‘Oh! Another mill!’ Hannah exclaimed in genuine surprise. During her previous time at Wyedale Mill, she had heard tell of this one.
‘Yes. This is Raven’s Mill.’ They stood looking up at the tall building, silent now on a Saturday evening. It was set in a narrow valley with nearby houses set beneath the cliff. ‘It’s strange,’ Adam said, ‘we have workers coming from this village to work at our mill, and I know there are one or two from Millersbrook who work here. They all use this path every day and must pass one another. I always wonder why they don’t just swap jobs.’
‘Mm,’ Hannah was non-committal. In the past, she had heard rumours that there wasn’t much to choose between the two mills as regards working conditions, but no doubt some workers believed one or the other to be better for some reason. Maybe, in the case of women workers, the owner of Raven’s Mill was not a lecherous devil like Edmund Critchlow.
‘Your father? Does he own Wyedale Mill?’
‘Yes, but one day it will come to me.’
Hannah waited, willing him to explain. She wanted to ask about his grandfather, Nathaniel Critchlow, but she wasn’t supposed to know of his existence. And yet, why not? Adam wasn’t to know that she’d not heard about him from the other workers.
‘Someone was saying,’ she said carefully, ‘that your grandfather started the mill?’
‘Actually it was his father. My grandfather was a young boy when they found Wyedale together. He loved to tell the tale of how it all started.’
Adam was smiling fondly, but there was sadness in his eyes.
Gently, Hannah said, ‘Is he . . . I mean . . .’
‘He died almost three years ago.’ It couldn’t have been long after she left, Hannah thought. ‘He took over the mill from his father, of course, and ran it – very successfully, I might add.’
Really? Hannah wanted to say sarcastically, but she bit her tongue.
‘He had his first seizure about five years ago. There was a nasty accident. A little girl got her hair caught in a machine and she died. It really upset Grandfather. Then about three years ago there was the most terrible accident. A boy – well, a young man almost – fell into the water-wheel and was killed. There was an inquest, of course, but no one was to blame. Accidental death, they said. No one was supposed to tell my grandfather – they knew it would upset him – but,’ his tone hardened, ‘Josiah Roper used to come up to the Manor to see him and I think he let it slip during a conversation. I’m sure he didn’t mean to, but it brought on another seizure – a bad one – and Grandfather died a few months later.’ Adam’s face was suddenly bleak.
‘I’m sorry.’ Hannah hoped her words sounded sincere. They were – for Adam. She was sure he’d been fond of his grandfather, and she couldn’t really blame him for not knowing the truth about Luke’s so-called accident. He hadn’t been there.
‘I don’t think I’ve seen your father around the mill, have I?’ It was difficult to pretend she didn’t even know him, especially when his dark features were so vivid in her memory.
‘No, he’s away now. He left three weeks ago – just after you started. He’s gone abroad for a few weeks. On business. Looking for new outlets, he said.’ Now there was definitely an evasive, off-hand tone in his voice, as if the reason he was giving for Edmund’s absence was not entirely the truth.
Hannah wondered if it had to do with the girl whose place she’d taken.
At that moment they felt huge spots of rain begin to fall and Adam put up the large black umbrella. ‘We’d better go back.’
They were in sight of Wyedale Mill when the rain began to fall in earnest, drenching Hannah’s skirt in seconds.
‘Let’s shelter beneath the cliff. You still have some way to go to get back to the farm.’ Taking hold of her hand he pulled her beneath the overhanging shelf of the rock face. The rain was beating in the opposite direction and they were sheltered.
Adam shook the umbrella and closed it. ‘I don’t think it will last long,’ he said, looking up at the lowering sky. ‘The clouds are breaking up.’
She shivered suddenly and Adam put his arm around her. ‘This wasn’t a good idea. I should have taken you to some grand hotel and wined and dined you in luxury, but I was afraid you wouldn’t come.’
Hannah looked up into his face, so close to hers. His brown eyes were so earnest, so open and honest that she couldn’t resist teasing him a little. ‘Not good enough to take to a fancy hotel, aren’t I?’
