Whisper Of Darkness

by Anne Mather

  ‘What time did Jake say he’d be back, Miss Seton?’ Matt continued, now turning to Joanna, and with one eye on Anya, she shrugged her slim shoulders.

  ‘He didn’t. But he was taking Mrs Harris to her sister’s in Lancaster, so perhaps you’d know how long that would take.’

  Matt tugged thoughtfully at his chin. ‘Left about eleven o’clock, you said, didn’t you? Should be there soon after one. I reckon he might be back before four.’ He frowned. ‘Seems like we might as well leave those ditches till tomorrow.’

  Joanna hesitated. ‘You mean—you and Mr Sheldon were going to—work on these ditches together?’

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  Joanna nodded, uneasily remembering what had happened the day before. What would Jake have said in these circumstances? Was Matt’s weakness for the bottle likely to rear its ugly head again in his employer’s absence?

  Taking an impulsive decision, she said: ‘The—er—the garden out back seems a bit neglected. If you’ve got nothing else to do, Mr Coulston, perhaps you could start digging it over. I’m not absolutely sure about these things, but isn’t it possible to sow crops now that will provide early vegetables in the spring?’

  Anya’s indignant expression changed to one of malicious anticipation at Joanna’s suggestion. ‘Yes, why don’t you dig the garden over, Matt?’ she taunted impudently. ‘Miss Seton’s very good at finding jobs for everybody but herself.’

  ‘That’s not true, Anya!’

  Joanna spoke defensively, and then quickly turned her irritation to a smile as she encountered Matt’s puzzled features. The last thing she wanted to do was antagonise the one person who had shown her a little understanding since she came here, and she hoped her hasty words had not jeopardised their friendship.

  ‘I only thought …’ she began awkwardly, and then breathed a sigh of relief when she saw his eyes were twinkling.

  ‘I fancy Jake’s been telling you about those attacks I have from time to time, Miss Seton,’ he said, scratching his head through the thinning threads of his hair. ‘Seems like you’re worried that the devil himself will take charge of these idle hands.’

  ‘Mr Coulston, honestly——’

  ‘The name’s Matt, and don’t you forget it. And if you want the kitchen garden digging over, then I’ll be happy to do it for you.’ He waggled a finger at Anya as he spoke. ‘And don’t you go trying to get me and Miss Seton at odds with one another, just because you don’t want to learn how to behave yourself.’

  Anya’s lips compressed into a mutinous line. ‘I know how to behave myself,’ she declared hotly. ‘And you’re a fine one to talk about behaviour! I know where you were last night.’

  ‘Anya!’

  Joanna was horrified, but Matt only held up his hand. ‘She doesn’t mean any harm,’ he said, his eyes on the girl’s flushed face. ‘She’s like a hare, trapped in the woods. Try as it might, it can’t get free, and when someone happens along and tries to release it, it claws and scratches and bites without realising someone’s trying to help it.’

  ‘Don’t tell me your tales, Matt Coulston,’ Anya retorted with a grimace. ‘I don’t need any help, if that’s what you’re trying to say. I know everything I need to know to live here, and that’s all that matters.’

  ‘And what happens when your daddy goes back to London?’ enquired Matt patiently. ‘Do you think he wants his daughter behaving like a little savage?’

  ‘Daddy’s not going back to London,’ declared Anya, but there was a note of anxiety in her tones that she could not quite disguise. ‘He—he wouldn’t be happy there. He said so. And in any case, it’s nothing to do with you, so there!’

  She threw herself out of the room without another word, and Joanna breathed a sigh of resignation. Anya would probably disappear again now, and her hopes of finding a short cut to the village seemed doomed to failure.

  Then a thought suddenly struck her. ‘Mr Coulston—Matt!’

  He halted in the process of going out the door. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Could I walk to the village from here? I mean, without going round by the road? It must be about three miles that way. I wondered if there was a short cut.’

  Matt frowned, and looked as if he was about to ask why she wanted to go to Ravensmere. Then he seemed to think better of it, and shrugging his slightly-stooped shoulders, he said: ‘You can walk down to the stream and follow the path that takes you to Piper’s Bridge, but I wouldn’t advise it. With all this rain we’ve been having, the path’s flooded in places, and you could find your feet sliding into the water.’

