In the long pier mirror that stood beside the large wardrobe, she caught sight of her reflection: a tall girl in a dark green dress, tight at the wrists and high at the neck, falling into a full skirt with just the hint of a bustle at the back. Did Mr Fielding think she looked a proper housekeeper? What would Joseph say if he saw her now? Would Nat Briggs pursue her even further? And Ma and Will – here her thoughts homed in on the farm and she knew she must go and see them. Mr Fielding had said she should go and tell them her good news. Yes, she would do so, but she would keep to herself the strange business of the secret which still cast a shadow into her thoughts. It was as if she were keeping secrets herself now; another peculiar turn in life and one she wasn’t sure she enjoyed. Sighing, she tidied her hair, picked up her shawl and went out of the room, closing the door behind her with a firm hand and walking down the sweeping staircase with a step that was infinitely more confident than usual.
Trudging back to the Reverend Mr Gould’s homely barn at the end of the day, leaving his work mates at the inn, Joseph Freeman mulled over the fact that Rupert Fielding wished to employ him. Good. He would enjoy working in the old house, using all his craft and skill. The pay would be useful, for he was saving for the future. His future, wherever it might take him. Already he had a small pouch containing the remains of his small inheritance from the Reverend Mr Gosling and to this he added whatever could be spared after an occasional draught of ale at the inn and what was needed to renew tools and clothes. Food came with the weekly wage and was sufficient to keep him in good working trim.
His thoughts moved forward. At High Cross Manor he would be in daily contact with Becky. Here he found himself smiling in anticipation. Yes, they would be able to meet quietly and without anyone knowing; he could tell her again how he loved her. He would prove it, loving her warmly, passionately too, if the chance came and she was willing. Yet he knew, at the same time as his pulses raced, that he was being too forward, too quick, too foolish.
For to fulfill his ambitions, and to woo Becky and win her, he must have a home to offer her, with regular work in some capacity that suited him. Then, very slowly, he made a hard decision; he frowned but knew it was the right one – it must be no to High Cross Manor. No to seeing Becky and enjoying their possible meetings. Could he accept it? He must. Yet one thought lingered. If Becky thought he was just walking away from her she might well look for another suitor. Which would not be hard. An image of Nat Briggs flashed into his mind and he scowled as he walked up the track to the Reverend’s house with its outbuildings and hayfilled barn.
Somewhere in the future – his and Becky’s joint futures – Joseph knew that he and Briggs would confront one another. There would be an explosion of rage on his part, and the seeking for sly revenge on Briggs’s part. His thoughts turned dark; he welcomed them, but forced them away. Leave them for another day. One more part of his life to be settled.
For the meantime he must work. A plan came into his mind. Find employment somewhere further away from the temptation of seeing Becky, work which would forward his ambitions. Learning how to work with stones – for stones would build a house and a house would end his wandering. And perhaps Becky would wait until it happened. He must see her for a last time and explain. But his face, as he washed at the pump in the yard before presenting himself in the kitchen ready for the evening meal, was tight with unease.
Suppose Becky decided not to wait for him? What would life hold then? It was a thought that haunted him when, later, he returned to the barn and pulled his hay bed around him, shutting off the noisy voices of his friends sharing the barn, the idea lingering unhappily in his mind until he quelled the dark thoughts by singing a few bars of her song.
‘O’er the wall came a lad, he took all that I had….’
When sleep overtook him he dreamed of Becky, and of taking her into a new life where they would be always together.
Becky opened the farm door and went into the familiar warmth and nostalgic scent of her old home. She found Dinah stoking the fire and pushing the black cauldron to one side as the flames roared. A smell of turnips and bacon told of the meal to come and Becky smiled. The girl was proving herself, it seemed, darning Will’s clothes and making hot meals for him.
‘Smells good, Dinah.’
She looked across the room to the settle at the side of the fire and saw Ma sitting there, knitting in her hands, smiling a welcome. ‘Ma – are you better? You look much more like yourself.’ She bent and kissed the warm cheeks.
Thirza’s eyes were wide. ‘My soul! Don’t you look smart! Why, that’s a new dress – how did you get that, maid?’
