Daughter of Dark River Farm (27 page)

‘You bring Pirate back then,’ she said. ‘I’ll take you to the yard, but that’s all.’

‘You are making a mountain out of a molehill,’ I grumbled, and went upstairs to tell Lizzy we were going out.

As good as her word, Belinda stopped at the gate of the sawmill, and barely waited until I had climbed down before urging Pippin to turn around. ‘Hop in the back, love,’ she said to Amy, and Amy obediently scrambled into the back to sit on the pile of blankets and sacks we used to cover whatever we were carrying in wet weather. I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment when she didn’t look back at me as they moved off.

Mr Pearce had heard us arrive, and came out of the house with a look of hopeful expectation. I felt awful. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said quickly, ‘Bel wanted to stop and chat, but Amy’s fussing.’ A less fussy child I’d never known, but he wasn’t to know that.

‘Right you are,’ he said. He gestured to the stable. ‘I’ve saddled him up already. Saddle soap and whatnot’s in this bag, and if your friend had waited a moment I’d have put some oats in the back of your cart. I’ll bring them over later, instead.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, unable to hide a little smile when I thought about telling Bel she hadn’t avoided him after all. ‘That’s really kind.’

‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘The butter and milk’s fresh as you like, and tasty. And the honey’s ’andsome too. I’ll, uh, I’ll fetch the biscuit tin over to you later, when I bring the oats.’

Riding down the grass verge, with the comfort of a saddle beneath me and proper tack, I let my mind drift back over everything that had happened lately. Testing the memory of Lieutenant Colonel Drewe, and of Oli, and of the loss of my child, I realised there was still pain there but it was fading. Oliver would write soon, and then I would be able to write back; Drewe was dead… Only the loss of the baby still tore a little more deeply, and Amy was going some way towards easing that. Part of me knew that was foolish but for now it was something I could hold on to, and I would worry about losing her too, if and when it happened.

Then there was Archie. The familiar ache tugged at the pit of my stomach, and I wondered what he was doing right now. It hurt to think of him so far away, but it hurt worse to remember his kiss, and my swift end to his hopes that had come so soon afterwards. And why? Why had I done it? What had Lawrence said? His words, and his voice, seemed to speak directly into my heart:
you must seize every speck of joy that drifts your way…
But he had been unable to seize his own, after all. His sadness at the hopeless love he held for Will had dogged his last days, and he’d never had the opportunity to find something to chase that sorrow away; death had stolen that chance. I’d promised Will I’d write to Archie, and only hesitated when I’d learned the truth about Jack Carlisle, but what if I did discover Archie was a spy too? What difference would it make? I sat up straight and urged Pirate into a canter, the wind in my face whipping away the short laugh that escaped into the air, and filling me with energy and excitement. On the heels of Lawrence’s sad proclamation, I heard Nathan’s words.

Never is a long, long way away, and life is short. Remember that.

I took Pirate the long way around, through the woods, and across the field. Coming back down to the yard I saw the cart, with Pippin still standing patiently in the traces, and no sign of Belinda. I jumped down off Pirate, hooking his reins over the fence post; Belinda would catch it for sure if Frances was around, and I sighed with exasperation as I began to unhook the cart myself. I eased Pippin forward, and was about to lead him to the water trough, when I heard a tinkling sound from the back of the cart.

I patted Pippin, confident that he would stand steady while I investigated, and went around to the back end of the cart and lowered the flap. To my horror I saw Amy, surrounded by grubby tools, and worse, broken glass. She grinned when she saw me, and lifted the tool she’d used to smash the glass with. I climbed up quickly, my eyes flashing over her for signs of red where there shouldn’t be any, but, miraculously, she hadn’t cut herself. It must have been just one blow, and what was glass doing in the back of the cart anyway?

I looked closer and groaned; the wine bottle we’d so cheerfully emptied before our little misadventure with Woody. Bel had tossed it back here, and it had rolled under the seat to be forgotten. Until now.

I held my hand out to Amy, hoping she hadn’t formed an attachment to the tool she’d found, as she had with the silver spoon Lizzy had given her. She hadn’t, and handed me the dibble. Small, but sturdy enough to break through the stoniest earth to make holes for seeds and bulbs, it had made short work of the wine bottle, and the spade-like handle had helped Amy grip it with both hands. A fraction off-centre and it would have slid off the glass and into her leg. A chill swept over me when I thought what might have happened, and I thought I might actually be sick. Where in blazes was Belinda?

