Drifting Shadows

by Christine Green

  ‘You’re fooling with that maid!’ Nat burst out. ‘You leave her be, she’s mine and she knows it. And now you know it. too. An’ I’ll see that you gets a bad name, Freeman. What I say goes round here. I can get you out of work just as easily as I got you that harvest work on the Yeo farm – remember that.’ He was breathing fast, his eyes dilated and the words spitting as he spoke.

  Joseph frowned. ‘Get out,’ he said very quietly, and raised the hand holding the chisel. ‘Get out and leave that maid alone. She’s not for the likes of you, or me, probably, but I don’t want you sniffing round her any more. You hear me? And if you do bother her, I’ll deal with you and by God, if it comes to that you’ll be no use to anybody afterwards.’

  They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Nat took a step back. His mouth lifted and he showed yellow teeth in a snarling grimace. ‘Just wait,’ he growled. ‘Just wait. I’ll get you, see if I don’t.’

  Joseph waited, smiled tightly, and watched Briggs march away, leave the church and bang shut the door. No backward look. Just the sound of horse hoofs trotting off, and then the old peaceful silence returning. He rested against the pew for a long moment, breathed in a huge breath and then looked at the chisel, still in his left hand. Sharp enough to maim or even kill. But only a threat. He would never use it – never desecrate its magical use – to do anything other than carve wood. But if Briggs had taken it as a threat, then all to the good. And now – just wait and see what would happen next.

  He continued with the carving, completing the rose flower, and then started on the first leaf, and while he worked he thought of Becky Yeo and slowly he knew that he must see her again, very soon. She was in his life, in his dreams and that little trouble maker Briggs must never be allowed to take her away from him. Because – and here he paused in the middle of veining the leaf – he wanted her himself. Longed for her in a way that he had never felt before. Because she was important in some way that had only just begun to make itself clear.

  Yes, he must go and find Miss Freckles again – soon.

  Nat Briggs cornered Becky, late in the afternoon, as the light faded and the old house became shadowy. She was coming upstairs after going to the village and asking young Ruth Hext to come and start work the next morning. The Hext family was poor, father Nathan suffering with his chest and not permanently in work, so Ruth had been pleased. ‘Workin’ at the big house? Yes, I’d like that, Becky.’ Then she’d stopped. ‘I mean, I s’pose as you’re Miss Yeo now – housekeeper, are you?’

  Becky had nodded, smiled. ‘Yes, I am, Ruth, but no need to think anything’s different. Becky’ll do.’ But even as she walked home, she had known that everything was suddenly different. And of course the village would be the first to know and talk about it.

  ‘Becky!’ Now Nat had his hand on her arm, swinging her round to face him. She saw the gleam in his narrowed eyes and flinched, stepping away from him. But he came after her, this time pulling her by the waist so that she couldn’t move and found herself facing him, too close, too tightly held to escape.

  ‘Let me go. What d’you want?’ As if she didn’t know.

  He grinned, showing his teeth. ‘They’ve told you? That I wants to marry you?’

  Becky struggled. No use. He was holding her in a vice of tight arms, his rank breath warm on her half turned away face. ‘If you let me go we can talk. I won’t be treated like this. Just let me go, Nat.’

  Slowly he released her. ‘Tell me as you will. Tell me now.’

  She strengthened herself for what she knew must come as she said fiercely, ‘No, I won’t marry you.’

  ‘You got to! It’s only sense, see – me the estate bailiff and now you the one in charge here in the Manor – we can make a good pair.’ His grin sent a shiver down her back. ‘Good pickings to be had, my maid. An’ we’ll be happy, together, you an’ me in my little ole cottage. Just the two of us, warm an snug, an’ I’ll give you babies.’ He sniggered and again pulled her close. ‘Cos I’ll love you proper, Becky.’

  Footsteps approaching and she jerked herself away from him, turning and running in the opposite direction while Rupert Fielding’s sharp voice echoed down the passage. ‘Briggs? What’re you doing here?’

  In the distance she heard obsequious, muffled words from Nat. She reached the kitchen in a flurry of quick breaths and was thankful to shut the door behind her. Things had happened far too fast today and although she had told Nat she wouldn’t marry him, she knew that he would keep pestering her. It was a thought that created shadows at the back of her mind. She saw Nellie Mudge standing by the hearth, thoughts flying across her lined face and Becky knew at once that Nellie had talked to the maister and now looked ready to confront the new housekeeper.

