After a pause for thought, he added, “If your sister isn’t at either of those two places, then they’ll have taken her further afield and I can’t help you—though I don’t see how they could have got much further in that blizzard. It’s still pretty bad on the tops, you know. We nearly turned back once or twice, only your housekeeper was desperate to get to you and the going got a bit easier as we came lower down, so we pressed on.”
“You must give me all the details you can. We’ll start searching tomorrow.”
“I’ll do better nor that, sir. Me and my son will guide you out to the places I mentioned.”
The two men shook hands.
Penelope went to bed early, claiming exhaustion, and Martha, after a moment’s hesitation, settled down opposite Ben in front of the parlour fire. She knew she’d never sleep if she went to bed now. They sat in silence for a while, then she said thoughtfully, “I don’t understand why they had another prisoner. Who can he be?”
“I don’t know. Peter Brindley is missing, but if he’s part of the plot, why would they have to tie him up? It doesn’t make sense.” He clicked his tongue in exasperation. “If only Brindley hadn’t died! I’m sure he’s behind this and I’d have forced him to tell us where she is.”
“The magistrate recorded a verdict of accidental death, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Was it?”
He was shaken out of his somnolence. “What made you ask that?”
“Something Daniel said.”
“I wasn’t there. The workers say it was. I took their word for it, because I didn’t want to see them get into trouble. The magistrate has asked me and Jonas to keep an eye on the mill until young Brindley can be found, so I’ve set Gerry Cox in charge and warned him to treat the operatives better. If it was up to me, I’d be raising their wages and improving conditions there, but I don’t have the authority to do that.”
She couldn’t find it in herself to regret Noll Brindley’s death, however it’d happened. He’d been a nasty little man, and from what she’d seen and heard, his workers had been treated appallingly. “Are we going out to hunt for Georgie tomorrow?”
“Yes. Well, we are unless it snows again, but I don’t think it will. It feels much milder outside. We’ll leave as soon as it’s light.” He looked at her and added, “I wish you’d think again about coming with us. I don’t want to expose you to danger.”
“I shan’t change my mind.”
“You’re a stubborn woman!” he said angrily. “How am I to protect you out there? It’ll be as much as I can do to lead the others.”
She was just as angry. “You won’t
need
to protect me. I keep telling you that. Why will you not believe me?”
“Because you’re a woman and women simply aren’t as strong as men.”
She hated it when people said that to her. Since she was fourteen she’d had to be strong in so many ways, both physical and mental. It might make her seem unfeminine, stop men from being attracted to her, but it had been necessary—still was. “I’ll prove you wrong on that tomorrow.” She stood up, not tired but sure they’d only quarrel if she stayed. “And I’ll bid you good night now.”
He didn’t call after her or wish her good night, and as she lay in bed she scolded herself for caring about that. She was thinking some very foolish thoughts lately.
* * * *
Georgie woke up with a start, to find herself nestled in Peter’s arms. He opened his eyes and for a moment looked equally surprised.
“Are you all right?” he asked gently.
“Yes.”
There was a knock on the door and it was flung open without more ado. Jack and Hobb stood in the opening, grinning.
Peter got up, snatched his cloak off the top of the bedcovers and flung it round himself, then fetched Georgie’s from the chair.
“Your father will be very pleased at how cosy you’re getting,” Jack said.
“Hang my father. We need some more coal.”
“Hobb will bring you some.”
“Surely you’re not going to keep us here much longer?” Peter asked. “After all, we’ve spent the night together. That was what my father wanted, wasn’t it?”
“We’ll be here a day or two yet.”
“I don’t understand the need. Take us back to town now. I’ll make it all right with my father.”
Jack’s grin broadened. “Can’t take anyone anywhere. We’re snowed in. Looks like we’ll all be here for several days.”
Georgie uttered a cry of distress, and when Hobb had brought the coal and left, locking the door behind him, she looked at Peter. “What are we going to do?”
