Daughter of Dark River Farm (22 page)

‘You’ll hurt her if you do,’ I said. ‘Is that what you want to do?’

‘Of course not! Whatever you may think, I love my childr…’ she swallowed hard ‘…I love Evie.’

I felt wretched already, and now I had to tell her something that would stop her dragging the terrible truth about her husband, out of her grieving, and still confused daughter. ‘It’s not about Evie, or Jack,’ I said quietly. ‘It’s about Lawrence.’

She paled even further. ‘What about him?’

I took a deep breath and sent a silent apology to Lawrence. At least it couldn’t hurt him now. ‘He would never have married me, or given you a grandson.’

‘He might have had a daughter.’ Her voice shook, and she cleared her throat. ‘A daughter would have kept us for another generation, at least.’

‘No. He…he was in love with someone else.’

‘Then he would have married her instead! In the absence of anyone else, Katherine, you were merely a convenient—’

‘It was Will!’ She was struggling to find something to say, but I went on, ‘Your son was in love with your daughter’s husband.’

There was a long silence. Then she spoke, in hardly more than a whisper. ‘Get out.’

‘It’s not Will’s fault; he doesn’t know—’

‘Now.’

I left, my heart hammering and my hands slick with sweat. It was true it couldn’t hurt Lawrence, and it would save Evie the anguish of having to reveal the truth about her father, but what had I done to Lily?

The next morning my dreams woke me once more, but this time the sun was already creeping under the heavy curtain, throwing shadows across the floor. I stared at them while the panic gradually subsided… Just as before, the familiar dream had left me with more than the usual tightness in my belly, and with a deeper sense of terror. More than anything though, there was a white-hot fury that still licked through me even now, minutes after re-establishing myself in my safe surroundings. But now I knew why.

This time, in the back of the ambulance, there had been someone else besides myself and Lieutenant Colonel Drewe. A small shadow, crouching by the other stretcher, trying to sink into the floor. A child. I’d tried to tell her to push aside the canvas flap and climb out, but my words were coming out as jumbled nonsense, and with no volume no matter how loudly I tried to scream. Then a hand was across my mouth—a memory hand, not a dream one—and all I could do was try to reach the girl with my mind; she had to get away, before he finished with me and turned to her…

Amy. Of course it was Amy. Evie’s words echoed insistently in my mind. Her fears had become mine and now they would not go away. I remembered the idea that had hit me moments before Lily had come into the library with the news about Samuel Wingfield, but it was too late to mention it now. Bringing the child back here was out of the question. My eyes went to the suitcase that lay on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, open and awaiting only my nightclothes and toiletries. I had packed it at Dark River with such high hopes, such relief and such excitement, and now look at me.

Evie had expressed disappointment at what I’d told her had been my decision—whether or not Lily set the story straight later didn’t matter; I just didn’t want the two of them to argue over it—but she had given me money for the train fare.

‘Travel safely, Skittles. Will and I should be back home soon.’

Home.
She was right; Dark River had been dancing on the edge of my mind at first, but my time here had first been too exciting, and then too emotionally draining, to spare the Dartmoor farm more than a fleeting thought, and I felt a pang of guilt as I realised I hadn’t even put pen to paper since I’d arrived at Oaklands.

I dressed in my travelling clothes once more, and closed my suitcase, the dream still tugging at my memory and distracting me from my preparations. The idea came again, altered, and it made me stop everything and sit down for a minute, mulling it over. I looked at the clock. There was time, if I left now, and I seized my suitcase; breakfast would have to fall by the wayside today, but it would be worth it…if I wasn’t too late.

Lily had arranged for the car to take me to the station. She came out of the morning room and saw Mr Dodsworth handing my bag to the gardener, who did duty as a driver whenever necessary.

‘Kitty,’ she called, and I stopped in my tracks. She came over, and hesitantly touched my arm. ‘What you said yesterday, about Lawrence—’

‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘No-one else knows.’

‘I’m sorry if I was…harsh,’ she said. I looked at her closely, wondering if this was simply her way of sweetening things between us so I wouldn’t tell anyone. But she did look sorry, and her face, always pale, now also looked much older. The combined loss of her treasured son and her comfortable life had taken a strong, beautiful woman, and added at least ten harsh years in the space of a few weeks.

