Daughter of Dark River Farm (16 page)

We have decided that, despite what we said before, your planned marriage to Alistair Corwood might in fact serve in two ways. It would strengthen Corwood, Maitland and Sons as a business, and also enable you to re-enter society with some semblance of dignity. To that end we have discussed matters with Mr Corwood, and he has agreed. I am writing now to tell you I have made arrangements to bring you home, and will be arriving in Plymouth on the fifth, at three o’clock. I trust you will provide transport to the farm from there. Please also ask Mrs Adams if she would be so kind as to grant her hospitality for one night, and ensure your things are packed ready for your return to Merseyside on the sixth.

Mother

I let the letter fall into my lap, and rested my forehead in my muddy hands. ‘Oh, Bel, I just can’t believe she’d do this!’

‘Well, she is your mother,’ Belinda said, picking up the letter and skimming it. ‘Of course she’d only want—’

‘Not her, Jessie!’

‘Jessie?’

‘Who else would bother to write and tell mother where I was? Evie wouldn’t, you wouldn’t, Lizzy wouldn’t!’ Nathan’s face flashed into my mind, but I rejected that too; he wouldn’t be so petty. ‘Neither Will, nor Sally nor Frances would. But Jessie hates me, and even said she thinks I should go home.’

‘I suppose she got the address from Evie’s book,’ Belinda said, and handed me back the letter.

I snatched it and reread it, groaning as I got to the part about returning to Merseyside. ‘I can’t go back.’

‘Would it really be that bad?’ Belinda ventured. Her face was much less swollen now, and I could see a vague optimism in her re-emerging features.

I still couldn’t tell her about my parents’ hints that I hadn’t fought hard enough, that some part of me, deep down, had welcomed Drewe’s advances. ‘It would be dreadful,’ was all I said, realising how limp that sounded. ‘Father will never forgive me for going to Flanders, and Mother will blame me for Oli, and for the family’s reputation being so bashed about… What can I do?’

‘But you’ll see more life there, won’t you? Parties and suchlike?’ She sounded hopeful.

‘Not likely. I’m the lesser of the two evil children, but I’ll still be the black secret everyone knows about and no-one will mention.’ I struggled to find a bright side, but I wasn’t as good at that as Belinda, and we sat in silence for a few minutes, until our gloomy reverie was interrupted by the clattering sound of a cart in the yard. Bel got up and limped to the window, and a moment later turned to me with a look of horror. ‘It’s the man from the sawmill. Oh, Kitty, I thought he’d decided not to tell after all!’

I felt a cold, creeping nausea at what Frances would say—for our ten minutes of wine-induced fun, we had endangered not only the life and health of a hugely expensive horse, but also the future chance of the ARS loaning any more animals, which meant financial strife for the company, and even meant fewer horses for the Front… Thinking of the ongoing trouble we might have caused made me feel sicker than ever.

‘What are we going to do?’ Bel echoed my earlier plea, but no answer was forthcoming now, either.

‘We’ll just have to tell the truth, I suppose,’ I said at length. ‘Why on earth didn’t we tell Frances sooner? It will be the lies that decide our punishment now, and she hates lies more than anything.’

‘I’m going upstairs,’ Belinda said, and a moment later I was alone in the kitchen, and listening out for the knock on the front door that would echo the frantic hammering of my heart against my ribs.

The knock was answered by Lizzy, who’d just come down the stairs herself, with a pile of clothes to wash. I heard her clearly, her voice drifting in through the half-open kitchen door. ‘Can I help you?’

‘My name’s Seth Pearce. Are you Mrs Adams?’

‘No. Mrs Adams is out working at the moment,’ Lizzy said. ‘Perhaps there’s something I can help with?’

I crept to the window and looked out, squinting sideways so I could just about see Mr Pearce, his hat in his hand, and his feet scuffing the front step.

‘I’m the owner of the sawmills, up ’t Princetown.’ He sounded rather as if he were unsure of what to say, which was odd if he had come to make a complaint. ‘I just wanted to, uh, enquire after the young lady.’

‘Young lady?’

‘The pret…the one with the light hair, her who hurt her foot last week.’

‘Oh, Belinda? She’s much recovered, thank you. Might I ask how you met her?’

My fingers twisted in the curtain, and I held my breath.

‘I, um, I came upon her and her friend after some…misfortune befell her.’

‘Before she fell from the cart, you mean?’

