Once Beloved (12 page)

“What happened?” Frowning down at the ground, Vanessa picked her way carefully around some large ruts.

“When I left Gran's house, the skies were ominous. Much worse than today. Still, I thought I could get home before the rains began. I was very wrong. I'd just reached this main road when the skies opened. Within minutes, my clothes were sopping, and the package was soaked through.” Even now, she could feel the chill and the weight of her waterlogged cloak and skirt. “The rain came so hard and so fast that I ended up walking in mud up to my ankles and was at risk of losing my boots. At one point, I lost my footing, and my left leg got stuck in a deep rut that I hadn't seen because of all the water on the road. The mud was so heavy I couldn't pull myself out.” A bitter taste flooded her throat as a flare of panic raced through her. She'd been trapped and alone. So long ago, and yet the sensations were imprinted on her skin. “I remember getting down on my hands and knees to try to work my foot loose. So then I was up to my elbows, my dress completely covered. I could feel dirt spattering on my face as the rain continued to pour. It was so cold and slimy, and that awful mud was everywhere.”

A noise of disgust lifted her out of the memory, and Vanessa's horrified expression made her chuckle. If anyone would appreciate the total awfulness of the situation, it would be her fastidious niece.

“Oh, my sweet, it was even worse than you can imagine! I was no stranger to dirt and muck, having grown up on the farm, but this was truly a mud bath. And not the kind of mud bath that's come into fashion recently. It was in no way soothing or medicinal.”

“It sounds ghastly!”

“Let's not forget that not only was I practically immersed, I was also immobilized. At one point, I tried to scoop the mud away from my leg, but I still couldn't see very well because of the murky water that had collected in the rut. I could only feel the mud flowing in as fast as I tried to dig it away. ” She shivered now at the memory and felt panic returning, rising. Only one thought could calm her. “So you can imagine what a sight your uncle encountered.”

“Oh, Auntie, how mortifying! That was how he found you?”

“Worse than that, dear, it was how he almost ran me over in his gig! There I was, bent over, plastered with mud, in the middle of a raging storm. Anyone driving by could have mistaken me for a boulder, I'm sure, if they saw me at all. I didn't even hear or see him until he had passed me and called his horse to halt. When he stepped down, oh, you can't imagine my combined relief and horror. Here was a stranger, a gentleman by his bearing and attire, and there I was, trapped and covered in muck. I was entirely at his mercy.” He'd been such a welcome sight! Thinking back, she should have been at least a little fearful of him, given her vulnerable position. But she hadn't been. He'd been her savior, her strong and handsome knight rescuing her in her hour of distress. Yet again, she marveled now at how fortunate she'd been. How many girls had had those same thoughts only to find far too late that it was all an illusion? “When he saw my predicament, he simply yanked me up and out of the hole and asked me where I lived.”

No need to mention how he'd reached into the muddy water to gauge the depth of the rut, how her skin had burned at the fleeting stroke of his hand against her leg, how her whole body had reacted to his nearness.

“I tried to tell him that I could make my way home on my own, but he wouldn't hear it. Said his mother would never forgive him for leaving a woman in such a predicament. So he drove me home. By the time we arrived, it was near dark and the storm had grown even stronger. My parents were so relieved that I was safe. They invited him to stay for the night since the roads to Bradford, where he was staying, would be impassable. That was how our courtship began.”

No need to tell Vanessa about the heart of it, the way he'd talked with her on that drive as if they were the only two people on Earth, as if her thoughts and opinions mattered, as if he wanted to assuage all her curiosity about the wider world and indulge her adventurous ambitions. Within a fortnight of their meeting, she'd built quite grand plans about traveling Europe with him, about exploring Greek ruins together, about ocean voyages and train expeditions. When he'd proposed marriage a few weeks into their acquaintance, it had felt as if she were dreaming. Even now, it felt as if she'd inhabited a fantasy world. His sweet deference, appearing only in his most private, most vulnerable moments, had completely enthralled her. And everything he'd shown her about himself remained true throughout their marriage. God, she missed him so!

