The Lost And Found Girl (39 page)

‘Of course I wish it! I had no desire to give you up to that – that tyrant in the first place.’

‘Then why do you not stay with me now, at the Abbey?’

James was pleading with him and Edgar grimaced. He muttered, ‘You don’t understand.’

‘What shall I say to your waiting guests?’

‘Tell them – tell them I am speaking with my tenants and giving surety about their futures.’

Edgar was aware that he should have returned to the Abbey with James, but he hadn’t expected this day to be so difficult. He didn’t know the mourners and they didn’t know him. If only Mrs Wortley were by his side instead of this boy. His boy, he corrected himself. But he was no longer a boy so maybe he would understand, if he could talk to him about her first. Milo understood, even if he didn’t approve. Edgar needed to speak with James and Milo before he visited the lawyers again. But here, today, was not the place or the time.

Daisy did not take her eyes off James until he disappeared from view. Then she watched his father talking to the new vicar and, to her surprise, Abel Shipton walked over to join them.

‘Did you see that, Boyd?’ she said.

He grasped her wrist and responded, ‘Do come on, Daisy. I’m needed at the stables.’

Reluctantly, Daisy stumbled after her brother.

Edgar refused to acknowledge the man who had cuckolded him all those years ago and moved away, leaving his friend Milo to get rid of him. He blamed Abel Shipton for ruining his mother’s plans. But in reality, Edgar knew it was the despot he had just buried that had done that by insisting he give up his son. He had never stopped hating him for that. Still, his mother had died knowing her grandson was living the life she wanted for him, and she had never known the truth about how Edgar had funded her last few years on earth. She would have enjoyed living in the Redfern Dower House marshalling a brigade of servants, he reflected.

The housekeeper at the rectory was busy preparing roast venison for the old rector’s final dinner with the new vicar after the wake. She made no comment when Edgar arrived to wait for his horse and when she offered him her meat-and-potato pie luncheon, he accepted and asked for a bottle of claret to go with it. Clergymen always kept a good
cellar. He was not disappointed and finished the bottle with slices of stilton and plum cake. He considered opening another, but was anxious to be on his way.

As soon as his horse appeared, he left and spent a couple of hours riding the vast tracts of land that were now his.
His
. Yet he didn’t want any of it if he couldn’t share it with Prudence. They could have enjoyed life here for years if it hadn’t been for his great-uncle’s intransigence. Everyone had danced to his lordship’s tune. Well, he was his lordship now and he was giving the orders.

He could do what he liked and if that meant bringing his mistress to live with him in the Abbey, then so be it. Dear God, the stories of revelry and fornication that he’d heard of Abbey life in the old Regent’s day were nothing compared with his comparatively quiet life now. He needed Prudence by his side and to hell with protocol and these new Victorian virtues the preachers preached of. Why should the morals of some Germanic princess with a French name dictate his future?

But even his friend Milo had changed as he’d married and grown older and he didn’t want to risk Prudence being shunned by church or gentry. He had to be firmly established as the new Lord Redfern before he introduced her. The farmers’ wives and villagers might gossip to begin with, but not the servants. They knew better.

He was Lord Redfern now and he could do as he wished. In spite of feeling cold he was cheered by this thought – and by the last of the brandy from his pocket flask. He spurred his horse to a gallop to tell Prudence of his decision.

His body ached from the ride and he was hungry when he arrived at Ellis House. But he was in good spirits. Damn his ageing limbs! His left arm in particular always suffered from holding the reins.

Prudence was dressing for dinner as he arrived. His butler and cook were busy preparing for the meal. ‘I’ll be another hour,’ he told them, took a slice of cold pie from the larder and climbed the stairs two at a time. But he had to stop and catch his breath on the landing. He swallowed the rest of the pie in chunks, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and tried to square his shoulders. His chest was hurting from the cold but no matter. He was Lord Redfern. He ruled the biggest estate in the Riding. It had been a long time coming but no one –
no one
– could take it away from him now.

Prudence was holding on to the bedpost while her maid heaved on the laces in her corset. She saw him in the doorway through her long cheval glass and told her maid to leave them. He came up behind her, placed his purple face on her shoulder beside her white one and began loosening the laces.