Becky sat down beside her mother. ‘Mr Fielding said I must dress more like his housekeeper, which I am now, Ma. So much has happened lately. Where can I start? Well, Mr Briggs has been found out to be a cheating rogue, which didn’t surprise me. Apparently he’s been taking money for years, bits and pieces from farm rents, and that sort of thing. Mr Fielding has found out now and has threatened to dismiss him.’
Thirza’s smile died. ‘Cheating? Dismiss him? Oh no, but we thought he’d make you a good husband, and now—’
‘Now,’ said Becky firmly, ‘he has to repay the money and behave himself or he’ll be put off.’
Silence for a moment. Dinah stirred the pot and Thirza stared at Becky. And then the door pushed open and Will came in. He looked at Becky and grunted, ‘So who’s this fine maid, then?’
She lifted her head. ‘Mr Fielding’s housekeeper, that’s who. And I’m dressed to suit the position.’ She smiled saucily. ‘What do you think, then?’
Will came to the fire and sank into his usual chair, Dinah standing aside to make room for him. ‘You looks like a lady, but you aren’t,’ he said shortly. ‘Never right, is it? Was it the blow on the head that’s made the maister a bit funny?’ He pursed his mouth. ‘Village ses as how he’s changed a lot. There’s gossip, I can tell you.’
‘Gossip?’ Becky’s heart sank.
‘An’ mostly ’bout you, Becks. They ses as you’ve charmed the old man, that he likes you too much so makes you his housekeeper. An’ something ’bout a bedroom, too.’ Will’s voice was hard, his eyes narrowed as he stared at her.
‘That’s wrong!’ Becky said rapidly, hands forming fists. ‘Whoever says such wicked things? Tell me who?’
‘Just gossip. You know how it is. Young Ruth chatters, I dessay, now she works at High Cross, and o’ course Mr Briggs, too. I hear as he’s full of fury ’gainst the maister, and, so they ses, ’bout that Joseph Freeman. Wants to get back at him for whatever he reckons he’s done. Tells everyone he’ll get him and give him a good hiding.’
Becky felt her stomach turn over as horror and anxiety filled her. She knew that village gossip only ever had a grain of truth in it, but the idea of Nat seeking revenge on Joseph made her feel sick. Must it end in violence? What would Joseph feel about this hateful business of being hunted down and challenged? Would he, in his turn, fight Nat to the extent of physically harming him? Would such hatred, like secrets, go on forever?
She sat there quietly, hands round her mother’s shoulders, wondering how to deal with all this unexpected wretchedness.
And then Thirza said, very quietly, so that her words were only just audible, ‘Has the maister said anything to you, maid? About his feelings? I mean – what does he want of you? Is it just the housekeeping, or something….’ She stopped, blinked, and seemed to shrink on the settle, ‘Something more? Something – deeper, p’raps. Has he, well – touched you?’ The words died, and she shook her head unhappily as she added, ‘I’m sure you know what I mean.’
CHAPTER 14
Had Mr Fielding touched her?
No, of course he hadn’t. But oh, yes, she knew just what Ma was trying so wretchedly to say. Becky’s mind was suddenly a whirlwind of flashing images. She saw hot, lusting eyes, felt possessive strong hands, heard Nat’s hoarse voice and knew instantly that this was what so often happened with needy men and vuln
erable women. And then the grave beneath Bowerman’s Nose flashed behind her eyes and new knowledge surged, for this was what must have happened to that poor woman who became pregnant and then hanged herself, because life in those unforgiving days would have been unbearable if she hadn’t. Someone had touched her – loved her, then left her with the baby.
Men, thought Becky, with a surge of red hot hate. And then thought instead of Joseph, who had loved her sweetly and gently, had never scared her, never – what had Ma said? – taken advantage of her. Joseph would never force her. She could refuse him and he would just nod and smile and hope she might change her mind later. And, of course, it was just possible that she might, because she knew, deep down, that she loved him.
But Mr Fielding? No, he hadn’t touched her. Whatever feelings there were between them – and yes, she felt something for him, a sort of warmth, but not like that sensual excitement she felt for Joseph – everything was different. She liked him, felt sorry for him. That was all there was to it, and she guessed that, strangely, he liked her, too. Just – liked her. Not – wanted her in his bed.
She stared at Ma and broke the silence that tightened the small room. ‘Of course he hasn’t! It’s nothing like that between us. Why ever do you think he might be like that?’
Thirza sucked in her lips and looked down at her clasped hands. ‘I dunno….’
