The Lost And Found Girl

by Catherine King

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ she said automatically. How could she be so tired? She had already slept for hours today.

  ‘Don’t fight your fatigue. Close your eyes.’

  He peeled back the bedcovers leaving only the bed-sheet in place. It was not a proper thing to do, he knew, but he was sure it would help her and who was to know? Nonetheless, Dr Brady had not suggested it. And – and he realised as her breasts rose and fell under the sheet that this was a mistake. He wanted her. He desired her as a woman and wanted to love her as her husband ought. As he gazed at her form he realised that he was too familiar with every inch of her already. Was he doing this for Beth’s recovery or to indulge his own desires to be close to her?

  Dear Lord, he should stop this minute. She was a married woman. She belonged to another man, no matter that Abel had no respect for him. She was sick and vulnerable and needed his help. He ought not, would not take advantage of her weakened condition. She needed the help of his strong hands to ease her aching limbs. And he loved her. He must be strong and fight his desires. But, he was so, so tempted to remove his clothes, climb in beside her and show her that love.

  His voice was barely a croak. ‘Turn onto your front.’

  ‘Oh no, please don’t make me. I ache too much.’

  ‘Very well. I’ll start with your feet. It will hurt you to begin with but I promise you it will ease your pain.’ He began to massage her flesh between his thumb and fingers, working from her ankles towards her thighs.

  She was alarmed at first. How dare he put his hands on her in this manner? She protested and tensed until he urged her to relax and not fight his fingers. She had to trust him and when he began to work on her other leg as if he were kneading bread, she did. He had not changed, she had. She had become the suspicious harridan that no one could love. She glanced at him from under her lashes. His face was grim as though he was concentrating on a distasteful task. Did he hate her so much? Surely if he did, he would not be helping her in this way? Perhaps he had a troubled conscience about – about what?

  It didn’t make sense. In fact nothing in Beth’s turmoil of joy and sadness made any sense except – except that she did not want Abel to leave her. Not again. Not ever. Of course he would. He had to. He had a life of his own and – and she wanted him to find her children. That was the worst part about being aware of life again. She was aware of the joy of being with Abel once more and it could not last. How would she survive without him if she did not have her laudanum?

  When he had finished his work on her limbs he said, ‘You must turn over now,’ and she obeyed. She checked her moaning and groaning, feeling proud of a new-found control and he soothed the muscles over her back until she drifted away into slumber.

  The sound of the cock crowing woke her although it was still dark. The bath and its paraphernalia had gone, along with her grubby gown and stockings. She could not believe that she had slept so soundly all through the night. Miraculously, her body and limbs moved more easily and she searched for clean garments in the bedchamber.

  Chapter 14

  Two years later Abel Shipton spent an evening in the tap room of the Redfern Arms, where barrels were set up so that labouring men could slake their thirsts at the end of the working day. For the price of a few jars of ale he had learned that all was not well for Edgar Collins and his family. He was estranged from the estate and the current Lord Redfern had taken a ward as his heir.

  He had not given Edgar’s titled family much thought since he had been summarily and unjustly accused by the harridan of High Fell Farm. Indeed, it had proved to be the making of him as he followed the drovers’ trails to sell his flock for a good price in the smoke-filled South Riding. His nose for negotiation ensured that his golden guineas mounted as his reputation grew.

  However, his money had proved to be of little use in his searches for Beth’s children. Lawyers did not answer his letters and why would they when his questions were none of his business. He could hardly say on whose behalf he acted. But he did not give up. Seeing Beth Collins at her worst and then her struggles to recover had rekindled a smoulder in his heart which had burst into a flame as she fought to regain her health and strength. Yet he dared not visit her or even write for he knew that to risk her reputation further would jeopardise her already precarious existence.

  That night in his chamber at the Redfern Arms, he lay awake feeling an unholy pleasure in the continued estrangement of Lord Redfern’s niece and great-nephew, who, he had believed until now, was his heir. Lord Redfern’s ward, Abel found out, was being schooled to be the future master of the Redfern estate. The harridan, he knew, had stayed in Settle but her son, he heard, had a house somewhere in the Riding although noone, it seemed, had ever set eyes on his wife and children.

