A Dorset Girl

by Janet Woods

  There was the clink of a coin in the cup.

  A moment later the woman scoffed, ‘Anyone could say that. How do I know it’s not lies?’

  ‘It’ll cost you another ha’penny to find out.’

  There was another clink.

  ‘’Tis like this,’ the blind woman said, leaning forward and speaking confidentially so no one else got the benefit of the information without paying. ‘My sister, Ethel Pawley, is head housekeeper at Cheverton Manor . . .’

  When Rosie got back to the manor, she slipped into the steward’s office and told him what she’d heard.

  Jed Hawkins smiled. ‘Thanks, Rosie. Make sure the mistress gets to hear of it.’

  She held out her hand. ‘That cost me a penny piece.’

  ‘No doubt the squire will make sure you get a bonus in your wages as well. You’re a loyal servant to him, Rosie, and he appreciates loyalty.’

  ‘I happen to like the mistress as well. She loves the squire and I’m not having some bitter old crone plant doubts in his mind about her.’

  ‘Oh, she won’t do that. The squire ain’t daft. He knows what’s going on. He’s been waiting for an opportunity for the lady of the house to show her mettle, and I reckon this will do it.’

  Siana had just come back from a walk with Daisy when Rosie told her what was being said about her. Her lips tightened. Take control, her husband had said, make an example of one of them.

  She sent the child up to the nursery with the maid to have her tea. ‘Ask Mrs Pawley and the under-house-keeper to attend me at once,’ she said to Rosie, her face flaming with anger and embarrassment.

  She had a long wait. Finally, the two women arrived. Mrs Pawley gazed at her almost insolently. ‘You wanted to see me, madam?’

  ‘Yes, Pawley. It has been brought to my notice that one of your relatives is selling information of a personal nature about me in the streets. The gossip is of a distasteful type that could only have come from you. Hand me your house keys please. You are dismissed from our service.’

  Mrs Pawley paled and blustered as she unhooked the keys from her belt. ‘All lies. We’ll see what the squire has to say about this.’

  ‘He’ll be most displeased by your disloyalty. If I were you, I’d leave the grounds before he hears of it.’

  She waited until Mrs Pawley left the room, then turned to the other woman. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Maisie Roberts, my lady.’

  ‘I’m displeased with the service you’re being paid to provide. In fact, I find most of the domestic staff disrespectful and lazy.’

  The woman dropped a hasty curtsy. ‘I’m sorry, Lady Forbes. ’Twas Pawley. She made it hell for anyone who went against her, begging your pardon for my coarse language.’

  Siana tried not to laugh as the woman bobbed from the knee again, nearly tripping over the edge of the rug in her haste. She handed Maisie Roberts the house keys. ‘I expect the household to be run properly from now on, otherwise there will be further changes made. Do you understand, Maisie?’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’

  ‘You may leave, then. I’ll expect refreshments in fifteen minutes.’

  Ten minutes after the woman left, Edward sauntered in, saying casually, ‘You look flushed, my love.’

  She laughed at his transparency. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know I’ve been practising my Lady of the Manor role. I imagine Mrs Pawley confronted you like an agitated hen.’

  ‘More like a whipped cur, my dear. Well done.’

  Siana felt anxious now her temper had cooled, but she was willing to argue with him if need be. ‘Tell me you did not allow that woman to stay. She has spread malicious gossip about me. About us.’

  ‘It must be extremely malicious if your agitation is an indication. Pray, tell me what is it, my dearest,’ he coaxed. ‘Perhaps I can refute it by proclamation in the market place.’

  ‘I would be mortified.’ Noticing his grin, she began to laugh. ‘Damn you, Edward!’

  Crossing to where she stood he took her in his arms and kissed her until her senses spun. Softly, he said, ‘You and I know it is all lies, my dearest.’

  She blushed and slid her arms around his neck. He held her against him, his hands under her buttocks as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Presently, he kissed her again.

