by Linda Finlay
‘You’re going to have to take it easy, my girl,’ she chided, piling the fleecy sheepskins over Eliza’s shivering body.
‘But I felt so much better,’ Eliza protested weakly.
‘No arguing. That fever’s knocked the stuffing out of you and it’s going to take time to regain your strength. Now, for heaven’s sake do as you’re told and rest. I’ll bank up the fire and make breakfast. Nourishing food and rest, that’s what you need, my girl.’
Weakly, Eliza nodded then watched through half-closed eyes as the woman threw off her coat and kneeled beside the fire. Once she’d riddled the embers, she added sticks and logs until the grate was a fiery blaze. Then she poured water from a hide pitcher into an old kettle and stood it on the fender to boil. With the dripping in a battered old pan sizzling, she tossed in huge lumps of black-red meat. Hearing Eliza gasp, Fay turned and stared down at her.
‘Breakfast’s the most important meal of the day, girl. Nobody can function on an empty stomach,’ she said, deftly flipping the steaks onto a plate and setting them on the hearth to keep warm. Finally she chucked vegetables into a pot, then sat back in the chair. ‘Of course, your weak system won’t be able to digest a rich venison steak, so I’ll cut yours up finely and add it to the broth.’
So that’s what the dark meat was. Eliza had never even seen deer flesh, let alone tasted it. She stared around the room, taking in the blackened timbers of the low roof, the inglenook fireplace and a mounted antlered head on the wall. Animal skins covered the floor, sheathed knives hung from hooks, and a gun was slung on the back of the door. She shuddered. Had Fay shot the deer, then? And if she had, was it safe to remain here? She only had the woman’s word that she’d fainted, hadn’t she? Feeling queasy, she swallowed hard and closed her eyes.
A sudden knocking made her jump, then a gust of wind tore through the room, sending smoke from the fire swirling and billowing around.
‘For heaven’s sake shut that door, Duncan, before we turn into ice angels,’ Fay barked as Duncan stood on the step stamping the snow from his boots.
‘Morning, Fay, and a beautiful angel you’d make too. Something smells good,’ he said, sniffing the air appreciatively.
‘I swear you hear me set the pan to the fire from those woods you choose to inhabit,’ Fay replied, shaking the spoon at him.
‘Reckoned I might be too late today, though. Ben asked me to call by the farm. He thought Rose had gone into labour. False alarm, but I gave her some raspberry leaf to help her relax and ease the cramps. He was fussing like a mother hen. You’d think having dealt with lambing he’d take it all in his stride,’ he muttered.
Fay shook her head. ‘A baby’s a bit different, Duncan, and it is their first.’
‘True. Rose’s mother was coming over to help, but she’s snowed in down at Beechcombe. Ben insisted I take some fresh food for my trouble,’ he said, placing a covered jug of milk on the table then carefully taking four speckled brown eggs from each pocket. ‘Think one of these will be more nourishing for our little guest than your bloody red meat. Talking of which, how is the patient today?’ he asked, hunkering down beside Eliza. Immediately his expression changed to one of concern. ‘You’re whiter than the snow outside.’
‘Just feeling a bit sick,’ Eliza muttered.
‘Probably from the frying. It does smell a bit rich this time of a morning. I’ll mix something to settle your system. All right to use the mug, Fay?’ he asked, pointing to the hearth.
‘Of course, but you’d best make me another. It’s a bind having to use the same one all the time.’
Duncan lowered his voice. ‘Poor Fay, it’s a shock having to share your home, isn’t it? I’d have the little un but don’t think she’d appreciate my tree dwelling. Besides, it’s too cold for her out there.’
‘Well, I can hardly throw her out in the snow so she’ll just have to stay until she’s recovered. She said she’d been seeking work so I’m sure someone round these parts will be glad of help. It’s inconvenient, though, for I’ve little space to spare and I don’t know anything about children. Still, if the meat’s too strong for her, I’ll coddle one of those eggs when she’s feeling better. With stocks running low, those provisions are most welcome, thank you. Did you ask Ben if he’d heard anything …?’ Fay’s voice became softer and although Eliza couldn’t make out what she was saying she knew they were still talking about her.