‘It’s almost time for dinner,’ she murmured.

‘I told them to delay.’ The corset dropped away and he covered her large soft breasts with his hands. Then he stroked her belly and rump, his fingers squeezing her flesh, before they reached between her legs. ‘How would you like to be Lady Redfern and live at the Abbey?’

He watched her face in the mirror and her eyes widened. ‘Is it possible? What about your wife?’

‘She’s been mad for years. I’ll put her in an asylum and then divorce her.’

‘Divorce? Won’t that cost a fortune?’

‘I’m a wealthy man now.’

Prudence looked away so he would not see her triumphant smile in the glass. She’d have a title, the grandest home in the Riding and as much money as she needed! It was well
worth the humiliations she had suffered over the years as Edgar’s mistress.

‘Will it not cause an enormous scandal, dearest one?’

‘Not if she’s declared insane. The judge will understand. Besides, I’m rich and I can have anything I want.’ His fingers stroked back and forth between her legs, his way of telling her what he wanted from her.

Her hands crept behind her body to fondle him. She didn’t need to arouse him. His blood was up already. She knew what he expected. ‘Oooh,’ she protested mildly. ‘Oooh, Lord Redfern is awake and arisen! Does he want his way with me now?’ She wiggled her bottom from side to side and held onto the bed post, hoping he would do it standing up and get it over with quickly.

Edgar relished the way she gave in to him at any time he wanted her, no matter where. It gave him a sense of power, something he craved over any woman he met. He might have driven into her there and then if he had not been fully clothed. But he needed to feel his skin on hers, be on top of her, in control, dominating her. The anticipation made his breathing more laboured. ‘Get these things off me,’ he ordered hoarsely, ‘and mind my left arm.’

It was not only his arm that ached. His chest hurt too. The long ride in the cold air had not done him any favours. But a rut with Prudence would soon heat him up and, afterwards, another bottle of claret would keep him warm.

Prudence Wortley removed his clothing with practised ease and marvelled just as readily at the disgusting sight of his grossly distended offering poking out from under his lardy belly. He gave her the familiar jerk of his head which meant ‘on the bed’. She slid off her chemise and drawers and lay
face down lifting her round white rear for his pleasure. He hoisted himself over her and jabbed around until he pushed into her and he was away, heaving and grunting, causing rucks and wrinkles on the silken bedcovers.

She had taught herself not to think of him when he did it to her. He was a noisy animal of a man who seemed to have learned his technique from the farmyard, so she closed her eyes and counted her gowns and pairs of shoes and – and – this time she dreamed of jewels. He was very generous to her when he was in funds, although sometimes she had to wait far too long for him to replenish her allowance. As he pumped away growling like a bear, she took her gratification from the fact that she was now the mistress of a very rich lord who was, actually, rather dependent on her.

She had begun as his housekeeper, having grown too old to earn a living in Leeds as a provincial courtesan for travelling gentry. But she retained the skills of her former occupation and offered him more than a well-run home. Everything a wife might offer in fact.

He said often that he adored her. Now, he’d told her he was going to move heaven and earth to make her his wife. She never imagined that. Ageing mistresses don’t expect marriage as a rule and she was no different. But when the stakes are high and there’s a title involved, it was not a sit uation to be denied. She was to be Lady Redfern! She wondered if she’d have a tiara. He’d be sure to give her jewels and a proper carriage of her own with a pair of matching horses to draw it.

Dear God, he was making more noise than usual, but then he always sounded like a stuck pig and he yelled out obscenities when he shed his seed. What a pity it was too late for her to become with child. She’d stopped using a
sponge when she stopped her bleeding so there was no chance for that. Edgar wasn’t bothered. He told her he’d once had a son and that was enough for him. She winced. He was slavering over her and she could feel the dribble on the back of her neck. Now he was groaning and – and slowing. Slowing? He didn’t normally slow down. Generally he hammered her at full tilt until he’d finished. He was gibbering away at something. His title must have gone to his head for he wasn’t making sense. Oh well, he’d finish soon and collapse on top of her and go to sleep as usual. She would have to wait for his snoring before she tried to move.

James had ridden alone in his father’s carriage to the Abbey, where Mr Stanton was waiting anxiously.

‘Where is his lordship?’

