by Anne Brear
The idea grew, took on a life of its own. They could go to one of the cities, York, Liverpool or Manchester. She could work for months yet and Hughie, being a strong young lad, would soon find a job. The prospect of beginning anew seemed wonderful and filled her with optimism. Since she couldn’t be with Ethan, and it was very likely she wouldn’t be for years, then she would have to make her own way.
The door opened and Hughie entered carrying paper wrapped parcels. ‘I bought bread, cheese and ham. I got them to slice the ham for us.’
Her mouth watered as the smell of fresh, warm bread filled the room. ‘Hughie I was thinking…’
‘Oh aye?’ He wasn’t really listening and instead concentrated on unwrapping the food.
‘I’ve been considering our situation. We should leave here and go to one of the cities. We can get rooms and work aplenty I’m sure.’
He looked at her as though she spoke a foreign tongue. ‘Go to the city? Why? Mr Harrington will-’
‘Mr Harrington is married, as I am. Nothing can change that. He believes that we both can achieve divorces, but I don’t, at least not for years and spending a lot of money.’
‘Well, if you have to wait, then wait. It’ll be worth it, won’t it? I don’t see going to a city to live with help though.’
Isabelle ate a piece of ham. ‘We’ll be free of Farrell. We’ll have a life of our own without the disgrace of everyone around here pointing their fingers at us or calling us names. I don’t want my child to be called a bastard, to be shunned.’
‘Like me.’
Shocked, Isabelle and Hughie spun around to face Bertie, who rubbed sleep from his eyes and climbed from the bed. He looked at them so innocently it broke her heart.
‘I’ve been called a bastard lots of times. In my mother’s village I was called, The Little Bastard.’ He shrugged and eyed the bread.
Hughie automatically tore some off and gave it to him. ‘No one will be calling you that while I’m around.’
Isabelle turned away. Her heart felt like someone was squeezing it with a vice. She loved Ethan, adored him, but the thought of spending years being spurned by the locals, her child being reject by society ripped at her soul. She’d already experience a taste of it in the market with Marge Wilmot and she knew she couldn’t put up with it for years to come.
‘Belle?’ Hughie’s voice was soft with sympathy. ‘What are we to do then?’
Breathing in deeply, she raised her chin. ‘We’re to leave here and go to Manchester.’
‘What about Mr Harrington?’
‘I’ll go see him now. You stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ The thought of arriving at Bracken Hall, dirty and destitute, filled her with shame. What would Ethan’s family think of her turning up like that? His mother would never accept her and wouldn’t forgive Ethan for bringing such humiliation to the family name.
A jug of water and a porcelain basin stood on a small table by the window and she quickly washed her face and tied her hair. It alarmed her that she had no brush or even a hat to hide her hair under. Her black skirts and bodice were crumpled but there was nothing she could do about that.
At the door, Hughie and Bertie came to kiss her cheek and she left them to descend the inn’s narrow staircase.
Outside in the lane, the sun disappeared behind a sheet of grey clouds. She faltered then, at the prospect of being with Ethan, of telling him she was to go away. He would argue, demand she stay, and, for a moment, she wondered if she was strong enough to resist him.
***
The cab bounded around the curve of the tree-lined drive and Bracken Hall loomed into view. The sun crept out from behind a cloud and shone its glory upon the grey stone building, lightening it, softening it. Isabelle soaked in the beauty of the house. Ethan’s home. His birthright, his inheritance. The extensive gardens, mainly dormant in readiness for winter’s snow, flowed around the house and out of sight like a woman’s patterned skirt.
If things had been different, one day my child would have owned all this…She pushed the thought away. It did no good to dream of the unattainable. The baby she carried would never be a legal Harrington, but forever be a Farrell, at least in name only.
As the cab slowed, a groom came running and opened the door for her. His face showed no expression and he assisted her down the step as though she was a queen. Isabelle fought the urge to ask him whether Ethan was about and instead walked up the wide shallow steps to the front door.
She pulled the brass ring and heard the bell clank inside. After what seemed minutes but was really only seconds the door opened and the butler inquire her business with a disapproving sniff.
