t have the desired effect. The animal kept on nibbling, and the strain on Vanessa’s skirt became obvious. She rushed over to her niece and attempted to grab the ram, but he wouldn’t budge. What she wouldn’t give for a turnip to distract the stubborn thing! Vanessa shrieked and fell onto her side trying to free herself.

  A sharp whistle pierced the air just as she caught sight of a collie bounding toward them. A moment before the dog came nose-to-nose with its target, the ram abruptly released Vanessa’s skirt and turned away with characteristic nonchalance, as if nothing had happened, as if he’d simply become bored with his prey and moved on of his own accord. Hoofbeats rumbled through her, followed by deep chuckling. A deep familiar chuckle. When she looked around, it was hardly a surprise to see Mr. Lanfield dismounting from his ever-present Talos and a young man pulling his horse up alongside. In a well-worn coat and woolen trousers, this Daniel Lanfield looked different from the way he had in London. Larger. Sturdier. With the broad rim of his hat shading his face, he looked more relaxed as well. This man exuded a warm, easy familiarity that confounded her. Despite her better judgment, she felt the urge to respond in kind.

  “I suppose this little troublemaker must be one of yours, Mr. Lanfield,” she called out.

  “That he is. And you’re no better now at controlling them than you were at age twelve, Lark,” he boomed in reply with a broad smile that lightened her heart. “Your father taught you better than that.”

  The nickname jarred her. She hadn’t heard it in decades, and to hear it from him was completely disorienting. Father’s voice. Since you’re up so early, Lark, you can help me check on the lambs. So often, as a child, she had been the first one awake in the house and would greet her parents with nonstop chatter when they appeared to start the day. Even as she grew into a young woman, the name had stuck. Give your ma a moment’s quiet, Lark. She’d last heard it the morning she’d left with Captain Martin, her parents unaware of her imminent escape. She nodded and turned away to watch the headstrong ram getting herded away. She swallowed hard, blinking back the stinging in her eyes. The past was much too present today. And she could not, for the life of her, make sense of Mr. Lanfield’s transformed demeanor. By the shuttered look on his face now, apparently he’d been just as surprised by his friendly approach as she had.

  A frustrated growl from her niece drew their attention.

  “Away with you, Meno, you scamp! That’s no way to win a lass’s good graces,” the young man said, fondly, as he came right up to the ram and nudged it away with a short crook. Even then, the beast took some convincing. But the lad’s manner remained easygoing. Then he looked at Vanessa with a boyish Lanfield smile that magnified Helena’s awareness of days long past. Both the Lanfield brothers had that smile. “Are you well, miss?”

  “That beast is a menace!” Vanessa said, not at all amused by the animal. Her cheeks were a bright red, and her bonnet askew. “My skirt is ruined!”

  “He’s too fond of billowy fabrics. My mother almost turned him into dinner after he got to some sheets she had drying outside.”

  Despite the lad’s kind manner, Helena could see the telltale signs that Vanessa’s emotions were running high. Kneeling to examine the skirt, Helena replied, “It’s hardly ruined, dear. Not to worry.” She could hear brusqueness in her voice and cringed inwardly. Mr. Lanfield’s unexpected appearance had disturbed her; he set her emotions whirling in chaos because she didn’t know what to make of him or his changed attitude. She needed to take control of the situation, both on behalf of her and her niece. “You’re perfectly capable of sewing those tears. It won’t take long. A little mending and cleaning and it should be good as new.” She turned to Lanfield’s companion and said, “Thank you, young man, for your concern.”

  “But, Aunt Helena—” Vanessa shut her mouth. Helena had long ago mastered the look, that look mothers give their children to curtail undesirable behavior. She was pleased it worked as well on her nieces and nephews as on her own children.

  She tilted her head subtly toward the men, hoping her niece would perceive the reminder and compose herself. Vanessa brushed her hands on her skirt and straightened.

  “Thank you, gentlemen. I am well, I assure you. No real harm done.” Vanessa curtsied prettily, but then whispered furiously, “Auntie, look at these huge holes that beast ripped out of my skirt. Patching them will look ridiculous.”

  “We can make it a new fashion trend,” she replied lightly. “It’s just a skirt. And, anyway, it isn’t like you to be this flustered over your apparel.”

  “It isn’t just the skirt, Aunt Helena!” Vanessa’s voice rose, as did the redness spreading from her cheeks to the rest of her face at an alarming rate. “I am entirely out of my element here. I don’t wish to look ridiculous. I have no idea what to do here, how to be of use. I feel like a fool! And in front of strangers, no less!” Her niece’s outburst was so unexpected that she just stared at the girl for a moment, only now seeing how much of a toll the day—the whole trip, in fact—was taking on her sheltered niece.

  “Ladies,” Mr. Lanfield interjected, “may I introduce my nephew, Henry, my brother Gordon’s eldest. Now he shan’t be a stranger.” When he introduced them, the lad’s eyes went wide.

  “Er, pleased to meet you both,” Henry said haltingly, his face turning bright red, a near match to her niece’s. Did he know her as one of the notorious Thorton girls? What had he heard?

  “Be a good lad, Hal, and take this lot across to the upper field, would you? The sky looks nasty.”

  When Helena turned her attention back to Vanessa, the poor girl looked to be near tears. “Nessa, dear, I realize this has been a great chan
ge for you, but you are doing quite well. You judge yourself too harshly.”

  “It’s not just me, and you know it.” Her niece looked at her pointedly. “Everything is different here, and those people so unpleasant!”

  “Has someone been rude to you, Miss Vanessa?” Mr. Lanfield interjected, jogging the rest of the remaining distance to them, his expression no longer relaxed, his jaw tense. Although her niece didn’t answer, the girl’s downcast expression spoke volumes. “What have they said to you?”

  Vanessa looked at her questioningly, but she shook her head. Clearly, he knew the general sentiments in the air, but they didn’t need to draw him into the conflict directly. She would handle the village’s censure without his involvement. But the twist of her niece’s mouth said she’d come to a different conclusion.

  “Vanessa, we should be on our way!” Helena said quickly to forestall her. “Gran will be missing us!”

  “Hold a moment, Mrs. Martin, if you please,” Mr. Lanfield commanded, his face dissected by lines radiating from his narrowed eyes and tight frown. She bristled, but before she could respond, he added, “Miss Vanessa hasn’t answered my question. And you, in your attempt to brush me off like a fly, have given more than enough of an answer. What happened?”

  “Nothing that need concern you. We really must be going,” she said decisively, as Vanessa wailed, “It was terrible!”

  “Mrs. Martin,” he said softly. Concern emanated from him as he touched her forearm lightly. “I can help you, if you’ll let me.”

  “Please, Auntie, tell him about that miserable woman.”

  Her niece had grown comfortable with Mr. Lanfield during the trip, and their combined front now did not bode well. She could hold out against one of them indefinitely, but if they worked together, her chances of dealing with the resentful villagers on her own terms became much, much slimmer. And that hand! The warmth of his hand through the cotton of her sleeve. That slight touch soothed her inexplicably. She liked it too much. It reminded her of other things she liked about his nearness.