Authors: Tania Anne Crosse
‘And she’d want to marry
me
if ’tweren’t for that bloody sister of hers!’
Ling saw Harry raise his clenched fist, saliva spitting from his snarling lips. The years fell away, and they were children again, scrapping over his cruel mockery of Fanny’s shortcomings. Well, Harry might not have matured, but she had. Let him hit her, with all these people as witnesses. He’d be locked up for months.
She shut her eyes, waiting for the blow to fall. It didn’t. She was aware of movement before her, and when she dared to look she saw that, with his military training instilled deep within him despite the years that had passed, Seth Warrington was holding Harry in an armlock about his neck, while the fist that had been poised to smash into her face was now wrenched excruciatingly up Harry’s own back. Without uttering a word, Seth frogmarched him back down the aisle and literally threw him outside. The doors were bolted against him, and as Seth reservedly resumed his seat a cheer went up from the congregation, bringing an embarrassed colour to the good man’s cheeks.
‘Please, ladies and gentlemen!’ The vicar held up his hands. ‘I would ask you to forget that most offensive intrusion. We are here today to celebrate before God the marriage of Samuel and Fanny, a most joyous occasion for us all. Now, where were we?’
Ling had returned to her seat, beaming at Fanny as if nothing had happened. But inside she was seething. The ceremony was continuing, the vicar smiling benevolently as he joined the young couple in matrimony, and Ling knew that, in their drab, hard-working lives, the quarrymen and their families would soon forget the ugly incident as they enjoyed the sumptuous food and lively celebrations that Seth and Rose were providing. But though she would outwardly shrug off the matter for Fanny’s sake, Ling would never forget how Harry had so very nearly ruined her sister’s special day.
Outside, Harry Spence picked himself up from the ground, wincing at the agony in his shoulder. Bloody hell, that Seth Warrington had maimed him for life. Well, he’d get back at him somehow! Lie in wait for him – once he had recovered, of course. But then, despite being twenty years his senior, Harry had felt the man’s strength and the bastard was ex-army. And he had wealth and influence, so why should Harry put himself at risk? He could see the money he had sought drifting away from him, and it was all Ling Mayhew’s fault. She was the one to blame. Always had been. Well, he’d teach her a lesson she’d never forget. Hit her where it would hurt most. He would bide his time. And surely the ideal opportunity would arise . . .
‘There you are, Spence.’ William Duke slammed the handful of coins on the desk. ‘It’s more than you deserve, I’m sure, but I don’t want to see you ever again. I can’t have men in my quarry drinking on the job. And don’t try to deny it!’ he snapped as Harry Spence went to open his mouth in protest. ‘I’ve smelt it on your breath more than once. As for the missing money, well, I can’t prove it, but it’s strange that you’re the only one who hasn’t had anything stolen from your pockets. So, be on your way, and don’t show your face here again.’
Harry Spence stared at the elderly proprietor of the quarry at Merrivale, his eyes bulging with anger. This was all because of Ling Mayhew.
She
had driven him to this! Driven him to the carelessness, the
stupidity
, he must admit, of pickpocketing a few pennies here and there from everyone around him. He hadn’t bargained for each man noticing, since, unlike himself, they all had families to feed and every last farthing counted. And, of course, it hadn’t come anywhere near the fortune he had hoped to get his hands on through Fanny’s association with the Warringtons. Fanny and Sam were living in one of the simple one up, one down cottages at Foggintor with the little brat –
his
daughter! But he was convinced there must be secret handouts from the generous couple from Fencott Place. Handouts that should have been finding their way into
his
pocket. And now, because of Ling, he had lost his job as well!
He stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. He was fuming, his mean mouth mangling into an even meaner knot and his wild gaze furiously scanning the horizon as he punched the air in his rage. From here, he could look straight across to Foggintor where the bitch lived. He wouldn’t get taken back on there or at any other local quarry now, and he was unlikely to find any other work in Princetown. He could hardly apply to be a prison warder when his references would merely reveal that he had been suspected of thieving on more than one occasion. No. He would doubtless end up scraping a living in Tavistock, probably sweeping the streets.
Bloody hell, he would
kill
Ling Mayhew if he thought he could get away with it!
