by Diane Allen
‘That’s terrible. And the flay-pits, are they untouched?’ He stood back and looked worried.
‘Yes, thank the Lord. My father’s still got his business, so we are thankful for that. Go down and see the damage, if you have time. There’s already a crowd of people there and no doubt it will grow, once word gets out of the damage that’s been done.’ Lucy looked out of the kitchen window down to the valley bottom, but could not quite see her old home.
‘No, I’ve got Ivy and her husband to meet at Keighley this afternoon. They have asked me for dinner with them this evening. I might go tomorrow, if I get the time. But my head is full of thoughts about our wedding. Saturday will soon be here, and when I walk you down the aisle I will be the happiest man in the world. All is in place, and I’ve guarded your chrysanthemums with my life. They are safe and dry in the barn and ready for you to take.’ Adam held Lucy by the waist and kissed the nape of her neck.
‘I can’t believe this is happening to me. I’ve dreamed of it so much that I never thought it would truly happen,’ she whispered.
‘Well, it is to happen, my darling. Saturday is our day, and whether it rains or shines, I care not, because I will have you by my side forever.’ Adam kissed her once more.
‘Oh, let the sun shine for us, Adam. Even though it is autumn, there are still a few flowers surviving and the leaves are such a beautiful colour when the sun shines.’ Lucy returned his kiss and smiled.
‘It will shine for us, my love – it has to; it’s our special day and I won’t let it do anything other than shine.’ Adam held her tightly. Saturday could not come soon enough, whether it rained or shone.
28
Lucy looked at herself in the long mirror of her bedroom. She was still not used to her new room at High Ground and had not made herself at home in it, knowing that she would be leaving it shortly for her new life with Adam. She gazed at herself critically, noticing every stitch and tuck that she had added to her own hand-made wedding dress. Was the waist too tight? Did she look too fat? Was it even the right colour? Although she knew the last point to be fine, she had chosen a white lace to show that she was still virginal and to stop any gossips accusing her of having a rushed wedding. Her heart was fluttering like a trapped butterfly as she noticed her mother standing behind her in the reflection of the mirror.
‘You look beautiful, our Lucy.’ Dorothy swept a tear away from her eye. ‘I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but cry. You are still my baby, and yet here you are getting married.’
‘Oh, Mother, don’t cry. I’m not going far – only two or three fields away – and you are welcome any time, you know you are.’ Lucy turned and hugged her mother tightly.
‘I’ve brought you this; it was your grandmother’s before you. She gave it to me on my wedding day, so now it is yours.’ Dorothy held out her hand and opened it up to reveal a silver necklace set with a blue sapphire – a necklace that Lucy had always admired, when allowed to look at it. ‘The blue will bring you luck.’ She leaned upwards and fastened the necklace around her daughter’s neck. ‘There, your gran would be proud of you; such a bonny lass and marrying such a good man. Now he might be different in bed – you’ll just have to take the rough with the smooth and let him have his way, as that’s the way of the world when it comes to men.’ Dorothy looked at her daughter. They’d never talked of such things before.
‘I know, Mother. You don’t have to say any more.’ Lucy blushed.
‘Well, I’ll be away then. Archie’s come for me and for your brothers and sister, with his cart all done up like a dog’s dinner. He’s got ribbons and the odd flower or two on it. Lord knows whose garden he will have raided for them! Your father’s having a drink with the landlord of The Fleece downstairs in the kitchen; he’s waiting for you to join him in The Fleece’s coach. Don’t be long, as they are already on their second whisky. Besides, you don’t want to keep your man waiting at the altar.’
Dorothy stood in the doorway and gave her daughter a second glance, before going downstairs and joining Archie and her younger family. She felt a lump in her throat as Archie climbed up into the cart with the excited youngsters. She must not cry; today was a good day: the sun was shining and it was Lucy’s wedding day. She must not let her feelings spoil her daughter’s big day.
Lucy picked up her spray of chrysanthemums and ivy from the marble washstand and gave herself one more glance. Her blonde hair lay long over her shoulders, and she’d made herself a small halo out of the chrysanthemum buds and placed it on her head to match her bouquet. After today she’d wear her hair in a plait; it was not right to flaunt her long golden locks, once married. This was the beginning of a new life for her, she thought, as she left her unloved bedroom behind her and walked down the stairs – a life that she had only dreamed of a few months ago.
‘By heck, lass, tha’s bonny.’ Bill looked at his daughter and caught his breath. ‘I hope Adam realizes what he’s got.’
Lucy smiled as the landlord from The Fleece opened the kitchen door and then rushed to help her into his coach. She made room next to her for her father, then put her dress in order and battled her nerves as Bill slapped her knee and grinned. There was no going back now – not that she wanted to. She was about to become Mrs Adam Brooksbank, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, until death did them part. And she could not be happier.
Adam turned to look at his beautiful bride on the arm of his father-in-law-to-be. Lucy looked radiant, and the parson beamed as Adam held out his hand for her to join him at the altar. Little had he known that, before the year was out, he would marry the flippant, flirty young girl he had employed as his maid. But now he had room in his heart only for her; his first wife Mary would always be with him in his memories, but Lucy was the one he loved.
As he slipped the wedding ring onto Lucy’s finger he looked across at Ivy, who winked at him. She too knew that Mary had left his life, and that Adam’s happiness now lay with Lucy. He leaned forward and tenderly kissed his maid from Black Moss Farm – now his wife. Together they would live and love and make a new life for themselves, until the day they were parted by death; and even then their love for one another might survive the grave.
Lucy walked proudly down the aisle of the church, her arm linked through Adam’s. She had got the man of her dreams, despite everyone telling her that Adam was wrong for her. She smiled as she noticed Reggie Ellwood standing in a pew near the back of the church. Next to him stood a pretty brunette lass, who obviously had eyes only for her man, as she grasped his arm tightly and whispered in his ear. Lucy was glad that he had found someone; she would never have been right for Reggie, for her heart had belonged to Adam from the first day they had met.
As they both walked out of the church and stood under the archway of the porch, the sun suddenly broke through the clouds and shone down on Lucy and Adam, warming their already-flushed faces. Under a shower of flower petals and rice, Lucy looked up at her man – the man she had always dreamed of since she was young. She was now Mrs Adam Brooksbank, mistress of Black Moss Farm, and she had a husband to be proud of.
The Girl From The Tanner’s Yard
Diane Allen was born in Leeds, but raised at her family’s farm deep in the Yorkshire Dales. After working as a glass engraver, raising a family and looking after an ill father, she found her true niche in life, joining a large-print publishing firm in 1990. She now concentrates on her writing full time, and has recently been made Honorary Vice President of the Romantic Novelists’ Association. Diane and her husband Ronnie live in Long Preston, in the Yorkshire Dales, and have two children and four beautiful grandchildren.
By Diane Allen
For the Sake of Her Family
For a Mother’s Sins
For a Father’s Pride
Like Father, Like Son
The Mistress of Windfell Manor
The Windfell Family Secrets
Daughter of the Dales
The Miner’s Wife
The Girl from t
he Tanner’s Yard
First published 2020 by Macmillan
This electronic edition published 2020 by Macmillan
an imprint of Pan Macmillan
The Smithson, 6 Briset Street, London EC1M 5NR
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-5098-9526-7
Copyright © Diane Allen 2020
Cover images: Woman © Richard Jenkins,
background © Shutterstock.
Author photograph © Linda Nash.
The right of Diane Allen to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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