  Maisie knocked and, getting no answer, walked inside. Placing the tray on the nearest table she backed silently away. She was grinning as she hurried back to the kitchen with her own piece of gossip.

  19

  The trouble in the district continued, with livestock being maimed and outbuildings and haystacks torched. The landowners established a band of burly vigilantes. They rode abroad at night, scattering any gatherings or shouldering their way menacingly between the labourers in the taverns. They slapped dangerously solid truncheons against their palms and sometimes cracked the heads of those foolhardy enough to challenge them.

  Lawbreakers were dealt with severely. The courts sentenced them to long periods of transportation.

  In the penal colonies of New South Wales and Van Diemen’s Land, those who were there of their own free will – worthy gentlemen for the most part – were granted large tracts of land. Referred to as the squatocracy, they welcomed the influx of free labour with open arms because they needed men to help clear their acres and create their estates.

  The change to the three-field agricultural system in England had seen many farm labourers thrown out of work in the past. Some had drifted off to the cities, others starved to death or became criminals. Those still left employed in the rural industry were forced to accept low wages and bad conditions. The landowners had expected trouble to fester amongst them, and they hadn’t been disappointed.

  Edward set extra men to guard the grounds and they patrolled the perimeter wall of the manor at regular intervals. Siana was not allowed to go out without Edward, and when they did go abroad they were accompanied by several outriders.

  Siana had expected Elizabeth to call on her, but when she brought it up with Edward he shook his head. ‘My dear, of course she will not call. It would be beyond the bounds of propriety.’

  ‘Then I must visit her.’

  ‘That’s not possible.’

  ‘But why? She’s my friend.’

  His mouth tightened. ‘It’s a friendship you cannot now pursue. I will hear no more of it.’

  Mutinously, she opened her mouth, then shut it again, realizing how much scandalous talk would be caused by her maintaining a friendship with Edward’s former mistress.

  Yet it was obviously within the bounds of propriety for Edward to visit Elizabeth. Sometimes he brought home gifts of intimate apparel for Siana to wear for his pleasure – garments that could have come only from Elizabeth’s establishment. She loved the soft colours and sensuous materials, but still she thought she might like to select her own on occasion.

  Siana was growing lonely with just Daisy for companionship. Although they had all attended their wedding, the wives of Edward’s friends had chosen not to call on her. Neither did she receive invitations to call on them.

  Edward had not mentioned the loss of his social life. Nevertheless, she felt she had failed him in some way and went to lay her face against his shoulder one day. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been the cause of you losing friends, Edward.’

  ‘It’s not your fault. They’re feeling a little awkward at the moment but they will soon come round.’ He sighed as he twisted her face up to kiss her. ‘I need to visit Croxley Farm today and talk to Rudd Ponsonby. I’ve heard Croxley was robbed of much of its livestock before the Collins woman left. I’ve sworn out a warrant for her arrest. Although you’re connected to her through marriage, I won’t be swayed from a prosecution on this occasion.’

  Hannah to be arrested! Her stepsister would probably be transported to New South Wales. Siana thought about it for a moment and decided she didn’t really care.

  She laughed at Edward’s gruff voice and kissed his cheek. ‘You’re anticipatin
g an argument and I won’t give you one.’

  He chuckled. ‘I must make a note of it in my journal, then.’

  She gently bit his ear.

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to come with me,’ Edward was saying. ‘The journey will provide you with some riding practice over a distance, and you can call on Richard whilst I conduct my business. Would you enjoy that?’

  Siana could also visit her mother’s grave. Then she remembered the man who’d fallen from the pulpit in front of her – the man who’d claimed to be her father. He’d had a Welsh accent like her mother, she recalled. How very strange. Perhaps the reverend would have learned a little more about the man’s background since.

  ‘Yes . . .’ she said slowly. ‘I would very much like that.’

  Her horse, Keara, was still a bit on the lean side, but the animal’s coat gleamed now, and she was an easy horse to ride. Dressed in a black riding habit, Siana hooked her knee over the horn and waited for Edward to mount.