‘Yes!’ It was the sudden grasping at a lifeline. ‘That’s it. I saw the name of your farm on the cart. She looked to be in a bit of a bad way, and I think I might have, well, not been awful sympathetic. At the time, like.’

I felt my lips press together in a suppressed grin of relief and realisation. Bless him! He’d probably spent the best part of the last week gathering the courage to come here.

‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘I remembered something she said, about your ’orses having been taken, for the lads at the Front.’

‘Yes, that’s true. Would you like to come in, Mr Pearce?’

‘Thank you, miss.’

I dropped the curtain and went quickly to the sink, where I was engaged in swilling water around a jug as Lizzy led Mr Pearce into the kitchen.

‘Mr Pearce,’ I said, trying to send him a look of gratitude that wouldn’t be intercepted as such by the keen-eyed Lizzy. ‘How lovely to see you.’

He gave me a look that made him almost attractive for a moment, an amused, more relaxed look—probably glad I wasn’t Belinda, and therefore lacked the power make him embarrassingly tongue-tied. Lizzy offered him a drink, but he declined, becoming nervous again as he looked around—I recognised the half hope, half dread of longing to see someone but being scared to death they might actually appear.

‘Now, Mr Pearce,’ Lizzy prompted. ‘You were asking about Mrs Adams’s horses?’

‘Oh. Yes. Well no, not really asking. You see, what I had in mind would be a little…arrangement, whereby I give you the loan of one of my own horses, for work you’ve need of that’s too much for your trap pony. The harvest, an’ suchlike. And for riding, of course. Pirate likes a good gallop but we ain’t really got the time to exercise him right. Do him good.’

Lizzy and I both stared at him in surprise, then Lizzy shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Pearce, but we couldn’t pay you.’

‘No, I was thinking…maybe instead of payment, you might pass a little bit of your fresh produce my way. Not a lot, just perhaps some butter, and some milk. And I hear you make your own honey too. I do understand that would still cost you,’ he hurried on, ‘but it wouldn’t be a set amount, just…what you can, when you can.’ He stopped for breath at last, and I had the feeling it was the longest speech he’d made in a long time. ‘Do you think Mrs Adams would be interested?’

‘That’s a very generous offer, Mr Pearce,’ Lizzy mused. I knew she didn’t need to ask him what lay behind it; she was even quicker to read people than I was, and her own eyes strayed to the door, as if Belinda might walk through at any moment. ‘Let me talk to Mrs Adams about it. I’ll send one of the girls over to see you. Is that all right?’

‘Perfectly, thank you.’

‘Not at all,’ Lizzy said. ‘Thank
you
. And it’s very kind of you to ask after Belinda. I’ll be sure to let her know.’

As soon as the front door had closed behind Mr Pearce, Lizzy came back in and fixed me with a look I recognised with a sinking heart. ‘Now, Miss Maitland, let’s hear it. What really happened to Belinda’s foot?’

Shortly afterwards I was sitting on my bed, and Belinda was looking at me in dismay. ‘Do you think I’ll be expected to…accept his advances, in return for the loan of a horse?’

‘Of course not!’ I shook my head. ‘What do you take Lizzy for? And Frances would never expect it either, silly! But isn’t it good? We’ll be able to go riding whenever we like…well, whenever work allows. And Mr Pearce will never tell your secret!’

‘Our secret,’ she reminded me, a little tartly. ‘You were the one riding Woody. I never got the chance, remember?’

But in my mind I was already off, galloping over the moors. ‘I wonder what Pirate’s like?’ I heard the dreaminess in my own tone, and it made me smile.

‘Kitty! We don’t even know if Mrs Adams will accept the offer yet. And I am not the slightest bit attracted to Mr Pearce, so if he does expect me to—’

‘He won’t.’ I waved a dismissive hand.

‘At least it’s taken your mind off that letter,’ Belinda said.

I came back to reality with a snap. ‘Oh no! I don’t want to leave, especially now!’

‘Because of the horse?’ Her eyes were on me shrewdly.

‘Why else?’ I was relieved I’d managed to stay clear of Nathan for the past few days. I’d expected him to have left by now but it couldn’t be long… It occurred to me that Frances’s little family would be sadly depleted within a few weeks, and that our lives, always altering in small ways, would soon be very, very different. Going back to Merseyside meant I’d probably never see Evie again, either, and that thought gave me a surprisingly heavy ache.

