Abigail Moor (16 page)

“Martha, calm yourself down, woman. You’ll be taking a fit if you
don’t stop fussing about the lass.” Biddy slammed the dough down on
the board in front of her.

“You don’t
understand, Biddy, she’s a lady... innocent. Whatever will I do?
I’ll have to go after her. She can’t cope on her own, she’s…”

“With a
gentleman! And although its only the likes of me saying it, he’s a
good one at that!”Molly’s remark made Biddy laugh, and Martha
turned to face her, quite stunned by her words.

“Is he? Is he,
though? Or is he just a man looking for a victim – first you, a
young lass on her own and vulnerable, but now he has moved on to a
young lady. You tell me, for I don’t know what to believe, and you
don’t either. Glad you found your voice though, lass.”

Molly looked up
at her. “He is a good man. I know that. He’ll fight for a woman,
he’ll stand and see that fair play is done and he don’t ask for
nothing in return. So you’ve nought to fear and she is one lucky
wench… sorry, ‘lady’.”

Biddy laughed.
“Well, girl, if he stood for you he sure should fight for a ‘lady’,
eh?”

“That was
uncalled for!” Martha said.

Biddy was about
to reply but shrugged.

Martha sighed,
she knew Biddy was relieved that now there was only her and the
girl to care for. Two pairs of extra hands to help. She had no
patience for young women that were pampered and soft: they didn’t
survive like Biddy in the realities of street life.

Martha was
shaking with rage and guilt. “Biddy, whatever am I to do? Abigail
is innocent of life and now she’s roaming the countryside without a
chaperone with no notion of where she is going and what she will
find. What have I done to her? I should have told her the truth of
it.” She paced up and down the small room.

Molly put an
arm around Martha’s shoulder stopping her mid-pace. Biddy couldn’t
contain her thoughts. “Martha, you sort yersel’ out, woman. You’ve
done everythin’ for that babe. You could have had a life and babes
of your own if you hadn’t given your every waking minute to
bringing her up. Face it, she’s a spoilt child. No, there’s no use
protesting, that’s what she is! She’s never wanted for anything…”
Biddy insisted.

“Except a
mother of her own.” Martha snivelled, and leaned against Molly for
a moment.

“Oh, me heart
bleeds for her.” Biddy turned around placing her two chubby fists
on her ample hips. “Look at what she’s had instead - you, you soft
dollop!” Biddy laughed softly and shook her head at Martha. “Look
at this slip of a lass. Don’t you think she’d have been a lady if
she’d been in your ‘lady’s’ boots? No, don’t fret for your Abigail,
look at the likes of this chit of a girl and weep for them if you
must, but not one dressed in silks. If that madam has a lesson to
learn in life, then it is about time you let her learn it now, then
she’ll treat you with a lot more respect in future.” Biddy slammed
a lump of dough onto the counter again and started to knead it with
both fists.

“You don’t
understand what happened, Biddy. There’s so much she could find out
that I don’t think I’ll ever see her again.”

“Well then, let
your worldly gentleman show her.” Biddy’s laugh was coarse.

Martha pulled
herself away from Molly’s hug. She ran out of the room and up the
stairs to the bedchamber. Pulling on her coat, muff and bonnet she
stormed back down the stairs, through the bakery to the shop.

“Where do you
think you’re going?” Biddy asked her.

“To do what I
should have done a long time ago, to tell her the truth, all of it.
Lord Hammond cannot touch me now.” Martha turned to Molly. “And
you, my girl, need a damn good wash, you smell!” She stormed out
into a darkening street.

“Charming, just
when I was warming to her!” Molly said.

“Follow her and
see which way she’s off. I’ll shut up shop here, then you come back
and tell me where she’s gone and we’ll bring the old fool back. I
don’t know as if she ain’t lost enough already. He made her give up
her life for that bairn.” Biddy wiped the flour from her hands and
shook her head, grey hair escaping her cloth cap. “Go on, lass,
quick like.”

Molly walked up
the street, keeping to the side wherever she could.

“Good, we’ll be
better off looking together.” Martha’s voice made her jump slightly
as the girl turned to see Martha smiling warmly at her. She had
waited on the corner for Molly to follow her.

