A Dorset Girl

by Janet Woods

  ‘He’s already invited me.’

  ‘And have you accepted?’

  ‘Of course. We are friends now, are we not?’

  ‘I sincerely hope so. Would you still like me as a friend if I hadn’t changed and become a lady?’

  ‘Why do you ask?’ he said gently.

  ‘Sometimes I feel as if I’m someone else completely. I didn’t think fine clothes and manners would make such a difference.’

  ‘It seems to have given you confidence, but the Siana I learned to like and respect is still the same person. Tell me, how is Daisy?’

  She smiled. ‘As bonny as a buttercup in spring. She is having a rest at the moment, but Rosie will bring her down when she wakes. She has the sweetest nature.’

  ‘Then she must take after her sister,’ he said with heavy gallantry.

  Her smile faded a little and she briefly touched his cheek. ‘You need not play drawing-room games with me, Francis. I don’t want anything less than total honesty between us. It could damage our friendship, which I value highly.’

  ‘Aye,’ he said, and smiled. ‘You have a good mind, so let’s talk of other things. I ran into Josh on the way up here. He was opening a bank account. I provided him with a reference.’

  Siana tried to hide her proud smile. ‘He’s determined to grow into a man beholden to no one but himself. He has even declined a room in the house, preferring to sleep in a loft over the stable.’

  Francis knew Josh had once been a runner for men trying to organize themselves into labour unions. Those same men had been sentenced to seven years’ transportation, a harsh penalty which left their wives and children to fend for themselves. But the unrest hadn’t stopped. In fact, it had increased and was spreading. If Josh insisted on sleeping in the stable, it meant he was free to come and go at night.

  In his profession Francis kept his ears open and his mouth shut. People weak from hunger and ill-treatment were liable to be bitter towards their employers. He didn’t blame Josh for wanting to be his own man. The lad took risks, but he was astute and had already achieved more in his short lifetime than many. If he was careful and didn’t get himself caught breaking the law, the boy would end up comfortably off.

  ‘I wish I could do more for the poor of the district,’ he said quietly.

  ‘You can. I have asked Elizabeth to consider Peggy Hastings for a position in the establishment she is opening and suggested she ask you for a reference. I believe she is trustworthy.’

  ‘I’m sure she would be grateful.’

  ‘But can she read and write and do her sums?’ Elizabeth asked him, sweeping into the room with two maids behind her, both carrying heavy trays.

  ‘Oh aye. Peggy attended school in Wareham until she was fourteen, I believe. I’ve always found her to be honest, diligent in everything she does, and clean in her habits.’

  ‘Well,’ Elizabeth said, gazing from one to the other with a smile. ‘Perhaps you wouldn’t mind asking her to present herself at the shop to be interviewed next week, Francis. I’ll be there every morning overseeing the outfitting of it.’

  ‘I’ll bring her in on Monday myself.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She poured tea into a cup and handed it to him, saying, ‘I’d be grateful if you didn’t mention the matter to Edward. Indirectly, he was responsible for her husband’s death.’

  Francis’s hand jerked, the cup rattled violently in the saucer and liquid spilled onto his cuff. Elizabeth laughed and, seating herself on the footstool next to his knee, applied a napkin to the stained cuff. ‘I’m so sorry, Francis, I didn’t mean to startle you.’

  Her eyes engaged his, blue and bright with suppressed laughter.

  Francis gave a low chuckle. ‘It’s nothing. The stain will soon rinse out. Of course, the matter will remain confidential.’

  ‘And the irony of the situation appeals to you, no doubt.’

  ‘I find it hard to believe Edward will connect the two. The incident and its ramifications have already been put from his mind.’

  ‘Which will make the situation the more amusing if he finds out.’

  The pair’s laughter seemed to exclude Siana.

  Elizabeth is flirting with him, she thought, and Francis seems to be enjoying it. Quite suddenly, the bottom fell out of her stomach, leaving a void filled with a dismay she couldn’t quite account for.

  It wasn’t until later that she appreciated the subtle lesson Elizabeth had taught her.

  13

  Isabelle Prosser was in a foul mood as she discontentedly surveyed the selection of confectionery the tearoom serving maid had brought.

