Indeed the ladies’ headgear fascinated Daisy too. They wore high hats with veils that covered their faces and underneath their long hair was caught up in velvet snoods. She watched one elegant lady lean down to take a glass of stirrup cup from a servant with a silver tray. The rider carefully lifted the edge of her veil to tip the warming drink down her throat.
Hungry hunt followers crowded around the trap.
‘What pies have you, miss?’
‘Bacon or mutton,’ Daisy answered automatically and handed the coppers to Mrs Farrow.
More riders walked their mounts from the stables to join the group and then the dogs arrived, snapping and yapping and wagging their erect tails, anxious to be away and pick up a scent. It seemed, to Daisy’s inexperienced eye, a scene of total chaos.
Then she heard the horn and the atmosphere became charged as riders marshalled their horses into order. Barking reached a crescendo, the pack broke away, the horn called again and the horses followed, their hooves thundering across the cold hard ground.
‘Redfern Moor!’ someone yelled. ‘He’s drawing across the moor!’ and an excited band of followers chased after them, some riding, others running and the rest walking.
‘Old reynard’ll lead them a merry dance over yonder and if he’s fast they’ll lose him. He’ll go to ground in the woods.’ Mr Farrow picked up the reins and turned the pony’s head. ‘They’ll end up in Redfern woods and walk back down the drover track. We’ll pick up the followers there.’
‘Oh, Mr Farrow,’ his wife exclaimed, ‘that track is very rocky. It’ll jolt me to pieces.’
‘You’re right. It won’t do my trap any good either.’
‘But what about the pies I have left, Mr Farrow?’ Daisy added.
‘We’ve sold the best of them,’ Mrs Farrow commented. ‘Shall we set Daisy down with her basket? She can walk back to the village when they’ve all gone.’
Daisy was ready to agree, but Mr Farrow was not. ‘She stays with us,’ he said.
‘Well, take the trap round to the stables. She can sell what’s left there.’
‘Aye. I have an interview with the steward.’
‘You have, Mr Farrow? What does he want with you?’
‘It’s business, my dear. You’ll find out soon enough.’
Daisy kept her eyes on the pie hamper on the trap floor as Mr Farrow walked the pony down the tradesmen’s track to the stables at the back of the Abbey. If Mrs Farrow knew that she knew, she wouldn’t stop pressing her until she had the truth. Anyway, she might see Boyd so Daisy cheered at the prospect. Boyd was on her side and he would have thought of a way out for her.
Mr Farrow drove the trap through the archway under the clock tower and tethered his pony while he went in search of the steward. Several coaches with monogrammed doors were lined up without their horses in the middle of the square. Outside the servants’ housing, coachmen and footmen
in liveries that Daisy had not seen before talked and laughed, huddled in small groups.
Mrs Farrow stood up suddenly. ‘I cannot sit in here any more. My toes are chilled to the bone. That’s the Fitzkeppel coat of arms on that coach over there. Surely they haven’t come back from Italy? I’m off to find out. Daisy, you run along to the stalls with your basket and find a few hungry stable lads. Half price for what’s left.’
‘Mr Farrow said I had to stay with you.’
‘Do as I say, dear. There’s a good girl.’
Effectively dismissed, Daisy did as she was told and went to look for Boyd only to find that he had been sent out early on horseback to flush out the fox. Disappointed, she left her basket on a mounting stone and wandered into the stable where Boyd kept his ponies. The doors were wide open, the stalls empty and swept. Daisy sighed. She was tired from yesterday’s baking and today’s early start. She climbed the ladder to the hayloft, which was actually full of straw, to wait for him. She took off her bonnet, lay back, closed her eyes and let her mind drift …
First of all she was aware of the straw rustling and then a soft voice.
‘Daisy?’
Where was she? For a second she could not think. She blinked. It was daylight. A piece of straw scratched at her neck and she shifted awkwardly. A pair of riding boots crossed her line of vision. Expensive boots, new boots, barely scuffed at all.
‘Daisy?’
She sat up straight. ‘Master James?’
‘I saw your pie basket on the mounting stone.’
‘What are you doing here, in that jacket?’ It was a plain dark one, the kind worn by the stable lads for church.
‘I borrowed it so I wouldn’t be noticed.’
‘But shouldn’t you be with the hunt?’
