Anna Jacobs (10 page)

“Well, I sincerely hope you won’t fall to fighting this time—with Elkin or his man.”

“I shan’t start anything.” Matthew hesitated, then lowered his voice. “I think it’s best if we continue to say nothing about how things are left until the will is read. I can’t be with you all the time to keep an eye on you.” After a further hesitation, he added, “If you like, though, we could go for a walk this afternoon and I could show you over the home farm. It’s coming on nicely now, but it was very run-down when I took over.” He gave her a wry smile. “If you’re interested, that is. I don’t think you’ll ever turn me into a fine gentleman.”

“I am interested. I wasn’t brought up to be an idle lady, either.”

“That’s good.”

She looked down at their hands which were lying near together on the table. Two inches closer and they’d be touching. Did he want to touch her? She found she wanted to touch him. And she didn’t want a fine gentleman to husband. She much preferred an honest man who wasn’t afraid to work and get his hands dirty. Fine gentlemen weren’t always easy to live with and were no help in hard times.

He stood up abruptly. “I’ll press on with my work, then.”

She went to the window to watch him go, noticing how his hair gleamed with a blue-black sheen in the sunlight, glad he wasn’t wearing a wig. She wandered up to their bedchamber, wondering how to fill the rest of the morning. She wasn’t used to sitting idle, but she didn’t want to risk another encounter with their unwelcome and unsettling guest.

* * * *

Anthony Elkin sauntered down into the village, which nestled in a narrow valley, its cottages and one or two slightly larger houses set neatly on either side of the only thoroughfare. He was itching to throw Pascoe out of Marymoor, and that stupid wife of his, too. Indeed, it was surprising Pascoe had stayed on so long. He must know he wouldn’t be wanted from now on, however good a farmer he was. And yet, there were no signs of him getting ready to leave.

Why not?

And what had got into the fellow to marry Deborah Jannvier so suddenly? Had he thought it’d change Ralph’s mind about who he left the estate to?

Elkin’s footsteps slowed as he considered this. No, Ralph would never leave Marymoor to a chance-born bastard! He’d always insisted that the legitimate line must inherit the family estate. Pascoe should know better than anyone how stubborn Ralph was once he got an idea fixed in his mind.

But as he walked along Elkin could not get the thought out of his mind that Pascoe had had several years to ingratiate himself. There was no denying he was a hard worker, and a capable one, too. The estate had never looked in such good heart.

The thought returned: surely the old man hadn’t changed his will?

He stopped to glare into the distance. Well, if there had been any trickery, if Ralph had changed things, it’d be easy enough to get rid of Pascoe. Seth was a strong fellow, loyal and could handle a pistol better than most. Men’s bodies were very vulnerable things, easy to destroy.

Elkin turned to stare back at the big house, which sat squarely on top of a gentle slope overlooking the village. Here lay his only chance of getting land and property of his own. Status. Respect. He would do whatever was needed to keep his rightful inheritance.

As he turned to walk on towards the village, he bumped into someone and stopped to apologise. The fellow didn’t look like a local, for he was too well dressed, yet he was no gentleman, either.

“Excuse me, sir, but would that house be Marymoor?”

The voice was soft and courteous, an upper servant’s tone. Elkin chose to allow a conversation, wondering what a stranger was doing in the village today of all days. “Yes. The owner has just died, my uncle, actually, so if you were intending to visit him, you’re too late. Or is it Matthew Pascoe you want? He’s looking after things until the will’s been read.” He couldn’t keep the hatred out of his voice as he spoke that name.

The stranger looked speculatively at him, then said, “It’s a Miss Deborah Jannvier I’m interested in, actually, sir, on behalf of her maternal uncle, who has been responsible for her this past year and more. He has been much concerned for her safety since she ran away from home a few days ago with a man called Pascoe.”

“Well, she’s at Marymoor, and she’s in ruddy health, so he can stop worrying. You’ve only to knock on the door and ask to see her.”

“Ah. Well, actually, I’d be grateful if you’d not mention to her that you’ve seen me, sir. If I am to serve my master to my best ability and find out what she’s been doing, it’d be better if she didn’t know I was here just yet.”

“I can tell you exactly what she’s been doing. She’s been getting married to Pascoe, who is the bastard-born son of the former owner.”