  His horse was skittish, but obedient to his master’s command. Siana had admired Edward’s patience with the gelding as he’d worked to gain its initial trust and respect.

  Watching the horse’s muscles power under its shining black coat, she knew she would not like to ride him herself. Edward’s thighs worked in unison with his mount’s movements rather than against them. He was not reckless, yet still he courted danger.

  She felt it surrounding him, like a taut and powerful aura. Unpredictable power was part of his nature, she thought in sudden surprise. He rarely told her what to do, but somehow his expectations always became hers. He controlled her without seeming to. She had known him to blatantly enforce his will on her only once, when he’d whipped Josh. When he’d used the punishment to force her into marriage she’d realized how ruthless his underlying nature was, now she acccepted it was part of him.

  Since then he’d totally spoiled her – with gifts, jewels and loving. Their life had been harmonious, their unions were exciting and sensuous, and always at his command and, because of his unpredictability, they were often encounters of unusual intensity and variety. Yet, he’d never physically hurt her in any way.

  She remembered then that he’d been responsible for Will Hastings’s death. Would he have whipped Josh to death if she hadn’t stopped him? She thought so. She shivered as his tawny glance met hers.

  His slow, intimate smile took her breath away. His thoughts were obvious to her. If Jed Hawkins hadn’t been bringing up the rear he’d have probably taken her into the forest and made love to her right there and then.

  She grinned at him and he chuckled when she gently fluttered her eyelashes.

  He kept his horse reined in next to hers for a while, obviously checking her progress. She automatically straightened her shoulders and tried to maintain a fluid and graceful motion with her own horse. Laughing, he edged his mount ahead.

  Aware of the excitement building up inside her, she urged her own mount after him, faster and faster, so the trees became a blur on either side of them. He allowed her to catch him up. For a while they raced neck and neck, then his horse surged forward.

  Keara had a good turn of speed, but Siana had not the riding expertise her husband had and her horse was no match for his new gelding. Gradually, she slowed to a canter. Jed caught her up and smiled. ‘You’re doing well with that horse. You made a good choice and are developing a good seat, considering the short time you’ve been riding.’

  ‘My husband has a better one,’ she said, breathing heavily from the exercise.

  ‘Sir Edward was practically brought up on a horse, of course. His riding is superb.’

  So is his love-making, she thought with a smile.

  Edward was nowhere to be seen when they rounded the bend. It had rained during the night and, judging by the hoof prints in the damp earth, his horse had lengthened his stride.

  They finally came upon him outside Richard’s house. His gelding looked as though he had enjoyed the gallop. Edward lifted her down from Keara, pulling her close to kiss her mouth for all to see. ‘Richard is expected back soon. His housekeeper will give you refreshment whilst you wait.’

  Mrs Leeman was waiting at the door, her face lit up by a beaming smile.

  Siana didn’t want Mrs Leeman to treat her like a guest. Giving the woman a warm hug she said, ‘I’m so happy to see you again. How well you look.’

  She had barely finished her tea when a knock came at the door. Siana heard Francis’s deep voice and went to greet him, a smile on her face. He was in the process of handing his hat to Mrs Leeman.

  She watched him run his fingers through his hair, smiling at the familiar gesture, which although designed to tidy his unruly locks, usually had the opposite effect. A lump came into her throat when she realized how much she missed his company.

  ‘Francis,’ she whispered, ‘why have you been avoiding me?’

  He turned, his mouth wavering somewhere between a smile and a frown. ‘Siana!’

  Mrs Leeman bustled off towards the kitchen. ‘I’ll go and prepare some refreshment, Doctor, whilst you attend your patient.’

  She seemed to be observing Francis through fresh eyes. He was younger than she remembered. Easily as tall as Edward, he seemed to dominate the room. Had his eyes always been such a clear and penetrating grey? Had he always carried such an aura of energy with him?

  Her heart nearly burst with the affection she held for him. She felt like hugging him close but something about him told her not to. ‘It’s wonderful to see you again, Francis.’