  ‘Has his wife passed on?’ he had enquired with a feigned innocence.

  He was answered by a series of shrugs until he pressed for more.

  ‘’Tis said she is an invalid who had to live in the Dales for the air.’

  ‘The Dales, you say?’

  ‘He has a farm there.’

  ‘Does he indeed?’

  Well, Edgar Collins probably thought his bank still owned High Fell Farm and Abel had been particular for the bank not to disabuse him of that notion. But High Fell mortgages had been his first purchase from lenders willing to sell. As soon as he had enough gold he relieved the bank of the mortgages through an agent and leased out the land to Fellwick Hall. He arranged, also, for the Hall to send over a lad to work the farmyard and garden that was left. The only proviso was that his name was kept out of all negotiations.

  Strangely, he did not care who knew any more. It had been an immature action but it had made him feel better at the time. He had expected, along with many of the regulars at the Redfern Arms, for Edgar to have inherited by now and his concern had been for Beth and her children. Tomorrow, he was riding towards Skipton for dinner with Dr Brady.

  ‘Is Beth well?’

  ‘Abel, will you allow me to remove my overcoat first?’ Simon Brady shook off the rain and handed his riding coat to a waiting manservant.

  The coaching inn was between Skipton and Bradford but it was worth the ride for the excellence of its dinners. The manservant showed them to a private dining room with a good fire and plenty of candles.

  ‘Have you news of her children?’ Simon asked as they sat down.

  ‘I wish I had, but they seem to have disappeared.’

  ‘Both of them?’

  ‘I guessed the girl would be difficult to find, but not the boy. I have given up on lawyers and I’m following new leads myself. Now, how is Beth?’

  Simon grimaced. ‘Not good. She – we – had expected you to have at least found where her son was by now. She needs to have hope.’

  Abel frowned. He was doing his best but replies to his letters took so long, if they arrived at all. ‘Has she stayed away from the laudanum?’

  ‘I gave her no choice and it has been a real struggle for her at times, especially in the early days. My nurse has seen her through the worst and Beth herself has made a huge effort. But for every two steps forward there is usually one step back.’

  ‘Surely that is progress of a kind?’ Abel asked.

  ‘Slow progress I’m afraid. The two women ride together and have become friends. Beth has grown stronger in mind and body but she constantly asks about you and her children.’

  ‘She hasn’t given up hope for them, has she?’

  ‘Interestingly, she has not. She believes you will find them and – and she has a very high regard for you, Abel. She seems sure you will keep your word so you must not let her down in this.’

  ‘I shan’t. Tell her I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll find out what happened to them.’

  ‘Which is not quite the same as saying you will find them,’ Simon cautioned. ‘Have you given up hope on them?’

  ‘No! I believe I am getting closer. Her son may be with his father but neither is living at the Abbey.�
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  ‘And her daughter?’

  ‘I don’t know. She could have been farmed out anywhere. Edgar disowned her but he may know where she went. He is the key to finding them, I’m sure.’

  ‘Well, if there is anything I can do to help, you only have to ask.’

  Abel considered this offer and lowered his voice. ‘I – I should like to see Beth,’ he said.

  Simon shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t advise it until you have welcome news for her. Anything less might set her back for months.’

  ‘Keep her safe for me,’ Abel responded.

  Later that night, Abel reflected on this conversation. He had to find Edgar to locate Beth’s children. But Edgar was unlikely to allow any contact with him, and Edgar had learned from an expert how to exclude people. Who else might know what had happened to the children? Abel racked his brain for memories of the day Beth’s daughter was born. He remembered a surgeon, a wet nurse and a vicar. It was then that he recalled Edgar’s close friendship with the vicar, the one he called Milo. The clergy! Of course! It was then that Abel decided on another line of investigation.

