A Child of Secrets

by Mary Mackie

  Jess only wished she could believe him.

  ‘Will they swear he din’t do any harm to Miss Lily’s dog, neither?’ she demanded. ‘Or was it Eliza that let him out to get hisself lost, off her own bat?’

  ‘What, have Gyp gone missin’?’

  ‘Got loose and run away. So Eliza say.’

  ‘I’ll keep a look out for him, then. Miss Lily’ll miss him. Is that why she’re unhappy? I saw her today, walkin’ through the woods as if she was shanny, and tears all down her face. Wish she’d of talked to me, but when I showed myself she ran away. You tell her I’ll find Gyp if I can.’

  Did he really believe that would make Lily think more fondly of him? ‘I don’t reckon nobody’ll find him,’ Jess said. ‘That wun’t astonish me if Eliza han’t give him a grain too much poison this time, and killed him.’

  ‘Jess!’

  ‘Well, it’s so! If he’re dead, that’ll certainly keep him quiet and let her get her beauty sleep – or whatever else it is she do of a night. Maybe you know what that might be, Matty. Do you and Jim both call at the rectory after you’ve been out poachin’?’

  ‘Jess!’ Matty said again, and glanced around as if fearing listeners, but the graveyard was empty except for the sexton filling the grave by lanternlight, too far away to hear above the scrape and shush of his spade in the earth. ‘D’you want to get me in trouble?’

  ‘That en’t me as’ll accomplish that,’ Jess said bitterly. ‘You keep in with them Pottses, you’ll soon find out where real trouble come from. And speakin’ of trouble…’ She too looked at the sexton, then drew Matty away towards the gate, heading back to the big house through the windy, rain-spitting night. ‘I better tell you, else you’ll hear it from somebody else. That’s a wonder nobody han’t told you afore this. Matty… Merrywest was here Sunday. Preachin’ in the chapel. We ran into him as he was headin’ back.’ She pulled her coat collar up around her neck, huddling into it more for comfort than warmth. ‘Now the rumours are startin’…’

  ‘What rumours? What’d he say? I told you he din’t hold a grudge.’

  ‘Oh, but he do, Matty. Whatever he’ve said to you and Fanny, he’ve said it on’y to keep you sweet. Hopin’ you’d let on where I was. See, I know things about him he wun’t want spread around.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘Don’t ax, Matty. That’s not something I can ever tell. Funny thing is, he ought to have known that. I didn’t tell then and I en’t a-goin’ to tell now – not for my own sake but for someone else.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘If I told you that, you’d know as much as me. I won’t tell, not even to you. But Merrywest reckons I might. So he’re goin’ about tellin’ lies about me. He say I played Jezebel and tempted him, and when he spurned me I tried to kill him.’

  ‘Jess!’

  ‘He said it to my face, Matty! And some of it’s true – I did push him into that dock.’

  ‘Jessie…’

  ‘I did, Matty,’ she confirmed in despair. ‘I did want him dead. If it han’t a been for him…’ No, she couldn’t say that. She turned away, squinting against the rainy darkness with eyes that were suddenly painful. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Matty! The night of the fire… I ran mad. I hated him so much… I saw the chance, so I pushed him. And I ran. I darsen’t come back. I thought they’d be after me for murder. All those months, I was frightened sick. I still dream about it. And, if you want the truth… I still wish him dead.’

  ‘Don’t say that, Jess.’

  ‘Why not? It’s the mortal truth.’

  ‘I can’t believe it. That en’t like you. I’m the one’s too handy with the rough stuff. You… you was alluss a sharp ’un, but not in that way.’

  ‘No?’ Jess looked into her heart, finding black depths she didn’t care to plumb. She couldn’t tell Matty the whole truth: if he discovered what Merrywest had done, he’d probably do for the man himself and the last thing she wanted was her brother dragged to the gallows in her place. ‘Well, that’s what he done to me – he learned me how to hate. Now he’re shoutin’ his poison from the rooftops. He’ve already turned Reuben against me, and most of Hewing village, and… Oh… let’s not talk about him. That make me sick thinkin’ of it.’

  * * *

  The whispers continued. Conversations stopped when Jess hove into sight; eyes followed her, assessing her in new lights; and there was a new coolness in the air that had nothing to do with the weather.