  Becky went up to her, saying quietly, ‘I hope you understand that the idea is to take a lot of extra work off your back, Mrs Mudge. And it’s just that I’m younger – perhaps a bit stronger – and there’s so much to be done.’

  They looked at each other, and then Nellie sighed as she sat down heavily in the chair beside the fire. ‘Aye, I understand. And you’re bringing in another girl, he said. Well, that’ll leave me to do the cooking. Not what I expected, but there.’ Slowly she smiled and then added, in a lower voice, almost as if she spoke to herself, ‘O’ course, I’m not surprised. You belong to the house. Right that you should give the orders.’

  Becky pulled a stool from under the table and slowly lowered herself on to it. She frowned. ‘What do you mean, Mrs Mudge? How can I belong to the house? I don’t understand.’ But, even as she spoke, she heard Thirza’s voice going on about something bad happening. Was it to do with the Manor? With Mr Fielding? A name whispered? With Grace?

  Nellie fidgeted and bent her head. ‘No, no, I’m just speakin’ out of turn. I don’t mean nothing.’ Her eyes, shadowed but sharp, met Becky’s. She nodded and then smiled more easily. ‘You been busy today, maid. Time for a sup o’ tea. An’ you can tell me all the plans now that you got a new girl to help you. Bedrooms are finished, so it’ll be the morning room and the drawing room, I dessay. An’ you’ll have to get in a man to deal with those window frames.’

  Drinking tea all was quiet, Nellie going on about the plaster that was wet in the dairy, and how that Briggs never helped, just made trouble. She eyed Becky warily. ‘Keep away from him, maid. He’s no good. And one of these days the maister’ll learn just how bad he is….’

  Becky nodded, thinking that Rupert Fielding already had knowledge of some bad accounting – she began to wonder what else might turn up in the days ahead.

  Every day seemed shorter than its predecessor. Cleaning, turning out, taking down curtains and tapestries and pictures, searching in corners and cupboards and finding filth and spiders and even vermin, took time and stamina. Ruth Hext was a strong girl and worked well, but even so, Becky found it all tiring and thought provoking. But to keep the work up to a high standard, she reminded herself that, when the maister’s parents lived here in the Manor, it must have been a beautifully kept home. Then the thoughts developed: how could he have borne the following years when decay and dirt masked all the wonders of the old structure and its magnificent decorations? And, slowly, she came to realize that many of his old ways of neglect and loose living had changed since the accident, and then wondered if the blow on the head had liberated some old, forgotten ideas. But what with checking on his accounts, first of all with his help, and now on her own – and finding many cases of deficiencies – she was thankful each night when, candle in hand, she traipsed up the old stairs and fell on the iron bedstead.

  All her thoughts, it seemed, were of work and what must be done today. So it was a surprise when Ruth arrived one morning with the latest piece of news spreading around the village. ‘That Joseph Freeman been put off from the church over to Manaton.’ The girl’s eyes were sharp with enjoyment, gossip always bringing pleasure into dull lives.

  Becky, on her way upstairs, paused in the open doorway and looked back. ‘
Why? What happened?’ For a moment she was elsewhere; out in the dusky evening, held close in a warm, strong embrace that had comforted her, thrilled her, taken her into new worlds. His name brought it all back, and she waited for Ruth’s answer with an uneasy feeling of urgency.

  ‘Reverend Mr Broadland found the Poor Box gone. Reckoned only that Freeman could ha’ done it. So Reverend put him off right away. Left the carving unfinished, so that’s a pity, ’cos we heard as it were good.’

  The Poor Box stolen? But that was absurd. Joseph wasn’t a thief. Becky said quickly, ‘But why was he suspected of taking the money? Could have been anybody – the church is never locked.’

  Ruth tied her apron around her waist and said happily, ‘Course it were him – Mr Briggs said as how he knew Joseph Freeman for a bad one and wouldn’t never let him near such as the Poor Box if he’d had his way.’

  Nat Briggs. Becky sucked in a great breath and tried to control her rage. ‘That’s a load of rubbish,’ she snapped over her shoulder, and ran up stairs before Ruth said any more.