Eliza stared into the flames and sighed. No matter where she went, she was in the way. As soon as she was strong enough to leave, she would.
‘Here, drink this.’ She jumped as the gentle giant crouched beside her, holding the mug to her lips.
‘What is it?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘Never fear, ’tis only a bit of betony. Cure anything and everything, that will,’ he assured her.
‘Now, Duncan, you and I both know it’s those herbs you add that makes the difference. You’re lucky, girl, this boy’s a wizard,’ Fay said with a sniff.
His big belly laugh filled the room and Eliza felt her spirits rise again. She felt more comfortable when the giant was around.
‘I got some sacking off Ben. When we’ve eaten, I’ll go out to the barn and stuff up a mattress for you. You can’t carry on sleeping on that chair and there’s room enough for you both alongside the fire.’
Fay grunted, but Eliza could see she was pleased.
As the drink had settled her stomach, Eliza found herself relaxing. She must have drifted to sleep because the next thing she knew, Fay was shaking her awake.
‘I promise to cook you breakfast and then you sleep until noon.’ Eliza opened her eyes to find Fay frowning down at her. ‘Let’s sit you up so you can eat. You need to build your strength,’ said the woman, tucking skins behind her.
To her surprise, Eliza found she was ravenous and tucked into the coddled egg. Fay sat in her chair on the other side of the fire stitching away at a length of material that looked familiar. Surely that was her dress, Eliza thought, but the woman was concentrating so fiercely, she didn’t like to interrupt. She ate her meal, then sighed contentedly.
‘That was delicious, thank you.’
Fay grunted, put down her sewing and took away the platter.
‘Now you’re feeling stronger, we need to talk,’ she said, returning to her chair.
Eliza looked at the woman’s serious expression and swallowed hard. Was she going to turn her out so soon?
‘You gave me a real scare collapsing outside like that. Only a fool would wander around in that atrocious weather so I’m guessing you must have run away from home.’ Eliza looked down at the floor and Fay nodded. ‘I thought as much. I don’t know what caused you to take such drastic action but I’m sure your parents will be worried sick.’
Eliza shook her head. ‘Father will be pleased I’ve gone. He said I was naught but a burden,’ she burst out.
‘Sometimes things are said in the heat of the moment. I’m sure he will now be regretting his harsh words.’
‘You don’t understand. He called me useless, saying no man will want to marry me.’
Fay gave a harsh laugh. ‘Marry you? Why, you have years yet before you need think of such a thing. How old are you – eleven?’ Eliza shook her head. ‘Well, twelve at the most then?’
‘I shall be fifteen on the 19th of February,’ Eliza burst out indignantly.
Fay narrowed her eyes. ‘I warn you, I have no time for liars, girl. Deceit is the work of the devil,’ she spat.
‘But that’s what I am. A child of the devil,’ Eliza muttered.
4
Fay stared at Eliza in horror, the crackling of the logs in the hearth sounded unnaturally loud in the long silence.
‘Why would you think such a preposterous thing?’ Fay asked eventually.
‘Father called me that. I was born with a twisted foot, you see.’
‘I have seen your foot, Eliza, a tragic birthing accident certainly, but no work of the devil. I thought that kind of fallacy lost in the mists of time. Surely your mother understands that?’
‘Mother tries to stand up to Father, but as head of the household what he says goes, doesn’t it?’
Fay pursed her lips but said nothing.
Eliza stared dismally into the fire, recalling her father’s harsh words, the crack of his belt … ‘He’s always taken against me and I am not going back, ever,’ she cried.
‘Calm down, Eliza. I take it your name really is Eliza?’ Fay asked, shooting her a penetrating look.
