by Terri Nixon
‘But you’ll see more life there, won’t you? Parties and suchlike?’ She sounded hopeful.
‘Not likely. I’m the lesser of the two evil children, but I’ll still be the black secret everyone knows about and no-one will mention.’ I struggled to find a bright side, but I wasn’t as good at that as Belinda, and we sat in silence for a few minutes, until our gloomy reverie was interrupted by the clattering sound of a cart in the yard. Bel got up and limped to the window, and a moment later turned to me with a look of horror. ‘It’s the man from the sawmill. Oh, Kitty, I thought he’d decided not to tell after all!’
I felt a cold, creeping nausea at what Frances would say—for our ten minutes of wine-induced fun, we had endangered not only the life and health of a hugely expensive horse, but also the future chance of the ARS loaning any more animals, which meant financial strife for the company, and even meant fewer horses for the Front… Thinking of the ongoing trouble we might have caused made me feel sicker than ever.
‘What are we going to do?’ Bel echoed my earlier plea, but no answer was forthcoming now, either.
‘We’ll just have to tell the truth, I suppose,’ I said at length. ‘Why on earth didn’t we tell Frances sooner? It will be the lies that decide our punishment now, and she hates lies more than anything.’
‘I’m going upstairs,’ Belinda said, and a moment later I was alone in the kitchen, and listening out for the knock on the front door that would echo the frantic hammering of my heart against my ribs.
The knock was answered by Lizzy, who’d just come down the stairs herself, with a pile of clothes to wash. I heard her clearly, her voice drifting in through the half-open kitchen door. ‘Can I help you?’
‘My name’s Seth Pearce. Are you Mrs Adams?’
‘No. Mrs Adams is out working at the moment,’ Lizzy said. ‘Perhaps there’s something I can help with?’
I crept to the window and looked out, squinting sideways so I could just about see Mr Pearce, his hat in his hand, and his feet scuffing the front step.
‘I’m the owner of the sawmills, up ’t Princetown.’ He sounded rather as if he were unsure of what to say, which was odd if he had come to make a complaint. ‘I just wanted to, uh, enquire after the young lady.’
‘Young lady?’
‘The pret…the one with the light hair, her who hurt her foot last week.’
‘Oh, Belinda? She’s much recovered, thank you. Might I ask how you met her?’
My fingers twisted in the curtain, and I held my breath.
‘I, um, I came upon her and her friend after some…misfortune befell her.’
‘Before she fell from the cart, you mean?’
‘Yes!’ It was the sudden grasping at a lifeline. ‘That’s it. I saw the name of your farm on the cart. She looked to be in a bit of a bad way, and I think I might have, well, not been awful sympathetic. At the time, like.’
I felt my lips press together in a suppressed grin of relief and realisation. Bless him! He’d probably spent the best part of the last week gathering the courage to come here.
‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘I remembered something she said, about your ’orses having been taken, for the lads at the Front.’
‘Yes, that’s true. Would you like to come in, Mr Pearce?’
‘Thank you, miss.’
I dropped the curtain and went quickly to the sink, where I was engaged in swilling water around a jug as Lizzy led Mr Pearce into the kitchen.
‘Mr Pearce,’ I said, trying to send him a look of gratitude that wouldn’t be intercepted as such by the keen-eyed Lizzy. ‘How lovely to see you.’
He gave me a look that made him almost attractive for a moment, an amused, more relaxed look—probably glad I wasn’t Belinda, and therefore lacked the power make him embarrassingly tongue-tied. Lizzy offered him a drink, but he declined, becoming nervous again as he looked around—I recognised the half hope, half dread of longing to see someone but being scared to death they might actually appear.
‘Now, Mr Pearce,’ Lizzy prompted. ‘You were asking about Mrs Adams’s horses?’
‘Oh. Yes. Well no, not really asking. You see, what I had in mind would be a little…arrangement, whereby I give you the loan of one of my own horses, for work you’ve need of that’s too much for your trap pony. The harvest, an’ suchlike. And for riding, of course. Pirate likes a good gallop but we ain’t really got the time to exercise him right. Do him good.’