Alarm crossed his handsome face. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean that. Please . . . please don’t think—’
She laughed. ‘I don’t. I’m teasing you.’
There was no mistaking the look of relief on his face. ‘So,’ he whispered, bending closer, his lips only inches from her mouth. ‘Will you let me take you out one evening?’ But before she could reply, his lips touched hers and his arms were about her.
His kiss was gentle, undemanding, yet searching, questioning. ‘You’re so lovely, Anna,’ he whispered. ‘You will come out with me again, won’t you?’
Hannah’s mind was in turmoil. His use of her assumed name brought her sharply back to her reason for being here. She had almost been lulled into enjoying his company, into allowing herself . . . But now she remembered.
‘I’d like that,’ she murmured and held up her face, inviting him to kiss her again.
After the Sunday morning service that was still held in the now unused schoolroom, Hannah walked down the hill from the village, but instead of going along the lane back to the farm, she turned to the right and took the path behind the mill leading to the waterfall. She crossed the bridge and climbed the steep, rough-hewn rocky steps to the hillside above the mill.
She needed to be alone. She wanted to think and decide whether she could really go through with her daring plan. As she climbed, she stopped in surprise. A broad, flat pathway was being carved out of the hillside and it looked as if they were digging a tunnel through the hills. Whatever for? Hannah wondered. ‘I’ll ask Ted,’ she murmured. ‘He’ll know.’
Just below the workings, Hannah sat down on the grass and looked down on the mill. Her gaze travelled to the line of houses set above the mill and the former apprentice house where she had lived for several years. Then higher still to the rows of houses, teetering on the hillside. Most of their residents gained their livelihood from the mill. Then further along still, above the path along which she had walked yesterday with Adam and set high on the cliff, stood the Critchlow mansion. Presumably, Adam lived there with his father. Before his death, Mr Nathaniel had lived there too. A house of men, with no women, except servants, within its walls. Then her gaze swivelled and travelled in the opposite direction down the dale until she saw the roof of the Grundys’ farmhouse.
She sighed. She was not a conceited girl, but she knew that certain look that came into a young man’s eyes when he looked at a girl who attracted him. She’d seen it first in Luke’s eyes. And that had grown into love: a first love, an innocent love, pure and unsullied. She’d seen that sort of look in Edmund’s eyes, yet his was tinged with selfish lust and depravity. He cared nothing for the object of his desire, only for his own gratification.
And now she was seeing that look again in Adam’s eyes. But which did his resemble? Luke’s or Edmund Critchlow’s? And then there was Ted. His was a teasing, flirting kind of look, but still, there was no doubting the admiration in his eyes.
Hannah sighed. Could she go through with it? Was her first love still so strong that she could give up all hope of future happiness to bring about her revenge on the man who’d robbed Luke of his life?
She pulled herself up and her gaze came roaming over the mill and then swivelled to the Critchlows’ house. The answer was yes. Yes, she could devote the whole of her life, if needs be, to avenging the cruelty of the Critchlows, their deception, their callous treatment of others. It was not only Luke she was doing this for, but her mother and Nell and all the countless others who’d suffered at their hands. Maybe, she mused,
even the girl whose machine she now worked.
Hannah looked about her again. It was such a beautiful setting. Who would guess that such inhumanity went on in such an idyllic place? But it wasn’t the place, she reminded herself, it was the people. And most of the people who lived in this place were good, decent people. People like the Grundys and the Scarsfields and all the ordinary villagers who worked in the mill. People like the Bramwells – oh, she wished she knew what had happened to the Bramwells. It was only a few – a very few – whose powerful position and greed had corrupted them that spoilt this place. As the sun reached its zenith, casting its golden light over the hillsides and shining deep into the dale, Hannah hurried down the hillside. Ted would be waiting and, if no one else, she owed him an explanation.
*
‘I thought you liked me,’ Ted said dolefully, hurt in his eyes.
‘Oh, Ted, I do.’ Hannah touched his hand. ‘That’s why I’m being honest with you now. I – I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘You already have,’ he muttered, avoiding her glance as they sat together on the wall at the very top of the hill on the road leading out of the dale. The proposed trip into Bakewell had been postponed as, once again, rain clouds threatened.