  Spreading a napkin over her lap, she pointed to the largest, a fondant-covered confection. ‘Leave the tray,’ she snapped, her eyes darting from one offering to another as the girl was about to withdraw. ‘I may want another.’

  And another and another, her aunt Caroline thought irritably. Isabelle had been a disagreeable companion of late. It wasn’t as if the foolish girl was in love with Edward Forbes. In fact, she was in love only with herself.

  Isabelle looked hideous in a purple gown with matching bonnet. Her plump neck and arms were a sickly contrast, as were the angry patches of red on her cheeks.

  ‘It’s a scandal,’ she hissed, helping herself to another cake. ‘How could he keep two mistresses? Everyone must be laughing at me.’

  ‘But we do not know if it’s true.’

  ‘If it’s public knowledge, it must be true. Nobody would deliberately spread such a vicious rumour if it were not. I knew Edward had a son by that woman. But now I hear he has a young daughter by the other. What’s more, she is a low peasant.’

  ‘As your mother was before she married your father and became the wife of a tenant farmer.’

  Isabelle gazed sulkily at her. ‘My father became a cloth merchant.’

  ‘But only because he inherited his brother’s business. Before that he was a tenant farmer, and you a farmer’s daughter. If I hadn’t insisted on finishing school for you, you would not possess the airs and graces you now have. As for your wealth, it is due to my eldest brother’s industry.’

  ‘Which you wish you had inherited instead of my father,’ Isabelle said spitefully. ‘And much good it’s done me. The only offer so far is marriage to a man old enough to be my grandfather.’

  ‘You should not look a gift horse in the mouth, my dear. The squire has position and looks. You should count it a privilege you are chosen to bear his heirs.’

  ‘I am not looking forward to such events when I would prefer to be wanted for myself instead of my inheritance and breeding abilities. I know I’m not attractive. I will feel like a cow being put to the bull, and I suppose he will expect me to feel grateful for his attention.’

  Caroline gasped at Isabelle’s indelicacy.

  ‘I will not turn a blind eye to his infidelity. And I will tell him so the next time we meet.’

  ‘Be careful, Isabelle. He is not a man to tolerate another’s interference in his private life.’

  ‘His private life is now public knowledge. He has made me a laughing stock. Perhaps I will take a lover myself when we are wed. It would serve him right.’

  Isabelle’s secret fantasy came into her mind. It involved a peasant boy who had once worked for her father. She’d been overweight even then, but he’d thought her attractive. He had embraced her in the barn and, touching her budding breasts with reverence, had told her how pretty and soft they were. He’d put his private part in her hand and she’d felt it grow and harden when he’d declared he loved her. He’d been the only person to ever say that to her.

  She had been fourteen at the time. She’d often imagined what would have happened if her father hadn’t disturbed them, and when she thought of him now, she knew the outcome would have been pleasurable.

  Her aunt shrugged as she watched the crumbs drop onto Isabelle’s bodice. Was the girl really so stupid as to believe the squire would be faithful to her, even after they were married?

  She gav
e a delicious little shiver. Edward Forbes was so handsome. No wonder he could attract women so easily and bend them to his will. The way he sat his horse, so strong and positive. His amber eyes, so penetrating they seemed to stare right into a woman’s soul. He was the type to make any maiden’s heart beat faster. She pressed her hand against her chest as her own maidenly heart fluttered in agitated response to her thoughts.

  ‘I will find out where these trollops live,’ Isabelle said, and her eyes were as vicious as those of an adder about to strike. ‘And I will order them out of Edward’s house. They will rue the day they laid claim to the man I regard as mine.’

  Isabelle’s mood seemed to take a sudden turn for the better. Helping herself to another sweet cake, she cut it into small squares, biting into them one after the other with her sharp, yellow teeth. When she’d eaten her fill she sat back, her plump hands folded over her bulging stomach, staring pointedly at her empty teacup with a smug smile on her face.

  Her mouth pursed slightly, for the almond-flavoured square her niece had just devoured was her favourite, Caroline reached for the handle of the teapot. It was hard being the poor relation and she felt like emptying the contents over the girl’s head.

  Elizabeth was at the shop and Siana was playing with Daisy in the nursery room upstairs when she heard the carriage.

