Sixpence and Selkies

by Tilly Wallace

  “Sixpence, Mrs Rossett, if you please,” he said and held out his hand.

  Mrs Rossett pressed coins into his palm and took possession of the bottle. “Thank you, Mr Seager. Now that we have Lady Wycliff at Mireworth, I shall enjoy her company on our walks across the estate to get more exercise, as you recommend.”

  The apothecary grunted and took up his pen to make a notation in the notebook with Mrs B Rossett on the front. Being ignored was their cue to leave.

  Once outside the cottage, the housekeeper glanced over her shoulder before tipping her head closer to Hannah. “Well? What did you discover?”

  “Mr Seager was indeed dispensing a tonic for Lisbeth to assist with her melancholy.” St John’s wort wouldn’t have made her stumble into the ocean, though, unless it made her sleepy? If only Hannah could consult with her mother! But the mage was unreachable while in the Fae realm.

  “Did you find Amy Miller’s book in those drawers?” Mrs Rossett asked as they walked back toward the blacksmith’s.

  “I didn’t see her name, but I only managed to flick through a few drawers before you came back in.” The state of Amy’s health notwithstanding, it seemed unlikely that a potion for lifting a mood and a fertility aid could cause symptoms severe enough to cause a woman to fall into the water.

  Mrs Rossett made a noise in the back of her throat. “When I told Mr Seager I needed fresh air, he told me to go for a five-mile walk. The cheek of him. With a disposition like that, the fellow will never marry.”

  “People used to say the same of Wycliff.” Perhaps the apothecary donned rudeness as armour, to protect himself. “He might have a reason to act like that. A broken heart, perhaps?”

  Mrs Rossett chuckled and pulled on Hannah’s arm. “Now, that would be a juicy piece of gossip. Yes, I can see him giving his heart to some woman who treated him cruelly, and so vowing to treat others the exact same way.”

  “I am sure Mr Seager is not a lost cause. He simply hasn’t found the right person to worm under his armour. Now, shall we see how the decoration of the hall is coming along?” Hannah steered the housekeeper toward the squat building next to the tavern.

  Much to her delight, many more women and children had volunteered to help make the seashell garlands to use as decorations. Completed ones had even been dropped into baskets left outside the hall. Two women draped the garlands from the hanging lanterns, under the watchful eye of Libby Tant.

  “It’s going to look marvellous,” Hannah said after she greeted the women.

  “The paintings are not far away. Moira is making them on stiffened cloth that we can attach to hooks.” Libby rubbed her belly with one hand.

  “I do appreciate the work you are doing, Mrs Tant. I hope you are not overtaxing yourself?” Hannah worried the woman might give birth to child number four right there on the floor.

  She laughed. “Oh, no, this one’s a week away yet. A woman comes to know when the time nears. With any luck, I will still be able to attend the dance.”

  Hannah decided that the ability to sense an impending birth was one mystery she didn’t need to understand. “If you are sure, your help is most appreciated.”

  “From what I remember of you as a youngster, Libby, you and Sarah were always organising the other children.” Mrs Rossett touched a dangling starfish and it rotated on its string.

  “That we were, Mrs Rossett. Always better to be busy.” The children abandoned their play and encircled their mother, clamouring for her attention. “There is one thing we need to organise, Lady Wycliff. Mr Cramond has some old fishing nets we can use, if someone could fetch them from him. He doesn’t need them anymore since he has taken over the Miller farm.”

  Hannah spied an opportunity for a quiet conversation with Mr Cramond. “I don’t mind going. Shall I return you to Mireworth first, Mrs Rossett?”

  “Yes, milady. Mary and I have dinner to start.” The housekeeper gave the starfish another poke.

  The two women took their leave and returned to fetch the cart. Hannah deposited Mrs Rossett back at the estate and turned the horse in the direction of the rundown farm, now the responsibility of Mr Cramond. Hannah slowed the horse to a walk along the road toward the house.

  “Oh, dear,” she murmured. She thought Mireworth appeared dire, but the former home of the Millers appeared to be inhabited by nothing but weeds, chickens, and vermin.