‘I wish to see Mr Harrington.’
‘Mr Harrington?’ He clearly didn’t believe someone dress as she was would be of any interest to his master. ‘I do believe Mr Harrington is out. I suggest you return another day or leave a note?’
‘No, thank you. I will wait.’
‘I do not think that is necessary. Mr Harrington-’
Isabelle lifted her chin and stared at the man. ‘I said I will wait.’
His gaze raked over her in the most insulting way. ‘And your name?’
‘Isabelle Farrell.’
The butler’s eyes widened and he straightened his already stiff back. ‘Farrell of Meadow Farm?’
She nodded.
The door was instantly pulled wider and the butler almost fell over his own feet ushering her into the hall. ‘Please come this way, Mrs Farrell. Mr Harrington will be so delighted to see you. I’ll see if Mr Harrington has returned home.’
She followed him at a swift pace into the drawing room where he indicated that she sit on the chair closet to the fire before departing on close to a run.
His behaviour astonished her. She looked around the room. High ornate ceilings, large paintings in gold leaf frames on the walls, thick damask curtains, several sofas and delicate chairs, a wide patterned rug on top of polished floorboards, occasional tables, ornaments, a roaring fire. She’d never seen such a room before, yet she wasn’t in awe. It was a fine room, a beautiful room, but she felt no yearning for it and wondered why. This was Ethan’s home.
It hit her then, and she knew why the room or indeed the whole house left her unmoved. It was Elizabeth Harrington’s home. Clarice Harrington’s home. She would never live here. How she knew this with such intense certainty she didn’t know, but it was clear in her mind. The truth was in her heart, her soul. Too much had happened. Too many people would be hurt by her and Ethan’s relationship for them to ever be comfortable here, to be at peace. Somehow this made her visit and the words she must say easier to bear.
She sighed deeply, accepting the dull pain that accompanied her reasoning. Her future wasn’t here at Bracken Hall and it begged the question whether her future was with Ethan. She shied away from further reflection it was too painful. Instead, she let herself hope that perhaps…perhaps something could be saved from this mess. If Ethan could survive with not living at Bracken Hall, then they could conquer anything in their path, but again doubts reared their ugly head. Could Ethan shun his home, leave his mother...
Running echoed in the hall. Like a whirlwind, Ethan flung himself across the room and, with a shout of joy, dragged her up from the sofa and crushed her into his arms. ‘Oh, my darling. My darling. I thought I had lost you!’ He rained kisses over her face.
She sagged in his arms, only now did she realise how much she needed his embrace, his love to envelope her. Reasoning went out the window when she was in his arms. Their devotion rendered everything else redundant.
Ethan pulled back and cupped her face in his hands. ‘Are you hurt? The child? Where were you?’
‘We ran from Farrell.’ Looking at him properly, she noticed the strain he wore like a cloak. Dark shadows smudged under his eyes, his shoulders were tight and knotted beneath her fingers. He had aged somewhat since their first meeting. Grey now sprinkled his hair at the temples. I have done this to him.
‘When they brought out the body, I nearly had a heart seizure.’
She frowned. ‘Body?’
‘From the fire.’
Isabelle gasped, reeling at the enormity of his words. ‘I had no idea…’
‘Sit down, my love.’ Ethan gently lowered her onto the sofa and sat beside her, holding her hands.
‘I thought they would get out…or douse the fire…’ Her heartbeat raced. She swallowed. ‘The body…was it Farrell?’
He shook his head, the light dieing in his eyes. ‘No. It was that other fellow, who was watching over you, Peacock.’
Isabelle closed her eyes. Neville dead? It made no impact on her. She was numb to all thought and feeling.
‘When they couldn’t find no other bodies I felt relief.’ Ethan kissed her hands. ‘Then I wondered whether you had come here, to me, and so we hurried back. I didn’t know Farrell and Bertie had returned. When there was no word from you, Hamish and I split up and started searching. I had only just returned to the stables when I was told you waited in the drawing room.’ He smiled a soft, haunting smile. ‘I couldn’t bear not knowing what had happened to you.’