  In the study, taking the account book out of the locked cupboard and setting it on the table, Becky saw only Joseph’s face before her. He was smiling, looking at her with that smile that eased all her anger and pain. She almost heard him say, laughing in that deep voice, ‘Don’t take on so, Miss Freckles. Briggs and me have got a big sort out coming one day. But for now I’ll go on my way.’

  Standing motionless at the table, she thought she heard him as she stared blindly out of the window and wondered what was happening to her. Of course he and Nat had to sort things out – one day. And of course Joseph was going on his way. That was how he lived. Away from her.

  Very slowly, she let out her held breath and sat down, trying to look at the black figures on the pages in front of her. But she still heard him, deep inside her head, and she was able to weakly smile as she imagined him saying, ‘I’ll be back, Becky. One day.’

  CHAPTER 10

  Dinah came calling after the evening meal, shyly sitting in the kitchen near the fire and looking first at Nellie and then at Becky. She sipped the small ale offered and Becky had to be the first to speak, wondering what this visit was about.

  ‘How’s things at the farm, then, Dinah? Mother and Will all right? Did he do any good at the market with that calf?’

  Dinah looked over the rim of the cup and nodded. ‘Good price he got. He’s all right but Mrs Yeo’s took bad.’

  Becky’s heart missed a beat. ‘How bad? Why didn’t you come and tell me before this?’ One question crowded into the next. ‘What’s wrong with her?’

  ‘Coughing,’ said Dinah. ‘Made her go to bed, though she didn’t want to. Will ses she’s no good unless she’s fit for work, so off to bed he took her.’

  ‘I must go and see her. Mrs Mudge—’

  She turned to the older woman who shook her head and smiled wryly. ‘You’re in charge now, maid. No need to ask if you can go.’

  Becky nodded. ‘No. So I’ll walk back with Dinah. I’ll take Ma something hot. Mrs Mudge, is there any chicken broth left?’

  ‘In the pantry. I’ll put it in a bowl.’

  They walked quickly towards the farm, Becky with a basket on her arm and Dinah for once inclined to chatter on about Will. ‘He do order me about, but I’m learnin’ fast. Ses as I’m a good worker, an’ he’s glad to have me.’ A smile lifted the small mouth and broadened the dumpling cheeks.

  Becky said warmly, ‘That’s good, Dinah. And I’m glad you’re there, too.’

  The lane brought them into the farmyard where Prince barked and the kitchcn door slowly opened. Will stood in the doorway. ‘What you come for then, Becks?’ He stood back, letting them enter.

  Becky put her basket on the table. ‘To see Ma, of course. How is she? What are you giving her for her cough? That coltsfoot medicine is the best – did you find it?’

  ‘Stop fussing. My lord, how you women do fuss.’ But Will smiled as he went back to his fireside chair. ‘She’s just got a cough, nothin’ to worry about. But we needs her down here so I ses, off to bed, Ma, I ses. Course, she didn’t want to go.’

  ‘I’ll go up and see her. Dinah, warm this up, will you?’ She stayed long enough to see the broth poured into the pan on top of the range and then went quickly up the narrow, steep stairs into the bedroom where she heard Thirza coughing and wheezing.

  ‘Ma, I’m here. How are you? What can I get you? Shall I ask the doctor to come out?’

  Thirza lay very still in the narrow bed, huge eyes in her pale face following Becky’s every movement as she tidied the old patchwork quilt slipping to one side, covering the thin arms resting on it and then pulling up the one chair in the room to sit down beside the bed. ‘Ma, I’m sorry I’m not here – I ought to be here.’ She felt a huge pang of guilt. Of course she should be here, nursing her mother, taking over all the kitchen duties. She shouldn’t be up there at the Manor, being paid a wage that exceeded all her dreams, and telling Ruth and Nellie Mudge how to go about their businesses. Mr Fielding should never have made so many demands on her. He knew she was just a farm girl, needed at home. She began to blame him for everything, until a final thought reminded her that, if necessary, her wage could pay the doctor to come out and see to Ma. And Dinah was obviously proving herself, so don’t worry so much. Don’t blame yourself. Just try and cheer her up and see what she needs.

