‘Oh, don’t tell Dad! Please, Phoebe!’ Rosalind was distraught.
‘You want me to sit back and say nothing? What if in nine months your little jaunt brings forth some unwelcome results, eh? What then? That hosebird hasn’t admitted to any of his bastards yet, and I doubt he’ll start with you!’
Rosalind leaned against the table, her whole body trembling. ‘Please, Phoebe,’ she whispered, her voice breaking, ‘please don’t tell Dad.’
‘Rosalind, I can’t not tell him.’
‘I won’t do it again! I won’t ever do it again! And I’m near my time this month.’
‘Oh, God above, what am I to do?’ Phoebe drew out a chair and sat down heavily. ‘How near are you?’
‘Three days. Maybe four. Something like that.’
‘Well, I suppose you might be all right.’
Rosalind saw a chink in her armour. ‘Please, Phoebe. I’m begging you. Just wait a little. If my monthly comes, there’ll be no need for Dad to ever know.’
‘A week then, Rosalind, I’ll give you a week.’ Rosalind began to sob with relief. ‘But mind now, you’re not going out of this house on your own again, and you’ll account to me for every minute of every day. Do you hear me?’
‘Yes, Phoebe.’
‘And if that young ram comes anywhere near you—’
‘He won’t.’ Rosalind sniffed miserably, and so far forgot Beth’s lessons as to wipe her nose with her sleeve.
‘You seem mighty sure.’
‘I am. He only did me to get back at Dad.’
Phoebe exhaled. ‘Oh, my dear.’
Chapter Seventeen
By the second week of August the weather at Lannermouth had changed completely. The warmth and blue skies gave way to clouds and a chill north wind that turned the sea to a choppy grey. Fishing boats bobbed and swayed in the harbour, smoke was torn from cottage chimneys, and the wind moaned around the chimneys and eaves of the Dower House. It was so unseasonable and wretched that late one morning Mrs Cobbett set Molly to kindle a fire in the drawing-room, where Beth was sketching by the window. The racket of the incoming tide was audible, and torn petals whirled beneath the veranda thatch as she tried to capture the weather and the view with her pencil. She didn’t draw very often, but every now and then found it a quite a tonic. Certainly she needed a tonic. She was still mortified about what had happened on Haldane Cliff, and hadn’t left the house since. When Landry called she had refused to receive him, and then she’d ordered Billy to return Snowy to the hall. The horse had been promptly returned.
The concerned housekeeper observed everything, and at last went to the parlour to speak to her mistress. Beth looked up from her drawing. ‘Yes, Mrs Cobbett?’
‘Have you remembered that I’ll be going over to help my sister this afternoon, Miss Beth?’
‘I hadn’t forgotten. I hope she’s better soon.’
‘Might I speak to you in private?’
Beth immediately set her sketching aside. ‘Why, yes, of course you may, Mrs Cobbett. Is something wrong?’
‘Well, I don’t know for certain, Miss Beth, because this is about you. I’ll come straight to it. I can help you after what happened with Mr Landry.’
Colour flew into Beth’s cheeks, and she rose in a fluster of pink-and-white gingham. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Mrs Cobbett, and would thank you not to go around repeating such things!’
‘Please, Miss Beth, I’m not a fool. You’ve not been at all yourself this past week, and you’ve sent Mr Landry away. It takes no great brain to guess what went on between you, and I imagine that now you’re worried about what may come of it.’
Beth’s shame deepened, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, Mrs Cobbett.’
‘Just tell me one thing. Were you willing?’
‘Yes. Oh, please don’t think badly of Mr Haldane. I was my own fool, not his.’
The housekeeper put comforting arms around her. ‘Mr Landry is a real charmer, so I can understand your weakness. Now then, there’s no need for any of this to get out, or for you to worry about having a child out of wedlock. I know herbs to bring you on.’
The wind blustered around the veranda, and rattled one of the windows. It was a hollow, lonely sound that suited Beth’s unhappiness. ‘There is no need for your herbs, Mrs Cobbett, because I can’t have children.’
‘You can’t possibly know that, my dear.’
‘I can. I lived with a man, a widower, who already had a daughter by his late wife. He was virile enough, but I was never even late.’