“Has she now?” The man stilled, blowing out his breath in a soft whistle as he considered this. “Now why should she do that? Her uncle will be very interested in the news.”

It occurred to Elkin that it wouldn’t hurt to find out more about the bitch. “They brew good ale at the Woolpack. Let me offer you a mug of the best. I’m sure we’ll both benefit from an exchange of information.”

“I’m grateful for your kindness and condescension, sir. Very grateful indeed. But pray let my master buy the drinks. He would consider it only right.”

Which Elkin agreed to by a regal inclination of the head as he led the way towards the inn. One never knew when fate would toss one a wild card to tuck up one’s sleeve. He might have fallen lucky here.

* * * *

Isabel Jannvier woke that same morning in the hay barn of the small farm from which they usually bought their milk. The owners had become friendly with Bessie and had seen them passing. They’d been horrified to think of two elderly women turned out of house and home like that, but because they were tenants of Walter Lawrence, they didn’t dare house the fugitives openly.

The farmer’s wife came to check that they were awake just before dawn, bringing some bread and honey and a jug of milk. She pushed a small parcel into Bessie’s hand. “Something to eat while you’re travelling.”

“Thank you, love. We’re grateful for your help.”

“I only wish we could do more. Do you—have any money?”

Bessie nodded. “A little. But we shall have to husband it carefully.” She’d used up most of her savings during the past year to ease her mistress’s burdens.

Their hostess was clearly on edge. “I’ll say goodbye, then. Just leave that platter here and I’ll fetch it later. And—I’d be grateful if you could leave as soon as you’ve finished eating, before anyone starts work in the fields. You know what Mr Lawrence is like. I’d keep away from the main roads, if I were you, just in case he comes after you. He won’t expect you to take the hill tracks and you’ll be harder to follow across the moors, there’s that many tracks crossing one another up there.”

“We won’t be long. We don’t want to get you in trouble.” Bessie walked to the barn door with her friend and whispered, “He’s threatened to have her locked away, you know, says she’s losing her wits.” She hesitated, then added, “I don’t mind if you spread that around as long as you tell them she’s as sane as anyone else. I want folk to know how badly he’s treated her.”

Nell shook her head in disbelief. “Eh, he’s a nasty old devil, he is that. Well, I hope you have a fine day for your travelling.”

Bessie returned to her mistress, who lay smiling in a nest of hay. “We have to hurry up, Mrs Isabel.”

The other woman nodded and stood up, trying to brush the hay off her clothes. “I slept very well, you know, better than I have for months. I’m sure we’re doing the right thing, Bessie. We should have left Newgarth long ago.” She chuckled suddenly. “I wish I could have seen my brother’s face when he turned up to check that you’d left the village and found that I’d gone with you. People will talk and he’ll hate that.”

Serve him right, thought Bessie. But let’s hope he don’t come after us and try to drag you back.

They passed through the gate at the far end of the meadow and began walking through the woods, not hurrying, each of them enjoying the early summer morning.

“Nell’s right, you know,” Bessie said abruptly. “We’d better stay right away from the main highway. It’ll be harder going up there on the moorland tracks, though.”

Isabel gave her a beaming smile. “We can take our time. It’s lovely in the woods, isn’t it? Much nicer than a dusty old road.”

But the woods ended and then they had to follow the road on the other side until they came to a turning. When a cart overtook them, the driver slowed down to ask, “Going far?”

“A good way,” Bessie said, not wanting to reveal anything.

“Want a ride? I’m going a good way, too.” He chuckled at his own joke.

She was too worried to smile. “That’d be a big help. Thank you.”

“Hop up on the back, then.” He looked at them and his mouth fell open in shock even before they’d climbed on the cart. “Isn’t she Mr Lawrence’s sister?” he whispered. His expression showed that this was not a point in their favour.

Bessie hesitated. “It is.”

“Where’s she going at this hour?”

She stiffened. “She’s leaving Newgarth against his wishes. If you don’t want to give us a ride, we’ll understand.”

He sucked his mouth into a twist for a moment, then shrugged. “Who’s to see you at this hour?” As Mrs Jannvier climbed into the back of the cart, he whispered to Bessie, “I heard as how he were treating his sister badly. I’m right glad I’m not one of his tenants. Hurry up, will you? I want to be on my way. And keep your heads down if you don’t want folk to know where you’re going.”