“Did you mean
what you said, Ma... Martha?” Molly asked, and looked quite
seriously at her new friend.

“What about
telling her the truth?” Martha asked.

“No, about me
stinking,” Molly said quietly.

“Yes - well a
bit… quite a bit actually.” Martha grinned at the young woman’s
offended face. “But who doesn’t?” she added as if to soften the
offence.

“Your precious
Abigail, I suppose.”

Martha gave
Molly a stern look but it was met with an equally defiant glare.
Martha saw Biddy appear with her coat flapping loosely over her
dress as she strode up the street towards them. “Bloody hell, we’ve
got a search party going on here.”

“Now you’ve
closed me shop up and will no doubt eat me out of house and home,
where do yer think yer goin’ next, Martha?” Biddy huffed and puffed
as she had walked briskly up the steep street.

“I can’t just
leave her, Biddy. I love her like me own daughter.” Martha looked
at her relative.

“Soft as ...”
Biddy shook her head at Martha. “Look around you. What do you
see?”

“Houses, both
old and new, hotels, inns, ships, boats, building yards and people.
What am I supposed to be seeing?” Martha asked.

“That’s right,
and a darkening sky. There is no way that they have left the town
today. They’re holed up somewhere.”

Martha looked
around her anxiously. The sky was looking bleak as it cast its
shadow of the old Abbey on high. The Swing Bridge crossing the Esk
that divided the town into two halves, closed shut after a ship had
passed through.

“But night
time’s approaching and she’s with a man,” Martha whispered.

“That’s as
maybe but we just can’t ransack every yard and boat in the area.
You’ll have to believe the lass here that the man is honourable.
She made her choice, Martha.”

“But her
reputation, it will count for nothing.”

“It did that,
love, when she took off in the night with her maid!” Biddy snapped,
then put her arm around Martha’s shoulders. “Come on, you’re home
now. Let her find her own.” She winked at Molly.

Frederick looked at his friend across his father’s walnut desk.

“Are you sure,
sir?” His voice was amazingly quiet and calm. He had been shocked
by his own inability to comprehend how Abigail had slipped out of
the estate so easily, then manifest herself in York, and
apparently, then had the courage or stupidity to travel to London,
yet had not been booked on the coach. No one of her description had
been seen since. No chaises had gone to London and no gigs
hired.

“Then she is
still in York. That is obvious,” Frederick concluded.

“If she is,
there’s word out on the streets that I am looking for her and a
reward will be forthcoming, yet we hear nothing, Frederick. She has
to eat. The maid has to buy them food. Someone at some time will
see one of them and soon.” He was determined and his frustrated
manner adamant.

Frederick
looked at his companion. He knew the man wanted Abigail in every
way. He could not wait to have himself a young fertile wife of, if
not breeding, then status, and with Frederick’s blessing and his
father’s money, Abigail fitted Ignatius’s preferences to
perfection. He was a man who did not like being outwitted, nor
defeated. Frederick admired and loathed him equally, but that was
how Frederick viewed most people. His mother had been the only
pleasant exception and now she was no more than a fading memory,
except for her portrait in the grand hall, to remind him of her
good looks.

“So we sit and
wait, but if no one has sighted either of them within forty-eight
hours, then we cast our net wider, my friend. The woman, Napp, is
resourceful and Abigail has a certain amount of intelligence ill
befitting to her sex.” Frederick flicked a letter opener in his
fingers thoughtfully. “So when is the next shipment due in?”

“Friday. The
man sent word it will be big and we should have everyone ready.
They’re gettin’ a bit touchy at present. Gossip saying that there
is going to be another attempt at closing the ring down.” He poured
himself another brandy and sat down on the chair opposite.

“Then tell
everyone to take extra care and, if there are any loose tongues
around, silence them.” Frederick leaned back and folded his arms as
he gazed at his father’s bookshelf. There was a gap where the Bible
had been. “I wonder,” he said. “Excuse me, Ignatius, I think I need
to check in on my father. I’ll be back shortly.”