‘I’m sorry too,’ I said. However much it had hurt to have this woman I respected look at me with the same condemning eyes as my own family, I’d rubbed salt in her still-raw wounds. That it had been a necessary cruelty, to protect her from even worse pain, did not matter; I had been the one to inflict it so how could I blame her for still wanting me to go? ‘I understand everything, truly. It’s been an honour to meet you, Lady Creswell, and I’m only sorry it has ended like this.’

She nodded her acceptance, and turned away quickly, as if worried I might take her olive branch as an invitation to stay after all. But we both knew my days at Oaklands Manor were at an end, and I followed Dodsworth out to the car, and didn’t look back as we turned onto the main road into town. It was only when we passed the spot where a young and besotted Will had overturned the butcher’s van, and Lawrence had experienced the first, bittersweet pangs of love, that I felt a tear sliding slowly down my cheek.

I asked Shackleton to let me out in the town centre rather than at the railway station, and as the car faded into the distance, leaving me alone in the road with only my suitcase and a small purse, I wondered if I was doing the sensible thing after all. Then I remembered the dream, and turned to go into Frank Markham’s shop.

Martin gave me the distracted smile of a shopkeeper who vaguely recognises a customer, but cannot remember their name, then went back to serving the woman at the counter. His manner altered when I stepped behind the counter and pushed open the door that led to the back.

‘Hey, miss! You can’t… That’s not…’

‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘I’m a friend of Evie and Will’s.’

He blinked at me, and nodded his recognition, then quickly shook his head again. ‘That may be, but, miss, that there’s private!’

‘Is Mr Markham home?’

‘Miss!’ Martin was across the floor in two strides, and put his hand across the doorway to prevent me from going through. ‘I mean it. He’ll have my hide if I let anyone up!’

He looked really worried, not just annoyed, and I suddenly realised why. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I know, and I’m here to help. Will sent me.’

The lie gave him pause, and he stared back at me for a moment, then stepped away. ‘I hope to goodness he did,’ he muttered, and turned back to his customer.

I went up the narrow staircase, and found a tiny landing with a door leading off it. I knocked, and after a moment heard a hesitant voice from within. ‘Who is it?’

‘My name’s Kitty. I’m a friend of Will’s.’ There was no reply, and I dropped my voice. ‘Please, Mr Markham, I want to help, if I can.’

There was another pause, then the dragging sound of a bolt being pulled back. The door opened and the man who looked out frowned, but the frown cleared as he looked beyond me and saw I was alone. He stepped back and gestured me in. There was a bright electric light inside, and I blinked after the dimness of the landing and stairwell. When I was able to look at him properly I could see a tall man, with a shock of grey hair surrounding a face that might have been appealing once, and eyes of the same colour as his hair. Not like Archie’s always-shifting, many-shaded grey, these were one, cool and hard colour, and narrowed now in suspicion.

‘What can you do to help? If you’re thinking of calling the authorities, I won’t—’

‘No. It’s not that. I’m offering to take her away to Devon with me. Just for a little while, until you can find somewhere safe for her.’

‘There in’t nowhere safe, stupid girl!’ But it was fear that had sharpened his voice, and I didn’t flinch.

‘Maybe not in Breckenhall,’ I allowed, ‘but…you have family, don’t you?’

‘My adoptive parents are in Canada now. And the McKrevies won’t have her, if that’s what you’re getting at.’

I frowned, confused; hadn’t Evie said he was a Wingfield? ‘Who are the McKrevies?’

‘My father’s family. They’ll turn her away on sight, poor thing.’ He twisted to look at a door I assumed must be his bedroom.

‘Is she in there?’ I asked quietly. ‘And is she all right?’

He turned back, quick and angry, but then relaxed. ‘Yes.’

‘Might I see her?’

‘Do I have a choice?’ he said in a broken voice. ‘I’ve got to let you take her, haven’t I?’ He gestured at his left arm, and I saw the sleeve was pinned back just below the elbow. ‘I can’t take care of her. I knew that when I took her.’ He looked at me with a pleading expression. ‘But I had to do it anyway. You see that, don’t you?’

I nodded, unable to speak for a moment; if this unknown child could invade my dreams, and her future become entwined with my past, I couldn’t even begin to imagine how her father must feel. Frank moved past me and pushed open the door with surprising gentleness. I wondered if Amy was sleeping, but she sat in the middle of his narrow bed, a silver spoon clutched in her hand, and deep in concentration as she stared into it. She looked up and saw us, a bright-eyed four-year-old, her almost white-blonde hair a tangled mess, her clothes torn and dirty, but her face scrubbed clean, and solemn. She was terribly thin.

