Redfern? Lord Redfern? So it was Redfern Abbey they had been referring to. It was the biggest and wealthiest estate in the South Riding with a reputation for having a hundred servants. However, she realised from Edgar’s comment that his recent visit, despite the advantage provided by her dowry, had not had the intended outcome. The family rift had not been healed.
Mrs Collins’s eyes gleamed for a second. ‘A son, certainly, will be welcome for the succession. But Lord Redfern will wish to see the child and, heaven forbid, its mother. She is not a lady and his lordship may not approve of her.’
‘He will not involve himself. His lawyers tell me he is firm in his views. He has tried to disinherit me and cannot because Grandmama’s marriage was legal and so was yours. I am the heir and Milo has ensured the legal people have the documents to prove it.’
Beth noticed Mrs Collins’s eyes glaze over and her mouth began to work at unspoken words. The woman was obsessed by her quest to restore her son to Redfern, and she, Beth, had become a pawn in her plan. ‘They will want to see the birth,’ Edgar’s mother said. ‘What shall we do?’
Edgar began to speak soothingly to his mother. ‘I shall tell him she is too delicate for the journey. They will understand that I do not wish to take any risks with a possible heir to Redfern Abbey. You are tired from your journey, Mama. Why don’t I take you to your chamber for a rest?’
Edgar had forgotten she was there as he reassured his mother and they moved away wrapped up in their own thoughts. Beth smoothed her hands over her swelling. She might be carrying the heir to Lord Redfern! She could hardly believe it. Edgar was the current heir. Yet in spite of an invitation to a shooting party, he had not been received by the present lord so his grandmother’s behaviour was not forgiven. But, Beth realised, her child would make a difference to her status at High Fell Farm. She smiled to herself and stroked her small stomach again.
When Edgar ordered her to his bedchamber after dinner that evening she echoed his own words and responded, ‘It is not wise, sir. I do not want us to take any risks with our unborn infant.’ And, oh joy, he accepted her reasoning. Moreover, he left on horseback the following morning to convey his news to Lord Redfern’s lawyers and wait around hoping for a thawing of relations. Beth watched him ride away and thought that married life at High Fell would not be so bad, after all.
Beth liked being with child. She felt it had gained her status in the household and, somehow, made her more comfortable in Abel’s presence. She could accept his offers of help to carry a pail of milk or climb over a stile without uneasiness or guilt. She had her child to think of now and the safety of her child must come first.
Abel went down to Settle again for men and materials to repair the bridge. A letter came for Mrs Collins from Edgar to inform her he was staying in the South Riding for the summer. She was angry and snapped and snarled for a while. Beth realised how irrational she could be in her behaviour and stayed out of her way, pleased to have the farmyard to occupy her. She enjoyed the outdoor life at High Fell and looked forward to her gardening and dairy work while she could. In June, Abel brought his sheep down for shearing and went with the carter to take the fleece to market. The summer was kind and the fells became her friends as she walked the paths and tracks. Her happiness was complete when Edgar sent word to his mother that he would not return to High Fell until Michaelmas, by which time Beth’s size was really slowing her down.
Beth felt her awkwardness most when she was milking the nannies in the morning. The milking stool was so low. One day she heard a sound in the quiet stillness of the stable.
‘Is that you, Mrs Roberts?’ she called.
It was a dark morning. The clouds were low, enveloping the farm in a dampening drizzle. Then she heard the sheep baa-ing. Surely they had not wandered this close to the farm? But the fells were strange mystical places in the mist and sounds were known to travel across valleys. In spite of her knotted shawl, Beth’s back was chilled and she wished she had donned her cloak to do the milking. Beth’s stomach was so huge she could hardly reach round it for the udder. She grasped a knotted rope on the side of the stall to heave herself to her feet and as she did so felt a twinge in her back. She would have to have help with the farm once the baby was born.