  ‘Whatever is this gossip I’m hearing?’ Lily demanded. ‘Something about a preacher?’

  ‘An old enemy. He’d say black was white if he thought it’d hurt me.’

  ‘I thought so. I said as much to Mrs Roberts. My friend Jessamy a scheming, murdering Jezebel? Really, what nonsense! One has only to look at you to know that you’d never do anything wrong – you’re as sweet and innocent as… as Dolly Upton.’

  Jess kept her face straight, though she wanted to laugh, or was it to cry? If only she could be ‘sweet and innocent’ again. ‘Thank you, miss.’

  ‘The man must be mad,’ Lily said. ‘But then, all of those ranters are slightly unhinged. Oh – I know you go to their services sometimes, but you’re not really one of them, are you? Especially not now. I mean, they’re the ones who’re repeating these rumours. Very Christian of them.’

  Blessed Miss Lily. At least Jess had one friend left.

  * * *

  On the night before her birthday, Bella woke screaming and when Jess and Lily went rushing they found the door of her room open. Lamplight glowed, illumining the form of Lady Maud, clad in nightwear whose flowing folds seemed to emphasise her thinness. It was hard to tell who was most startled – she, or the child she had terrified by her presence.

  Jess reached Bella first, clasping the shivering body to her. Bella had stopped screaming but she was shaking, stuffing a favourite teddy bear against her mouth.

  ‘I only came to see if she was well!’ Lady Maud said, glaring about her as if she’d been accused of some crime. Her hair was wild, her eyes too. Her breath smelled strongly of gin and cashews. ‘Can’t I even visit my own daughter now?’ Gathering her nightrobe round her, assuming an air of dignity, she stalked out, dodging the doorjamb by a hair’s breadth.

  After they’d settled Bella down and returned to their own room, Jess and Lily lay awake in the darkness. Lily was curious; she kept asking questions until Jess reluctantly told some of what she knew.

  ‘But it’s mostly kitchen gossip. Tittle-tattle.’

  ‘Quite, and I know how unreliable that can be. But don’t be annoying, Jess. Tell me! If I’m going to be living here, I have a right to know.’

  It was no secret that the Fynchams used separate bedrooms, but gossip added that Lady Maud invited her husband to her bed only rarely. Their personal relationship was a mystery to Jess. All she knew for certain was that, as a mother, Lady Maud didn’t have much natural ability, and Bella was cowed and subservient with her, which further irritated Lady Maud.

  ‘I reckon she’ve tried to be more of a mother to Bella because she feel bad over what happened to Harry,’ Jess said. ‘That prey on her mind, how that boy died. She blame herself. That’s why she keep comin’ up here to check on Bella in the night. She’re a sad lady.’ She didn’t add that she’d seen her ladyship go out on the roof one night and walk the parapet; she was beginning to wonder if she’d dreamed that particular piece of madness. ‘I don’t reckon she have it in her to love anything human. She save it all for her horses.’

  ‘Poor little Bella,’ Lily said sadly. ‘Thank goodness she has a father who loves her. He does, doesn’t he? And doesn’t care who knows it.’ Sighing long and deeply, she turned over to lie on her back, saying quietly, ‘That’s what I always dreamed my real father would be like – kind, and loving. Oh, Jess… he is going to come. One day soon. I still believe that. Bathsheba promised me I should meet him soon.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream too hard on gypsy promises if I was you, Miss Lily,’ Jess said.<
br />
  ‘Why not? She was right about Ash, wasn’t she? She told me I should have my heart’s desire, and so I have. He loves me. Oh… knowing that, I can endure anything!’

  * * *

  They were at breakfast the next morning when Sir Richard arrived with two of the footmen laden with bright packages. Lady Maud was ‘indisposed’, so he’d come alone to cheer Bella’s birthday morning with gifts – toys and books, and a party dress which was a froth of pale pink silk trimmed with rosebuds. The dressmaker had taken measurements weeks ago, but Jess was to do last-minute alterations to make it a perfect fit.

  From the park came sounds of hammering as men strung bunting around the marquee that had been erected, and flurries of shot could be heard now and then from misty fields where the gentlemen were shooting partridge. The shots made Jess think of Rudd as she plied her needle, making small adjustments to Bella’s party gown. As head gamekeeper, Rudd would be in his element that day, enjoying the outcome of months of effort. Would he even give her a thought?