She licked her dry lips and he leaned forward to kiss where her tongue touched. Reaching up, she ran her fingers through his dark hair. ‘Farrell is still out there. He’ll be looking for me.’
‘You don’t have to run anymore, sweetheart. You’re safe now.’
‘Am I?’ She took his hand and placed it against her cheek. ‘He’s my husband and has rights. I will always be looking over my shoulder, Ethan, always.’
‘We’ll go away.’
She stared at him, silly, stupid hope building despite her earlier planning. ‘We will?’
‘Of course.’
He said it so easily but she wasn’t fooled. ‘Are you able to leave here for good?’
‘For good?’ He frowned. ‘It won’t have to be for good.’
‘It might be. I cannot stay in this area. Farrell would never give me a minute’s peace. He could snatch me at any time and before either of us know it, I’d be on a ship to America.’
Ethan shuddered. ‘Don’t even think it.’
‘It’s a possibility we cannot ignore. The boys and I have to leave here and not come back.’ She gazed into his eyes. ‘Can you do the same?’
‘Once we’re divorced-’
‘You say that as if it is as easy as buying a newspaper.’ She glanced away to the fire. ‘Farrell will never divorce me and who’s to say you can obtain a divorce so easily?’
‘I’ll fight the courts until I am free.’
She watched the embers glow and spark. ‘And that could take our entire lives.’
‘Nonsense.’
‘You don’t know for sure, Ethan, and until we are free we must live apart. I’d be your mistress, your child will be a bastard, not your heir. I don’t know if I can tolerate it.’
He jerked to his feet and stood before the fire. ‘What alternative is there? This isn’t how I want it, Isabelle, believe me.’
She rose and went to him, slipping her hand through his arm. ‘I know, my love. I’m not blaming you.’
Ethan swore softly and looked away.
Tears filled her eyes, blurring his image. ‘You can’t leave here, can you?’
He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. ‘For you I will do anything,’ he whispered. ‘I mean that.’
‘Are you certain you can leave Bracken Hall?’
‘Yes.’
Relief flooded her and she realised that saying goodbye to him would have been the hardest task she’d do in her life. ‘How soon can we go?’
The sound of someone clearing their throat pulled them apart and they turned towards the door.
Hamish gave them a tight smile, his face showed no expression. ‘You are safe then.’
‘Yes, thank God.’ Ethan smiled down at her and hugged her to his side. ‘She and the boys fled.’
‘Boys?’ Hamish frowned at her in misunderstanding. Again, he had mastered the art of making her feel unimportant, unworthy. Why the reversal of opinion again now?
Isabelle straightened under his scrutiny. He was a strange man, one she didn’t feel at ease with. It was as though he demanded something of her and she had no idea what. ‘Farrell had returned. We were escaping him and didn’t know the fire was as bad as it was or that it had claimed a life. We stayed the night at an inn in Hebden Bridge.’
Ethan’s eyes widened. ‘Hebden Bridge? You walked all that way in the dark?’
‘We had no choice. I wanted to put some distance between us and Farrell.’
‘Why didn’t you come here?’
‘Because I was frightened he would think I’d do that and come here and cause havoc.’
Ethan raised his eyebrows at her in admonishment. ‘At least I would have known where you were!’
Hamish slapped his broad brimmed hat against his thigh, distracting them from each other. ‘Any word on Farrell?’
Isabelle shrugged helplessly. ‘He could be anywhere. That’s what worries me.’
‘He won’t come here.’ Ethan fumed. ‘He wouldn’t dare.’
Isabelle said nothing, but she didn’t feel as confident. Farrell was capable of doing anything to stop her and Ethan being together.
‘Well.’ Hamish’s gaze lingered on her and instinct told her that what he saw was of little significance to him. He turned for the door. ‘Now the emergency is over, I’ll go pack.’
‘Pack?’ Ethan stared at him. ‘Whatever for?’
‘I am leaving for Edinburgh today. I’ve much to do before I return to Australia in a few weeks.’
‘A few weeks? You aren’t serious?’ Ethan shook his head. ‘When did you decide this?’
Isabelle watched the two men argue over Hamish’s decision and suddenly her mind came alive with a plan. ‘Mr MacGregor.’