  ‘Oh, dear!’ Joanna grimaced.

  ‘There is the other way,’ he added doubtfully. ‘Young Anya could show it to you. It’s a bit more complicated to describe, you see. It means going round through the copse, over Trevor’s field, and down into the village by the lane from the farm.’

  Joanna’s face brightened. ‘That sounds more interesting. I’m sure I could find it, Matt, if you just told me exactly how to reach this farm track.’

  It was a little complicated, remembering the path she had to take through the wood, and which field skirted the farm buildings, but when she left the kitchen to go up to her room to get ready she felt reasonably confident of her route. She washed her face and hands, applied a little more make-up, and then surveyed the room with some misgivings. Perhaps now that Mrs Harris was gone she could persuade Jake to spend some money on redecoration, although it was possible that he might not be able to afford such luxuries.

  Coming down the stairs again, buttoning the sheepskin jacket she had worn that morning, she was surprised to find Anya waiting for her in the hall. The girl had brushed her hair and put on a clean anorak over her sweater and jeans, and Joanna couldn’t believe that this improvement was going to last.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked, checking her handbag to make sure she had everything she needed, and Anya assumed an indignant expression.

  ‘You said you wanted to go to the village,’ she replied, pushing her hands into the pockets of her anorak. ‘I’m here to show you the way.’

  ‘Oh!’ Joanna tried not to look as astonished as she felt. After the scene in the kitchen, the last thing she had expected was that Anya should remember what she had told her, and she wondered if their apparent truce was going to last.

  ‘You do want to go to the village, don’t you?’ Anya persisted, and Joanna had to admit that she did. ‘Then let’s go,’ suggested the girl impatiently, and with a helpless shrug Joanna agreed.

  Outside, the day was quite warm, considering the time of the year, and Joanna breathed deeply, feeling quite exhilarated at her unexpected success. Still, the sharpness of the air reminded her of Anya’s refuge the night before, and testing the strength of her amicability, she said:

  ‘Weren’t you cold in that hut last night? I mean, it didn’t look particularly well insulated, and it was quite far up the mountain.’

  ‘Oh, that!’ Anya shrugged her thin shoulders offhandedly. ‘It wasn’t too bad, considering. There’s an old bed in there, and a couple of old blankets. And Binzer was with me.’

  As if remembering the dog’s companionship, she put her fingers to her mouth and emitted a piercing whistle as they reached the gates, and both dogs came bounding towards them, their shaggy hair falling untidily into their eyes.

  ‘How on earth can you tell them apart?’ exclaimed Joanna, half protestingly, as the dogs almost overbalanced her in their enthusiasm, and Anya turned a scornful face in her direction.

  ‘Binnie is a bitch,’ she declared, making the most obvious distinction. ‘They are different, you know, dogs and bitches. Just like human beings.’

  Joanna endeavoured not to get annoyed. ‘So they are,’ she countered lightly. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t notice.’

  Anya looked as though she would have liked to say more, but she didn’t, turning out of the gate with the dogs at her heels, following the track down towards the stream.

  ‘I—where are you go
ing?’ asked Joanna rather doubtfully, and then felt all her apprehensions return as Anya answered.

  ‘You wanted to be shown the short cut to the village, didn’t you?’ she remarked innocently. ‘Well, this is the way. Come on, I’ll direct you.’

  Joanna hesitated, hanging back, irritated at the feeling of disappointment she was experiencing. Obviously Anya had every intention of showing her the path by the stream, and while it was possible that she didn’t know it was partially flooded, it was also highly unlikely. For a moment Joanna was tempted to tell her that Matt had already explained the situation to her, but then a desire to thwart the girl overcame all else. She would let Anya show her to the stream. She would let her think she was as ignorant of the dangers as Anya apparently thought her. And when she had gone, as she obviously would, she would double back and take the path through the copse.

  The stream was considerably broader than its normal width, tumbling recklessly on its way, noisy as it negotiated the stones that impeded its progress. In summer, Joanna guessed its banks would be a mass of brilliant colour, but right now the slopes were muddy and even the grass looked sad, clinging to the earth in grim survival.