  Mr Cramond straddled the roof, replacing slates. His shirt was rolled up to his elbows and a red handkerchief was knotted around his neck. He climbed down the ladder on seeing her, and approached as Hannah looped the reins around the brake and climbed down from the cart.

  “Lady Wycliff.” He touched the brim of his cap and then wiped dirty hands on his trousers.

  “Good day, Mr Cramond. I don’t envy you the job ahead of you.” Yet, as Hannah looked again, she saw the signs of a man determined to wrest his holding back from the brink and make it profitable. Much like Wycliff.

  The porch was swept, the windows cleaned, and broken panes had fresh wood covering the gaps as a temporary measure. Sheep grazed on tuffs of grass and weeds to bring the pasture back under control. The barn doors were wide open and an enormous pile of old hay and manure to one side indicated the interior had likewise received a thorough cleaning.

  “Nothing wrong with a bit of hard work, especially when it will bring its own rewards when the farm is producing again.” He stood with hands on hips as he surveyed his new home, but a sadness lingered in his eyes.

  “I’m sure it will not take you long, given how industrious you have been. I am here to fetch the nets you kindly said we could use as decoration for the celebration ball.” A chicken crossed Hannah’s path, its head cocked as it stalked an insect.

  “They’re just over here. I’ll load them into the back of the cart.” He gestured to a neat pile sitting by the open barn doors.

  “Will you miss life as a fisherman?” Hannah wondered which life was harder. Both were subject to the whims of the weather and nature.

  He shook his head. “No. I turned my back on fishing after we pulled Amy from the water. His lordship’s offer was providential—I couldn’t bear to go out after that.”

  “I am so sorry. Such a tragedy when you were to be married.” Hannah prodded the subject, curious to hear his version of events.

  “Took me by surprise when she said yes, if I’m honest. For a time, I thought she was sweet on someone else.” He carried the bundle of nets to the cart and fell silent as he placed them within.

  “Oh? Was it Mr Seager?” Previously, he had intimated that Mr Seager had appeared keen on both Amy and Lisbeth.

  “I don’t know for sure. She never did say, but I saw the way he used to look at her.” He clenched his jaw and his hands dropped to his sides.

  “What do you think happened that night?” Hannah studied the cottage, wondering if Amy had made it back or not.

  Cramond stared up at the sky and tugged the cap from his head. He turned it over in his hands, as thoughts might turn over in his mind. “That we will never know. It was close to twilight and bitterly cold. Depending on the route she took home, she might have missed her footing in the dark and slipped into the water. I’m also aware some think she turned me down and I did it. But those that know me know I would never raise my hand against a woman.”

  Hannah pondered that course of events. Previously he had said that Amy needed to tell someone of their engagement. What if it wasn’t her grandfather, but Mr Seager she had spoken to, to decline his advances? It was quite true that some thought Amy had refused Mr Cramond and he had struck her, or that her grandfather had flown into a rage. Which version was the true account?

  Mr Cramond patted the horse. “Amy and I had talked about the future, and I said I would farm this land with her and make it productive again. Maybe, in time, I’ll find another lass to share the road ahead, but I won’t love another like I did Amy.”

  The young man’s voice held such sadness that Hannah reached out and touched hi
s forearm. “She will always have a place in your heart, but I hope that when you are ready, another will bring some sunlight into your life.”

  He swallowed and managed a weak smile. “Mayhap. One day. I have too much work to do first, and no time for love.”

  No time for love. The words echoed through Hannah as he handed her up into the cart. Was that how Wycliff felt? That the needs of the estate left no time for love?

  16

  The next day Wycliff had not needed Frank, nor Barnes, since he was tethered to the larger man. Not wanting to waste the opportunity of having Frank at her disposal, Hannah and the others decided to tackle the walled garden. A new maid, Charlotte, had been engaged to assist Mrs Rossett and to look after the vegetable garden. If Hannah and Wycliff were to spend more time at the estate, it made sense to have the kitchen garden productive once more.