“Auntie! Watch your step!” Vanessa's abrupt exclamation pulled her from her reverie, and she just barely skipped around some muck in the road, pulling her skirts tight against her. She blinked as she took in their surroundings, surprised at how far they'd gone without her noticing. They should have left the road already to cross the fields toward home.

“This way,” she said as she led the way into the grass, following a line of trees up over a gentle hill. In the shade, the cool scent of earth and moss brought her back to the present moment.

Vanessa asked, “What's that horrible cacophony?”

“T
hat sound, Vanessa, means we're about to meet quite a lively Tparty.”

As they crested a ridge, the discordant noises coalesced into the natural symphony of what must have been a hundred sheep or more roaming the hillside. At the sight, a hitch in Helena's throat left her momentarily speechless. She was twelve again, she and her mother on their way home from visiting neighbors, watching her father in the saddle talking to the sheep as if they were his children. Now a stray breeze tried to dry the tears welling in her eyes. Those days were long past. These were just sheep, nothing more. Sheep roaming naturally, until such time as their shepherd came to collect them.

An indelicate outburst from her niece caught her attention.

Apparently, a ram had taken an interest in Vanessa's skirt and was now butting up against her, advancing each time she retreated. “Go away, you silly sheep! Oh, do go away!”

“You need to be a bit more forceful than that, Ness! Try an angry ‘Shoo shoo!' and perhaps follow it with a gentle push.”

She had to stifle a laugh when Vanessa's “shoo” came out more as a whimper than a command. But then she heard “Oh, no, you don't! My dress is not your dinner! You go on and shoo! There's plenty of grass around for you to eat. I'll not appear slatternly because of a sheep who can't tell real flowers from fake ones.” That was the Vanessa she knew.

Unfortunately, it still didn't have the desired effect. The animal kept on nibbling, and the strain on Vanessa's skirt became obvious. She rushed over to her niece and attempted to grab the ram, but he wouldn't budge. What she wouldn't give for a turnip to distract the stubborn thing! Vanessa shrieked and fell onto her side trying to free herself.

A sharp whistle pierced the air just as she caught sight of a collie bounding toward them. A moment before the dog came nose-to-nose with its target, the ram abruptly released Vanessa's skirt and turned away with characteristic nonchalance, as if nothing had happened, as if he'd simply become bored with his prey and moved on of his own accord. Hoofbeats rumbled through her, followed by deep chuckling. A deep familiar chuckle. When she looked around, it was hardly a surprise to see Mr. Lanfield dismounting from his ever-present Talos and a young man pulling his horse up alongside. In a well-worn coat and woolen trousers, this Daniel Lanfield looked different from the way he had in London. Larger. Sturdier. With the broad rim of his hat shading his face, he looked more relaxed as well. This man exuded a warm, easy familiarity that confounded her. Despite her better judgment, she felt the urge to respond in kind.

“I suppose this little troublemaker must be one of yours, Mr. Lanfield,” she called out.

“That he is. And you're no better now at controlling them than you were at age twelve, Lark,” he boomed in reply with a broad smile that lightened her heart. “Your father taught you better than that.”

The nickname jarred her. She hadn't heard it in decades, and to hear it from him was completely disorienting. Father's voice.
Since you're up so early, Lark, you can help me check on the lambs.
So often, as a child, she had been the first one awake in the house and would greet her parents with nonstop chatter when they appeared to start the day. Even as she grew into a young woman, the name had stuck.
Give your ma a moment's quiet, Lark.
She'd last heard it the morning she'd left with Captain Martin, her parents unaware of her imminent escape. She nodded and turned away to watch the headstrong ram getting herded away. She swallowed hard, blinking back the stinging in her eyes. The past was much too present today. And she could not, for the life of her, make sense of Mr. Lanfield's transformed demeanor. By the shuttered look on his face now, apparently he'd been just as surprised by his friendly approach as she had.

A frustrated growl from her niece drew their attention.

