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Authors: Anna Jacobs

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BOOK: Seasons of Love
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And woe betide any servant, estate worker or villager who mentioned Mrs Carnforth in his hearing.

The landlord of the Roe Deer said to his regulars after one such encounter, ‘It's turned dangy difficult to know what to say to any of the family lately.
He
do only bite your head off, and
she
d'look ready to burst into tears.’

‘Aye, and as for Master Harry, that's two fights he've got into this week. Don't care how big anyone else is, he don't. If they say anythin' about his mother that he don't like, he just lights into

'em!’

‘Well, you got to admire the boy for that.’

After all the arrangements had been made, the only communication between the two principals was, for a time, through stiffly-worded notes on matters of pure estate business, for Daniel would change nothing without her written permission.

Both turned into near recluses for a while. And if truth be told, each of them was missing the other's company. They had discovered very similar tastes in books and music, as well as a common love for the countryside. Helen had found Daniel a very peaceful companion, after two flamboyant and demanding husbands, and Daniel had found her a restful woman, with a refreshing sincerity about life, as unlike his mother and the silly girls to whom she’d introduced him as could be.

Several times Daniel saw Helen or her son in the distance and turned his horse to avoid them.

It was weeks before his anger subsided and the pain of the possible loss remained as sharp as ever.

Even with these brief glimpses, he couldn’t help noticing that the baby was beginning to show and that she now took only gentle walks in the vicinity of the Dower House. He also noticed the signs of battle on his ward's face, a face which usually bore a sulky or unhappy expression these days.

The county families, after the first shock wave caused by the news had subsided, spent the waiting period speculating about the probable sex of the child. That the Carnforths usually had more sons than daughters was a well-known fact. Bets were laid. Rumours spread. Gossip was rife.

Some said that the way a woman carried a child was a clue to its sex, but no one could get near enough to see whether Lady Carnforth was carrying high or low, because the few people who ventured to call on her were turned away by a dragon of an old woman.

‘Her ladyship thanks you for calling,’ Becky always said with implacable politeness, ‘but she don't feel up to receiving visitors today.’ She never waited for an answer, but simply closed the door in their faces after that statement, whoever they were, the only exceptions being the Morpeths, who were always welcome visitors, and Samuel Napperby.

There were even some deliciously scandalous rumours circulating that this wasn’t Charles Carnforth’s child. No one knew where that idea first came from, but it persisted to a remarkable degree.

That piece of gossip came, of course, from Bath. Celia was almost as upset as her son by the news of the baby. When she first heard from Daniel, she wrote him an impassioned letter demanding that he investigate
that woman's past
.

When he declined absolutely, she wrote several more letters, imploring him to
defend himself
against usurpers
or begging him
not to let a scheming female get the better of him
.

He refused his mother’s offer to come and stay with him out of hand, and when she went as far as to tell him the date of her expected arrival, sent a very sharp message back to say that if she tried to set foot in Ashdown Park, he would leave it at once. Until he was confirmed as owner, he didn’t feel he had the right to invite guests to stay there.

It was several weeks before Celia gave up trying to persuade him to take action, but a complete lack of response to her letters - he had started burning them after one cursory scan of the pages - in the end caused her to desist in her appeals.

But it didn’t stop her taking action of her own. By some means or other, she got hold of Helen's maiden name. And when her son made it clear that he would do nothing to defend himself, Celia set out to do it for him. She decided to trace Helen's family and see what
they
had to say about their errant daughter!

At first she had no luck, but then she came upon a very promising lead.

She wrote to tell Daniel that she had discovered something of importance concerning
that
woman
, and would like to spend a weekend at Ashdown to discuss it with him. But he wrote back saying he hadn’t changed his mind and didn’t wish to see anyone at the present, not even her.

‘If that's not the grossest ingratitude,’ Celia stormed to her maid, ‘then I don't know what is!

He's just like his father! Worse, even. I don't know how I ever came to marry a Carnforth. But I lived to rue it, oh I certainly did. Still, I know my duty and shall not be deterred from pursuing matters.’

