The Lost And Found Girl (40 page)

Inside, the folly was small, round and very high. But there were signs of use. An old chair, a horse blanket, even an oil lamp. She wished she had means to light it for it was getting dark. But as her eyes got used to the gloom she saw that it was clean, with a covering of dry brown leaves on the floor, blown in during the autumn. It must be dry too, for they rustled as she moved them around with her boot. She wrapped herself in the blanket and sat on the rickety chair. From the doorway she could see the last of the carriages rattling down the driveway before they disappeared into the trees towards the lodge gates.

She must have dozed for the next thing she knew she was aware of a dull thumping and opened her eyes. It was a few moments before her eyes got used to the darkness, by which time the runner whose feet were pounding on the grass was upon her. She stood up, her mind racing with excuses for her trespass.

He was panting heavily and he leaned his back against the outside stonework. He was – she hurried to the doorway – he was sobbing in a strangled, desperate way. It was James and he was distressed. ‘Why?’ he cried. ‘Why?’

‘James?’

‘Who’s there?’ He inhaled raggedly. ‘Show yourself.’

‘It’s me, Daisy.’

He whirled around to get a full view of her. ‘Daisy? What are you doing here?’

‘I – I was walking—’

‘Daisy. My dearest Daisy. God has sent you to comfort me, Hold me, will you? Please.’

She placed her arms around him and he bent his head to rest on her shoulder. ‘What’s wrong, James? Tell me.’

His voice was muffled by her clothing and it took him a few moments to compose himself. ‘A letter arrived, from my father’s house, written not an hour since.’ He took a deep
shuddering breath. ‘He’s dead, Daisy. My father, my real father, is dead.’

‘But – but – but – surely it cannot be so? Was he not with you at the burial today?’

He shook his head in the crook of her neck and shoulder. ‘He’s gone. Just when we had a chance to get to know each other, he’s gone.’

James seemed to have lost his strength as he leaned on her and Daisy staggered under his weight. She held him for a few moments longer, not wanting to let him go but fearing she might collapse beneath him. She turned her head to kiss his ear and his hair and whispered, ‘Why don’t you sit down, my love.’ The endearment slipped out without thinking.

‘My love,’ he repeated and his lips brushed her cheek as he moved. He sat in the chair with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands until his ragged inhaling had eased.

It was such a cruel blow for him. Daisy hated to see him so distressed and was hurting with him. Tears were welling in her eyes. She stroked the back of his head, gently smoothing his thick dark hair with her fingers. Weeping helped with grieving and she felt his grief as though it were her own. She had no idea of the time, of how long she stood there, or when the weeping ceased, or of how her arms came to be locked around his body, hugging him tightly. Her cloak fell from her back to the floor.

He kissed her gently at first, then more insistently, exploring the contours of her features and murmuring her name. Dear heaven, how she had longed for him to do that! The only sound in the surrounding silence was their hushed breathing and the rustle of clothing as his hands moved over her curves, tightly corseted in her best gown. The desire to throw off that gown and restricting corset to enjoy a more intimate
closeness with him was overwhelming. There was an urgency about his lips and fingers as though he wanted the same, to be nearer, nearer, as near as a man could be to the woman he loved. He needed her and wanted and – and excitement rippled through her – she was unable to stop him because she did not wish to.

He discarded his jacket and pulled her to the ground. She did not resist because she could not. I truly love him, she realised, and he must love me. It had been inevitable since the first day she had seen him, queuing for her quarterly pay in the Abbey. There was something intangible between them that was strong enough for others to notice. They may not approve but they could not stop it and her heart pounded in her ears.

He was nuzzling her hair and kissing her ears. ‘Daisy, this cannot be. You are betrothed to Joseph.’

‘I am not. Oh please don’t stop. I don’t love Joseph. I love you.’

‘And I love you.’ His lips moved to her chin and cheeks and whispered, ‘But this is – this is dangerous madness. I do not want to hurt you.’

She was aware that if she allowed him to continue the outcome would be shame and degradation for her. Her reputation would be lost for ever. Joseph most certainly would not want her if he knew she had been taken by another. But to be loved by James – the thought chased away any consideration of propriety on her part.

‘You can never hurt me, James,’ she breathed.