‘He – he is meeting with his villagers to – to reassure them about their futures.’

‘His guests are gathering in the long drawing room. They have wine and biscuits but they wish to pay their respects.’

‘I shall receive them on his behalf.’

‘Very well. You are more of a lord than he will ever be.’

‘You speak of my father, sir.’

‘I beg your pardon. It was meant as praise for you and not—’

‘Yes, yes,’ James interrupted. ‘Make sure my father’s horse is taken to the rectory stable immediately.’

‘I shall attend to it personally, sir.’

James straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath and nodded. A footman opened the doors to the long drawing room.

* * *

In a large barn near to the stables, the outdoor servants were tapping a barrel of ale sent over for the wake, along with cold meats and smoked fish laid out on a board. Boyd had been called upon to saddle and ride a horse to the rectory and Daisy had walked outside to watch for his return. The gravity of the occasion had little effect on the younger servants who were glad of a day off their routine grind, whilst the older ones were talking in groups and speculating on how the new Lord Redfern would change things. Boyd was out of breath from running when he returned.

‘I called in to see Mr and Mrs Farrow and asked if you could stay late so that you could see Joseph.’

‘But you know I don’t like him!’ she protested.

‘He may not have time to come over to the stables anyway. But it means that we can have a proper talk at last, about what you really want.’

‘Why can’t I be just as I am?’

‘Because we both want to stay here,’ he answered.

They lapsed into silence.

Eventually, Daisy suggested, ‘I know! Show me the ponies, Boyd.’

‘Very well.’ They changed direction away from the noisy barn and Boyd continued, ‘Do you remember the tall fellow talking to the new lord and his vicar in the churchyard.’

‘Abel Shipton?’

‘I saw him outside the Reddy Arms. He’s got something to say to you and he wanted me to be with you when he said it. He’s riding over later. Are you sure he hasn’t made advances on you?’

‘I think I’d know if he had. I don’t want to speak to him. I think he’s from Father.’

‘Don’t take on so. Father can’t touch us now.’

Boyd opened the pony stables and checked on each of the occupants while Daisy stroked the noses of her favourites and fed them morsels of chopped carrot. The pony stable reminded her of James and she felt a cosy warmth inside her when she thought of him. But he’d looked so sad at the funeral that she worried about him and stood gazing at the whitewashed walls wondering if – no, hoping that he was well.

‘There’s a footman looking for you two.’ An under-gardener and his wife had strolled by and saw the stable door open. ‘He’s in the barn.’ They wandered on.

‘It’ll be Joseph. Go and tell him you can’t find me. Oh please, Boyd. He’s horrid! Truly! When we were alone in the scullery he tried to—’ She stopped, unable to find the words.

‘Tried to what?’

‘You know.’ She hunched her shoulders. ‘Kiss me and – and that.’

‘And what?’ Boyd demanded.

‘He said we were as good as married and it wasn’t wrong.’

‘What did he do to you, Daisy?’

‘He – he wouldn’t let me go even when I asked him.’

‘What did he do, Daisy?’ Boyd insisted.

‘He put his hand under my skirts and – and touched me where he shouldn’t.

‘I’ll kill him! So help me God, I’ll kill him.’

‘I wish you would but you mustn’t because they’ll hang you and then I’ll have nobody.’

‘I can give him a thumping he won’t forget.’

‘Well, don’t. You’ll be in trouble and I’d rather you just sent him away. I never asked for him to court me.’

‘I’ll see what I can do. Stay here with the ponies.’

Daylight was beginning to fail already and the noise from
the barn was getting louder. It didn’t seem right to Daisy to be celebrating a death with such revelry. But she supposed they were drinking to the old lord’s life and welcoming the new one. She wondered how James was feeling about his loss.

Boyd was gone a long time so she closed up the stables and went for a walk to warm her feet. Away from the barn she heard the sounds of carriages from across the park and the glimmer of flares to light up the driveways. There was a folly to one side of the expanse of grass and trees and Daisy headed in that direction. A brisk walk there and back would revive her flagging spirits. As she neared the dome-shaped building fronted by four stone pillars she became fascinated by its purpose. She probably wasn’t allowed inside but no one would see her in the dark and she quickened her step.