‘You’ll get soaked and catch yer death,’ Lily had warned. ‘Just go for a little walk, the pair of you, and you can come back here for your tea.’
But tea was the last thing on their minds at present.
‘It’s so difficult, Ted. Maybe I’m presuming, being conceited, reading too much into you asking me out . . .’
‘No,’ he sighed. ‘No, you’re not. I want you to be my girl. There, that’s putting it straight. But you’re saying “no”.’
‘Yes, no – I mean yes, I’m saying no. But, Ted, can’t we be friends?’
‘Huh!’
‘Does that mean we can’t be?’
The young man sighed heavily. ‘Oh, Hannah, Anna – or whatever you want to be called now – I’d never do anything to hurt you and . . . and if you were in trouble, I’d always help you, but . . . but I can’t think of you as just a friend. I love you, Hannah,’ he ended simply, and the hangdog look on his face tore at her heart.
‘I’m sorry, Ted, truly I am, but I’ve made up my mind. I came back here for one reason and one reason only. And I intend to carry it out – however much it costs me.’
Ted regarded her steadily as he said softly, ‘And you don’t care who you hurt in the process, eh?’
‘I don’t want to hurt you, Ted. You of all people, but I’ve been honest with you from the day I came back.’
‘Yes, you have,’ Ted acknowledged, ‘but I didn’t realize it would stop us . . . well, walking out together.’
Hannah bit her lip, embarrassed to tell him the whole truth.
They were both silent as they walked back down the hill, each deep in their own thoughts, so deep that they didn’t notice the clip-clop of a horse’s hooves behind them until it was almost upon them. Ted grabbed Hannah and pulled her to the side of the road, his arms about her to steady her. The rider reined his mount in and sat looking down at them.
Hannah drew in a startled breath and whispered, ‘Oh no,’ as she found herself looking up into Adam’s face, his expression a mixture of anger and hurt. His eyes bore into hers and then turned cold. His glance swivelled away from her and met Ted’s belligerent gaze.
Though not a word passed between them, a kind of war was silently declared between the two young men. And she was the cause.
Then Adam kicked his horse and urged it down the steep hill at a dangerous pace.
Ted released his hold and stared after him. ‘What on earth was all that about?’
Hannah sighed, straightened her skirt. ‘I went walking with him yesterday evening.’
Ted stared at her and then at the place where the cantering horse had disappeared round the bend in the road. They could still hear the beat of its hooves. He was thoughtful for a moment before he said quietly, ‘And does Master Adam figure in this . . . this plan of yours?’
‘Yes,’ she said simply. ‘I think he does.’
‘Then I’d be very careful, Hannah, because even if you think you can take him for a fool, you certainly can’t make one of his father.’
Forty
Tea at the Grundys’ was strained, the two young ones hardly speaking to each other and avoiding each other’s eyes. Lily, sensitive to the atmosphere, tried to make cheerful conversation, but when Ted left to go home, she confronted Hannah.
‘What’s going on between you two? Had a row, have yer?’
Hannah sighed. There was nothing else for it but to tell the truth. ‘Ted wanted me to be his girl—’
‘So?’ Lily interrupted. ‘He’s a nice lad. A good lad. You could do far worse.’
‘I know. He is a nice lad. That’s why . . . that’s why I can’t. He shouldn’t have anything to do with me.’
‘Eh?’ Lily was perplexed. ‘Aw lass, don’t put yourself down. Ted’s not the sort to bother about your past. Who you are or where you came from or . . . or the fact that – well – you’ve got no dad. All families have got something.’
‘It’s not that,’ Hannah put in hastily. ‘Like I told him – I had to be honest with him, Mrs Grundy, and I’m being honest with you. If – when I’ve told you – you want me to leave, then I’ll go. Find other lodgings, only, please, hear me out.’
‘Go on.’ Lily’s tone was not encouraging.
‘You know why I’ve come back. I’ve told you. I can’t even think about . . . about Ted, not in that way, not until I’ve done what I came back to do. And . . . and he doesn’t like what it involves.’
