Daughter of Dark River Farm

by Terri Nixon

  I reluctantly let Lawrence take charge of directing Will to the kitchens, and found Mother in the hall saying goodbye to Uncle Jack. Because of his government work he was often away for long stretches of time, and he didn’t even live with us, but it was difficult to remember that and always a wrench when he left. This time though, I knew he would be back in time for my party on Saturday, which made it easier to see him off cheerfully. I wished I was going too, and that we could both stay away until after Saturday; as excited as I was, part of me still dreaded this party and the way my life would change after it.

  Although my birthday was on Friday, the Saturday-to-Monday that followed would be when I was presented with my birthright, the Kalteng Star. Most thought it a thing of beauty: a blue diamond mined by the first of the wealthy Creswells at the turn of the last century, and upon which all future family wealth was built. But all it represented to me was discord and upset. Our family, and our distant cousins, the Wingfields, had been at loggerheads for years over that stone, and on Saturday I would become its sole custodian. I wouldn’t even own it, it was simply mine to use, to create more wealth, until the last Creswell heir died, taking the family name with him. Beautiful, yes, set as it was into a plain gold band and worn on a fine chain, but still it was destined to bring nothing but pain, until it passed out of our lives forever. That day could not come soon enough.

  Putting it out of my mind for now, I followed Mother and Uncle Jack out to the front door again and tried not to look around for Will – it was strange knowing he was in the house talking to other people, and I felt a new twinge of envy for those who ensnared his attention now.

  Uncle Jack hugged me goodbye. He really was more like a father than my own had been, and I looked forward to his return; he seemed to bring a breath of adventure and mystery with him every time, and I enjoyed our long discussions, even though they almost always turned heated. Maybe even because of that. He never underestimated my intelligence the way most of Mother’s friends did, and while we disagreed on many things, including my intention to adopt the purple, green and white uniform of the Suffragette, he never once made me wish I had not expressed an opinion at all.

  I didn’t know how he would feel about my latest decision, though, so I waited until we were all standing in the sunlight outside the front door and he would have less time to retract his suggestion. On the other hand, if he left before I had mother’s agreement, I would have no ally at all. Simon was lifting the familiar, single bag into the back of the Silver Ghost, and the August sun glinted off the metal as he closed the door. It was now or never.

  ‘I have decided who I’d like as my maid,’ I announced.

  Mother turned to me, a look of wary hope on her face. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve seen sense about Ruth?’

  I shook my head. ‘I thought about Mary Deegan.’

  ‘Ah yes, now she would be an excellent choice,’ Mother said, and her voice turned warm, but I was about to ruin this rare moment of approval.

  ‘She would, but she’s such a good housemaid, I thought it might be hard to replace her.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Mother said. I saw Uncle Jack looking at me with a little lift to his eyebrow; he had guessed I was going to say something unexpected and was waiting, with clear amusement, to see what it was.

  ‘I’ve decided I want to ask Lizzy Parker,’ I said. Another glance at Uncle Jack showed a brief look of surprise, quickly followed by understanding, and then a smile.

  ‘Lizzy Parker,’ Mother mused. Then her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. ‘The scullery maid? What do you know about her? She’s only been here for a month.’

  ‘Six months,’ I pointed out. ‘And we did meet once, on the day I came back from London. I’m sure if I ask Mrs Cavendish I’ll hear nothing but good reports about her.’

  ‘She did seem polite and well-mannered,’ Uncle Jack put in. Mother looked at him in surprise and he explained how we’d offered Lizzy a ride home. ‘I got the impression she, ah…’ he broke off and his mouth twitched a little bit, ‘she seems to have a burning desire to do well.’

  It was an odd thing to say, but he didn’t elaborate. ‘Anyway, I liked her,’ I said to Mother, ‘and you told me to choose carefully. Well, I have.’

  Mother was, thankfully, too distracted with other things to argue. ‘Very well, if you insist. I will speak to her on Saturday morning.’

  Our attention was drawn to the quiet click of the tall wooden gate that led into the kitchen gardens, and Will nodded respectfully before striding off down the drive. My brother rounded the corner of the house, calling out to his new hero, and that envy flickered again as Will turned, smiled at Lawrence, and waited for him to catch up. Mother frowned and started to protest at the way her son was behaving with the tradesman, and I hurriedly kissed Uncle Jack goodbye and went back indoors, wondering how long it would be before that breathtaking smile was once more directed at me. Wondering, too, about what Will had been about to say before Lawrence’s arrival had stopped him.

  My birthday party, and Lizzy’s first day as my maid, blurred into a mess of riding, dressing, catching the envious eyes of family members – particularly the Wingfields – as they watched Uncle Jack hang the wretched blue diamond around my neck, and the relief that I had, without doubt, made the right choice in Lizzy. She was attentive, gentle and funny, and with a sharp intelligence that I already knew would question everything, weigh up the answers, and then reach her own conclusions anyway. A girl after my own heart, and, despite what Mother had said, I knew she would be a good friend.

  Shortly afterwards, when all the fuss had died down, my thoughts turned once again to the man who had laughingly dubbed himself “Lord William”. I tried to convince myself I’d been wrong about that path we were to travel, that he was a distraction, nothing more, but even as I acknowledged it I felt my heart squeeze a little at the thought of his hand on my wrist, his breath on my skin, and his voice, low and soft, speaking my name. Distraction or otherwise, the need to see him again was growing, and it was something I could not ignore.