  They spent a busy morning pulling weeds and clearing beds, and Frank took charge of the wheelbarrow, dumping the rubbish on the growing compost heap. Another job for Charlotte would be adding horse manure from the stables, and turning the compost pile to create a rich fertiliser for the garden.

  With sweat running down between her shoulder blades, Hannah rested in the shade for a few minutes. She watched Frank assisting Mary. The big man grinned constantly in Mary’s presence, and she often giggled and swatted at him, her hand lingering upon him. A tug at her sleeve made Hannah look down. Barnes sat next to her on the bench.

  “What do you think of your country excursion so far, Barnes? Are you enjoying yourself?” To date, the hand had stayed out of trouble and mostly within his range of Frank. Only once had Hannah spotted Frank stalking across the paddock with Barnes dragging behind him, pulled through the grass by the invisible tether.

  The hand gave a thumbs up. Then he tapped on the gold ring on Hannah’s left hand and pointed to Frank and Mary.

  “Will they get married? I really don’t know, Barnes. It is clear they have affection for one another, but I think Mrs Rossett is quite right. Frank won’t ever be able to articulate the question, and Mary would faint dead away if she ever had to ask him.” Hannah wondered if she should intervene and ask them their intentions, but that would remove some of the romance of having someone propose.

  The hand was his version of silent, meaning he sat very still. Then he snapped his thumb and middle finger as though he’d had an idea, and jumped off the bench to run along the garden path.

  The next morning, Hannah woke alone. As usual. More unusually, she had spent the night alone for the first time since she had come to Mireworth.

  “Did Wycliff not return from looking at the sheep last night?” Hannah took her usual spot at the kitchen table and reached for a piece of toast.

  “No, milady. The shepherds have gathered with their flocks for the summer shearing, and he camped out with them. Knowing those men, they were probably awake half the night telling each other tall tales around the fire.” Mrs Rossett poured hot chocolate from the pot into a cup for Hannah.

  “Oh.” The days without his company were tolerable when she had their nights to look forward to. Now even those had been taken from her. “I might go for a walk after breakfast and explore a bit more of the area.”

  “Very well, milady. With Mary and Charlotte’s help, I will start the baking for the big picnic tomorrow, when we all gather to help with washing and shearing the sheep.” Mrs Rossett opened the doors to her cavernous larder.

  “I will be back to help however I can later on. I find myself in need of a walk this morning.” While Hannah had no direction in mind when she left the house and let the spaniel dictate their path, she had a purpose: to be able to think. The bright chestnut dog with her floppy ears chased a scent back and forth. As they walked, the crash of waves against rock and the call of seagulls replaced the chirp of birds and rustle of leaves.

  When they reached the path worn along the side of a hill, Hannah climbed over tussocks. Picking a spot at random, she sat on the grass. She pulled her knees up and hugged them as she stared out at the ocean. Waves foamed and slapped the rock below as though water and earth argued. A vast expanse of sea drew her eye to the horizon, the line smudged where ocean met sky.

  Hannah had come to Mireworth with hopes and expectations that had erupted into joy when Wycliff took her in his arms on their first night. Then, the morning had dashed cold water over those dreams when she had awakened alone. She foolishly thought their new physical intimacy would be the missing piece to bring them together in a true marriage. Yet every day she found herself more alone, as Wycliff grew more distant.

  Hannah’s heart ached and it seemed the breeze picked up her dreams and scattered them over the unfathomable ocean. Tears rolled down her cheeks and were whisked away by the salty wind. Sheba huddled into her side and offered her warmth. One hand rested on the spaniel’s head like an anchor point while her mind crashed with thoughts like a stormy sea.

  She stared down at the dog. “I don’t know what to do, Sheba.”

  Common sense dictated that she sit her husband down and tell him how she felt. An image appeared in Hannah’s mind of a hen-pecked husband listening with deaf ears, as his wife read from a long scroll detailing his faults. She would never be such a wife. For truly, apart from their growing more distant every day, she had little to complain about.