I helped Amy step over the broken glass, and took her to the kitchen door, trying to keep my voice calm. ‘Lizzy, I’m just putting the horses away. Can you watch Amy?’

‘Of course,’ she said, shutting the oven. ‘Come on, Amy, love. Sit and finish the drawing you were doing before, and tell me about the new horse.’

‘Big,’ Amy said, letting go of my hand and climbing onto the chair. ‘Mulls. Not seep.’

‘No, not sheep,’ Lizzy said, and waved me away.

I quickly cleaned up the broken glass, wrapping it in one of the smaller blankets, and then put the dirty tools back in their box ready for cleaning. Then I turned Pirate and Pippin out together into the field; I’d clean them down and feed them when I’d found Belinda, and she could blasted well help me!

I was about to go into the house when I remembered the tools, and sighed, turning back to the cart. The box was heavy; they were mostly small, handheld tools, but made of metal, and there were several of them. I hooked open the door with my foot, glad Frances had not yet bought a padlock for it, and lugged the box inside. Nathan was in there, working, and Belinda was there too. They were a perfectly respectable distance from one another, which made me think of Jessie’s assertion that Bel was keener than Nathan, but they both looked guilty when they saw me.

‘Kitty! I was just about to put Pippin away,’ Bel said, jumping up from her comfortable seat on an upturned tea chest.

‘He’s in the field,’ I told her coldly, dropping the box where I stood. ‘He needs feeding.’

‘Of course,’ she said, then her face went slack with horror. ‘Oh! Amy!’

‘Oh, Amy,’ I agreed. ‘Don’t worry; she’s safe, no thanks to you.’

‘Kitty—’

‘I don’t care,’ I said, and turned to go. ‘You’re clearly more interested in spending time with your beau than anything else, so I don’t want to listen to anything you have to say.’

She followed me out into the sunlight again, but her guilt had faded. ‘Is that what you’re more worried about?’

‘What?’

‘Me being with Nathan. It seems to me that’s what’s got you so upset, not that I left Amy alone in the cart for a few minutes.’

I rounded on her furiously. ‘A few minutes! When I found her she had smashed that old wine bottle to bits with a dibble! It’s a wonder she didn’t cut herself, or worse!’

‘And still the only thing you can think of to say is that I’m spending time with my
beau
!’

‘Bel, you told me you weren’t interested. What’s upset me, apart from Amy, is that you lied about it. To me! What did you think I’d say?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, subsiding slightly. ‘If it’s any consolation, he really couldn’t care less about me. I’m not nearly worldly enough. Look, I’m sorry about Amy too, I’ll clear up everything that—’

‘I’ve done it.’

‘Well. Thank you.’ She saw I was still angry, and became defensive again. ‘Look, it’s all right for you, Maitland. You went off to the big posh house, got invited to parties, had all your fun. What was I left with?’

‘Fun?’ I was vaguely aware of someone coming out of the kitchen and going to the compost pile, but my blood was boiling now and I didn’t care. ‘If your idea of
fun
is being made to feel like a poor acquaintance—tolerated, manipulated, and then thrown out, then you’re welcome to it!’

‘Thrown out?’

‘When Lawrence died, and I was no further use, yes. I was told to leave. And…’ I stopped, my voice hitching as I remembered the awful scene ‘…Lady Creswell knew what had happened in Belgium. She knew it all along.’

‘Oh, darling,’ Belinda took me into a hug, and I let her, feeling all my anger ebb away. She was infuriating, but she had such a good heart it was difficult to stay angry with her for long. ‘Don’t let her upset you,’ she murmured. ‘Frances loves you more than anyone, and she’s overjoyed to have you back.’

We both heard the kitchen door slam; it must have been Jessie putting the vegetable peelings out. I drew back and my eyes met Belinda’s, and she lifted hers to the heavens. We both laughed, and the last bit of tension faded.

‘Some things will never improve,’ I said, ‘and she’s one of them. But—’ I fixed her with a stern look ‘—you, Belinda Frier, are not. Go and sort the horses out, and I won’t tell Frances you were gallivanting with our guest in the barn.’

‘If only he’d let me!’

