‘Don’t waste your time day-dreaming about what can never be.’ He said it in a kindly way and he meant well. But he brought her back to reality with bump.
The dining room in the servants’ hall was crowded. There was a cauldron of soup being ladled into mugs by one of the kitchen maids and the huge deal tables were covered with slices of cold pie, cheese, bread and pickled vegetables. Barrels of ale and cider were tapped and the atmosphere was jovial until the visiting servants were called away as their masters and mistresses left.
Boyd went off with the coachmen to make sure the horses were steady while their occupants climbed into their carriages and Daisy tied on her sacking apron for another stint in the scullery. By the time she was finished she was dead on her feet; she kicked off her boots, took off her gown and corset and fell onto her bed for a few hours of welcome sleep. It was still dark when Annie woke her for duty the following day.
The afternoon was quiet for the Abbey servants. Visitors were shooting, or out riding and Annie took Daisy aside with a grave expression on her face.
‘There’s talk about you, young lady, putting yourself in the way of the young master.’
‘It’s not true, Annie. Honest.’
‘Did you speak to him last night at the stables?’
‘I went to see Boyd. I didn’t know Master James would be there.’
‘Very forward, you were. One of the visiting valets heard it from his young master and he told the butler. I did warn you.’
‘I was explaining—’
‘So it is true?’
Daisy resigned herself to a telling off. ‘Yes.’
‘Well, it won’t do. You’ll have to go.’
Daisy knew that already. ‘I’ll look for something in the village after Christmas.’
‘You’ve got to go now.’
‘Now? But you said you needed help for—’
‘Get your things together. There’s a cart leaving for the village after tea. You’ve got a bit of money to come from here.’
Daisy’s fear showed in her eyes. ‘I’ve nowhere to go.’
‘There’s an old woman who lives on her own down by the stream. She’ll let you have a bed for the night. It won’t cost you much.’
‘And then what?’
Annie gazed at her and shook her head. ‘There’ll be work at the Reddy Arms but I wouldn’t recommend it for you. You’re too trusting of other folk. You’ll be in the family way afore the New Year.’
‘Annie! I’m not like that.’ Daisy knew all about keeping her virtue and not being forward with young men.
‘
I
know you’re not, but the men who drink at the Reddy Arms don’t. They think beer-house lasses are there for the fellas and are easy targets for a bit of slap and tickle.’
‘Then I shall tell them I am not,’ Daisy explained patiently.
‘See what I mean? You believe that will save you from some randy young farmhand when you’ve caught his fancy? You really think that others will behave as you do? Well, they won’t. They’ll take advantage of you. I wish I didn’t have to send you away but I’ve had orders from the housekeeper. You’ve got to go today.’
‘But I’ll end up in the workhouse! Can I go and see Boyd before I leave?’
‘No, you can’t. I’ll give him a message from you.’
Daisy remembered what Biddy had told her about the butcher’s wife and asked, ‘Would you do a testimonial for me?’
‘Only the housekeeper is allowed to do that.’
‘Write me a letter then? Please? Just to say how useful I’ve been to you.’
Daisy noticed that Annie’s severe expression relaxed at this suggestion. ‘Yes, I can do that for you, but it won’t have the Abbey crest on the paper.’
‘Oh thank you! Can you address it to the butcher’s wife in the village?’
‘Mrs Farrow? Aye, you might be lucky there, if she hasn’t already got a lass.’
‘Oh Annie!’ Daisy reached forward and gave her a hug. ‘How shall I be able to thank you properly?’
‘Well, you haven’t got the position yet. But if you do you can take me for afternoon tea in the back room of the sweet shop.’ She assumed an affected position sticking out one hip, holding an imaginary teacup in her fingers and extending her little finger. ‘Just like the gentry.’
‘Milo!
‘Edgar!’
Edgar strode across to the large open fireplace in the public saloon of the Redfern Arms.
‘How long is it since we last met?’
‘It is too long, my friend. Is your chamber at the rectory comfortable?’
‘I think the word is austere. I was greatly surprised to receive the rector’s invitation. I presume I have you to thank for that?’
‘I have been in correspondence with Lord’s Redfern’s lawyers and met with my son. They changed his name, you know, from Collins to Redfern. But he’s a fine young man. He wishes to please me. So you can thank him as he is the one who can influence the estate’s advisors.’