Mrs Cobbett’s mouth opened and closed, and then she cleared her throat. ‘Miss Beth, I don’t understand you. You lost your maidenhead long before you came here, and you went willingly to Mr Landry, safe in the knowledge that you’ll not bear a child. So why are you brought so very low and unhappy? It isn’t that Mr Landry has lost interest.’
Beth bit her lips to stem fresh tears. ‘Because I’m ashamed, Mrs Cobbett. I was more than just willing, I was eager, and now I can’t face him again.’
‘But he still wants to see you, Miss Beth, and there isn’t any gossip, beyond the fact that you and Mr Landry went riding together, but that’s all. Somehow you managed to ride back here, all of a fluster, without being seen. If I hear one word out of turn, I’ll sort it out. I’m a fearsome old biddy when my dander’s up and bristling.’
Beth had to smile. ‘I cannot believe that of you, Mrs Cobbett.’
‘Oh, you mark my words, I’m a force to be reckoned with.’ The housekeeper smiled fondly. ‘So don’t you fret, Miss Beth, things will go on like before. Now then, I’ll make you a nice cup of tea, and soon you’ll feel a lot better.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Cobbett.’ Beth hugged her.
Mrs Cobbett smiled with pleasure. ‘Think nothing of it, my dear.’ She went to the door, and then remembered something. ‘I almost forgot. Billy and Molly want to know if they might take this afternoon off. There’s a fair over at Porworthy.’
‘Five miles there and back in this weather? Well, it wouldn’t do for me, but yes, of course. I won’t need Billy today. Tell him he may take one of the horses if he wishes. I’d offer two, but I’m sure he’d rather have Molly riding double with him.’
‘Oh, yes, I’m sure of it too,’ the housekeeper replied. ‘Well, I’ll be back here come teatime, so you won’t be left alone for long.’
‘Don’t worry about me, Mrs Cobbett, I’m quite capable of being on my own. You stay with your sister as long as you like. I insist.’
‘Very well, Miss Beth.’ Then the housekeeper spotted something outside. ‘Well, I do believe that’s Miss Harriet’s chaise coming down the drive. Yes, it is. Do you want me to tell her you’re indisposed?’
Beth considered it, but then shook her head. ‘No, I’ll receive her.’
‘Very well, my dear.’
Harriet had not called merely to pay a sociable visit, but to persuade Beth to accompany her to the dressmaker, Miss Archer. The rector’s daughter was very elegant in a light-blue lawn gown, navy-blue velvet spencer, and straw bonnet tied with white ribbons. ‘Well, Beth, I promised to introduce you to Miss Archer, so here I am. Only the examination of fashionable fripperies will drive this weather away. I insist, Beth, because you haven’t set foot over your own threshold in far too long. And when I saw Mrs Cobbett just now, she virtually ordered me not to take no for an answer.’
‘She is about to make tea.’
‘No, she isn’t.’ Harriet grinned. ‘You may as well give in. Do accompany me, Beth, for I would cherish your opinion of the winter gown Miss Archer is making for me.’
‘You’re always stylish, Harriet, and don’t need me.’
‘I’m stylish because Miss Carter subscribes to The Ladies’ Temple of Fashion,’ Harriet confessed ruefully. ‘Please, Beth?’
Beth submitted, but as she left the parlour to get ready, she found Mrs Cobbett waiting in the passage with her mantle and bonnet. ‘You two really are set upon winkling me out, aren’t you?�
�� she said, as the housekeeper helped her with them.
‘Yes,’ they replied together.
A moment later she and Harriet emerged into the daylight. The wind snatched at their clothes, and almost whisked Harriet’s bonnet from its pins as they climbed into the chaise. It began to rain as they drove off. ‘This summer is very mean-spirited,’ Harriet declared.
Beth nodded. ‘Autumn has come early.’
‘We’ve certainly been having wondrous sunrises and sunsets. Actually, they’ve been making me uneasy,’ Harriet confessed. ‘I mean, what do they signify?’
Beth adopted a very solemn face. ‘The end of the world,’ she said gravely.
‘Oh, don’t even jest about such a dread thing!’ Harriet gave a rueful smile. ‘Anyway, enough of that. It won’t take us long to reach Miss Archer’s, and she’ll soon serve us some good hot Pekoe. Oh, there’s just one thing, I have to call upon Carrie Markham first. I need to give her something, and will only be a moment.’