Ling closed the cottage door with a shiver and went to attend to the range. It was late March and a raw, penetrating fog had sat on top of Dartmoor in a damp, icy blanket. Barney would be frozen by the time work was over for the day, his clothes soaking up the mantle of enshrouding vapour for hours on end. Ling stoked up the range to have it radiating with heat and then sat down to enjoy a hot cup of tea.
This was the time she missed Fanny most and the silence weighed on her like an oppressive cloud. But that seemed to be her life nowadays. Pointless. Her hope had tired. Died. She tried to be a good wife to Barney, reminding herself over and over again of his worth and the affection she still felt for him. But inside she was empty, the cruel chains of sterility firmly locked about her.
She sighed, not even knowing that she had. She hardly ever thought about Elliott now, her mind wanting to bury the reason for her despair. And now her eyes scanned the humble dwelling, seeking some diversion from her depression.
Oh, what was that? She had come in so hastily to escape the bitter weather that she hadn’t noticed the envelope on the mat. The postman must have been this afternoon, picking his way carefully through the veil of mist on his trusty steed. Who could the letter be from? Her curiosity aroused, Ling picked it up and inspected the postmark. London. Her heart jolted. Could it be that Elliott had returned to the capital and had dared to write to her? She didn’t recognize the handwriting, but then she wouldn’t as she had never seen anything Elliott had written. She felt herself break out in a sweat, her hands shaking as she tore open the envelope.
My dearest Ling,
It is positively ages since I have seen you. Training college and gaining my experience at sea keeps me so busy that I rarely have the chance to see my family except on the very odd occasion my father sails with me. I usually sail with Uncle Misha as Father is mostly kept occupied directing his business from the London offices, or from Herefordshire. You can understand that he and Mother like to spend most of their time together, but Father still loves the sea. I know it is difficult for the wife of a seafaring man, but once I have my master’s ticket Chantal and I will set up home in Plymouth as Uncle Misha and Aunt Sarah did, so that I shall be able to come home to her regularly.
My darling Chantal is, of course, the reason for this letter. As you know, we are to be married at the end of April, and I should be honoured if you and your husband would come to the wedding. Uncle Richard will be sending you an official invitation soon, but I wanted to write to you first. Well, Richard and Beth are not my real uncle and aunt, just long-standing friends of my parents, as you know. And now they are to be my parents-in-law and they have told me to address them without the ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’, but it seems really strange!
The wedding will be at St Peter’s in Peter Tavy, and the breakfast will be at the farmhouse, that is, Rosebank Hall. I have written to Aunt Rose to ask if you can travel in the carriage with them. I really hope you will come as I value your friendship greatly. Please, do say you will come! You can write to me at my parents’ address at the top of this letter and they will pass it on.
I await your reply with great anticipation.
Your good friend,
Toby Bradley
Ling’s mouth gradually curved into a contented smile as she read the letter. Oh, this was just what she needed to cheer her up! Another wedding! And one that would not be marred by some rude interruption! Oh, she could have murdered Harry Spence, although the incident had soon been forgotten since everyone knew what a blackguard he was. Toby’s marriage to Chantal Pencarrow would be a much grander affair, of course, although Ling gathered that the Pencarrows were not nearly as well off as Rose and Seth. Ling had never met them as they did not visit Fencott Place, Richard Pencarrow having livestock to attend daily. But Rose and Seth had always spoken of them with the deepest respect and affection, and Ling looked forward to meeting them.
The more she thought about it, the more excited she became. She realized now that her spirits had been so low that she’d shunned visiting Fencott Place, unable to find the energy for the long walk. It had been a mistake, digging her own trough of despair deeper and deeper. And now, suddenly, she couldn’t wait for Saturday when she could visit Rose and Seth.
Would Barney accept the invitation to the wedding? She hoped so. Perhaps a day in more stimulating company would inspire Barney to greater thoughts and strengthen their relationship in the way their long-dashed hopes of a child had failed to do. But if Barney would not attend the marriage of Toby Bradley to Chantal Pencarrow, Ling was determined to go alone.