‘The rector told me his lordship is very weak and rarely leaves his bedchamber. He will vacate the living soon after
– well, soon after his lordship passes on. It can’t be long now. He has suggested I bring my wife when I next visit the rectory. However, I fear she will be depressed by the state it is in.’
‘Tell her not to worry. When I am Lord Redfern she will live in the finest rectory in the Riding. I shall keep my promise to you, Milo.’
‘Thank you, Edgar. I’ve waited the best part of twenty years since I learned of your plight and heard about the Blackstone girl.’
‘It’s a pity it didn’t work out exactly as planned. Life could have been better for both of us.’
‘Do you think the girl came from tainted blood?’
Edgar shrugged. ‘Her madness is certainly not my doing. She was highly strung from the outset.’
‘It’s just as well we took her children away when we did.’
‘Indeed. But dear God, his lordship was hard on me, asking me to give up my son. As I remember, you counselled me in favour of handing him over.’
‘You had no choice and it was for your son’s good. You were not in a position to educate him without Lord Redfern’s backing and he was uncompromising in his demands,’ Milo pointed out.
‘We shall not argue, my friend. Not when my inheritance is so close. I am the next heir after all and I wasn’t to know that his lordship would be so obstinate about Mama and me.’
‘Or that he would take so long to die.’
‘There is a Dower House on the estate. It’s a horse-ride from the church but it would be perfect for your family until the rectory is ready for them.’
‘That’s very generous of you, Edgar. I was afraid you’d have Mrs Wortley there. Will you leave her at Ellis House?’
Edgar expressed surprise. ‘I’ve already given notice on the lease. Prudence will move into the Abbey with me.’
‘Edgar, you cannot do that! I thought when we spoke of the matter before, that you understood your responsibilities. Your actions will create an enormous scandal. It will jeopardise James’s prospects. You must think of his future. He is well placed to marry a duke’s daughter.’
Edgar rubbed the palms of his hands over his face. ‘I need Prudence beside me, Milo, old boy.’
‘That may be so, but you cannot have her living with you as your mistress in Redfern Abbey. Please, also, consider that I shall be your vicar. I am your friend but I cannot condone it and to ask me to do so is to compromise my position before I start!’
Edgar was shaking his head. ‘I must have her with me.’
‘Edgar, you have a wife! Invalid or not, society will expect to see her by your side.’
‘But I’ve told everyone she’s mad!’
‘Then why have you not had her declared insane and sent to an asylum? Milo demanded. ‘She could cause you a deal of trouble once she is Lady Redfern. As I recall, she had a strong will.’
‘Not any more. She took to the laudanum and cares only for her next dose.’
‘Is that so? Then she needs to be put away now. When did you last have news of her?’
‘I used to receive reports from Mrs Roberts. But she hasn’t written for any money for years so I suppose all is well.’
‘Do they have income from the farm?’
‘How should I know? There was enough land left with the farmhouse to provide a living.’
‘I think you ought to find out, just in case the estate lawyers ask about her.’
Edgar thought about this and grimaced. ‘I see what you mean. I don’t want any trouble for Prudence.’
‘Or for James, either. You really must not have Mrs Wortley living with you in the Abbey,’ Milo repeated. ‘It is not only our local county society who will be watching you very closely.’
‘But I can’t live without her now.’
‘You have to. Send her back to Leeds. And take care how you speak of your wife. She may be an invalid who needs the Dales air, but she will be Lady Redfern too.’
Edgar’s thoughts were greatly troubled by his conversation with Milo. He had no intention of giving up Mrs Wortley. Perhaps he ought to have Beth declared insane immediately and put away for good? Society might sympathise with his need for another woman then, or even another wife if he was able to divorce Beth. Insanity would be less scandalous than adultery before a judge.
Milo, more sensitive to his respectable position in the clergy and the future for his own children, hoped that Edgar would see sense. Nonetheless he was taken aback when he returned to his parish to find that Abel Shipton was demanding an audience with him. He had refused to go away until they had spoken. His persistence had caused much agitation for his wife and so Milo relented.
Abel wasted no time on pleasantries. ‘I have been to your former parish and know where you placed Daisy. You will be good enough to sign this letter to confirm that she is Beth Collins’s child.’