As they lay down in the cart, Isabel’s hand crept into Bessie’s. “It’ll be all right. I’m sure it will.”

“I hope so.”

The man set them down three miles further along the road and pointed out a track that led up across the moors to Rochdale. “That’s the best way if you want to avoid the highway. It’ll take you longer, but there won’t be as many folk to see you. And most of them who live up there know how to mind their own business. As I do.” He tapped one finger to his nose. “I shan’t tell anyone I’ve seen you.”

“Thank you kindly.” Isabel stretched her hand up to shake his. “But if my daughter or a messenger from her were to ask for me, you could tell her you’ve seen me, could you not?”

He looked a bit surprised to have a lady offer him her hand and wiped his own on his shirt before taking hers. “My pleasure to help you in any way, ma’am.”

The two women stepped back, waving goodbye as the horses clopped onwards again, then turning towards the moorland track.

Shaking his head, he drove on. What was the world coming to when a lady had to take to the road for fear of her own brother?

“What if we can’t find this Marymoor?” Bessie worried when they’d been walking for an hour. She wished she hadn’t packed so many things in her bundle, which already felt heavy.

“Of course we’ll find it. It lies to the north-east of Rochdale. It’s a big house. Someone will know where it is.”

They continued in silence with Bessie covertly watching her mistress. Mrs Isabel looked better than she had in a long time. Far from seeming fearful or tired, she was walking steadily, looking round and clearly enjoying the scenery. Bessie chuckled suddenly. “We’re a bit old for running away like this, aren’t we?”

Isabel smiled serenely. “My husband always used to say that you’re never too old to enjoy yourself. I’d forgotten that. I’d grown—over fearful of the world.” Of her brother, actually.

But Bessie couldn’t stop worrying. “I don’t know what Miss Deborah will say about this, I really don’t.”

“She’ll say we were right to leave. My only regret is that we stayed in Newgarth so long and let my brother bully us. And her.”

Bessie could suddenly see again the lively girl who had run away to marry Paul Jannvier and to hell with what anyone else thought of that, the girl she had followed and helped, and who was not only her mistress but her dear friend. Her own spirits began to lift, too. It would turn out all right, she told herself. Anything was better than staying in Newgarth. It must be.

* * * *

By late morning Deborah could find nothing else to tidy or re-arrange in their bedroom, and although she would have liked to give it a thorough clean-out, this was not the time. She decided in the end to go and explore the upper part of the house. After all, she was unlikely to meet Mrs Simley there, for the woman rarely seemed to leave the kitchen.

She peeped into the various rooms on this floor. There was a closed coffin in Ralph’s room and the faint smell of death filled the air, in spite of a big vase of flowers on the table. She bent her head for a moment in prayer for her benefactor, then closed the door quietly. Outside Mrs Elkin’s room she hesitated then tapped.

The maid opened the door, her expression unwelcoming. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

“I came to ask how your mistress is.”

“Not at all well. She’s been ill all night and she isn’t dressed for receiving visitors yet.” Without waiting for an answer, the woman closed the door on the sound of someone vomiting.

Deborah didn’t go near the room Elkin was occupying, but went to stand for a moment at the landing window looking out over the moors. The panes of glass were smeared and dull, making it hard to see clearly. Oh, she was itching to start setting this house in order and couldn’t think what the Simleys did with their time to let things get so dusty and run-down. With the help of Bessie and a willing girl like Merry, Deborah would have kept the parts of the house that were regularly used in apple-pie order. And enjoyed doing it

Not feeling like returning to her room, she was tempted up the attic stairs, just for a quick look round. Here were several closed doors. She pushed them open, closing two of them quickly as she saw that they were, as she had guessed, the servants’ quarters. The biggest room, which presumably belonged to the Simleys, was untidy and smelled of an unemptied chamber pot. Wrinkling her nose in displeasure she closed the door again.

There was another door standing half-open at one side and behind it she could see another set of stairs. She suddenly remembered Elkin talking about a roof walk. It could upset no one, surely, if she went up there? She would really enjoy some fresh air and peace, and already loved gazing out at the rolling expanse of moors.