Eliza nodded.
‘You claim to be nearly fifteen …’
‘Yes, I am. Whatever you may think, I am no liar,’ Eliza protested.
‘I can’t help unless I know the facts. You have been very ill and are little more than skin and bones, although it is my guess you were malnourished to begin with. As it’s going to take a while for you to regain enough strength to go anywhere, I was trying to establish if we need to inform anyone of your whereabouts.’
Eliza shook her head.
‘Your family will be worrying, surely?’ Fay persisted.
‘No! They’ll be glad to be rid of me, as will you,’ Eliza shouted. Silence descended like a fog and, ashamed of her outburst, she stared miserably into the fire.
‘I can’t deny I prefer my solitude,’ Fay finally admitted. ‘However, I believe in the moorland ways, which would not permit me to let you leave before you’ve regained your strength. Any caring human would surely think the same. That’s why I can’t believe your parents won’t be worrying about you and wishing you safely back with them.’
Eliza gave a harsh laugh. ‘Believe you me, that’ll be the last thing they’re wishing. They think I’m worthless, totally and utterly useless.’
‘Rubbish. Can you cook? Clean a house? Sew?’
‘Of course. I’ve been doing all of those things at home for years,’ Eliza retorted, indignant at being questioned about such minor tasks.
‘Well, there you are then; hardly useless, are you?’ Fay commented.
‘But it wasn’t enough for them,’ Eliza cried. ‘You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to feel lonely.’
‘Is that so?’ Fay sighed, staring into the fire. Then her manner became brisk again. ‘Now, having been confined to barracks, which I detest, I’ve used the time to mend your clothes. You were so drenched I literally had to peel all your things from you. They were torn and covered in mud, beggar’s buttons and all kinds of animal waste,’ she said with a grimace. ‘Why, I even had to cut burrs out of your hair, it was that matted.’
Remembering the leap she’d had to make into the ditch and her night spent in the animal byre, Eliza shuddered. Then the implication of what Fay had said sunk in. Gingerly she peered under the cover. Sure enough she was wearing only a chemise, and her legs and feet were quite bare. Quickly she covered herself up again. Then a thought struck.
‘Duncan – did he help … you know, undress me?’ she whispered in horror.
To her surprise, Fay chuckled. ‘Don’t look so worried. You were decently bedded down long before he appeared. And now I’ve washed your dress, you can be respectably attired when he next appears. I’ve added a flounce to hide the worst of the damage.’ She passed the garment to Eliza, who stared at her old dress in amazement. The varying shades of green sewn onto her homespun made it look like a patchwork of fields in summertime.
‘That’s beautiful,’ she gasped. ‘Thank you.’
Fay shrugged. ‘Like I said, it was a good way of passing the time. I’m not one to be idle, or indoors, come to that. Besides, it was just some spare cloth I had.’ That the woman should have material of such fine quality lying around amazed Eliza, but she wasn’t going to question her good fortune.
‘I collected up the things you dropped in the snow when you fell.’
Eliza’s eyes lit up. ‘You found my box then?’
‘Your box?’
‘Yes, my treasure box. Grampy made it for me and I keep my flowers in it. I wrapped it in my bundle,’ Eliza cried.
‘There wasn’t any box amongst your things,’ Fay said.
‘Are you sure?’ Eliza asked, her heart sinking.
The woman frowned. ‘I know a box when I see one.’
Feeling tears well, Eliza quickly turned her head away so the woman wouldn’t see.
‘I’ll take another look around when I go out for more wood,’ Fay said brusquely. ‘Now, you’ve had quite enough excitement for one day. Lie down and get some rest.’
Eliza did as she was told, not thinking for one moment she’d be able to sleep, but when she opened her eyes again bright sunshine was streaming through the window from the east.
‘So, Sleeping Beauty wakes at last,’ Fay said as she struggled to sit up. ‘How are you feeling today?’