“There’s nothing we can do about the weather. He’s right there.” He felt her shiver. “If you sit down, I’ll put some more coal on the fire. It’s grown cold in here.”
But she didn’t sit down. Instead she pulled the cloak round herself and wandered across to the window, staring out over an expanse of dazzling white. That horrid man was right. They were trapped here. No one would be able to rescue her even if they knew where she was. Tears trickled down her cheeks and she kept her back to the room, trying to control her emotions. She had never felt so helpless in her whole life.
Peter came across and put his arms round her from behind, staring out with her. After a while he turned her round gently, set his hands on her shoulders and looked at her very solemnly. “When we get back—well, I don’t know what your brother will say. He’ll be furious and rightly so, but if he feels it that we should marry because your good name is compromised, then I can think of nothing I’d like better.”
“That’s just what your father wants.”
He sighed. She was right and there was no changing that. “I know. I’m so sorry, Georgie. I hate my father. He made my mother’s life a misery and has done the same to mine. I’m trapped with him because I have no money of my own and wasn’t brought up to earn any.”
“What about the mill? That’ll be yours one day.”
“Have you seen it? It must be the most miserable place on earth and he treats his operatives abominably. It sickens me to see the poor creatures. You must have seen them, too. They’re half-starved, utterly worn down by life. As for the children . . . they’re all shrunken and worn. That’s the worst thing of all, to see the children.”
“When the mill’s yours, you can change all that, surely?”
He gave a mocking laugh. “What do I know about running a mill? Anyway, my father will probably live till he’s ninety and I’ll die first.”
“Why is he so eager for you to marry me? Is it for my money?”
“Not really. He wants grandchildren whom he can train in his own ways. He thinks I’m too much of a fool to bother with.”
“I don’t think you a fool.”
“I’m glad of that, at least.”
She continued to look out of the window and lean against him, feeling comforted by his closeness. It suddenly occurred to her that he had just proposed to her and she gave a wry smile. Not how she’d expected her first proposal to be made. And yet . . . he was gentle and kind and she felt at ease with him, even now. “You know, I think I’d like to marry you, Peter.”
He kissed her cheek. “You must be the only woman in the world who would.”
“Don’t be silly.”
He laughed and kissed her nose, then they went back to the fire, she sitting on the only chair and he sitting on a folded blanket at her feet. After a while he leaned against her knees with a weary sigh and she dared to stroke his hair. They passed the day chatting, never short of something to talk about, sharing memories of their childhoods, sharing too their hopes for the future.
“You don’t see me as a child, do you?” she asked at one stage.
“No. I see you as a woman—and a very desirable one, too.”
She smiled, a secret, satisfied smile. With him she felt like a woman and was glad it was just the two of them and that those horrible men were elsewhere.
If she married Peter, she’d have someone all her own—and a life of her own, too. As long as old Mr Brindley didn’t interfere.
But would Ben let her? Would he allow her the money she’d inherited so that she and Peter could make a new life for themselves?
And what did old Mr Brindley intend to do with them when they got back? She was sure he’d have made plans to take over their lives and force them to do as he wished. He was that sort of man.
Whatever his plans, she’d be ruined unless she married Peter. She was well aware of that.
But she wasn’t having Owd Noll bringing up her children, not under any circumstances. She’d have to persuade Ben to intervene and help Peter. Surely he would?
* * * *
They planned to set out at first light, Ben and seven of his men, Mr Hough and Martha. He left Ross Turner in charge of the mill and instructions with Sally and Hepzibah to provide warm drinks and soup for the operatives at midday, if they could, for it was still bitterly cold. He sent the same instructions to Gerry Cox, telling him to get Brindley’s housekeeper to do the necessary cooking.
The messenger said Cox had looked dumbstruck when he heard this.
Ben made sure each of the men going with him was warmly clad, delaying the start to raid the attics again for extra garments for those whom he knew to be short of money and therefore of warm underclothes.
Then they set out, tramping through the slush in town then making their way up into a white landscape, where shadows looked blue in the distance, black close at hand. The going was hard, but the thaw had got rid of some of the snow, and as long as they kept to the roads which were clearly marked by the dry-stone walls running on either side of them, they managed.