  Lily was restless, silent for half an hour at a time, then full of false brightness. She kept being drawn to the window to stare out at the mist. The weather had suddenly turned mild, forming condensation from the cold sea and the damp earth, making a fog that swirled and eddied, reducing visibility now to twenty yards, now to a hundred. Might Ash be with the Guns?

  And what of poor little Gyp? Was he out in this mist, lost and pining for her? She’d been back twice to the rectory to ask after him, but Cousin Oriana had only blinked worriedly and said there was no sign of him.

  From the rectory she had also brought some more clothes, including a blouse or two – the garment seemed a good compromise for morning lessons in the schoolroom, worn with a shawl for extra warmth and one of the plain skirts which she usually kept for walking in the woods. After lunch she usually changed into her black silk.

  That day she agonised over what to wear, deciding eventually on the black silk. No one then could complain that she was being defiant or unreasonable, not Lady Maud nor even Papa. But she mourned her kingfisher silk. She had brought it with her, just to look at it and wish…

  After luncheon, Jess was commandeered to help the kitchen staff. She found herself with all the heaviest or dirtiest jobs, hauling crockery out to the marquee and helping the scullery maid scour greasy pans. Nothing was said aloud but she was aware of undercurrents which seemed to be encouraged by a clipped Mrs Roberts. Nathanael Merrywest’s serpent tongue was working its evil well.

  Villagers began to gather in the park, the men, women and children of the estate all being invited to share in the ‘Belladay’ celebrations. From them, too, Jess received more than her share of hard looks. She heard one portly woman say, ‘What, that scrawny mawther? Well, now, she had no chance. Not wi’ that there preacher man. He look to me like the sort as prefer more meat on the bone. Now, if that had been me after him…’ Jess slipped away, but the sound of raucous laughter followed her.

  ‘Jess Sharp!’ Sal Gooden beckoned, her usually merry face shadowed by the doubts that troubled many of Jess’s erstwhile friends. They wanted to believe her innocent; after all, in spite of the rumours she was still walking free, not languishing in a police cell awaiting trial, but even so when a preacher claimed things against her a certain mistrust couldn’t help but linger. Jess tried to pretend she didn’t notice but it wasn’t easy.

  ‘What is it, Sal?’

  ‘I been lookin’ for you. Someone want to see you. He say he’ll be waitin’ in the walled garden.’

  ‘Who?’

  Sal looked blank. ‘The boy din’t say.’

  ‘What boy?’

  ‘Well, how’d I know? I don’t know all the village little ’uns. Go you and find out. If Mrs Roberts ask for you I’ll tell her some tale.’

  What was up now? Jess wondered. Was it Matty wanting to see her? Or – the thought made her heart skip – was it Reuben Rudd? Throwing her hands up to tidy her hair, she stole away, glad of the mist that soon separated her from the activity in the park.

  Beyond the stable block, a great oak tree spread its branches over the entrance to the so-called ‘shrubbery walk’. A maze of pathways twined among bushes and trees which on a hot day provided a cool place to stroll. On that day the walk was wet, branches dripping with droplets of the mist that seemed to hang heavy on thick air. Jess was not sorry to be through the shrubbery and on the path that led to the walled garden. Beneath an archway in the wall a door stood ajar.

  Feeling like an intruder, Jess pushed the door wider and stepped inside. The garden was divided by tall walls and connecting gateways. Here grew vegetables, and figs and cherries trained against southern walls. Apples and pears hung ripening; box hedges defined flower borders bright with dahlias and chrysanthemums; greenhouses sheltered grapes and oranges, all serviced by wide gravel pathways kept neatly raked. It was quiet there, an enclosed and secret world made even more secluded by grey mist.

  Then the door shut behind her with a hefty thunk, and as she whirled a hand grasped her wrist in punishing fingers. It wasn’t Rudd, or Matty. She stared in disbelief and growing dread into the narrowed black eyes of Preacher Merrywest.

  ‘Well now, Jess,’ he said softly. ‘After all these months. Alone at last. Just you and me.’