Lizzy and I both stared at him in surprise, then Lizzy shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Pearce, but we couldn’t pay you.’
‘No, I was thinking…maybe instead of payment, you might pass a little bit of your fresh produce my way. Not a lot, just perhaps some butter, and some milk. And I hear you make your own honey too. I do understand that would still cost you,’ he hurried on, ‘but it wouldn’t be a set amount, just…what you can, when you can.’ He stopped for breath at last, and I had the feeling it was the longest speech he’d made in a long time. ‘Do you think Mrs Adams would be interested?’
‘That’s a very generous offer, Mr Pearce,’ Lizzy mused. I knew she didn’t need to ask him what lay behind it; she was even quicker to read people than I was, and her own eyes strayed to the door, as if Belinda might walk through at any moment. ‘Let me talk to Mrs Adams about it. I’ll send one of the girls over to see you. Is that all right?’
‘Perfectly, thank you.’
‘Not at all,’ Lizzy said. ‘Thank you. And it’s very kind of you to ask after Belinda. I’ll be sure to let her know.’
As soon as the front door had closed behind Mr Pearce, Lizzy came back in and fixed me with a look I recognised with a sinking heart. ‘Now, Miss Maitland, let’s hear it. What really happened to Belinda’s foot?’
Shortly afterwards I was sitting on my bed, and Belinda was looking at me in dismay. ‘Do you think I’ll be expected to…accept his advances, in return for the loan of a horse?’
‘Of course not!’ I shook my head. ‘What do you take Lizzy for? And Frances would never expect it either, silly! But isn’t it good? We’ll be able to go riding whenever we like…well, whenever work allows. And Mr Pearce will never tell your secret!’
‘Our secret,’ she reminded me, a little tartly. ‘You were the one riding Woody. I never got the chance, remember?’
But in my mind I was already off, galloping over the moors. ‘I wonder what Pirate’s like?’ I heard the dreaminess in my own tone, and it made me smile.
‘Kitty! We don’t even know if Mrs Adams will accept the offer yet. And I am not the slightest bit attracted to Mr Pearce, so if he does expect me to—’
‘He won’t.’ I waved a dismissive hand.
‘At least it’s taken your mind off that letter,’ Belinda said.
I came back to reality with a snap. ‘Oh no! I don’t want to leave, especially now!’
‘Because of the horse?’ Her eyes were on me shrewdly.
‘Why else?’ I was relieved I’d managed to stay clear of Nathan for the past few days. I’d expected him to have left by now but it couldn’t be long… It occurred to me that Frances’s little family would be sadly depleted within a few weeks, and that our lives, always altering in small ways, would soon be very, very different. Going back to Merseyside meant I’d probably never see Evie again, either, and that thought gave me a surprisingly heavy ache.
I went in search of Will the moment I was freed from the morning’s chores, and found him slowly gathering some of his sculpting tools ready for packing. He looked at ease and contented.
‘Skittles! How nice.’ I didn’t mind him calling me that—he and Evie were one, in my mind.
‘How are you feeling today?’ I asked, helping him fold a large cloth that he used to catch wood shavings in.
‘A bit silly after the fall, but happy to say I’m a lot better today.’
‘Did you let Evie give you some morphine?’
He shook his head. ‘I just had a lie down, and actually went to sleep. By the time I woke
up things had settled down a bit and I’ve been taking it very easy this past week.’ He began rolling his knives together in their leather wrap.
‘You’ve got a dreadful habit of trying to do too much.’
‘It’s taking a while to heal,’ he admitted, pressing gently at the place where the bullet had struck him, in his left side. It had travelled halfway across his body, and I remembered the thick bandages I’d seen across his waist in the hospital at Arras. They must have had to open him right up to make the kind of miraculous repairs he’d needed. It was no wonder he still hurt.
‘Still, I’m under orders to continue to rest,’ he went on, ‘and I’m looking forward to going back to Breckenhall.’ He shot me a little grin. ‘Not so sure about Oaklands itself, but I think I’ll get a decent enough welcome.’
‘What’s Evie’s mother really like?’