Beth’s apprehension returned as the chaise climbed up the steep road to Haldane. What if they encountered Landry? The closer they drew to the village, the more monosyllabic her responses became, but if Harriet noticed she didn’t say anything. At last they halted by the lodge, but as the driver came to open the door for Harriet to alight, the horse started forward unexpectedly, and she dropped something. Beth retrieved it for her. It was a gold medallion on a faded blue ribbon, bearing on one side a picture of St Michael slaying a dragon, and on the other a three-masted ship sailing before the wind.
As Harriet hastened to the lodge and went inside, Beth sat back, trying to keep out of sight in the shadows. She knew the medallion’s purpose. Her father had worn one as protection from consumption. Carrie Markham’s cough and her delicate face with its exquisite colour and almost porcelain fragility, now told a truth that Beth felt she ought to have recognized before. She gazed sadly at the lodge, because the talisman hadn’t helped her father. Harriet returned, her skirts blowing as the waiting driver opened the door to help her back in. Rain scattered over Beth, and the smell of the moor was strong before the door closed again and Harriet had resumed her seat. As the vehicle drove on into the village, Harriet looked at Beth. ‘I know you recognized the medallion. Please don’t speak of it to anyone. Carrie is trying to keep her illness secret.’
‘Does Mr Haldane know?’
Harriet hesitated. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I went riding with him and met Carrie and her daughter.’ Beth glanced out of the rain-washed window.
‘You know, don’t you?’
‘That Katie is his child? Yes.’
Harriet lowered her eyes. ‘I hadn’t realized you were close enough to Landry for him to have told you.’ She bit her lip. ‘I sometimes wish you’d never come here.’
The other’s pain was so evident that Beth felt dreadful. ‘Please don’t say that.’
Harriet was immediately contrite. ‘Oh, forgive me, I didn’t really mean it. It’s just that – that—’
‘That you are in love with him?’
‘Is it that obvious?’ Harriet smiled ruefully. ‘It’s all quite hopeless, of course.’
Beth felt culpable. She and Harriet were still barely acquainted, but what had been done on the cliff could not be undone. Landry swore there was no understanding with Harriet, and it was clearly true, but even so it was hard to look her in the eye.
‘I knew when he first met you that he was more than a little interested,’ Harriet continued. ‘He can be disconcertingly honest, you know.’
‘Yes, I’ve discovered that.’ Rain was driven against the windows as the wind gusted through the village streets.
Harriet went on, ‘Father grows vexed with me for mooning after a man I will never have, and now my cousin John Herriot has made a good offer of marriage. At least if Landry gets you to the altar—’
Beth interrupted hastily. ‘I hardly know him!’ No, but you’ve already spread your legs for him and behaved like a savage!
‘At least my hand is being forced,’ Harriet continued. ‘I’m bound either to marry my cousin or become an embittered old maid.’
Beth endeavoured to use levity to fend off the returning gloom. ‘My friend, it may be that spinsterhood is infinitely preferable, because if you marry your cousin, you’ll be Harriet Herriot.’
Harriet gave a little laugh, and then glanced out. ‘Ah, we are at Miss Archer’s.’
Beth saw that the dressmaker’s was also the village haberdashery, but as she and Harriet hurried in, laughing because of the wind and rain, the first thing Beth noticed on a table was the latest edition of Lithgow’s Journal. Was the notice still being published? She didn’t want to look inside to see, but knew she would.
It was the late evening of the same day, and the weather had worsened. The setting sun, reflecting as if upon a watery mirror, frilled the low, racing clouds with vivid shades of autumn, and the surf was tremendous as the tide roared in. The lights of Lannermouth flickered wanly through the gale and rain, and the trees in the Dower House park heaved and swayed as if intent upon hauling themselves from the earth, but Beth’s parlour was firelit and cosy. A draught sucked down the chimney so that the flames flared noisily in the hearth, and brilliant sparks fled up toward the stormy night sky. She was alone. Mrs Cobbett hadn’t yet returned from seeing her sick sister, nor had Billy and Molly come home from the fair. On such a night she thought it would be morning before she saw anyone.