As they got right out on the moors, however, the going became more difficult and their pace was inevitably slowed.
Martha was well aware that Ben was watching her surreptitiously. Well, let him watch! She was doing no worse than the other men and it was a relief to be out of the house, in spite of the cold wind chafing her face. She was secretly delighted by the trousers, finding them so much easier to walk in than long skirts and petticoats.
At one point Daniel came to walk beside her. “Penelope was right.”
“About what?”
“You’re a good walker.”
She smiled at him. “I think she’s right about you, too. You’ll make her a kind, loving husband.”
His beaming smile lit up his whole face. “I still can’t believe it.”
She couldn’t help being a little jealous of the joy he and Penelope showed at the mere mention of each other’s names. No wonder her sister had seized this chance for happiness, even though the world might call it a mismatch.
When Ben came to walk beside her a little later, he greeted her with a scowl so she scowled right back.
“How are you going, Martha?”
“As you can see, I’m fine.”
“Hmm.” He trudged along beside her without speaking.
Of course it would have to be just then that she slipped and nearly fell. And he would have to catch her! “Thank you.” She let go of him and started moving again.
“Please go back, Martha!”
“Just because I nearly fell? Certainly not. Several of the men have fallen. It’s unavoidable in conditions like these.” She heard him mutter something under his breath which sounded like, “Stubborn fool of a woman”, but didn’t challenge him. She needed her breath for walking. They all did.
Soon after that they reached Mr Hough’s farm, where his wife burst into tears of relief at seeing him come home safely, then started laughing at herself within the minute for being so foolish. She insisted on everyone crowding into her kitchen, regardless of the moisture they carried in with them even after kicking their snowy feet and legs against the outer wall.
She made them a hot drink and a jam butty each—which Martha found to be a slice of newly-baked bread, with butter and jam spread thickly over it. She ate her butty with relish and by the time Mr Hough’s son Ted had got ready to lead one group, she was quite ready to set off again. When Ben looked at her and frowned, she put up her chin defiantly, upon which he shook his head and gave her a wry smile.
After about a mile, the two groups split up, Ted leading their group to the farm occupied by the widow, Mr Hough taking the others in the direction of the deserted building. By that time Martha was definitely feeling the strain of walking in such conditions, but nothing would have made her admit it, let alone go back. Besides, some of the men were clearly in the same state as she was because the snow was laying more thickly up here and made trudging along difficult.
But oh, she liked these moors, the vast spaces and rolling uplands! They seemed to call to her and she promised herself to go for long tramps across them when the weather improved, even if she had to hire a guide to do it.
Ben watched her covertly, admiring her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. She was a woman in a million and had kept up without any more difficulty than most of his men. But he couldn’t help worrying about her, all the same, just because she was a woman. If they did meet these villains, he’d make sure she was kept out of the way, by force if necessary.
Then, when this was over and his sister safe, he meant to speak to Martha, ask her if he had any chance with her. He gave a wry smile. If they could stop quarrelling for long enough. He couldn’t understand why tension sometimes sizzled between them, while at other times they got on so well together. He knew she was attracted to him, knew it as well as he knew his own feelings for her. But what did a plain man like him know about wooing and marriage? All he knew was that he loved Martha and wanted to be with her.
He thought, hoped, prayed that she loved him too. If she didn’t—he couldn’t bear to think about that . . .
Pulling himself together, he began to talk to Ted about this farm they were heading for, asking what it was like, how exactly it was situated.
* * * *
Georgie woke that morning feeling even more downhearted than usual. Their imprisonment felt to be going on and on, and it seemed as if the walls were closing in on her and the room getting smaller each time she woke. If it hadn’t been for Peter she would have gone mad, she was sure, but he was there, speaking to her gently, protecting her from Jack and Hobb’s innuendoes as much as he could, and sleeping with her in his arms every night, though he’d not touched her in any other way.