He groaned weakly. ‘You are so beautiful,’ he whispered. ‘I have been drawn towards you since I first set eyes on you.’

Daisy was in heaven. James loved her and was making love to her, proper love, real love. She shifted her head so that her
lips brushed his. As she did a glimmer of light crossed her vision. She was mesmerised by the dancing lamp as it came closer to the doorway. Then she heard the voice.

‘Master James! Are you in there?’

James went rigid and his eyes locked on hers. ‘Stanton! Good God, he is searching for me.’ He rolled to one side and sat up, waiting to be discovered.

‘Master James! I thank God I have found you.’ He stood in the doorway and held the lamp high. ‘Miss Higgins?’ Then he added more strongly, ‘Miss Higgins! What are you doing in here?’

‘Don’t speak to her in that tone. She is not one of your servants.’

‘She is betrothed to one. What do you think you are doing?’

‘You forget, sir, that I am no longer your charge.’

‘I do not,
my lord
. But I expect better from you than to find you cavorting with a village wench.’

Daisy sat up sharply and retrieved her cloak, dragging it about her shoulders. ‘I am no village
wench,
sir!’

‘Indeed you are! You and Joseph are well matched. Master James needs protection from your wily ways and my housemaids need protection from him.’

My God, she thought. That is the reason he was chosen for her. She snapped, ‘Yes I can well believe that. He is not to be trusted with anyone wearing skirts! How dare you use me so.’

James stood up and confronted his steward. ‘What is this mischievous game you play, Stanton?’

The older man calmed and his shoulders sagged. ‘Come away from her, my lord. Everything is different now.’

Daisy watched her beloved James crumple in the lamplight.
He covered his face with his hands and sank into the creaking chair. ‘For a few brief moments with Daisy my life was tolerable. Now it is shattered again.’

Daisy scrambled towards him and held his head against her body. ‘Leave him be, Mr Stanton. Can’t you see how much he is grieving?’

Mr Stanton stepped across the threshold to retrieve James’s jacket from the floor. She heard more voices outside. Dear heaven, how many does it take to escort his lordship home? The space became crowded as two more figures both carrying lanterns appeared in the open doorway.

‘We heard raised voices.’

‘Daisy! I have been searching for you. Do you know the hour?’

‘Boyd?’ Her voice was weak and tearful.

He stood in front of her taking in the picture of her crumpled cloak and dishevelled hair, and of the way she was cradling James against her. Daisy tightened her grip on James. She was unhappy and confused. She wanted to be alone with James, to comfort him as only she could. Yet, as Boyd stared at her, she reached out searching for his hand. If she grasped it he would give her the strength she needed for James.

Boyd straightened her cloak around her shoulders but he did not touch her and her arm dropped to her side. He said, ‘I’ll take you home, Daisy.’

James slowly turned his head. His words were muffled by Daisy’s body close to his mouth. ‘She is coming with me to the Abbey.’

‘She is not, sir. She is my sister and I shall guard her reputation even if you will not.’

Another stronger voice interceded. ‘Please, do as Boyd suggests, Miss Higgins.’

Daisy recognised Abel Shipton. He had been standing silently in the doorway. Now, he lifted his lantern and stepped forward. In the pool of yellow light his bearded face was grim. ‘I should have spoken sooner. This must stop.’

‘And who are you, my good man?’ Mr Stanton demanded.

‘Abel Shipton, sir. I am the owner of High Fell Farm in the Dales.’

James gave Daisy a small push so that he could see Abel more clearly and responded sharply. ‘You are a liar, sir, High Fell is my – my father’s farm.’

Daisy felt isolated as James stood up to challenge the stranger. She was distressed and confused, but above all, concerned for James in his grief and moved forward towards him. Abel must have noticed because he handed his lantern to Boyd and quickly placed himself between James and her. He spoke softly. ‘You have to let him go, Miss Higgins.’

‘Who are you to tell me what to do?’ She attempted unsuccessfully to push Abel aside.

Boyd tried to separate them and a scuffle developed until Boyd cried, ‘Stop this, Abel. You say you are a friend but can you not see my sister is upset?’

Daisy turned and flung her arms around her brother. She had not forgotten that he had asked her not to behave towards him in this way. But at this moment he was the only person she could rely on to have her best interests at heart and she needed him. ‘Who is he, Boyd?’ she pleaded. ‘Who is Abel Shipton?’