She was on the settle by the fire, her hair loose, wearing a primrose muslin chemise. There was a glass of Madeira in her hand, and her face was illuminated by the flames. Why, oh why, had she opened the journal? She had so wanted the Dower House to be a haven, but it had been spoiled, first by her unbridled misconduct with Landry, and now by revived fears of the past. The London lawyers still sought her. Guy would be after her too. Mrs Cobbett’s cat padded into the room to join her, but instead of settling down comfortably as usual, it sat upright by the hearth, staring in a penetrating way that summoned more thoughts of Guy. The gale rattled the French windows, and she got up to make sure they were properly closed. Through the rain-distorted glass she saw a bedraggled horse, head low, trudging slowly into the drive from Rendisbury Hill. Billy and Molly! Appalled that they’d come five miles in such conditions, she went to the kitchen just as footsteps hurried to the back door and Billy ushered Molly inside. Beth had expected to see two bedraggled, tired, wet people, but was unprepared for the maid’s ashen, mud-stained face and torn clothes. ‘Oh, whatever has happened, Molly?’ she cried.
Billy removed his dripping hat. ‘There’s been trouble over at Porworthy, Miss Beth. The fair didn’t even start on account of it. Sir Daniel’s mill was fired by an angry crowd, all of them in hoods. It was nasty.’ He glanced back outside. ‘Reckon I’d better settle the horse. Molly will tell you what happened, Miss Beth.’
Beth led Molly into the parlour and sat her on the settle by the fire, before pouring her a glass of Madeira. ‘Tell me about it, Molly,’ she said gently, forgetting her own problems as she sat next to the maid.
‘Well, when we got there we supped at the Bell and Fox first, but saw that the fair wasn’t going on as it should. There weren’t any women and children around, just men. They stood in quiet groups, and had something about them. No laughing or light chatter. More and more men arrived and gathered in front of the Bell and Fox. Billy got worried, but as we were going to leave, someone blew a whistle and the men put on hoods. They grabbed staves and other weapons they’d hidden, then got torches and marched on the mill to put it to flame. The fire took a grip in spite of the storm, and there was smoke, a lot of shouting, windows breaking and doors being kicked in so machines could be wrecked. They destroyed everything they could find, and not one of them could be recognized because of their hoods. When the fire became too dangerous, they began to parade through Porworthy with Sir Daniel’s likeness on a pole, then they burned that as well and began to dance around and screech like they were po
ssessed.’ Molly took a gulp of the Madeira and wiped the back of her hand across her trembling lips. ‘We watched from the inn, and the landlord, Mr George, told us it was happening because Sir Daniel had brought in even more power looms and steam presses, putting another twenty men out of work, eight of them forced to go on parish relief. Sir Daniel sentenced Porworthy men to hang for poaching a while back, so he’s really hated. Anyway, he must have realized early on what was happening, for the next thing there were screams; some women and children appeared through the smoke shouting that the army was coming. We ran to the stables for our horse just as mounted soldiers poured into the street. I was knocked down and my gown was ripped and my stockings torn. I was covered in mud and so frightened I couldn’t move. I just lay there as the army cleared the streets. It was harsh, Miss Beth, with deaths and injuries. Sir Daniel will sit in judgment again, and hang even more.’
‘Oh, Molly, it must have been dreadful.’ Beth didn’t know what else to say.
‘On the way back, we had to keep leaving the road to hide in bushes so the army wouldn’t find us and think we’d been involved. They’re out everywhere, Miss Beth. I felt like a criminal.’ Tears streamed down Molly’s dirty face.
Billy returned, and came to crouch attentively in front of the maid ‘It’s all right now, Molly my love, you’re back here at Lannermouth and it’s all done with. Come on, we’ll go to the kitchen and have a bite to eat. It will do us good.’
Beth sensed his anxiety to leave the parlour, and then realized why as a shadow moved in the doorway behind him and she saw Landry’s cloaked figure. Molly gasped, discarded her glass and hurried out with Billy, and Landry closed the door behind them. He removed his wet hat and cloak, revealing a brown coat, scarlet waistcoat and fawn trousers. ‘I’ve had the army at the hall, alerting me to events at Porworthy and warning me of possible repercussions in this area.’
‘You think there will be?’
Star-Crossed Summer Page 20