In the event, Barney was happy to accept the invitation. It would be an entertaining day with free food and drink, and Barney obviously felt well able to conduct himself in the company of, it had to be said, a class above their own. Ling was proud of him as he donned his Sunday best suit, rarely worn now and somewhat tight around the girth, but neatly pressed and with a new shirt Ling had made especially for the occasion.
Ling herself was dressed in a gown of peacock blue, borrowed from Rose and hastily let down at the hem. It was the most sophisticated attire she had ever worn, and it made her feel special. Even Barney grinned at her and offered her his arm in the manner of a gentleman.
‘You looks like proper gentry, m’lady,’ he teased, his shining eyes uplifting Ling’s heart. Perhaps there was hope for them yet. But what a ridiculous thought! Their marriage was stronger than most. She had never told Barney how she felt. Not that her heart lay elsewhere, of course, for that was a secret she was trying to hide even from herself. But that she felt stifled. Perhaps they could make use of the Sunday train service for summer outings in future? Nature might have denied them a child, but there was no reason why they should not enrich their lives in other ways. She would broach the subject tomorrow, she decided as they walked arm in arm to the main Princetown to Tavistock road where the Warringtons’ carriage was to meet them. She was sure Barney would agree to her plans for a weekly summer outing, but, just in case he objected, she didn’t want to spoil the day by starting off on the wrong foot.
The weather had dawned bright and fine, though, it still being April, the air was chilly and ribbons of white mist were strung out below them in the Tavy valley. The sun, though, soon burned off the mist, promising a beautiful spring day. The journey was a chaotic one, with Rose chatting merrily while attempting to keep her three small children clean – at least until they reached the church! And Seth, who could converse easily with anyone, was talking quietly with Barney about the trade in granite, which was being considerably curtailed by the extensive use of concrete. Ling flashed a smile across at her husband and he answered with that old jaunty grin she rarely saw nowadays.
A candle of anticipation burned in Ling’s breast as the carriage jostled and bumped through the village of Peter Tavy. Today was going to be so special, and not just for the bride and groom. It would be a new start for her and Barney, Ling decided determinedly. She would lock her secret past with Elliott in a strongbox and throw away the key. Unless she wanted to ruin the rest of her life, she would have to!
The large, grassy square in front of the church was a disordered jumble of horse-drawn vehicles and milling crowds. Seth opened the carriage door and jumped down to lift out his son and two little daughters and to assist Rose in a most gentlemanly manner. Ling wasn’t the only one to notice Seth’s courteous gesture. Barney smartly climbed down ahead of her and then turned back to take her hand, his eyes twinkling. Ling accepted his help with a pert smile, the noisy babble of the amassed happy voices in the square humming in her ears as she emerged from the carriage.
‘Ling! And you must be Barney. How very pleased I am to meet you!’
‘Toby! Oh, congratulations!’
The bridegroom, flushed with excitement, had sought Ling out in the muddled embroilment of people and horses, carriages and traps, making her feel special and wanted. He kissed her on the cheek and then shook Barney’s hand heartily as if he had known him for years.
‘It’s good to see you both!’ Toby was exclaiming. ‘Thank you so much for coming. I’ve heard so much about you, Barney. But please excuse me . . .’
They moved on, and Ling took a satisfied breath, her face split in a wide, merry grin as Barney lifted his eyebrows in surprise.
‘They all seems very friendly like,’ he said, nodding appreciatively. ‘I have to say I doesn’t feel out of things at all.’
‘I told you you wouldn’t. And look at all these people. I should think half the village must be here!’
Indeed, the square was seething with people dressed in working-class clothes weaving easily among the clearly wealthier guests, but Rose had often mentioned that the Pencarrows were well respected within the village and surrounding area, and that Beth Pencarrow was a skilled herbalist with many a local family under her care.
‘Ling! How good to see you again. And Mr Mayhew, I assume. How nice to meet you, sir.’
It was Toby’s father, Adam Bradley, who had spoken as he’d briefly shaken Barney’s hand. The captain was as tall, distinguished and immaculate as ever, his smile just as warm, and Ling considered wistfully that, unlike her own father when she had announced that she and Barney were to wed, Adam was delighted with Toby’s choice of spouse.