  It was a boisterous day in late March. The peculiar, salt smell borne on the gusts of strong wind told her the tide was out, the mud exposed.

  Josh would be down there, digging up his cockles. Her brother worked hard, but he enjoyed keeping himself busy, and enjoyed even more the money his efforts brought in. Not that he ever spent any of it. Straight into his bank account it went.

  She had teased him for being a miser, one day.

  ‘Mr Denning at the bank said I have to be careful with me money if I want to be wealthy. If I leave it in the account long enough, the bank adds some to it. It’s called interest.’

  ‘So you’ve decided never to buy anything for yourself?’

  He had smiled cheerfully at her. ‘That I haven’t. I be saving up to buy meself a house, in case we ever hit hard times again.’

  ‘Oh Josh,’ she’d said, trying not to laugh at his grand plans. ‘I’m so glad you’re my brother. Whatever would I do without you?’

  He had shrugged, gazing at her through anxious eyes. ‘If you didn’t have me and Daisy to care for, with your looks I reckon you’d be married to a prince by now.’

  ‘I don’t want to marry a prince. I would rather look after my family.’

  His glance had slid around the room. Carefully, he’d said, ‘What about the squire then?’

  She had laughed out loud. ‘Edward has been good to us. He’s more Elizabeth’s friend than mine. They have known each other a long time, and although I enjoy his company when he visits, he is Elizabeth’s visitor. Besides, he intends to wed Isabelle Prosser shortly.’

  Now a carriage had arrived, and Isabelle Prosser was being announced by Rosie.

  Siana’s heart sank. This could be no social call. ‘Show her to the drawing room and tell her I’ll join her in a few moments.’

  A feeling of tension seemed to have entered the house with Isabelle. Whatever she was here for, Siana was sure it could mean only trouble. Nevertheless, she removed her apron and tidied her hair before going downstairs, Daisy held on her hip.

  She smiled at her visitor as she entered, though in truth, she was rather taken aback by her appearance. Clashing hideously with the dark rose coloured velvet sofa she was seated on, Isabelle wore a gown of brown and yellow stripes and a matching bonnet trimmed with curving brown feathers. A huge brown bow was tied under her chin.

  ‘Miss Prosser?’ Siana said pleasantly. ‘I’m so glad you called. May I offer you some refreshment?’

  ‘You may offer, but I won’t stoop to take refreshment with you,’ Isabelle replied. ‘I am here for one reason only. To tell you and the other whore who lives here to pack your things and get out of this house.’

  ‘I . . . I beg your pardon?’

  Isabelle was formidable when she rose, tall, broad and heavy. ‘You heard me, girl. I want you and the other one out of this house. I will not share my husband with other women, as I intend to inform him.’

  ‘You are mistaken if you think I—’

  ‘Do you deny that the bastard in your arms is his?’

  Siana’s arms tightened protectively around Daisy. ‘Daisy is no bastard. She’s my sister, born to my late mother and stepfather. Would you kindly leave now, Miss Prosser? You’re no longer welcome.’

  ‘Not until you agree to move out.’

  ‘I’ll agree to nothing of the sort. I’m not a signatory to the lease of this house. Mrs Skinner is. I’m her guest.’ She rang for Rosie, who appeared so swiftly Siana knew she’d been listening outside the door. ‘Show Miss Prosser out, please, Rosie. If she doesn’t leave willingly, call Mr Grantham in from the garden to eject her by force.’

  ‘Lay one finger on my person and I’ll make sure you’re dismissed from the squire’s service,’ Isabelle hissed as her person flounced towards the door.

  Siana left the room after her and headed for the stairs. ‘Don’t think you’ll get away with this,’ Isabelle shouted, noticing her escape. ‘If Edward wants to get his hands on my fortune, he’ll do what he’s told.’

  A few seconds later the door slammed behind her.

  ‘Good riddance, you sack of rotten mangold-wurzels,’ Rosie muttered. ‘You looks like a giant bumble bee in that outfit.’

  Siana was trembling violently now. She sank down onto the stair and gave in to the hysterical laughter bubbling inside her. Then the laughter abruptly changed to tears. Daisy stared at her, her eyes round and blue. Her bottom lip trembled and she started to cry in sympathy.