  Having discovered through introspection that she loved her husband, she found herself at a loss as to what to do with that knowledge. Life had seemed easier when they dealt with each other as colleagues with a mutual admiration. Love skewed the partnership and dropped a heavy weight onto one side of the scales if there were nothing to balance it. If there could be some tiny indication from Wycliff that he felt the same way, Hannah would consider speaking up and exposing her heart. Then, it would be worth the risk.

  A figure in a dark, swirling coat walked along the narrow path. He stopped as he drew near to where she sat and touched the brim of his hat. “Lady Wycliff, what a pleasant surprise.”

  “Mr Hartley.” Hannah couldn’t smile, the sadness flowing through her body too deep to allow it.

  He narrowed his gaze at her. “I say, is everything quite all right?” Before she could reply, he climbed up the hill and sat next to her. He stared out at the sea, painted in deep tones of green and blue with white crests. “You have chosen a lovely spot to think. But I wonder that the view alone is not helping sort through your troubles.”

  Hannah drew a ragged sigh and dashed the salt traces of tears from her face. “I am sorry, Mr Hartley, I am not good company at the moment.”

  He smiled and leaned closer. He sat on the side more buffeted by the wind and his larger frame acted as a shield. “I shall let you in on a secret, Lady Wycliff. I am rather good at offering a listening ear or a handkerchief to those in need. Some would say it is something of a vocation.”

  That made a small chuckle puncture her dark mood like the flash of a firefly. “I have so much to be grateful for, it seems churlish to bend your ear with my small woes.”

  Warmth simmered in his eyes that, combined with his tone, created a much needed offer of friendship. “I have a responsibility to all my flock. Anyone who is lost is deserving of my time, regardless of their station in life. And if you will forgive my impertinence, Lady Wycliff, you do look as though you are lost at sea without an anchor to steady you.”

  If she were lost at sea, an anchor would send her straight to the bottom. What she needed was a boat and a hand to haul her in. Rather than picking holes in the reverend’s analogy, though, she laced her hands over her knees and stared at them. Her fingers made a kind of boat with the ocean in the background. If she raised her thumbs, they could almost be masts or sails.

  Could she save herself from the ocean inside her? Where did one even start in unburdening such problems? Some were far too intimate to share with anyone, even Lizzie. Hannah doubted the duke rose early, abandoning his bride to awaken alone with only cold sheets beside her, and an emptiness within. No. Harden would sleep
late with Lizzie in his arms and only rouse to seek breakfast for her. Which brought to mind another concern—Lizzie had still not replied to any of Hannah’s messages, and she could not help but worry.

  Hannah let out a long sigh and picked a mundane issue to share with Mr Hartley. “I was never born to this position. While my mother held a high rank when she was alive, my father and I lived a relatively quiet life in her shadow. I find Lady Wycliff has many responsibilities to both the tenants on the estate and the wider community, and I am unaccustomed to having such expectations held of me.”

  “It can be a lonely road to walk, if you do not have a companion at your side. But I am sure Lord Wycliff is helping you settle into Mireworth.” His eyes pierced her and sought out a true answer.

  Hannah swallowed. Wycliff had promised to teach her to swim, but she found herself drowning on dry land. “Wycliff has many responsibilities of his own. There is much to be done to revive the estate,” she murmured.

  Sheba squirmed at her side, their spot too cold for a snooze. She was growing impatient at the inactivity when there were rabbits to flush out of the long grass.

  “You do not have to be alone, Lady Wycliff. I offer my services to share your burden. You have only to take my hand, as it were.” A serious glint lit Mr Hartley’s eyes.

  Why couldn’t her husband extend such an offer? How easy it would be to unburden herself to the reverend. But a tiny voice made her hold back. “Thank you, Mr Hartley, that is a generous offer. Perhaps you could offer your assistance in directing my efforts toward the tenants? I do not want to pry and they are somewhat reticent around me, but I want to help those who need it the most.” Much could be made easier in their lives if leaky roofs were mended and empty tummies filled. Either pride or embarrassment seemed to be stopping the tenants from bringing their problems to the new Lady Wycliff.