  ‘That’s the way,’ Anya indicated, pointing to the footpath that soon wound out of sight along the bank. ‘It’s a bit muddy, but it will bring you out at Piper’s Bridge, which is just outside the village.’

  ‘All right,’ Joanna nodded. ‘Thank you.’ She paused. ‘You—er—you’re not coming with me?’

  ‘I don’t think so, thanks.’ Anya shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. ‘Daddy wouldn’t like it if the dogs ran wild in the village. I’d better take them back.’

  Joanna shrugged. ‘As you like. See you later, then.’

  ‘Yes, later,’ agreed Anya, hiding a smirk, and Joanna forced a grateful smile before starting on her way.

  She wondered how far Anya expected her to get before she lost her balance and slipped into the stream. The water would be freezing, and she could imagine the girl’s delight if she had to come squelching back to the house, soaked to the skin. She wondered what excuse she would give her father, and decided that so far as Anya was concerned the end justified any punishment she might have to take.

  Joanna waited until she was sure that Anya must have reached Ravengarth, and then turned back. But as she did so she saw the boundary of the copse almost directly above her, and realised that she could reach the trees by climbing the slope, and thus avoid approaching the house again.

  It was a damp climb, negotiating as it did knee-high grasses that soaked the legs of her pants and left them wet and uncomfortable. Even so, it was worth it to picture Anya’s face on her return with the groceries, particularly as she had no intention of telling her she had taken another route.

  She skirted the trees, calculating that Matt’s directions would bring her to the field directly to her left. Sure enough, there was a stile, just as he had described, and she jumped down into the bristling stubble beyond with a feeling of achievement.

  Then she frowned. Matt’s instructions had been intended to bring her out into the lane beyond the farm buildings, but the track alongside the hedge she was presently following would bring her to the back of the buildings themselves, and even as she stopped, biting her lip, not sure which direction she ought to take, a Land Rover seemed to appear from nowhere, and came bumping over the field towards her.

  She stood still, realising it would be undignified to do any other, and the vehicle drove up to her to stop with a squeal of brakes. A young man climbed down from the driving seat, viewing her with evident interest, and she returned his gaze coolly, refusing to look as embarrassed as she felt.

  ‘Good afternoon.’ His accent was not uncultivated, and she managed a faint smile.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ she responded. ‘Am I trespassing?’

  He grinned. ‘As a matter of fact, you are, but don’t let it worry you. I detect you’re not from these parts.’ His eyes dropped down her to rest on the damp legs of her trousers. ‘What have you been doing? Wading in the beck?’

  Joanna sighed, glancing back over her shoulder. ‘Avoiding doing so,’ she replied ruefully. ‘I climbed up from the stream, if that’s what you mean. The grass is very long and wet.’

  ‘I see.’ He clearly didn’t, but he had accepted her explanation. ‘So where were you headed? Heronsfoot?’

  ‘Heronsfoot?’ Joanna grimaced. ‘Oh, no—Ravensmere.’

  ‘Ravensmere?’ He looked surprised. ‘I see.’

  Joanna frowned. ‘I’m not going in the wrong direction, am I? I thought the village was down there.’ She pointed beyond the farm buildings to where a narrow lane could be seen, winding down towards a collection of rooftops and the unmistakable sheen of water.

  ‘It is.’ The man looked slightly discomfited. ‘I was just surprised, that’s all. I’m afraid I didn’t realise you’d walked all the way from Heronsfoot.’

  Joanna looked puzzled now. ‘I haven’t,’ she protested. ‘I’m not a hiker, if that’s what you think.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t think that at first, I will admit,’ he conceded, half apologetically. ‘But the only habitation other than ours in these parts is Ravengarth, and I know you can’t be from there.’

  ‘Oh, but I am.’ Joanna ignored his astonished expression, and hurried on. ‘I’m employed by Mr Sheldon. I’m An—Antonia’s new governess.’

  ‘Good lord!’ The young man was obviously taken aback, and Joanna wondered how well he knew the Sheldons. ‘Well, you’re certainly not my idea of what a governess should look like, so perhaps I may be forgiven for making the error.’