She grimaced as she bent to pick up the pail of milk, suddenly alert as she heard a shrill whistle and the distant bark of a dog, then the sheep again. They were nearby. She hurried outside and strained her eyes through the mist. Sure enough, the flock was pouring across the lower fell and into one of the fields enclosed by dry-stone walling on the slope behind the farmhouse. She put down her pail and walked in that direction until she saw Abel burdened by a large backpack, holding open the gate as the sheep streamed through.
Her heart lifted and she waved. ‘Good morning, Abel.’
He glanced in her direction and raised his hand. She waited patiently until Sally had herded the flock into the pasture and he had secured the gate.
‘It will be a fine day when the mists lift,’ he called as he walked across to the farmyard.
‘I hope so,’ she responded. Beth loved the fell and escaped to it as often as she could.
She was excessively pleased to see Abel and felt cheerful as she waddled towards him. He was the only person on the farm worthy of a conversation and she wanted to throw her arms around his neck to welcome him. His face, she thought, registered a little pleasure, but he always retained the stiff formality that he had assumed when he had first discovered her identity.
‘Are you keeping well, madam?’ He held out his elbow. ‘Here, take my arm.’
She did and felt the hard sinewy muscles as she gripped. ‘Thank you.’ She was breathless from her exertion. ‘I can’t wait for it all to be over. I am so huge, it must be a boy.’
‘Maybe,’ Abel replied, looking straight ahead.
He was a man of few words, Beth knew, unless he had something to say, and she was content for them to walk in silence because it did not feel wrong for him to be here, by her side, supporting her. She had not met many men in her short life but she thought that Abel was by far the kindest. He was gentle and strong at the same time, with all the qualities any woman could want in a husband. If only … She allowed her fantasies to wander until they reached the abandoned pail of milk. Beth let go of his arm and bent to pick it up, bringing on another of her back twinges. ‘Oooh,’ she uttered and immediately straightened.
‘I’ll take that,’ he said. ‘Surely you should be resting, madam.’
‘There’s no one else to see to the farmyard.’
‘You mean that, while I have spent the summer on the fell with my sheep, Mrs Collins hasn’t taken on anyone to do Roberts’s work? Who looks after the pony?’
‘I shall see to him after breakfast.’
‘I shall do it,’ he stated.
‘Will you?’ She was hugely grateful to him. ‘Oh thank you, Abel.’
He gave a silent nod in response. She was used to his grave expression now and went on, ‘Why have you brought down the sheep this early in the autumn?’
‘I lost too many of them last year, what with last winter’s snow and then the rock fall. It’s more sheltered here and I can move the lambing ewes to the barn.’
Beth was impressed by his husbandry. ‘Mrs Collins is lucky to have you.’
His mouth gave a small wry twist. ‘If you say so, madam.’
They approached the back door leading to the kitchen. ‘Will you be staying in the farmhouse with us?’
‘I’ll sleep over the stable where Roberts used to live.’ He deposited the milk pail just inside the kitchen door. ‘Would you tell your mother-in-law I shall be in to see her after breakfast?’
‘Of course.’ On impulse she added, ‘You do not have to behave quite so formally towards me, Abel.’
He did not answer her. He gave her a stiff bow, muttered, ‘Excuse me, ma’am,’ and went off in the direction of the barn.
As she washed up the breakfast pots in the scullery
, Beth pondered over his choice of words for the message to Mrs Collins. She couldn’t imagine anyone ‘telling’ Mrs Collins anything. Rather, she thought it would be the other way around. She finished her chores quickly and went into the kitchen drying her hands.
Mrs Roberts looked up from weighing out bread flour. ‘Abel said to tell you he’ll be seeing to the farmyard from tomorrow morning.’
‘Really? Oh that is a relief. I can barely look after myself now, let alone the livestock.’
‘You’ve got young legs,’ Mrs Roberts muttered. I’ve already told the mistress to expect him.’