  PART TWO

  Chapter 15

  1847

  ‘Boyd!’ Daisy yelled at the top of her voice. ‘Wait for me!’

  ‘Go back home before Father catches you.’ He climbed into the driver’s seat of the wagon and took hold of the reins.

  ‘He’s gone shooting.’ Daisy scrambled up to stand beside him clutching her basket in one hand and her bonnet ribbons in the other.

  ‘Already?’

  She nodded vigorously. ‘Honest. While you were hitching the cart, I saw him take his gun and a meat pie.’ She turned and beamed at her beloved brother. ‘So he won’t know, will he?’

  But Boyd’s response was a frown. ‘Mother will. You should be helping her with dinner.’

  ‘We’re not having dinner until Father comes home at tea-time. She said I could take these eggs to sell.’

  Boyd lifted the cloth covering the basket’s contents. ‘I sold some to the cooper’s wife yesterday. She won’t want any more.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say?’ He didn’t answer so Daisy went on, ‘Does Mother know you took some eggs?’

  ‘She didn’t miss them, did she? The hens are laying well. Besides, you collect them for her.’

  Realisation dawned on Daisy. ‘You’ve kept the money!’

  ‘Lower your voice. And sit down if you are coming with me.’

  A troubled expression clouded Daisy’s pretty eyes. ‘I’d rather stand for a bit.’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’

  ‘I’ll get a better view.’ Daisy noticed his frown and added, ‘Please. I never go anywhere except to church.’

  ‘Climb in the back then, and hold on to the side.’

  Daisy secured her basket and clambered over the wooden struts. Boyd flicked the reins and their old carthorse lumbered forward. ‘Why are you going to the cooper’s again?’ she asked.

  ‘The brewery needs more barrels.’

  ‘Oh well, I could go on to the brewery with you, then.’

  ‘No, Daisy! You know you’re not supposed to go any further than the cooper’s workshop. You’ll have to walk back from there.’

  ‘What about my eggs?’

  ‘I’ll take them on to the brewery for you.’

  ‘Oh, let me come with you, Boyd. Father won’t even let me go to market because I have to clean the house.’

  ‘I’ll be gone all day and Mother will be furious with you.’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘You will if she clips you one round the head.’

  Daisy chewed on her lips. The wheals from her last whipping had not yet healed, and she winced at the memory.

  ‘She won’t. I’m bigger than she is, she doesn’t hit me anymore.’

  ‘I should hope not. You’re not a child anymore. You’re seventeen and a grown woman.’

  ‘She asks Father to beat me instead.’

  ‘Father beats you? Dear heaven, Daisy, why didn’t you tell me? What does he use?’

  ‘His – his—’ Her behind was still painful after a week. ‘His cane.’

  ‘No! Oh Daisy, that hurts. He used that on me before I threatened to wrench it from him. He’s a brute. He’s my own father and I hate him.’

  ‘Me too.’

  Even so, Daisy was shocked to hear him say it. She hated her sanctimonious mother as much as she did her father but she hardly dared say so. Honour thy father and mother, the Bible said. Suffer the little children too. Yes, the little children suffered in their house.

  ‘Mother and Father are quite old, aren’t they?’ she said. ‘Do you think they’ll die soon?’ Daisy wished they would. She knew it was wicked but she wanted them dead all the same.

  ‘I hope not. I’m not old enough to take over the cottage tenancy yet and even if I were, where would I find a quarter’s rent?’

  ‘We could take things to market,’ Daisy suggested hopefully. ‘We could go together. It would be fun.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be enough to keep both of us.’ He sounded disgruntled and Daisy wished she hadn’t mentioned earning because it made him irritable. ‘But it would if I worked for someone else,’ Boyd went on, adding, ‘At least I’d get a wage for my labours.’

  His suppressed anger clutched at Daisy’s heart. Father didn’t give money to either of them for their efforts. Daisy didn’t mind for herself but she knew that Boyd was angry. Father expected Boyd to labour from morning until night doing all the outside chores and the carrier work, while he went off shooting or fishing. Her father couldn’t be very good at either, Daisy thought, because he hardly ever brought home anything for tea. Boyd said he sold his bag and drank it.