Later on, she forgave her son and wrote inviting him to spend Christmas with her in Bath.

That offer too was curtly declined. He had duties to perform at the Manor.

Really, Celia told her friends, what did one
do
with a son like that? But she was a mother, with a mother's love for her child, however ungracious he was, and she
would
help him, in spite of himself! She would pursue the hunt for any remaining Merlings who might be able to shed more light on the dowager's character, and
she had no doubt what she would find.

After a while Helen began to feel much better, certainly well enough to resume attendance at church on Sundays, and (more difficult) put up with the stares of the congregation.

The worst people she had to face were two elderly spinsters who lived at the same side of the village as herself. The Misses Hadderby were inveterate gossips, of the sort who gushed and fawned all over their victims and then tore characters to shreds behind people’s backs. It was impossible to avoid them completely in so small a community.

Helen also knew from the servants, for it never occurred to Susan not to speak her mind to her mistress, that many of the villagers thought it ‘a great shame’ that Mr Carnforth might lose his inheritance. From the way Susan spoke of him, he had made himself loved very quickly!

Strange, that, with so taciturn a man!

But then, Helen’s thoughts drifted off to the days when she had begun to consider him a friend - he could be very kind, had been good to Harry, had lent her books, had given his ward the little dog which was now Harry’s most constant companion. He was a man of some reserve, but he had a lovely smile and - what was she doing thinking about him like that? He was behaving in a despicable manner to her.

But he must be so hurt about Ashdown.

Helen cradled her belly. ‘You must be a girl,’ she whispered to the child stirring gently inside her. ‘Oh, please be a girl. He loves Ashdown so.’

She discussed matters with Becky sometimes, for the old nurse was full of wisdom, even if it was not offered in flattering phrases. Becky said Mr Daniel had done a lot of good around the place, in a quiet sort of way. ‘I were fond of Charlie, don’t get me wrong, but he weren’t a good landlord. He was a roistering Carnforth, my boy was. Right from the day he was born. And Daniel’s just the opposite. He’s a farming Carnforth.’

And even Becky, devoted as she was to the dowager and her son, hoped secretly for a girl.

Fortunately Mr Morpeth was that rare thing: a good preacher who didn't run on for ever.

Helen enjoyed listening to his sermons and it was a relief to get out of the house for a little while. She had become very moped, she decided, staying at home and brooding on her troubles.

After all, she’d done nothing wrong. Well, not intentionally, anyway.

She was still missing Daniel's visits very much. (She found it impossible to think of him as Mr Carnforth, somehow.) She knew, too, that Harry had been greatly hurt by his guardian's defection, though she’d explained several times that it was her fault, for she was the one who’d hurt Daniel greatly, and that he wasn’t really angry at Harry.

Daniel hadn’t entirely forgotten his duty to his ward, however. He waited for Mrs Carnforth to do something about her son's education, and when she didn't, he took matters into his own hands. In late October, another curt note arrived at the Dower House.

Mr Daniel Carnforth begs to inform Mrs Carnforth that Mr Morpeth tutors a
small group of local boys in the mornings and that he is willing for Harry to join
them. With her permission, Mr Carnforth will arrange this.

A note was sent back the same day.

Mrs Carnforth thanks Mr Carnforth for the information and will arrange the
matter of her son's education herself.

Daniel swore and headed for his writing desk in the library. Ten minutes later, the long-suffering groom who carried their correspondence to and fro heaved a sigh, saddled up again and rode off through the rain.

Mr Daniel Carnforth begs to inform Mrs Carnforth that he has already spoken to
Mr Morpeth, so she need not trouble herself with making the arrangements. Mr
Carnforth feels it his duty not only to ensure a sound education for his ward, but
also a very necessary contact with other boys of his own age and station in life.

Helen could not but acknowledge that Daniel was right and she very much appreciated his reminding her of Harry's needs. She’d been giving her son lessons in the afternoons, but she knew he’d be better off with a proper tutor.