He stopped packing for a moment, and straightened with a little wince. ‘Well now. I remember giving Evie a bit of a talking to when she was complaining about her, but I could certainly see where the complaints came from. Having said that, when I’d lost my memory Lady Creswell accepted me into the house without the slightest hesitation, or disapproval when my manners fell short of what she’d have liked. I was, I’m ashamed to say, often very difficult. In fact she was not only the perfect hostess, but she was also…kind.’ He paused, then nodded, looking surprised at his own choice of words. ‘Yes, kind.’
Not something anyone had ever said about my mother, as far as I knew. It seemed to be true then, that the established aristocracy often differed from ‘new money’ in more ways than simply titles in the family lineage. Lily Creswell sounded formidable, but Evie herself, even in her most frustrated moments, had never once suggested a lack of love on her mother’s part, or of her not wanting the best for her children.
‘Lady Creswell sounds complicated,’ I said, with a certain wistfulness.
‘She’s as complicated as her daughter is straightforward,’ Will said, his voice warm with affection. ‘But I’m sure you didn’t come to find me just to ask about Lady Creswell.’
‘No. I came to tell you I probably have to leave.’
‘Leave? Whatever for? This is your home, Kitty.’
‘I can’t think how to avoid it. Listen.’ I took the letter out of my pocket and read it to him. When I’d finished, my voice had begun trembling and he gently took the letter out of my hand and glanced over it.
‘You know what you should do with this?’
I sighed. ‘Throw it away, I suppose, but—’
‘No. You should do this.’ I watched the letter become a blur of twisted paper and strong, agile fingers, and when the movement stopped Will held a tiny paper box. ‘Here.’ He handed it to me. ‘Put something nice in it, and give it back to your mother.’
‘Something nice?’
‘Something that’ll remind her of her harsh words, and show her that you’re better than she’s painting you. That you’re still her daughter,’ he said. Then he smiled. ‘I once told Evie something very similar, and she had to admit I was right, in the end. You might just about have room for a lock of that gorgeous red hair. I wouldn’t mind betting she’s forgotten how much she loves it. And you.’
I looked down at the box and saw parts of the neatly written words ‘society,’ and ‘Mother,’ and I recalled, with a nauseous clarity, the letter she’d sent after Oliver’s trial. A lock of my hair would not make her remember how much she loved me, because I don’t think she ever really had, or she wouldn’t have said those terrible things.
‘Evie should be home in a little while,’ Will said gently, seeing my face. I could see he felt bad that he hadn’t been able to make me feel better after all.
‘You are lovely,’ I told him. ‘You just don’t know my mother, and I’m glad you don’t.’
‘She’d probably hate me,’ he agreed with a little grin. I couldn’t help responding; those dimples brought back his youthful appearance, and softened the harsh lines carved into his face. I had trouble believing anyone could hate him, but if anyone could it was Harriet Maitland; she’d see a man of little means latching onto an easily led young woman, using his charm to persuade her to marry him, then deserting his post in France and bringing shame to her and her family. Perhaps that was unfair of me; I had no real way of knowing what she’d think, but she seemed determined to think the worst of me, and I was her daughter. She had never shied away from making snap judgements.
To change the subject, I told him about the offer Seth Pearce had made Frances, and we talked for a while about what had happened. I enjoyed making him laugh, and we passed the time pleasantly enough until, around half an hour later, Evie came looking for him. Just in from work, she looked tired, but pleased to report she had been granted the leave she’d requested.
‘We’ll be able to see Lawrence, and you’ll be able to visit Martin,’ she said.
I tried not to acknowledge the twinge of envy at her pleasure. ‘Is Martin the one you mentioned before, the one who probably told Nathan where you were?’
‘That’s the one. He and Mary were witnesses at our wedding.’ She caught sight of the little paper box on the table, and picked it up. ‘What’s this?’
I told her about the letter, and I could see she was itching to undo Will’s folding in order to read it, so tried to tell her as much of what it contained as I could. When I’d finished, she frowned.
‘Perhaps Will’s right,’ she said. ‘Your mother will probably be trying to build bridges, now she’s had time for the shock to wear off.’
‘Then why hasn’t she taken back what she said?’ I blurted, distressed beyond thinking straight.
Evie’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why, what did she say?’