Both men stopped their heated discussion and looked at her.
‘Yes?’ Hamish’s eyes widened with interest before narrowing so quickly she thought she had imagined it. She faltered. He looked at her as though perhaps he might not even like her.
She lifted her chin and braced herself for the hurt she would bestow on Ethan. ‘Mr MacGregor I was wondering, if maybe, and, it may not even be possible…’ her voice died out as his gaze never wavered. He doesn’t like me.
‘Wondering if what is possible, Mrs Farrell?’
Isabelle took a deep breath. ‘I was wondering if my brothers and I could travel to Australia with you?’
Stunned silence was her answer. She didn’t look at Ethan who had gone rigid, only Hamish had her attention for his shock was in his blue eyes.
She hurried on. ‘I wouldn’t be a burden, Mr MacGregor. Once there my brothers and I will-’
‘You’ll do no such thing!’ Ethan exploded. Outrage etched his features. ‘You’re going nowhere without me.’
‘Ethan. It will take you months to settle your affairs. I thought that I can go out there first and you can join us later.’ She watched him fight for control. He looked as if he wanted to throw himself about the room like a child having a tantrum.
Hamish stepped forward. ‘What about your husband, Mrs Farrell?’
Isabelle frowned. He’d done it again, made her feel undeserving. Hamish MacGregor had a shrewd way of subtle needling. His poison darts pierced her skin. Why is it he always makes me feel in the wrong? ‘My husband, if I can call him that, is of no concern to me.’ She glanced at Ethan’s tormented face and back to Hamish and her hope faded. ‘Obviously, I’ve spoken out of turn. I shouldn’t have placed you in such a position, Mr MacGregor. Forgive me.’
‘Isabelle.’ Ethan took her hand in his and at that moment they heard carriage wheels on the drive. He swore softly. ‘Mama has returned.’
Cringing inside at the thought of meeting Elizabeth Harrington in her present state of disarray, Isabelle looked around for another door to slip out through.
As if reading her mind, Ethan’s gri
p tightened. ‘No more hiding.’
Elizabeth glided into the room, but her step checked for a second on seeing Isabelle. She wore a dress of deep green brocaded silk and a small black hat with one pheasant feather sweeping along the side. Her smile wavered and her eyes silently sought Ethan for information before remembering her manners. ‘Good morning, Mrs Farrell.’
Isabelle felt as uncomfortable as the older woman appeared. ‘Good morning, Mrs Harrington.’
‘Did you enjoy your call on Mrs Freidman, Mama?’ Ethan assisted her to a chair by the fire.
‘Indeed it was very pleasant. Thank you.’ She arranged her skirts and then gazed up expectantly at Isabelle. ‘How did Meadow Farm fare in the fire, Mrs Farrell? I see you are safe.’
‘There was one death, Mama,’ Ethan answered. ‘One of Farrell’s friends apparently.’
‘Oh dear, dreadful news.’
An awkward silence descended and before anyone could break it Isabelle took a step towards Elizabeth. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Mrs Harrington. I must return to my brothers.’
‘Why, of course.’ Elizabeth held out her hand and as Isabelle shook it she added, ‘Family is very important. One must protect it at all costs.’
Ethan stared at his mother and took Isabelle’s elbow. ‘I shall escort you back to your lodgings.’
‘There is no need.’ Isabelle smiled at him and wished she could kiss away his sadness.
Hamish fiddled with his hat. ‘Perhaps I should escort Mrs Farrell, Ethan?’
‘No thank you, Hamish.’ Only, Ethan faltered when his mother agreed.
Elizabeth rose. ‘Ethan do let Hamish go in your place. I must discuss-’
‘No!’ Frustration stained Ethan’s face. ‘For once can you both keep quiet and leave me alone! I love Isabelle. I want to spend time with her. We have much to discuss. I’m tired of being told what to do and what to think as though I am a child!’
‘You are causing a scene.’ Elizabeth hushed.
‘It’s my house I will cause a scene if I bloody well wish to.’ Ethan’s voice had dropped to a menacing growl. ‘For God’s sake, Mama, let me live my life.’