‘Much better, thank you,’ Eliza answered as her stomach gave a loud rumble.
Fay grunted. ‘I’ll pour you some broth and when you’ve eaten, we’ll get you cleaned up. A wash and change of clothes will make you feel and smell better.’
Eliza spent the next few days sitting in the chair beside the fire. To her chagrin, Fay refused to let her help with the household chores, insisting she rest. Although the woman was civil, Eliza still felt uncomfortable in her presence and hoped Duncan would soon reappear.
Fay could not stay still, though, and whilst she bustled around tidying the room Eliza took in her surroundings, noticing for the first time how spartan they were. A table tucked under the small window was scattered with papers and books, the two mattresses were propped against the wall on one side of the fireplace, and there was a heavy dresser stacked with odd dishes. The various knives in their leather sheaves still hung from their hooks, and the gun was on the back of the door. Further along, an old satchel was slung over a hook and in the corner stood a pail of water. Then she spied the tiny jar of snowdrops on the sill of the window and felt a pang. Her mother would have a fit if she saw those, believing the old superstition that white, shroud-like flowers were redolent of death and should never be brought indoors.
‘Surprised to see the Fair Maids of February blooming so early, eh?’ Fay said, breaking into her thoughts. ‘Got a sheltered spot beyond the vegetable patch where, with a little attention, they thrive and arrive a month earlier than the rest up here, just for old Fay,’ she chuckled.
As the woman opened the door to sweep out the dust, all Eliza could see was the snow-clad moorland spreading endlessly before her. A sudden gust of wind made her shiver and, pulling the sheepskin cover round her, she watched as Fay viciously stabbed the ice on top of a pail with the broom handle. With a shock, she realized the woman was much older than she’d first thought. Her dark hair was streaked with silver threads and she had reddened cheeks and roughened hands. Despite the cold, she was dressed only in an old woollen shirt and baggy trousers; as she disappeared outside Eliza saw that from behind she had the athletic appearance of a man.
‘I’ve had another look around but couldn’t see any sign of your box, Eliza,’ she said, reappearing moments later. Eliza’s heart sank. Her last link with Grampy and the happy times she’d spent with him at home
was gone. How could she have been so careless as to lose her most treasured possession? Blinking back the tears, she watched as the woman haphazardly threw the animal skins back down onto the earth floor.
‘There, that’s better, all clean,’ Fay announced, hands on hips, staring around the room. Eliza didn’t like to point out the cobwebs festooning the fireplace and corners, or the dust that covered every surface.
‘I don’t know how much longer you’ll have to stay here, Eliza, but …’ Fay was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door. ‘This place is busier than a blessed hunt meeting,’ she grunted, flinging open the door. ‘Oh, it’s you again. Haven’t you got your own home to go to?’
‘Thought you’d like to know Rose had her baby in the early hours. Little boy they’ve named Joshua. Mother and baby doing well, Father exhausted, but I guess that’s the way of things,’ Duncan said with a chuckle.
‘From what I can make out, you men just get the fun bit of things, as you call it,’ Fay said, wagging her finger at him. ‘Still, it is good news the baby’s delivered safely. Right, you can make yourself useful and entertain our guest. It’ll give me a chance to get out of this place before I go barmy as a Bath bun.’ Having thrown on her coat, she grabbed the satchel and was gone.
Eliza’s eyes widened in shock but Duncan grinned, seemingly unperturbed by the woman’s abrupt manner.
‘It’s good to see you up and dressed. Are you feeling better, little un?’ he asked, lowering himself down on the rug beside her.
‘Yes, but I really feel I’m in Fay’s way here. I wish I was stronger so I could get up and go,’ she said miserably.
‘You mustn’t mind her. She’s used to being by herself. I expect she’s finding company claustrophobic, especially only having the one room.’
‘I intend leaving as soon as I can,’ Eliza assured him. ‘I shall seek work and board in the nearest town.’