  Twenty-One

  ‘There’s no one else here,’ Merrywest informed her as she glanced behind, hoping for help. ‘I made sure of that. Didn’t want to be interrupted. But don’t worry, I won’t keep you long.’

  Jess strained away from him, her eyes fixed on his bearded face – that hated face! Her wrist burned from the hold he had on it. He was not a big man but he was strong. A gasp escaped her as he squeezed tighter, rubbing her bones together.

  ‘Please!’

  The pressure eased but the light in his eyes said it would resume if she resisted. ‘That’s just a reminder,’ he said in a calm, reasonable voice that held infinite menace. ‘I hope you’re going to keep on being a sensible girl, Jess. Just keep our secret to yourself, eh? If you tell…’ His hand tightened again, threatening to break her small bones, sending spears of pain up her arm and into her head. ‘If you tell, then it will be the worse for your family. Think what I could do to your Fanny and that new husband of hers, and the young ’uns – Sam, and little Joe. As for Matty…’

  ‘Blast your eyes!’ she got out, hardly able to think past the pain in her wrist. ‘You don’t have to threaten me. I hen’t said nothin’ yet. I won’t ever say nothin’. Not ’cos I’m afeared o’ you, though. I’ll keep quiet to stop my brother from comin’ after you. If he knew what you’d done—’

  He swung her round, slamming her against the garden door. Her head cracked on the wood with a blow that dizzied her.

  ‘You open your mouth, girl, and I’ll kill you. Hear me! I’ll kill you and I’ll ruin your family, every one of them. Remember that.’

  He let go her wrist and she hugged it to her, cradling it with her other hand, leaning against the door with her eyes closed and tears seeping from under her lids. She heard him leave, his feet scraping on the gravel, walking at first, then breaking into a run.

  Letting her shaking legs give way, she sank down into a huddle beneath the archway, her whole body hurting with this and the memory of previous assaults. No, she’d never tell on him. She’d never dare. But she’d pray every day that he would die, horribly and slowly.

  For as long as she lived, she would wish him dead.

  * * *

  As part of the ‘Belladay’ Celebrations, the steward had organised games and races. The gentlemen came back from shooting and the ladies emerged from their luncheon party to applaud as Sir Richard and Lady Maud helped their daughter to award the prizes.

  Lily stayed nearby, applauding with the rest while her gaze roamed, seeking one particular face among the crowd. But presumably he was not coming until the evening. Well, she could wait. She would see him soon. She was living for the moment when she would be with Ash, dancing with him in
front of the assembly, declaring their attachment…

  Later there was tea in the marquee, with the ladies and gentlemen of the company helping to serve the villagers. Bella sat at the head of the table, flanked by long lines of children who all drank her health in homebrewed lemonade and ginger beer. But the excitement tired her. Dark circles showed under her eyes and she began to grow fretful.

  ‘We’ll take her up to bed, I think, Miss Clare,’ Sir Richard said, lifting his daughter into his arms. ‘She must have some rest if she’s to enjoy the ball this evening.’

  One of the footmen stepped in and would have taken the child but the squire brushed him aside and strode on, long legs carrying his daughter rapidly towards the house with Lily hurrying in his wake. Thank goodness the afternoon was over. Now she could really look forward to the night.

  Worn out by the excitements of the day, Bella went to sleep almost as soon as her father laid her down on her bed. He extricated himself from her with care and straightened to smile at Lily.

  ‘I believe she enjoyed her day.’

  ‘I believe she did,’ Lily agreed.

  He regarded her with perceptive eyes. ‘But you did not.’

  ‘It’s not my place to enjoy myself.’

  ‘Is it not?’ About to argue, he stopped himself and made a gesture that drew attention to her gown, ‘Is that for Nanny?’

  Lily looked down at the black silk. ‘It’s the only suitable garment I possess. With so little warning of my change in station…’

  ‘Of course. Yes. We must have the dressmaker call. Mrs Roberts will see to it.’

  Mrs Roberts will have me garbed in plainest grey, Lily thought dully, though aloud she said, ‘You’re very kind, Sir Richard.’

  His hand came out, as if to lift her chin and, startled, she looked up at him, backing away. The hand fell and his smile turned to concern as he saw her face. ‘You’re not happy, Miss Clare. Is something wrong?’