Frederick went
up to Abigail’s bedchamber and searched for the Bible. It was not
there. Why take a heavy Bible with her when she was trying to get
away so quickly? There had to be a reason and the person who knew
what that reason was, would soon tell him. He clenched his fists
and sighed. Why could his father not have been happy with him
alone? He had an heir, what need did the man have for a girl? That,
he would never understand.

There was a warm fire burning in the hearth and a small window
which let in a dusky glimmer of sunlight. The room smelt musty. The
bed itself was soft, covered by heavy blankets.

There was no
other furniture save a washstand upon which a water filled jug in a
large chipped bowl had been placed.

“Cosy,” he
said, and smiled.

Abigail
swallowed. “I didn’t think… I’ll have to go back and sleep on a
chair at the bakery tonight and we can leave in the morning.”

He walked over
to her, placed her hand in his and sat her down on the edge of the
bed. She saw him grimace as he took the weight off his leg.

“Listen,
Abigail. I shall not attack you. Your reputation has been damaged
already. You are not going to be comfy in a chair in a bakery and I
don’t think your spirits are sufficiently raised to face Martha
again so soon. So tell me what it is that drove you to such a rash
act.”

“I found a note
she had. It was from my father, or the man who I have called father
all my life. It said Mother lives in Ebton. I was led to believe
that she had died many years ago. I was a foundling discovered in
the abbey grounds as a babe. I must go and find her. It also said I
was to be kept away from L.F.G. - Lady Fenton-Grange, but I don’t
know why. Will you take me to Ebton tomorrow?”

He was
thoughtful for a moment. “There may be a good reason for you not
knowing your mother. She may have wished it so.” He paused.
“Abigail, you are not a grieving widow, are you?”

She looked
down, ashamed. “No, I ran from a forced marriage arranged by
Frederick, my erstwhile brother, Lord Hammond’s son. I am Miss
Abigail Hammond, or thought I was. I am prepared to face rejection
if it is so and I shall apologize to Martha if that is the
case.”

He nodded.
“Very well.”

“Please, I do
not mean to pry, but could you explain what is wrong with your
leg?”

“I had a bullet
removed some months ago and I am still convalescing. It is nothing
to worry about.” He seemed awkward in his manner whenever his leg
became an issue.

Abigail saw a
tinge of sadness in his eyes and realised that he was convalescing
from more than just the wound. “You are in no hurry to return to
the war?”

“I have not
been given the option to.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I
am, in a sense, killing time instead of an enemy, whilst I recover.
I should be lying in some bed somewhere counting sheep. I believe
that I need to strengthen my limbs again and I can only do that by
using them.”

“And I made you
ride atop the stagecoach!” she said shame faced.

“No, you did
not. If you remember, it was I who offered to ride above. I will
take you to Ebton, and we shall see what it is that they have
hidden from you.” He smiled. “But you will have to be strong for
you have no idea what it is you have yet to find out.”

Abigail could
not help herself; she had wanted to know her mother all of her life
– one she believed was dead. She felt so happy; she flung her arms
around Joshua and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around her and
she nestled into him. It felt the most natural thing to do, but
then he kissed her lips tenderly. She did not think; she responded
to his touch. She found herself returning his kiss with growing
passion. They leaned back and toppled onto the mattress. Even as
she lay there, she did not allow a single thought to slip inside
her head to distract her. He leaned over her, stroked her cheek and
kissed her again, more urgently, but he was neither rough nor
intrusive. He was laying over her. It was only as he lifted his
head away from hers, propped up on one elbow, pausing to look at
her, that she felt a flush of embarrassment. He kissed her quickly
on her lips and rolled off her, standing by the side of the
bed.

“That was
unexpected, Miss Abigail, but delightful.”

She sat up. “I
should be quite ashamed, I…”

“Don’t be,” he
said. “You are your own woman now. You are a beautiful woman and I
will not apologise for following my heart, but only for upsetting
you if I did. I take it the ‘Mrs Moor’ was a fanciful distraction
to try to keep you from harm.”

“Yes, it was
foolish. No, you did nothing to distress me.” She walked over to
him. “I am a fool, Joshua. Martha called me one and now it is
proved. I am a fool who is, I think, shamelessly falling in love
with the first true man she has ever met, yet, I have met so
few.”