  It was market day in Breckenhall.Sitting in my room, looking out at the sunshine and at Lawrence larking about with our cousins on the tennis court, I knew I couldn’t wait a moment longer, and changed into the plainest of my dresses, left a note for Lizzy and, unable to find anyone to drive me, I walked into town.

  Despite my eagerness I moderated my pace, deliberately keeping my mind on banal things; diary appointments, the next time I might ride to hounds, and what to buy Lawrence for his birthday. As I drew closer to town, however, my feet began to overtake my patience, and when I began hearing the sounds of the busy market drifting down the road it was all I could do not to break into a run. Once in the square I steadied myself, feeling the heat in my skin that I tried to tell myself was just a result of my fast walk. Will was manning Mr Markham’s stall, urging customers to go across to the shop before all the best cuts were sold, and after the first lurch of excitement at seeing him I held back and watched him. I enjoyed hearing the laughter of the crowds as he kept up a running line of banter, folding small bits of paper into intriguing shapes to give to the children. Word had spread from the delighted recipients to their friends, and there was a small queue waiting; I watched his hands, busy at work as he spoke to his customers, hardly sparing a glance downwards, utterly confident in his creations.

  Eventually he looked around and saw me, and the look on his face jolted me severely. I had hoped for a smile, one of those grins that lit up his face, but he looked as if someone had reached into his chest and stolen his breath. His words faltered and he gave the crowd a distracted smile, but his eyes were pulled back to mine again immediately. I felt my own heart stuttering, and couldn’t look away, no matter what propriety dictated. His patter faded and the small group dispersed, so I made my way over to the stall and, making sure he was still looking, stepped between the backdrop and the high wall of the town hall. A moment later he was there and before I had time to blink I was i
n his arms. I’m no boy, Evie…I knew it for certain when he held me, and the way he breathed my name made me tremble.

  ‘Lord William,’ I murmured in return, and felt him laugh. I pulled back and looked up into his face, suddenly shy. ‘I didn’t know if you…I mean –’

  ‘Does this reassure you?’ He lowered his face to kiss me, and the rest of the world slipped away to become nothing more than a background hum and a vague awareness of a breeze in my hair. Will’s lips were gentle but firm as they moved over mine, and my mouth opened without any conscious decision on my part. Our hands moved restlessly as they sought a closer hold, and as the kiss deepened I felt the sharp, hard nip of his teeth and returned it.

  When we finally broke apart, both more than a little shaken by the intensity of the moment, he stepped back and raised a questioning eyebrow. With an effort, I remembered the question.

  ‘Well, yes,’ I said, a little breathlessly. ‘That was very reassuring indeed.’

  He smiled and leaned in for another kiss, a softer one this time, our lips barely brushing. ‘Good.’ Then he made a small sound of annoyance and glanced at his pocket watch. ‘Frank will be over in a moment. Quick, when can I see you again?’

  He peeked out from our hiding place to check both the stall and the imminent arrival of his employer, and I thought fast. ‘I ride alone when I can. Up behind Oaklands and towards the quarry. I try to go out on Sundays, usually as soon as I’ve changed after church, and stay out until teatime if the weather’s dry.’

  Will touched my cheek and I leaned into his hand. ‘Well, there’s a rare bit of luck; Sundays are my afternoons off. I’ll be waiting by the quarry after lunch.’ He frowned slightly, but it was a happy kind of puzzlement. ‘I know this is ridiculous, but I have the vague suspicion I might have fallen for you.’

  ‘Ridiculous,’ I agreed, but my eyes stayed on his and I felt the pull between us, impossible to ignore. I daren’t press my lips to his again, for fear we’d become lost in time, so I let them linger against his jaw instead. It was almost as hard to break away. ‘This has to be our secret, for a while at least.’

  He nodded. ‘It’s not that I’m ashamed of you,’ he said solemnly, ‘but, you know, a man of my social position has his reputation to consider.’ I cuffed his arm and he smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.’

  ‘One day we’re going to be able to tell everyone and not think for one minute they wouldn’t approve,’ I said. ‘Things are definitely changing.’

  He studied me for a moment. ‘I hope you’re right, I honestly do. In the meantime, not a word, I promise.’

  ‘Not a word,’ I repeated, and he drew me close again, his hands locked in the small of my back, only the contented sigh stirring my hair telling me his happiness matched my own.

  Five months later he was holding me again, but neither of us was happy.

  My thanks to everyone whose brains I have picked, stories I have read, and opinions I have solicited during the writing of this book. Also, to those who have told me they enjoyed the previous books in the series, giving me the confidence and impetus to continue.

  A massive ‘thank you’ to Sarah Tweedle, for allowing me to use her ancestor Frances Jessie Goulding as a character, and for providing me with all the biographical information and research material to build on her tragic history and to give her a life she never had.

  I would especially like to thank everyone who has smiled and nodded, and patted me on the head when I’ve gone into the twilight zone, and has waited patiently for my return to some kind of normality. I hope it’s been worth it!

  CARINA™

  ISBN 9781474029322

  Daughter of Dark River Farm

  Copyright © 2015 Terri Nixon

  Published in Great Britain (2015)

  by Carina, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18–24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

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