“Away with you, Meno, you scamp! That's no way to win a lass's good graces,” the young man said, fondly, as he came right up to the ram and nudged it away with a short crook. Even then, the beast took some convincing. But the lad's manner remained easygoing. Then he looked at Vanessa with a boyish Lanfield smile that magnified Helena's awareness of days long past. Both the Lanfield brothers had that smile. “Are you well, miss?”

“That beast is a menace!” Vanessa said, not at all amused by the animal. Her cheeks were a bright red, and her bonnet askew. “My skirt is ruined!”

“He's too fond of billowy fabrics. My mother almost turned him into dinner after he got to some sheets she had drying outside.”

Despite the lad's kind manner, Helena could see the telltale signs that Vanessa's emotions were running high. Kneeling to examine the skirt, Helena replied, “It's hardly ruined, dear. Not to worry.” She could hear brusqueness in her voice and cringed inwardly. Mr. Lanfield's unexpected appearance had disturbed her; he set her emotions whirling in chaos because she didn't know what to make of him or his changed attitude. She needed to take control of the situation, both on behalf of her and her niece. “You're perfectly capable of sewing those tears. It won't take long. A little mending and cleaning and it should be good as new.” She turned to Lanfield's companion and said, “Thank you, young man, for your concern.”

“But, Aunt Helena—” Vanessa shut her mouth. Helena had long ago mastered the look, that look mothers give their children to curtail undesirable behavior. She was pleased it worked as well on her nieces and nephews as on her own children.

She tilted her head subtly toward the men, hoping her niece would perceive the reminder and compose herself. Vanessa brushed her hands on her skirt and straightened.

“Thank you, gentlemen. I am well, I assure you. No real harm done.” Vanessa curtsied prettily, but then whispered furiously, “Auntie, look at these huge holes that beast ripped out of my skirt. Patching them will look ridiculous.”

“We can make it a new fashion trend,” she replied lightly. “It's just a skirt. And, anyway, it isn't like you to be this flustered over your apparel.”

“It isn't just the skirt, Aunt Helena!” Vanessa's voice rose, as did the redness spreading from her cheeks to the rest of her face at an alarming rate. “I am entirely out of my element here. I don't wish to look ridiculous. I have no idea what to do here, how to be of use. I feel like a fool! And in front of strangers, no less!” Her niece's outburst was so unexpected that she just stared at the girl for a moment, only now seeing how much of a toll the day—the whole trip, in fact—was taking on her sheltered niece.

“Ladies,” Mr. Lanfield interjected, “may I introduce my nephew, Henry, my brother Gordon's eldest. Now he shan't be a stranger.” When he introduced them, the lad's eyes went wide.

“Er, pleased to meet you both,” Henry said haltingly, his face turning bright red, a near match to her niece's. Did he know her as one of the notorious Thorton girls? What had he heard?

“Be a good lad, Hal, and take this lot across to the upper field, would you? The sky looks nasty.”

When Helena turned her attention back to Vanessa, the poor girl looked to be near tears. “Nessa, dear, I realize this has been a great change for you, but you are doing quite well. You judge yourself too harshly.”

“It's not just me, and you know it.” Her niece looked at her pointedly. “Everything is different here, and those people so unpleasant!”

“Has someone been rude to you, Miss Vanessa?” Mr. Lanfield interjected, jogging the rest of the remaining distance to them, his expression no longer relaxed, his jaw tense. Although her niece didn't answer, the girl's downcast expression spoke volumes. “What have they said to you?”

Vanessa looked at her questioningly, but she shook her head. Clearly, he knew the general sentiments in the air, but they didn't need to draw him into the conflict directly. She would handle the village's censure without his involvement. But the twist of her niece's mouth said she'd come to a different conclusion.

“Vanessa, we should be on our way!” Helena said quickly to forestall her. “Gran will be missing us!”

“Hold a moment, Mrs. Martin, if you please,” Mr. Lanfield commanded, his face dissected by lines radiating from his narrowed eyes and tight frown. She bristled, but before she could respond, he added, “Miss Vanessa hasn't answered my question. And you, in your attempt to brush me off like a fly, have given more than enough of an answer. What happened?”