‘They won’t miss me for a while. I saw you in a trap earlier and doubled back to find you.’
Her heart leapt but her eyes were troubled. ‘You mustn’t! I’m not allowed to talk to you.’
‘Who says?’ He sounded genuinely surprised.
She looked up and saw a face that was hurt and puzzled at the same time. ‘It was Mr Stanton—’
‘Oh him? He thinks he can behave as my guardian does.’ He sounded more resigned than angry about this.
‘He doesn’t want us to be together.’
Master James sat down on the straw beside her. ‘
I
want us to be together. Since I first saw you on the track by the gates I’ve wanted to find out about you. Every time I have seen you I have wanted to know more about you.’
Daisy stared at him. She felt the same but dared not say so. ‘I shouldn’t talk to you. You’re the master and I’m a servant.’
‘It doesn’t make a difference to us, though. Does it?’ Daisy became wary and wondered what he meant. He went on, ‘I’ve tried to work out what it is that attracts me so. It’s you, just you. I want to be with you.’
‘And I you,’ she murmured.
‘Do you feel it, too?’
Daisy chewed her lip, regretting her admission, and asked, ‘What is it you want from me, Master James?’
‘I want to know who you are and why I am so drawn to you and—’ he stopped and lifted her chin gently to look directly in her eyes. ‘Why should you think I must want something from you? Because one day I shall be the master, you believe I shall demand my
droit de seigneur
from you?’
She blushed at his directness and he shook his head slowly.
‘You do not know me, Daisy, and I wish to rectify that. We must meet and talk so that we may learn about each other properly.’
‘We can’t. Mr Stanton won’t allow it.’
‘He cannot stop us. His job is to show me how the estate is run so that I’ll do the same when his lordship – when my real father inherits.’
Daisy wasn’t sure if she was supposed to know about his real father. But she did, so she asked, ‘Won’t he – your real father – want to do that for himself?’
‘He’s not interested in running the estate. It’s the only thing he and my guardian agree on, though they haven’t the least notion of it because they have never spoken to each other.’
‘Never?’
‘Apparently not,’ Master James shrugged. ‘Lawyers write letters instead.’
Daisy thought he sounded sad and could think of nothing helpful to say. Suddenly, he picked up her hand and traced the lines on her palm with his index finger. ‘I was cheered no end to see you in church and you looked so lovely in your bonnet. I wanted to stay behind and talk to you then but it was difficult to get away. Lord Redfern insists that I am beside him for most of his waking time. Are you living in the village?’
‘I have a position and lodgings at the butcher’s.’
‘You do? That is excellent news. We shall be able to meet when I’m home from the university.’
Daisy gave a slight shake of her head. ‘Mr Stanton won’t allow it.’
‘I’ve told you. He cannot dictate what I do.’
But he can order my life as he sees fit, she thought. She
pressed her lips together in a personal gesture of defiance. If Master James took her side he might persuade the steward to see reason. Yet even as the notion flitted across her mind she dismissed it. It would make the situation worse in Mr Stanton’s view. Besides, she daren’t ask Boyd to risk his position and she was already disregarding the steward’s wishes.
Master James bent his head and kissed the palm of her hand making her skin tingle. ‘You do like me, don’t you?’ he asked.
I love you, she thought. It was strange to feel this way about someone she hardly knew so she kept her silence as he turned back her cloak and pushed up her sleeve. He bent his head and very gently trailed his lips along her arm. She didn’t stop him so she supposed he had his answer.
She was finding it really difficult to resist him and made no attempt to move away. No one had so much as kissed her hand before and she became lightheaded as though she were sickening for something. As his mouth explored the crook of her elbow, the tingling spread to more private areas of her body and she wanted to kiss the luxuriant dark hair on the back of his head.
The sound of voices drifted up through the open stable door and brought her sharply back to reality.
‘I left her in the trap with my good wife, sir, but her basket is here.’
‘Well, she isn’t in here with her brother. I cannot spend any more time on this. You understand what you have to say to her?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good man. You can be sure the Abbey chef will order mutton from the new breed on your son’s farm.’
‘Thank you, sir. Good day to you, sir.’
The voices drifted away.
‘Stanton.’ Master James sat up. ‘He mustn’t find me here.’
‘He’s with Mr Farrow, my employer. I’ll go down and show myself.’