  Rosie bounded up the stairs and took Daisy from her lap. ‘Now don’t you fret, Miss Siana. Squire will soon take the fancy out of that there Isabelle when he finds out what she’s been about.’

  ‘You mustn’t tell him,’ she cried out.

  ‘Won’t have to, will I? She’s bound to tell someone else. Nothing is kept a secret for long around these parts, especially from the squire. Now, you go and have a rest and I’ll bring you a nice drop of brandy from the squire’s special bottle. Good for all things medicinal, it is. I sometimes have a drop meself when I’m feeling poorly, and sometimes when I’m not.’

  So Siana, cosseted by Rosie and relaxed by the unaccustomed imbibing of alcohol, fell soundly asleep, the book about the marcher lords lying open on her stomach, where it had fallen.

  Gruffydd was at Lord Llewellyn’s court at Aber. He had not seen his father for a while, who was occupied with Gwenwynwyn’s raids on the border. His sister had recently been born to Joanna, and though he despised the mother, he adored little Elen. How his father could have married King John’s daughter was beyond his understanding. Making sure nobody observed him, Gruffydd leaned over the crib and tickled the child under the chin.

  ‘You won’t come to any harm whilst I live,’ he murmured.

  Young as she was, Elen felt his protection surround her and gave him a smile.

  There was another tickle. ‘Siana, wake up.’

  Her great-grandmother came to stand over the crib. She was white-haired and old, but her eyes burned with the light of the soul. ‘You must heed your husband.’

  Siana came out of sleep, slightly bewildered. ‘Who am I then?’

  There was a chuckle from the chair. ‘Don’t you know?’

  Turning her head to one side, Siana saw Edward seated in the chair, his long legs stretched out comfortably in front of him. He’d been reading a letter, which he now set aside. Between his forefinger and thumb, an ostrich feather twirled back and forth.

  ‘I dreamed I was a child in a crib.’

  Leaning forward, Edward plucked the book from her stomach and threw it to one side. ‘You read too much. It over-stimulates the brain.’ He picked up the brandy glass, sniffed it and raised an
eyebrow. ‘I hope you do not come to crave brandy. Women who are addicted to spirituous liquor can become tedious.’

  She flushed as she sat up, feeling totally vexed. ‘Indeed, that’s the first time I have tasted it and I’m enamoured of neither the taste, nor the effect.’

  His eyes were as bright as autumn berries. ‘Then why did you drink it?’

  What had Rosie said he called it? She smiled. ‘It was for medicinal purposes.’

  ‘Are you ill, or do you refer to the after-effects of the visit from Isabelle?’

  ‘Yes . . . I mean no.’ She could see from his annoyed expression that evasion was not the right path to take. She sighed. ‘Yes, I confess. It was Isabelle who upset me. How did you get to hear of it so quickly?’

  ‘I saw her carriage as I came through town and added two and two together. She was looking unbearably smug.’

  Siana didn’t know quite what to say. ‘I’m sorry you were bothered by something so trivial.’ About to swing her legs from the bed, she was surprised when Edward put his hand against her midriff and pushed her gently back down onto the pillow.

  ‘Stay there and tell me about it.’

  ‘Really, it was nothing.’

  His mouth quirked into a wry smile. ‘It was enough to drive you to drink and forget you were Siana Lewis when you emerged from the stupor the brandy induced.’

  Annoyance filled her. ‘You exaggerate. I was in no stupor, and I was dreaming of a story I’d just read in a book. If you continue with this inquisition, I will . . . Stop that!’

  He was laughing now, tickling her under the chin with the feather. ‘What will you do, Siana mine?’

  She giggled at the amusement in his eyes. ‘I’ll strangle you with my bare hands for teasing me, that’s what I’ll do.’

  His eyes suddenly sobered and he said in so low a voice that she could barely hear him, ‘Would you wed me first?’

  A breath was exhaled shakily from her own mouth and she seemed to lack the will to replace it with another. ‘You should not jest about such matters.’

  ‘Of course, I do not.’ When he leaned over and kissed her on the mouth, she was unable to resist. It was pleasant, his kiss. It warmed the darkness inside her and the glow spread right down to her toes. But more – much more, was the strange, wild longing it planted inside her. She felt the danger of it and knew she’d be powerless before its onslaught.