“Nothing that need concern you. We really must be going,” she said decisively, as Vanessa wailed, “It was terrible!”

“Mrs. Martin,” he said softly. Concern emanated from him as he touched her forearm lightly. “I can help you, if you'll let me.”

“Please, Auntie, tell him about that miserable woman.”

Her niece had grown comfortable with Mr. Lanfield during the trip, and their combined front now did not bode well. She could hold out against one of them indefinitely, but if they worked together, her chances of dealing with the resentful villagers on her own terms became much, much slimmer. And that hand! The warmth of his hand through the cotton of her sleeve. That slight touch soothed her inexplicably. She liked it too much. It reminded her of other things she liked about his nearness.

“It is of no consequence. The village shop wouldn't sell to me,” she admitted. “Vanessa managed to convince the clerk to let us purchase a few things for Gran's benefit. She can tell you more; I left the store to avoid further escalation.” Clearly about to burst, Vanessa glanced at her gratefully before launching into the story, full of indignation, her voice growing louder and more strident. Mr. Lanfield responded with sympathy, echoing the girl's sentiments. His nostrils flared when Vanessa mentioned the insults the woman had called them. He would take on the role of avenging angel, if they let him. If she let him. Such a stark change in less than a week's time. When he'd walked away from her at the Crystal Palace, he'd worn the look of a man who'd just avoided getting sucked into a fetid cesspool. He'd turned his back without another glance. Now he looked at her in an entirely different way—as if he cared, as if her well-being mattered to him.

“Naught has changed,” he said. “After your aunt left the village, she became Eve herself with all of Marksby being cast from Paradise, or at least the hope of Paradise. The myth was embraced and passed down. Lasses are taught not to be vain or selfish, else they follow the same path as
that Thorton girl
.”

“You said people held a grudge,” Helena said, chagrined. “I didn't expect it to persevere so vividly. Please tell me, has my family been treated with such animosity all these years?”

“No, your parents, your gran, the Thorton farm, they all suffered as terribly as the rest of the village. Poor and clemmed. They were treated with sympathy instead of hostility.”

“That's some comfort, at least!” For so long, Marskby's condemnation had been a distant unpleasantness, just an idea in her mind.

“What about my mother, Mr. Lanfield?” Vanessa asked. “She doesn't talk much about her life before London. Neither of them does.” Vanessa looked at her with an open plea.

Mr. Lanfield answered, “I cannot claim to know what your mother experienced. She didn't spend much time in public after your aunt's departure. Whether that was an effect of public condemnation or some other cause, I couldn't tell you.” Vanessa seemed unsatisfied with that response, but he continued, “I did warn you.”

He gazed out over the flock for a few minutes, but she could tell that he wasn't watching the sheep, that his mind was busy elsewhere. Then he said suddenly, “Did anyone follow you out of the village?”

“No, no one.” She was certain. She'd felt eyes on them as they left the shop, and she'd checked behind them every so often as they walked home. “Why?”

He shook his head. “Nothing really. Would you like me to escort you ladies home? In case you might have drawn some persistent attention?”

“There is no need, Mr. Lanfield,” she replied. “If anyone was going to follow us with trouble, surely they would have surfaced before now. Your nephew may need your help with the flock. You should go after him.”

“Hal's been working the fields since he was out of short pants. He knows the way. But you might have a point. The skies over there look ominous. I don't want him alone if the storm turns ugly. Are you sure?”

“Quite sure. You are too kind. We should all be getting home.”

As he turned his horse to follow his nephew, she remembered something. “Mr. Lanfield! A quick question!” At his backward glance, she called out, “Do you know who lives in that new house on this side of the river? I didn't realize my father had built anything there for tenants.”

“He didn't,” Mr. Lanfield replied. “He sold it. That's part of Lanfield property now. And as for who lives there, the house is mine.” With that, the infuriating man pointed Talos away and took off at a gallop.