Beth collected her cleaning box and a broom to sweep and tidy the dining hall. She did this cheerfully as she no longer thought of herself as Mrs Collins’s servant. High Fell’s farmhouse was a beautiful home and it contained a few pieces of fine, if old-fashioned, furniture. She enjoyed caring for it. Nonetheless, she looked forward to resting her back for half an hour before emptying the chamber pots. Abel was standing by Mrs Collins as she sat at the table. He seemed to tower over her and she looked angry and uncomfortable. As soon as Beth appeared she left her chair and went upstairs.
‘Is Mrs Collins quite well?’ Beth asked.
Abel gave a rare wry smile. ‘I need medications for my sheep and the farm needs supplies so I’m taking the pony and trap down to Settle.’
‘I don’t see why Mrs Collins would be so angry.’
‘Does she need a reason?’
‘Well no, but if there are things I should know …’ Her voice trailed away. It was Abel’s business and not hers.
‘It is no secret. I have arranged for her to recompense me for taking over Roberts’s duties. She does not care to part with any of her money to me.’
Oh, money again. It was all that Mrs Collins thought about apart from her precious son and his inheritance. But Beth did not dwell on it. She had other things on her mind, most of all her lack of confidence in either Mrs Collins or Mrs Roberts to deal with her approaching confinement. Edgar ought to be here making sure she had everything she needed for the birth of his first-born. She said, ‘Would you take a letter to the post for me? It’s for Edgar. He wrote to his mother to tell her he has been staying at Fellwick Hall these past few weeks.’
‘Very well, madam. Have it ready by morning.’
Chapter 6
Edgar returned to High Fell shortly after Michaelmas Day, full of news for his mother of invitations he had received as the acknowledged heir to Redfern. But not, Beth realised as she listened to their conversations in silence, any request to visit the Abbey.
‘Lord Redfern may not receive me but there are others who do.’
‘And the money has all gone,’ Mrs Collins replied sourly.
‘I am the heir to Lord Redfern, Mama. I have access to means. Just write and ask for what you need.’
‘Will you not live here, Edgar?’
‘High Fell is too isolated. Milo has his living just outside Leeds. I shall stay with him until I find suitable lodgings. Why don’t you move to Settle, Mama? The Golden Lion is very comfortable.’
Mrs Collins’s eyes became alert at this idea. ‘His lordship will surely change his mind about you when you have a son. I believe there is a Dower House on the estate.’
‘It will be yours, Mama.’
Beth saw the obsession take over Mrs Collins’s eyes as she receded into her dream.
‘If I have a son,’ Edgar continued, ‘we shall both be installed in Redfern Abbey. Everything rests on a son.’ He glanced in Beth’s direction. ‘The girl is well? Mama! I asked you about the girl.’
‘I can speak for myself, Edgar, if you take the trouble to ask me.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Barden was not totally honest about you. You are wilful. I should not wish to present you to Lord Redfern. However, I shall not need you once the infant is born.’
Will not need her when her child is born? What was he thinking of doing with her? Banishing her to a convent or worse?
‘Unless my child is a girl,’ Beth said. Even as she said it she wished she hadn’t. She would rather be in a nunnery than be forced to share Edgar’s bed again. In fact the harsh Blackstone regime would be more welcome to her than any more of Edgar’s assaults on her body.
Edgar shrugged. ‘You have proved yourself fertile and in robust health. You will give me a son eventually.’ He walked over to her, tweaked her nose between his knuckles and bent close to whisper in her ear, ‘The bedchamber will be my consolation.’
Beth felt a blush rise in her cheeks and wondered if she could put him off until after the birth. ‘How long will you be staying at High Fell,’ she asked.
‘I shall be here for the birth,’ he replied. ‘His lordship has expressed a wish that he witness the birth.’
Beth’s eyes widened. ‘His lordship will journey here?’
Mrs Collins, too, recovered and expressed surprise. ‘Surely he will not visit!’
Edgar addressed his mother. ‘He has insisted that a trusted servant attend the girl. Where the bloodline is concerned he will not leave things to chance. The birth will be observed.’
Beth had ceased to be shocked by the ways of the gentry, but that did not stop her protesting. ‘I will not have some stranger at my confinement!’
‘You will be quiet and do as you are told.’