  Anxiously Daisy asked, ‘You wouldn’t leave, would you?’

  ‘I’m nineteen going on twenty,’ he muttered. ‘There are men my age down the pit earning enough for lodgings.’

  Her heart began to thump in fear. Daisy’s life was hard enough already without having to face it without him. ‘Don’t go, Boyd,’ she pleaded. ‘I’d hate it here with just those two.’

  ‘Don’t you fret yourself. I wouldn’t leave you.’ He twisted his neck to give her a smile and she felt better. But her anxiety didn’t really go away for she knew he was as unhappy as she was.

  ‘What will happen to us?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know. But I promise I’ll look after you. I won’t let anyone treat you like they do.’

  Daisy leaned forward and kissed the back of his head. His thick hair had stayed fair as he grew up and nowadays he had a good growth of beard to shave off for church on Sundays. Daisy’s light-brown locks were darker than his but they became streaked with gold in the summer sun and the blue of her eyes intensified when her skin took on a little colour.

  She did love her brother. But no matter how much she tried to do her duty, she found it very hard to love her mother and father. It was so difficult to warm to someone who never showed you any affection or even praised you. She was just a servant to her mother, doing all the dirty jobs in the cottage and forever at her bidding. The only time she had the total attention of her parents was when her father was punishing her while her mother watched. She was punished for the least little thing she had forgotten or not completed to her mother’s satisfaction. She really did try to do better. But she would have run away before now if it hadn’t been for her beloved Boyd.

  Boyd always took her side even if it meant he got a beating too. But Father didn’t beat him now he was full grown and more than capable of hitting back. Anyway Boyd had been turned out of their tiny house to live in the shed these past ten years and he didn’t know what went on in the cottage after tea at night. Smaller, younger, weaker Daisy was the focus of her mother’s righteousness and her father’s discontent with his life.

  Daisy didn’t tell Boyd any more for she feared he would make matters worse. Whenever Boyd had stuck up for her in front of Father, Daisy had been given extra punishment, ‘for e
ngaging others in your wickedness’, he told her between strokes. He may be an old man but he could still wield a cane with maximum effect. Well, Boyd knew about it now.

  The cooper’s yard and workshop came into view. ‘You’d better go back from here,’ Boyd said.

  ‘But I don’t want to,’ she whined.

  ‘You’ll only suffer more. You know what Mother and Father are like about disobedience.’

  ‘Can’t you say one of the cart wheels came loose and we were held up?’

  ‘How would I explain getting the barrels to the brewery? Father will be over here tomorrow for his money.’

  ‘When Mother and Father die, we’ll have that money,’ Daisy pointed out.

  ‘You don’t really want them to die, do you?’

  ‘Yes I do because then you and me can be married and live on our own in the cottage.’

  ‘Don’t start on that again. I’ve told you before. You can’t marry me! I’m your brother. I thought you’d grown out of all that silliness.’

  ‘But I want to.’

  ‘Now stop it, Daisy. You’re old enough to understand these things. When you grow up you meet someone from outside your family and fall in love with them, and then you marry that person.’

  Daisy could not imagine meeting someone who would be as dear to her as Boyd and as she was reflecting on this he added, ‘Well, if you’re lucky, you marry her.’

  He sounded sad and she glanced at him again. He was more grown up than she was. She suddenly realised the truth of what he was saying. He had met someone he did want to marry. Who was she?

  Daisy stood up straight. Mother and Father let her go to church with Boyd so she was often with him. She thought hard. There was no one at church that he looked out for or spoke to. The only place he went alone was to deliver the new barrels to the brewery. It was someone there; someone at the brewery that he wanted to be with more than he wanted her. Who was she, this someone who was taking her darling brother away from her? Well, she certainly wasn’t going to go back home now. She wanted to see who it was.