‘What do you mean “what it involves”?’
Hannah lifted her chin determinedly and her blue eyes were as cold as steel. ‘Being friendly – very friendly – with Master Adam.’
Lily’s mouth dropped open and her eyes had the very same anxious look that Ted’d had. ‘Aw, Hannah, mind what you’re doing. You’ll be the one ending up getting hurt, if you don’t watch out.’
Hannah didn’t see Adam for three days. She was sure that where before he’d sought her out, now he was deliberately avoiding her. On the fourth day, as she was leaving work in the evening, he was crossing the yard towards the mill.
‘Adam,’ she began, but he gave her a curt nod and carried on walking swiftly past her.
She ran after him and caught hold of his sleeve. ‘Please – let me explain.’
Angrily, he shook her off. ‘I have nothing to say to you, Miss Morgan.’
‘Oh, have it your own way,’ she cried, close to tears. ‘There’s nothing between Ted and me. I just wanted you to know that. He’s the Grundys’ nephew and they’d invited him to tea.’ It was not quite the truth, but it was near enough. ‘But if you don’t want to believe me . . .’
Now it was she who turned away and, picking up her skirts, began to run across the yard.
‘Anna – Anna. Wait. Don’t go.’ He caught up with her. ‘I’m sorry.’ He took her hands in his, not caring now who might see them together. ‘Do you mean it? Is he nothing to you?’
‘He’s the Grundy’s nephew. I can hardly ignore him, can I? He’s a friend. That’s all.’
Adam shook his head and his smile held disbelief. ‘You really think that any young man in their right mind can look upon you as a friend?’
Keeping her expression innocent, she looked up at him with her wide, appealing blue eyes. ‘Why ever not?’ she said huskily.
‘Oh, Anna – if only you knew.’ She felt his grasp, warm and firm, holding her cold hands. She felt him squeeze them and knew what he was trying to say.
Pretending shyness, she dropped her gaze. ‘Oh!’ she breathed.
‘We can’t talk here. Not properly.’ His eyes burned with desire. ‘Meet me tonight. Please, Anna. Come back to the mill – no one will be here then. I have a key. We can go into the office.’
‘All right,’ she agreed, putting just the right amo
unt of maidenly hesitancy into her tone. Her heart was beating fast, not with love or desire for him but with excitement that her devious and dangerous plan seemed to be working even better than she’d dared to hope. He was like one of the fish in the river and she was playing him on the end of her hook.
He raised her hands to his lips and kissed them both. Then he released her and continued his way across the yard. She stood, watching him, like any young girl would on the brink of falling in love with a handsome young man. At the door into the building, he turned, smiled and waved before disappearing inside. With a smile of satisfaction, Hannah skipped down the road towards the farm. And now, with only the sheep in the nearby field to hear her, she sang at the top of her voice.
It was almost dark when she slipped along the lane back to the mill. She’d had to steal out of the house without Mrs Grundy being aware of her going. If they’d gone to bed by the time she returned she knew where the spare key for the back door was hidden.
It was eerie walking into the mill at night-time: no one hurrying across the yard, no sound of the huge water-wheel, no clatter of machinery from several floors. Hannah, pulling her shawl closely about her, hurried across the yard and in through the door. The stairs were dimly lit and she felt her way up to the offices. Passing through the one occupied by Mr Roper during the daytime, she tapped on the inner door. It flew open at once, and Adam reached out for her and pulled her into his arms. Pushing the door shut with his foot, he began to kiss her. ‘Sweet, adorable Anna . . .’
She returned his kisses. It was not difficult; he was a handsome young man. She liked him, but he was not Luke. And Luke had been the love of her life.
‘Oh, Anna, Anna, I want you so. Let me love you. Please, let me love you . . .’ With trembling fingers he began to fumble at the buttons of her blouse.
She stiffened and pulled back, smacking his hands away. ‘No!’
He stared down at her, a mixture of anger and longing in his eyes. ‘I won’t hurt you. I promise. I’ll be careful, I’ll . . .’
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