‘I shall not, sir, not when you speak so of my well-being! You would do well to remember that my child will need a mother.’
‘Dear God, she is impudent as well as wilful.’
Mrs Collins advised her son, ‘You must take the strap to her after the child is born. I shall do the same.’
To Beth’s horror, he appeared to consider this. He stroked his mouth with his fingers and nodded thoughtfully.
She responded, ‘You would be wise to take great care of me, sir. Even if my child is a girl, you will need me to remain in good health.’ But these words made Beth realise that she was as anxious as he for her child to be a boy. Heaven forbid that she would have to lie with him for years until she produced the necessary heir.
‘His lordship is sending his own surgeon, a loyal and trusted gentleman who has served the family all his life. He is advanced in years but his lordship is insisting that he sees the mother and delivers the child himself.’
Beth felt a sense of relief that the servant would be a medical man, but Mrs Collins seemed affronted by this explanation. ‘I do not see the need. Does he not acknowledge that you are the child’s father?’
‘He does. Milo presented the evidence to his lawyers and clergy,’ Edgar shrugged. ‘However, his lordship believes that if the child is a girl I shall swap her for a boy born to some local family. Milo tells me it has been known to happen where fortunes are concerned.’
And there is a considerable fortune at stake here, Beth thought. She remembered from her marriage ceremony that Milo wanted the Redfern living and she wondered what other favours Edgar had promised him.
‘Dear God, Mama, she had better give me a son. It will secure me an income, for his lordship will consider it his duty to settle a trust on the boy that I shall control as the boy’s father.’
If her dowry had gone, Beth wondered where his money was coming from at present.
Beth’s favourite spot for her afternoon rest was a window seat on the landing that faced west. Not only was it sheltered from the cold easterly winds but it also had a view of the track down to the stream. While Mrs Collins slept, she curled up and watched for the surgeon’s trap to appear, constantly worried that he had not led it safely over the bridge.
She had eaten as well as she dared for any excess gave her lingering heartburn and she hoisted her feet onto the ledge and covered them with a warm woollen blanket while she allowed her food to digest. Dusk came early as the days shortened towards winter and she had to peer through the gloom but, yes, two riders were approaching. As they neared she saw that it was Edgar and Milo. Milo’s carriage was following at a distance behind.
When they swe
pt into the farmhouse yard below her she heard Edgar say, ‘Leave the horses, Milo. Shipton has taken over from Roberts and he will see to them.’ She remembered that Milo was the clergyman who had married them and a long-standing friend of her husband. The draught from the door rushed up the stairs and riffled her skirts as they entered. She heard their boots echo on the floorboards and then the sound of sparks flying as he added logs to the fire. They were almost beneath her and she could hear their voices clearly.
‘Sorry about taking the carriage back, Edgar old chap, but you know how these things work. I shall need to impress the ladies.’ He laughed. ‘I should have kept Elizabeth Smith for myself.’
‘You’re a vicar with a good stipend. You’ll find an heiress, surely?’
‘I am the son of a brewer and my parish is on the edge of a middle-class town.’ Milo sounded doubtful. ‘Were it Redfern Abbey with its fine rectory and prosperous village, I might be able to tempt some minor aristocrat.’
‘The Abbey living will be yours just as soon as his lordship dies, I promise you.’
‘That could be years away. He is old but I am reliably informed he has a sound constitution. My vocation requires me to take a wife and I have put it off for too long already. Like you, I have no family trust to draw on so I must marry into money.’
‘What about one of the daughters from Fellwick Hall?’
‘I’m afraid they are too coarse and tweedy for my parish. They like their country pursuits too much to settle in a town.’
‘Then you must look to the towns for your bride. Redfern coal mines have been feeding manufactories all over the South Riding. Many fortunes have been made already.’
‘Indeed. Commercial and trades men like my father have prospered as a result. A successful merchant would pay well to see his daughter married to a respectable clergyman.’
‘I believe you’re right. Have you anyone in mind?’
The Lost And Found Girl Page 6