Forgetting her dignity, she wrote at once to thank Mr Carnforth for his thoughtfulness in remedying her own neglect and asked Alfred to take this second note across to the Manor.

The realisation that Mrs Carnforth could be remiss (and acknowledge it) about her own son somehow comforted Daniel and took the edge off his bitterness. He had recently abstained from attending church, because the sight of Helen, in her widow's weeds, with her thickened figure, infuriated him. Now he decided he’d been taking the coward's way in avoiding her so studiously.

Early in November he turned up at the church.

To his horror, the verger led him straight towards the Carnforth family pew, which was already occupied by Helen and Harry. Why had he not remembered they’d be expected to share the same pew? He stood stock-still for a moment, half turned to seek another seat, caught the brightly curious gaze of two elderly ladies sitting across the aisle, and realised with a sinking heart that if he walked away, he would cause even more gossip and speculation.

Damn them all! he thought, bowing very stiffly to the Misses Hadderby, and to several other people he knew, and taking his expected place with a grim nod at Helen.

Harry scowled at him quite openly and moved as far away as he could, but after a poke in the side from his mother, he lowered his gaze to his prayer book and scowled at that instead.

Helen, who had blushed furiously as Daniel walked down the aisle, responded to his slight inclination of the head and muttered greeting with an equally brief nod and an equally indistinguishable murmur.

The three of them then concentrated on their prayer books, but it is doubtful whether a single word was read.

As the service progressed, a ray of sunlight haloed Helen's head and made a russet beauty of her hair. She had now stopped wearing the heavy veils and was wearing an elegant bonnet instead, but soft waves lay on her white forehead, drawing attention to her beautiful eyes. She was quite unconscious of the picture she presented, but her companion was only too aware of it and couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

She looked, Daniel decided with a frown, much too pale still. He must find out if she was keeping well, eating properly. After all, he was head of the family
pro tem
, even if he couldn’t guarantee to continue at Ashdown. But perhaps it was her mourning that made her look so pale.

Black definitely didn’t suit her. Mr Napperby said cousin Charles hadn’t wanted her to wear it and he’d been right.

Daniel found it impossible to attend to the sermon and the choir's singing might have been the mating calls of corncrakes, for all he knew. Again and again, his eyes came back to her face, to linger, to devour almost. The gentle beauty of her soul shone through as clearly as her physical beauty.

Something within him began to soften. He admitted to himself at last that she couldn’t have played her husband false. Not this woman. She could never play anyone false. And - he had missed her.

The anger was still there, for he might lose his land, but something else had crept in as well.

And it puzzled him what that something was, for he couldn’t quite fathom his own feelings about her.

He could only hope she hadn’t taken a dislike to him. No, she wasn’t the sort to bear a grudge. Perhaps if the baby was a girl, they could become friends again.

Chapter 18

When the church service ended and Daniel stood up to leave, he realised that common civility obliged him to wait, offer Mrs Carnforth his arm and escort her from the church. As he hesitated, feeling a reluctance to do so, and yet at the same time an eagerness to spend more time with her, twittering voices behind him reminded him of the two most interested spectators of his actions and that settled the matter.

Wooden-faced, he left the pew, stood waiting in the aisle as Helen gathered her things, then offered her his arm as she came out. ‘Mrs Carnforth? May I escort you to your carriage?’

‘Thank you, Mr Carnforth.’ Blushing, realising that everyone was staring at them, she took his arm. A warmth seemed to radiate from him. It was almost as if her hand were tingling as it lay on his sleeve. She looked down at it, glanced up at him, blushed again, and began to move along the aisle next to him.

Harry marched along behind them, hands thrust deep in his pockets and a sullen expression on his face.

Briggs, who acted as coachman as well as general factotum, stood back and allowed Daniel to hand Helen into her carriage. It had been found by Briggs in the stables of the Dower House and cleaned up carefully. Daniel frowned to see how old the vehicle was, then gave way to the temptation to ask, ‘Are you keeping well? You look somewhat better.’

BOOK: Seasons of Love
2.8Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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