For a few brief and precious moments, he held her as he used to and she felt safe. And then he gently kissed the top of her head and stood back from her. ‘He has something to tell us both. He says it is important.’

James stood up, his clothes were awry but he spoke with
the authority of his status. ‘Whatever irks you may be dealt with at some other time, sir. You will be good enough to leave now.’

Abel stood firm. ‘I shall not go until these young people know the truth.’

Mr Stanton weighed in on James’s side. ‘You will, sir. The Abbey is in mourning.’

‘This truth should be known now.’

James was younger and smaller than Abel but he faced him and responded, ‘The truth? None of you know the truth! The truth is that on the day of my guardian’s funeral, the day when I may meet freely and speak with my own—’ His voice cracked and Daisy took a hasty step in his direction only to be restrained by Boyd and Abel. James continued, ‘My own true father.’ His head and body sagged. ‘My father died today.’

‘What?’ The cry came from Abel, who was clearly stunned by this news. He directed his query at Mr Stanton. ‘Is this true?’

His reply was a brief nod and, ‘A rider came with a letter not an hour ago. We are all deeply upset.’

Abel repeated his question. ‘Edgar Collins is dead?’

James responded, ‘Did you know him?’

‘I leased the fields at High Fell before – before you were born. I have not lied to you, sir.’

‘Then you must have been acquainted with my mother?’ James asked.

Abel glanced at Daisy and she noticed an uneasiness, a wariness even, in his eyes. He said, ‘Forgive me. I was not aware of Edgar’s passing. This is, indeed, too much grief for everyone. But my business does concern you, sir, and it is of an urgent nature. Perhaps we may speak in the morning?’

‘Thank you, sir,’ James answered. ‘Come to the Abbey at ten.’

Abel addressed Stanton. ‘I wonder, sir, if you would take Miss Higgins into the care of your good lady wife for the night.’

‘That isn’t necessary,’ Boyd said. ‘I shall see her safely home.’

Daisy glanced at Abel. She thought he had a handsome, if lined, face underneath his dark beard. But his features were totally expressionless as he responded to her brother, ‘The hour is late and Mr Stanton’s house is nearer than the village. I’ll return with you to the stables for my horse.’

Boyd seemed satisfied and said to Daisy, ‘Mrs Stanton is a kindly lady. She will look after you.’

Daisy remembered her last visit to Mrs Stanton to meet the awful Joseph. ‘James?’ she murmured. In the yellow lantern light he looked exhausted and his eyes were sad. But he smiled at her, took her hand and kissed it softly. ‘Until tomorrow, Daisy.’ She was desperate to take him in her arms and hold him and all she could do was watch him set off, alone, with a lantern to cross the park to the Abbey.

Mrs Stanton was indeed a very kindly lady. Her own children were long since grown and wed and Daisy spent a comfortable if restless night in a charmingly furnished chamber. She found it difficult to comprehend that James was now Lord Redfern. She had felt so comfortable in his presence that he never seemed much different from her in spite of their diverse backgrounds. But, on reflection, it was Boyd who had seemed more concerned for her and she was glad that he had been there to support her last night. Abel, too, had seemed to have her best interests at heart and she felt less alone as watched the dawn break.

A neatly presented maid brought her hot water to wash and she breakfasted with her temporary guardians in their dining room. Boyd and Abel Shipton were waiting outside for them as they donned warm cloaks and all five of them set off to walk to the Abbey.

Boyd was quiet. He linked arms as they walked and he
smiled at her. But his eyes were troubled. The three older people followed them silently.

‘Will Joseph be there?’ she asked him anxiously.

‘You do not have to marry him,’ he answered and squeezed her arm gently. ‘Don’t fret, Daisy. Abel said that no one will demand it after today.’

‘Will I have to go back to Mother and Father?’

‘Abel has assured me that he really, truly, has no connection with our father.’

‘Then what is it that must be known?’

‘He will tell us when we are all together.’

‘But why has it anything to do with James?’

‘He is Lord Redfern now. Everything that happens on his estates is his business.’ She clutched his arm more tightly and he went on, ‘Do not fear. I shall be with you.’