‘I did my best to clean her up,’ Frank muttered, ‘but she kept wriggling and I didn’t want to hurt her. She’s eaten though,’ he said quickly. ‘Don’t go thinking I haven’t fed her.’

‘Don’t worry. It’ll take a while to fatten her up.’ I sat down on the bed. ‘Do you like your spoon, Amy?’ Amy nodded and held it up to her face again, going slightly cross-eyed as she stared into it.

I looked up at Frank, who seemed unable to take his eyes off his daughter. ‘She’s sweet. Why are you so sure the McKrevies will turn her away?’

‘Why would they offer a home to the daughter of a prostitute, and a cripple they’d never wanted to begin with?’

‘They never wanted you?’

‘My mother married into their family out of spite over…some old, forgotten feud. I don’t know.’ He flicked a dismissive hand. ‘But she died having me, so they had me adopted out. No obligation once my mother was gone.’

‘What about
her
family?’

‘The Wingfields?’ He gave a short laugh. ‘To be truthful to you… What’s your name again?’

‘Kitty.’

‘To be truthful, Kitty, I’d almost rather Amy stayed with her mother than join that band of thieves and liars.’

I was as taken aback by the coldness in his voice as much as by his words, but didn’t comment. The Wingfield name was enough to tell me he had his reasons. ‘Where are the McKrevies?’

‘Blackpool.’

‘That’s not far. Have you written to them?’

‘No.’ He sighed. ‘I’ve told you they won’t have her. Ballentyne McKrevie’s a hard old sod. He’ll never have anything to do with me.’

‘But you have to try!’

‘What’s lady for?’ Amy piped up, brandishing her spoon at me.

‘Lady is talking about helping us,’ Frank said. ‘Hush now. Daddy and the lady are going to go and talk some more, out there. Call me if you want me, but call quiet, see?’

She nodded. She had clearly become used to secrecy and subterfuge. Her wide blue eyes followed Frank and me, as we gave her little finger-waves by the door and then stepped back out into the front room.

‘You must at least try,’ I said again, sitting down without being invited. Frank fixed me with a long look, realised I wasn’t going anywhere, and sighed again.

‘Can I make you a cup of tea?’

‘Please.’ I looked around for the clock, but it was too late now to worry about catching the train back to Devon. I’d already decided what I was going to do. ‘I’ll take her.’

‘So you said, and I don’t want you to think I’m not grateful, but you can’t just—’

‘No, I mean I’ll take her to Blackpool. To the McKrevies. I’m certain if they see her they’ll want to help her.’

‘I’ve told you, girl, they won’t!’

‘What if they don’t know who she is?’

‘If they…’ He stopped spooning tea into the pot, and turned to stare at me. ‘Have you lost your wits? If they won’t take a child they know, why would they take a stranger?’

I hadn’t thought that far ahead. The idea was only just unravelling itself in my head and I held up my hand, and then gestured for him to continue with what he was doing while I thought about it. In the end I gave up, but the idea still sat firmly in place, and I shrugged. ‘What have you got to lose if they do turn her away?’ I was so certain that one sight of the tow-headed child would be enough to melt the hardest heart that I was prepared to simply march up to the front door and throw her on this unknown family’s compassion. ‘If they see her, and are completely unmoved, which I can’t imagine they will be, I’ll just take her with me back to Devon, as I said in the first place.’

‘So either way, she’d be safe,’ Frank said, pouring hot water onto the tea in the pot. ‘Away from me.’

‘Don’t see it like that,’ I urged, feeling his anguish from across the room. ‘I would look after her, and where I live isn’t wealthy, but it’s beautiful. It’s in the country, and she could stay with me until you can make an arrangement to take her somewhere Ruth doesn’t know about, where she can’t send anyone after you both.’

‘Why?’ he asked suddenly. He put a cup of tea on the table at my elbow, and fixed his cool grey eyes on mine. ‘Why does it matter so much to
you
? You don’t know me, or Amy. You say you’re a friend of Miss Creswell’s, but I did her a terrible wrong. So come on, Miss Kitty, I want the truth, now. You trying to trick me into giving her up, so
you
can take her back to London?’