I went in search of Will the moment I was freed from the morning’s chores, and found him slowly gathering some of his sculpting tools ready for packing. He looked at ease and contented.

‘Skittles! How nice.’ I didn’t mind him calling me that—he and Evie were one, in my mind.

‘How are you feeling today?’ I asked, helping him fold a large cloth that he used to catch wood shavings in.

‘A bit silly after the fall, but happy to say I’m a lot better today.’

‘Did you let Evie give you some morphine?’

He shook his head. ‘I just had a lie down, and actually went to sleep. By the time I woke up things had settled down a bit and I’ve been taking it very easy this past week.’ He began rolling his knives together in their leather wrap.

‘You’ve got a dreadful habit of trying to do too much.’

‘It’s taking a while to heal,’ he admitted, pressing gently at the place where the bullet had struck him, in his left side. It had travelled halfway across his body, and I remembered the thick bandages I’d seen across his waist in the hospital at Arras. They must have had to open him right up to make the kind of miraculous repairs he’d needed. It was no wonder he still hurt.

‘Still, I’m under orders to continue to rest,’ he went on, ‘and I’m looking forward to going back to Breckenhall.’ He shot me a little grin. ‘Not so sure about Oaklands itself, but I think I’ll get a decent enough welcome.’

‘What’s Evie’s mother really like?’

He stopped packing for a moment, and straightened with a little wince. ‘Well now. I remember giving Evie a bit of a talking to when she was complaining about her, but I could certainly see where the complaints came from. Having said that, when I’d lost my memory Lady Creswell accepted me into the house without the slightest hesitation, or disapproval when my manners fell short of what she’d have liked. I was, I’m ashamed to say, often very difficult. In fact she was not only the perfect hostess, but she was also…kind.’ He paused, then nodded, looking surprised at his own choice of words. ‘Yes, kind.’

Not something anyone had ever said about my mother, as far as I knew. It seemed to be true then, that the established aristocracy often differed from ‘new money’ in more ways than simply titles in the family lineage. Lily Creswell sounded formidable, but Evie herself, even in her most frustrated moments, had never once suggested a lack of love on her mother’s part, or of her not wanting the best for her children.

‘Lady Creswell sounds complicated,’ I said, with a certain wistfulness.

‘She’s as complicated as her daughter is straightforward,’ Will said, his voice warm with affection. ‘But I’m sure you didn’t come to find me just to ask about Lady Creswell.’

‘No. I came to tell you I probably have to leave.’

‘Leave? Whatever for? This is your home, Kitty.’

‘I can’t think how to avoid it. Listen.’ I took the letter out of my pocket and read it to him. When I’d finished, my voice had begun trembling and he gently took the letter out of my hand and glanced over it.

‘You know what you should do with this?’

I sighed. ‘Throw it away, I suppose, but—’

‘No. You should do this.’ I watched the letter become a blur of twisted paper and strong, agile fingers, and when the movement stopped Will held a tiny paper box. ‘Here.’ He handed it to me. ‘Put something nice in it, and give it back to your mother.’

‘Something nice?’

‘Something that’ll remind her of her harsh words, and show her that you’re better than she’s painting you. That you’re still her daughter,’ he said. Then he smiled. ‘I once told Evie something very similar, and she had to admit I was right, in the end. You might just about have room for a lock of that gorgeous red hair. I wouldn’t mind betting she’s forgotten how much she loves it. And you.’

I looked down at the box and saw parts of the neatly written words ‘society,’ and ‘Mother,’ and I recalled, with a nauseous clarity, the letter she’d sent after Oliver’s trial. A lock of my hair would not make her remember how much she loved me, because I don’t think she ever really had, or she wouldn’t have said those terrible things.

‘Evie should be home in a little while,’ Will said gently, seeing my face. I could see he felt bad that he hadn’t been able to make me feel better after all.

‘You are lovely,’ I told him. ‘You just don’t know my mother, and I’m glad you don’t.’

‘She’d probably hate me,’ he agreed with a little grin. I couldn’t help responding; those dimples brought back his youthful appearance, and softened the harsh lines carved into his face. I had trouble believing anyone could hate him, but if anyone could it was Harriet Maitland; she’d see a man of little means latching onto an easily led young woman, using his charm to persuade her to marry him, then deserting his post in France and bringing shame to her and her family. Perhaps that was unfair of me; I had no real way of knowing what she’d think, but she seemed determined to think the worst of me, and I was her daughter. She had never shied away from making snap judgements.