  Joanna accepted the implied compliment without comment, and realising she was wasting a lot of time when she had the journey to the. village and back still to accomplish, she said: ‘Perhaps you could direct me the way to the village, if you don’t mind. I’m afraid I appear to have mistaken the directions I was given.’

  ‘What? Oh, sure.’ He seemed fascinated by the combination of slanted green eyes and gold-streaked brown hair, loosening again from its knot after the exertions of her climb. ‘But we should introduce ourselves, don’t you think? I mean, as we’re going to be neighbours, so to speak. I’m Paul Trevor, and this is my father’s farm.’

  Joanna hesitated, and then said abruptly: ‘How do you do, Mr Trevor. I’m Joanna Seton. But if you don’t mind, we won’t waste time in pleasantries right now. These pants are soaking, and I’d really like to get back and change.’

  ‘Hell, yes!’ His eyes dropped to the offending cords, clinging to her slender legs. ‘But look——’ he glanced up at her again, ‘why don’t you come home with me and let my mother dry them out for you? I know she’d like to meet you. We don’t get many visitors around these parts, not at this time of the year anyway. Then afterwards I could run you down to the village in the Land Rover to get whatever it is you need.’

  ‘Oh, really, I couldn’t put you to that trouble,’ Joanna began, but he assured her it was no trouble at all.

  ‘Someone should have told you the path along by the beck was flooded,’ he exclaimed, obviously imagining she had been trying to reach the village that way, and at his words, the recollection of Anya’s intentions came surging back into her mind. It would do her good to wonder why Joanna hadn’t come hurrying back to the house, and if Paul Trevor chose to drive her back to Ravengarth, so much the better.

  ‘All right,’ she said now, ruefully brushing the damp blades of grass from her knees. ‘If you’re sure your parents won’t mind.’

  ‘They’ll be delighted, believe me,’ he exclaimed, offering her a seat in the Land Rover, and with a smile she climbed in beside him.

  The farmhouse was one of the buildings she had seen when she climbed over the stile. Set at right angles to a bam with a cowbyre beyond, and general outhouses fronting them across a paved courtyard, it formed the central bar of a three-sided rectangle, which would provide coolness in summer, and protection in winter. There were dogs here
, too, that scattered the hens as Paul drove into the yard, and somewhere the lowing of cows indicated that afternoon milking was almost due.

  This was the back of the house, Joanna realised, and they crossed the yard to a large kitchen that smelled deliciously of home baking. Although it was not much more modern in design than the kitchen at Ravengarth, everything shone with the evidence of much polishing, and she thought how much more pleasant it would be to work in surroundings like these.

  Paul’s mother must have heard the Land Rover, for she came into the kitchen from the hall beyond, just as Paul and Joanna entered from outside. At least, Joanna assumed she was his mother, sharing as she did her son’s fair good looks, his solid youth replaced by spreading middle age. Her hair was only slightly grey, and her round face was virtually unlined, revealing that she probably enjoyed her own cooking as much as anyone. She wore a navy blue dress and a flowered apron, and her expression held mild interest as she surveyed the young woman with her son.

  ‘We’ve got a visitor, Ma,’ Paul told her easily, confirming Joanna’s identification. ‘She’s from Ravengarth, and her name’s Joanna Seton. Joanna?’ He waited for her silent approval. ‘This is my mother.’

  ‘How do you do, Mrs Trevor.’

  Joanna restrained herself from offering her hand when the older woman made no attempt to do so. If she hadn’t known that it couldn’t possibly be so, she would have said there was disapproval in Mrs Trevor’s attitude, and she began to wish she had not allowed Paul to persuade her to come here.

  ‘From Ravengarth, you say,’ his mother remarked now, looking at her son with some irritation. ‘You’d be some relative of the Sheldons, then?’

  ‘No,’ It was Paul who answered her, his blue eyes wide and impatient. ‘She’s the new governess, believe it or not. For Sheldon’s daughter. But as you can see, she got wet climbing up from the stream, and I suggested she came here to dry off. Surely there’s a pair of Barbara’s slacks around somewhere that she could borrow while we dry her own.’