I just looked at her, then at Will, who looked curious but concerned. ‘It was another letter she sent me, just after Oli’s trial. I’ve never told anyone; it was too awful. But I couldn’t throw it away either. I was worried I might forget, and forgive her.’
‘Fetch it then,’ Evie said grimly, and touched my arm to show me her expression was not directed at me.
I did so, and watched their faces as they read it together. I could tell Evie was reading fastest, by the way her breath caught, and her eyes widened, a split second before Will’s did. ‘You’ve reached that bit then?’ I said quietly.
‘ “You are, after all, a sturdy girl and cannot have been so incapacitated that you could not protect yourself.” ’ Evie read aloud, slowly. She lifted her eyes to mine, then gripped the letter more firmly and read on. When they had both finished, she put the letter down and came over to me and folded me into her arms.
‘You mustn’t go with her, Skittles darling,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Neither of you is ready for that yet.’ Then she pulled back, and glanced over at Will. ‘She must come with us, don’t you think?’
‘To Oaklands?’ I stared at her in sudden hope.
‘Yes. Mother would be pleased to have you as a guest. I’m certain of it.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Quite sure. And if not, well, the house belongs to Lawrence anyway, and even if he thought you were the worst person in the entire world, which he certainly won’t, he wouldn’t refuse you hospitality.’
‘I should hate to stay where I wasn’t wanted,’ I began, but Evie smiled.
‘You most certainly are wanted. Now, go and tell Frances. She’ll need to share your duties out among the others for a while.’
‘Bel will be so pleased about that!’ I grinned, relief making me a little giddy. ‘How long shall I say we’ll be gone?’
‘Two weeks,’ Evie said. ‘That should be plenty for all of us, I imagine, especially Mother.’
I left her and Will alone, both still smiling at me, but as I closed the door I saw their expressions slip into identical scowls, and through the wood I heard Evie’s voice, clear and furious.
‘That woman had better not set foot on this farm, not while I’m here and can reach a bloody pitchfork!’
>
I put my hand flat against the door in a silent gesture of gratitude, and felt the fear and tension fall away; my own family might not want me, but I had Evie and Will on my side, and I had Frances. Maybe soon I would also have Lily Creswell.
Chapter Ten
If my first sight of Oaklands Manor had filled me with awe and admiration, then my anticipation of meeting Lady Creswell had taken my insides and replaced them with rocks. I couldn’t fully enjoy, for more than a moment, the turreted, many-balconied house, the huge oaks that dotted the lawn, the tantalising sight of the walled garden just beyond the drive, because I now realised I’d forgotten every last piece of instruction I’d ever received about meeting aristocracy. Evie didn’t count, of course, but I could see even her standing straighter and reaching for Will’s hand.
He took it, his fingers folding over hers, and I saw him squeeze gently and receive a grateful smile in return. My own hand curled, and if I let myself drift ever-so-slightly away from reality I could almost imagine Archie standing beside me, but that flash of comfort was gone a second later, leaving me emptier than before.
The front door opened, and the butler came out looking like the lord of the manor himself, but Evie greeted him like an old friend, and he unbuttoned slightly, giving her a smile that looked as though it rarely saw the light of day. He greeted Will and me with more formal politeness, then picked up our three bags as if they weighed no more than paper and led the way into the huge hall. I had no time to stare at the paintings that graced the walls, or the carvings that danced across the high ceiling, before a door opened at the other end and Lady Lily Creswell came out.
My stomach knotted instantly, and I realised I had absolutely no idea if she knew of my circumstances; in the flurry of packing, and the excitement and relief of leaving Dark River, I hadn’t thought to ask Evie. I shot her an alarmed look, hoping for a reassuring smile or a slight shake of the head…anything to tell me what to expect, but her attention was on her mother. I turned back to watch the lady herself cross the hall, and swallowed hard.
‘Evangeline, darling,’ Lady Creswell said, and took her daughter’s hands. She kissed Evie’s cheek, and it was a real kiss, not that awkward and pointless brushing of the air near a person’s face that my own mother had perfected. Then she took Will’s hand and pressed it. ‘William, I’m glad to hear you’re much improved.’