  He stepped towards her. Taking her hands in his, he gazed down at her. ‘Marriage has brought a bloom to your skin. Are you happy?’

  She nodded. ‘What of you? You look tired.’

  ‘I was up all night with a sick child. There’s been an outbreak of typhoid in the district.’

  ‘Poor, dear Francis. That explains why you haven’t been to see me – and I cannot call on you.’

  The light died from his eyes and he let go of her hands. ‘Excuse me, Lady Forbes, I have work to do.’

  ‘Francis,’ she said, wounded by his manner. ‘There is no need to be so stiff-mannered with me just because I’m married to Edward.’

  ‘No, of course not. It was stupid of me.’ He headed for the stairs. ‘My patient is waiting.’

  ‘Reverend White is sick? I thought he was out.’

  He turned at the bottom, swivelling gracefully from the waist to stare at her for a moment or two. ‘It’s not Richard who’s my patient. It’s the Welsh preacher.’ His voice took on a mocking tone. ‘Surely you remember him, Siana?’

  ‘How could I forget?’ Startled, she put a detaining hand on his sleeve when he was about to mount the stairs. ‘Edward said . . . I understood he had died?’

  ‘You understood wrongly. The seizure he suffered has rendered him reluctant to move or speak, a departure from his usual volubility. I think his state is induced by excitations of the mind rather than bodily malaise. His heart is quite strong. Richard and Mrs Leeman are caring for him.’

  She fingered the silver cross at her throat. ‘He said he was my father.’

  Francis nodded. ‘There’s something I want to show you.’ He picked up a walking stick from the hall stand. It was carved with celtic crosses, within which were inscribed the names of different places. At the top, her mother’s name was carved into the wood.

  ‘This represents his journey to find his daughter. It starts in this Welsh village – you see – and covers the length and breadth of England. It ends here, in this very last space, in this village. This can be no coincidence. He needs to carve your name here.’

  Cold crept up her body as she remembered her mother telling her that her father was a Welsh preacher. She sucked in a deep breath. ‘What’s this preacher’s name?’

  ‘Gruffydd Evans.’

  She gave a little cry of anguish. ‘My mother spoke of him to me. Take me up to see him, Francis.’

  Halfway up the staircase she felt a little dizzy
and gazed wordlessly at him. He put an arm round her and she leaned against his body to recover for a moment.

  You should have married me.

  His thought was so clear, for a moment Siana thought he’d spoken aloud. She gazed at him, astonished.

  He gazed back, his expression naked with longing. ‘Siana,’ he said quietly, tasting her name on his tongue, ‘you know, don’t you?’ The longing in his voice cut her heart into ribbons.

  How can I love two men in different ways, and both at the same time, she thought as she nodded. Then his arms were round her and his mouth was pressed against hers in a caress of sublime tenderness. She responded, she couldn’t help herself, taking his hunger into her and making it her own.

  It was he who pulled away first, the expression on his face stricken. ‘Now you know why I cannot come to see you.’

  She nodded. ‘And we must never speak of this . . . never show what we feel for each other, especially in public.’

  A smile touched his mouth. ‘Then you do feel the same.’

  She gently touched his face. ‘Edward is good to me. I cannot betray him.’

  ‘My feelings for you are deeper than the mere carnal, my dear. I’ll live content with the knowledge that my love is reciprocated, and will neither expect nor encourage you to be unfaithful to your husband.’ He was smiling now. ‘Let’s go and introduce you to your father. It might do him some good to know you are here.’

  Gruffydd Evans was lying flat on his back in a white nightshirt, his blue eyes wide open and seemingly studying a crack in the ceiling. He looked like an angel with his flowing white beard and gaunt, pale features.

  Francis attended to his doctorly duties, then said into the preacher’s ear, ‘I have brought your daughter to see you, Gruffydd.’

  There was no response.

  Moving closer, Siana leaned into his line of vision. ‘I am Siana Lewis. My mother was called Megan. Megan is the woman whose name is carved into your walking stick. She is the beginning. You need mine to carve in the space at the end.’