‘Oh, and Bel?’ She turned back on her way to the field, and I gave her another grin, this time a sly one. ‘Speaking of gallivanting, Seth Pearce is coming over later. Better make yourself beautiful.’

I ignored her comical look of dismay and went indoors. I had a letter to write.

Chapter Fifteen

Evie and Will were due home, at last. I’d had a long day in the fields, trying to finish everything so I’d have tomorrow morning free; we were sure to stay up late talking tonight, and Frances might get out her best whisky again. I still didn’t enjoy the taste, but I enjoyed the feeling of sitting with everyone and sipping it, nevertheless—it made me feel part of everything. Will would be pleased with me too; I’d sent my letter off to Archie two days ago, and he’d have it within the week—every time I thought about it I felt a low, sweet tingle, part excitement and part apprehension, and I wondered how I’d keep my mind occupied with other things until I received his reply. It would feel like a year.

Singing softly under my breath, I cleaned the mud and sweat off Pirate, sluicing him down with fresh water and wishing someone could do the same for me. But I felt good. Better than good. Frances and I had shifted the last of the bales to the haystacks, hitching Pirate up to the bigger cart, which he pulled with ease, and Nathan and Jessie had covered the haystacks against the threatening thunderstorm. It was a wonderful sight to see it all dry and safe. Frances had gone inside to help Lizzy ready our evening meal, and I was taking what pleasure I could in the trickling of cool water running up my arms as I finished grooming Pirate, before bedding him down for the night. Tomorrow I’d take him for one last ride, then deliver him back to Mr Pearce for a short rest before his winter work at the sawmill.

I stopped outside the kitchen door to kick my boots off, and blew my hair off my forehead, looking forward to splashing some cold water on my sweating face. Voices drifted out from the kitchen, and I felt the thrill of anticipation; it would be so good to see Evie and Will again. Before I went in for the night I stopped long enough to enjoy my new habit—looking out across the moor and filling my mind with the scenery before moving inside, into warmth and comfort and company.

The sun was just beginning to dip, and was turning more orange than golden; flies drifted lazily around my head, and I heard the distant shout of a neighbouring farmer as he took his cows in for their evening milking. I could feel my shirt sticking to my back, and an ominous heaviness in the air, but a sense of peace, helped by the pleasant ache of muscles with a good day’s work behind them, put a smile on my face that I was still wearing as I went into the kitchen.

Five people were sitting at the table. They all looked up as I came in, but one of them stood, scraping his chair back so fast it fell over. I looked rather stupidly at it, and then my hand was seized.

‘Do excuse us,’ Archie said, and whirled me about, pulling me behind him as he marched out through the door. I barely had time to wonder at his even being there, when he’d stopped, turned me to face him, and started to speak. I didn’t even hear what he was saying, not properly. I was transfixed by the sight of a fly that had landed in his open shirt collar and was marching, unheeded, along his collarbone. I felt dizzy and swimmy-headed as Archie spoke the words he had carried with him from France, the vibration of his low, fierce voice almost a visible thing.

‘Yes,’ I said. The voice stopped. I looked up at his face for the first time, seeing his dark eyebrows lowered, his striking grey eyes unusually still, their shifting colours darkened to one, intense shade, his jaw tense.

‘Yes,’ I said again, solemnly, but I could feel my grin dislodging a piece of dried grass that had stuck to my eyebrow. He gently plucked it loose, and gave it an inordinate amount of attention before flicking it away and looking back at me.

‘You’re sure?’ He no longer sounded fierce; his voice had dropped to almost a whisper.

‘I was always sure. For me.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘We’ll talk later,’ I said. For now I just wanted to lose myself in the fact of his presence. ‘I’ve always loved you, Archie.’

‘But you said—’

‘Later,’ I repeated, and moved closer, touching my lips to his throat and feeling the sigh escape him. His arms came around me, to lock at the small of my back and pull me even closer, and my hands rose to caress the back of his neck. I tipped my head back to smile at him, and a second later his lips had claimed mine. For a brief moment we were back in the road at Dixmude, but this time there were no hats lying in the mud, and no people lying about their feelings; this time there was honesty and relief in every touch, and when we broke apart, his familiar, lopsided smile was enough to tell me I’d finally done the right thing. For both of us. He dipped his head for one final, brief kiss, and something playful I’d never known I possessed moved me to catch his lower lip between my teeth, and tug gently.