  It was clear what Thirza needed beside the coltsfoot medicine – warmth, rest and good food. Becky found an old blanket long ago consigned to the chest under the window and lovingly tucked it around her mother’s thin frame. ‘I’ve got some broth for you,’ she said cheerily. ‘That’ll give you some strength. And if you don’t feel better tomorrow I’ll get the groom from the Manor to ride into Moreton and ask Dr Gale to come and see you.’ As Thirza shook her head, Becky added, as lightly as she could manage, ‘Don’t worry, I can ask all sorts of favours from the maister, ’cos I’m his housekeeper now.’

  Thirza’s eyes were saucers. ‘Housekeeper?’ she croaked. ‘But—’

  ‘Don’t try and talk, Ma. I’ll sit with you a bit and maybe then you’ll sleep.’ Footsteps outside and then Dinah came in, her smile warm. ‘Here’s the broth, Mrs Yeo. Sit up a bit, eh?’

  Between them they raised Thirza into a sitting position, bolstered with pillows, and helped her sip the broth. Then, with a hint of colour in her cheeks, she sank down again, smiling at them as she said breathlessly, ‘Lucky, aren’t I? Two maids to look after me.’

  Becky sat by the bed until her mother’s eyes closed and her breathing grew quiet. Then she went downstairs, to find Dinah sitting opposite Will and mending the collar of a shirt, a domestic scene which surprised and pleased her. Warmly, she said, ‘I’ll come again tomorrow. But if Ma’s worse, then, Dinah, come and tell me.’

  Dinah nodded, suddenly got up and then hesitated, looking first at Becky and than at the door. ‘Going, are you?’

  ‘Yes. It’s late, I must get back.’

  Dinah went to the door and opened it, looking at Becky over her shoulder, almost as if she wanted to say something, then followed her out into the darkness. Becky shut the door behind her and stopped. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ Not something else, she thought anxiously.

  But she saw Dinah’s eyes shining as she fumbled in her apron pocket. ‘He came today, wants you to have this.’

  ‘He?’ A flash of hope spun through her. She took the offering and felt her pulse quicken.

  Dinah’s voice was low. ‘That Freeman, he came when Will was out. Said as how he hasn’t got time to go to the Manor. Left this for you. Just an ole weed, I’d say, but there – he said it were important.’

  Becky took the small, wizened twig and stared at it. A faint fragrance rose, something she knew well, and not just the fragrance, but the words naming it. A sprig of thyme.

  Instantly, the world cleared of all its threatening shadows. A shaft of brilliant light suddenly shone down into her circling mind and she heaved in
a huge breath of relief and joy. So he hadn’t forgotten her. So Joseph Freeman still held her in his thoughts, whereever he was, what ever he was doing.

  She thanked Dinah, said goodbye, then walked home in the darkness feeling that nothing could ever again disturb her mind. The moon shone, the shadows were forgotten. Never mind the problems – Nat Briggs, Ma being ill, Joseph not being here. She knew that she could deal with whatever was asked of her, now and in the future.

  Humming a snatch of her song, she quickly walked back to the Manor. She had never felt so happy as she did at that moment in her life.

  The work at the Manor continued: dust arose, carpets and curtains were cleaned; the amount of washing and ironing increased. A labourer, Jimmy Browning from the village, came and made even worse messes mending broken window frames and replastering damp walls. Ruth laboured well and long, and Becky was thankful for the girl’s strength and stamina.

  And slowly she found herself settling into the daily routine; the planning of duties over breakfast in the kitchen, with Nellie Mudge adding small snippets of useful information from the old days, and then the hours upstairs going over the accounts with the maister. And in the evenings slipping down to the farm to see how Ma was getting on.

  The happiness she had felt when the sprig of thyme lay in her hand slowly faded away, but she knew it was stored at the back of her mind. One day it would come back. Just like Joseph. Her thoughts of him, all the time, were busier than ever, shining into her daily routine like tiny stitches of gold brightening a dark canvas.

  Joseph loved her. And of course he would come back.

  Even so, it was helpful to immerse herself in the work, trying to push aside small and painful fears that still persisted despite her hopes; when a cupboard in Rupert Fielding’s study revealed a broken latch, the half-open door falling out and throwing a pile of papers on to the floor, she was almost grateful – more work. Something to fill her mind and let Joseph go. She picked them up and then put them in a tidy pile on his desk. Mr Fielding could sort them out in his own time. Now she could get the latch repaired and the cupboard properly cleaned before the papers went back. She went downstairs for the midday meal with a quiet mind.