‘Very well.’ He kissed her palm again as she scrambled to her feet and picked straw off her gown. ‘Wait.’ He tugged at some persistent stalks from the back of her skirts. ‘I’ll come and find you in the village.’
He clambered after her to kiss her forehead as she climbed down the ladder but it only served to make her frown and she hoped he hadn’t noticed. She wasn’t stupid. Would anyone believe that she had not encouraged him? Reluctantly, she realised that no one would and why would they when it wasn’t true? In spite of James’s reassurance, she remembered Boyd’s warning about the gentry and the way they treated their maids.
This could come to no good at all and she would be the one to suffer. But she was unable to stop herself wondering when she would see him again and a thrill ran through her every time she thought about being with him. She couldn’t explain it; nor could she quell it for she knew he felt the same. It was as though they were meant for each other and being close to him only reinforced the attraction she – they – had felt before. She didn’t care what the steward thought, or what he said he was going to do. All she cared about was the next time she could be with Master James and she walked out into the weak winter sun certain in the knowledge that she would be with him again.
‘Well, Mr Farrow, are you going to tell me what your meeting was about?’ Mrs Farrow demanded.
Daisy was in the scullery and aware that Mr Farrow was
whispering about her to his wife. They had eaten cold goose for Boxing Day dinner. Daisy was wiping out the sink after washing the pots when she heard Mr Farrow raise his voice. ‘When you’ve finished in there, lass, come back and join us at the table. These matters concern you.’
She dried her hands quickly, took off her apron and went into the kitchen.
Mrs Farrow looked curious but beamed at her. ‘Come and sit down, lass.’
‘Well, now,’ Mr Farrow began, ‘you are indeed a lucky young woman. There’s no doubt that we shall miss you, won’t we, Mrs Farrow, but we shall not stand in your way.’
‘Just think, Daisy. You’ll be in your own cottage by next Christmas with a husband and – eee, lass, maybe even a babby. Oh I’m so pleased for you.’
A baby? She might have a baby within the year? She had no idea how to care for a baby! She protested, ‘But I don’t want to leave you. Truly, I am happy here and you need me in the tripe shed—’
‘Now then, lass. It’s true that you are the best help we’ve ever had, but we’ll find usselves another. We shall have to, for Mr Stanton is determined you will be wed early in the New Year.’
That soon! ‘But I don’t have a sweetheart,’ she explained.
‘You will have. You’re presentable and can look after a home as well as any of the village girls. With the promise of an estate cottage, you’ll have the lads queuing up for your hand.’
Mrs Farrow continued where her husband had left off. ‘When we have his name, we’ll ask him over for tea so he can court you proper.’ She gave her a conspiratorial wink.
‘But I don’t want a sweetheart yet.’
‘Don’t be silly. Of course you do. We have received an invitation to Mr Stanton’s home to let in the New Year.’
Mr Farrow added, ‘Your brother will be there and Mr Stanton will bring your suitor to ask my permission first. You’re honoured, my girl. Mr Stanton is doing this proper.’
‘New Year? But that’s next week!’ She resolved to talk to Boyd before then. Surely he could do
something
to stop this?
‘Indeed it is. I shall have you wed afore Lady Day. The steward wished for a speedy conclusion.’
‘I don’t have to say yes,’ Daisy pointed out stubbornly.
Mr Farrow’s voice took on a sterner note. ‘You do if you know what’s good for you and that brother of yours. This is not just about you, you know.’
Mrs Farrow echoed her husband’s concern. ‘I won’t have you being difficult about this. None of my girls made a fuss about the husbands we chose for them and neither will you.’
Daisy was unaware of how disgruntled and grumpy she appeared until Mrs Farrow’s tone softened and she added, ‘You’ll have new things, you know. Mr Stanton has given us, well, it’s a kind of dowry I suppose, to buy cloth for what you’ll need. The draper generally has a clear-out of his old stock come January. We’ll go there together.’ Mrs Farrow smiled brightly but Daisy did not feel at all cheerful. How was she going to get over to the stables to see Boyd before next week?
Daisy considered running away. The last time had been with Boyd and she learned from him how to survive on the road. But it had been early summer then and now they were in the depths of winter. Even gamekeepers’ huts were freezing at night and if she lit a fire the smoke would give her away. Besides, Mr and Mrs Farrow kept her too busy to get away.