‘I shall do no such thing, sir!’
‘You knew that the couple who took her in would use
her as a servant. I am prepared to take care of her as my own.’
‘So you admit it! You are her father. I knew it!’
Abel did not respond to this slur. ‘Will you sign, or must I ask questions about the child in this parish? I know about Boyd, the merchant’s son, too. I often wondered how you paid for your fancy carriage.’
‘You wouldn’t dare! I’ll have the constable on you.’
‘And risk being the centre of a scandal yourself? I think not, Reverend.’ Abel paused and watched the clergyman’s discomfort before adding, ‘Sign, and I shall speak no further on the matter.’
Milo thought about this for a minute then said, ‘Show me the document.’
Abel watched him read it through and handed him a pen loaded with ink from his desk. Milo scribbled his signature muttering, ‘You had better keep your word, sir.’
‘I shall.’ Abel took the letter to the desk and shook blotting powder over the signature. ‘I am pleased we understand each other, Reverend Milo. I heard that Edgar was unable to heal the rift at Redfern Abbey. But at least he has his son.’
‘He does not. Lord Redfern adopted him.’
‘Lord Redfern’s ward is Edgar’s son?’ Then he was Beth’s son too! Abel concealed his surprise well. He packed away his papers, satisfied with his morning’s work, gave a formal bow and departed. Now he had good reason to visit Beth he could not wait to be on his way.
Abel Shipton surveyed his fields on High Fell with the new shepherd at Fellwick Hall.
‘They told me this parcel of land belonged to a future lord,’ the shepherd commented.
‘Does he live in the farmhouse?’ Abel enquired with a feigned innocence.
‘Don’t rightly know, sir. I don’t pass that way as a rule.’
‘Nonetheless, I shall call and pay my respects as I am in the neighbourhood.’
‘Very well, sir. Good day to you, sir.’
Abel turned his horse’s head towards the farmhouse. It was a cold overcast day but he felt a warming nervous excitement as he neared the stone-and-slate dwelling. Smoke curled from the chimney and a farmhand came out of the stable as he ambled down the track.
‘Good day to you, sir. We don’t get many visitors coming over the fell. Do you have business here?’
Abel gave his name, adding, ‘I am acquainted with your mistress. Would you ask if I might call on her?’ He had dismounted and tethered his horse when her slight figure appeared at the kitchen door. He resisted a strong urge to run towards her and embrace her. Beth too seemed to be holding on to the door, unsure of whether to step outside. She swayed and a woman appeared behind her. They waited for the farmhand to approach him. ‘Would you go inside, sir?’ he said.
Only then did Beth stretch out a hand to welcome him. ‘Abel! Oh Abel, it is so good to see you. You are well? And your business flourishes?’ She grasped his arm and tugged on it. ‘Come into the hall. We have a fine fire going today.’
Her eyes shone and her skin glowed as she introduced him to her companion. She was the same nurse that Dr Brady had engaged. ‘Margaret and I have become friends,’ Beth explained.
‘I’ll make tea,’ Margaret suggested and took a large tray from the kitchen dresser.
The kitchen seemed more cheerful than Abel remembered.
There were curtains at the windows and a vase of garden flowers on the table. In the hall, too, he noticed heavy drapes at the leaded casements and cushions on the heavy carved furniture. One end of the dining table was covered in pieces of fabric, paper, pins and thread.
‘I have interrupted your dressmaking,’ he said.
‘You have interrupted nothing. Take off your coat and hat and sit by the fire.’
‘You look well, Beth. Are you?’
‘For the most part, yes, but I have dark times when I have to keep busy. Margaret helps, of course, and I see Dr Brady every month. We take the trap to Settle.’ Her face became serious. ‘But it distresses me because people stare so.’
‘Have you taken the laudanum again?’
‘I have not touched it since you – you saved me from it. There are times when I should like to. They are the dark times. The dark times,’ she repeated sadly. Her eyes were now troubled and Abel regretted asking her how she was. Then suddenly she cheered and added, ‘But you are here and it is so – so wonderful to see you. Dr Brady told me you would come back when – when you – when you had news for me.’ She turned her large pleading eyes on him. ‘You do have news for me, don’t you, Abel?’