Becky felt stirrings of anger resolve all the shock that had filled her mind. Now thoughts came and went, and new ideas became certainty. Village gossip. Mrs Mudge knowing something. Mr Fielding thinking she was Grace…. she stared at her mother.
‘But you do know! It’s something to do with Grace, isn’t it? That name he said when he saw me at his bedside. And I suppose that’s who he was bad with. That’s what you were thinking about. Wondering if he treated me like he did Grace. Well, who was she? Just another village girl, I suppose. Like the one in the grave up the lane. So tell me, who was she? Come on, Ma, you have to tell me.’
Thirza shook her head. Will got up from his chair and went to the sink to wash his hands. Over his shoulder he said gruffly, ‘What’s all this about, then? If you got to tell her something, Ma, than for the Lord’s sake tell it. You’re makin’ out that Becky’s no more than a whore, and that’s never right. Up in the air she may be, but all right, she’s not a bad girl.’
‘Grace was a girl working at the Manor.’ Thirza’s words rushed out as if they had been waiting to be released for a long time. ‘The maister took her, made her pregnant and then she went away. That’s all I know.’ She looked across the room. ‘I just didn’t want him to do that with our Becky, Will. So don’t shout at me. I didn’t say she was bad – just that he was then an’ so he might still be, for all I know.’ She had a red patch on each cheek and her voice was higher than usual.
Will dried his hands, grunted and pulled out the chair at the top of the table. ‘So let’s forget it all,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m hungry, I want me tea. Got it ready, Dinah, have you?’
Becky let out her breath and nodded her head. He was right. This was a muddle about nothing that mattered. Now she knew about Grace she felt better. Just another girl treated badly, but nothing new in that. And she could assure Ma that nothing like that was happening between Mr Fielding and herself. She even managed a smile. What a thought! She said warmly, ‘Well, now that’s all done with I’d better be getting back. Ma, you can stop worrying about what’s going on, because nothing is. I’m just working for him, and he’s treating me well.’
She looked into Thirza’s eyes and smiled fondly, thinking her mother looked better, with more colour and an extra bit of flesh on her. ‘Stop worrying. You’re a proper old worry, you are. And no need. Just think of the money I’m earning now – I’ll give you something nice, Ma, to make you feel better. Have a think about what you’d like, and we’ll go into Moreton one day soon.’
Thirza smiled weakly and took her hand. ‘That’ll be nice, maid. Why don’t we get some dress stuff an’ I’ll make it up for you? You don’t want to wear that one all the time, it’ll get real spoiled if you do.’
‘That would be lovely, Ma. Thank you. One day next week. I’ll ask Mr Fielding if Tom can drive us.’
The room seemed lighter, happier. Becky looked at Dinah, spooning turnip stew onto the plates on the table, went towards her and said quietly, ‘You’ve looked after Ma so well, Dinah, thank you. So maybe there’ll be a present for you, too. Something pretty to wear at the fair next month?’
Dinah pouted as she sat down and pulled her plate towards her. ‘That ole fair, it’s nothing but men dressin’ up, makin’ a lot o’ noise and getting drunk.’ She slid a sly glance at Will, next to her and grinned. ‘But we’ll go, eh, Will? You did said yes….’
Becky caught the exchange of friendly teasing and saw her brother’s usually tight face relax into a simpler expression of good humour. ‘Get on with you,’ he said between mouthfuls. ‘You maids don’t know nothing ’bout the proper business of the fair, selling stock and horses. Course we’ll go.’
Thirza sighed, Dinah smiled and Becky felt an uplift of her spirits. Things were better. No more troubles. Ma looking much better and healthier, and Dinah somehow charming Will into a different, nicer person. She got up, kissed her mother, put a hand on Dinah’s arm and smiled at Will as she passed. ‘We’ll all be there, can’t miss old Uncle Tom Cobley and all that fun, can we? Never missed Widecombe Fair before, so no reason to miss it this year.’
At the door she looked back at the three most important people in her life and felt a great warmth spreading through her. ‘I’ll be back again in a day or so.’ Closing the door behind her, she walked back to the Manor with her mind full of extraordinary thoughts.
The ghost of poor unknown Grace was there, Mr Fielding too, and then Joseph, who would be coming here very soon. She knew she would be glad to see him, so glad, indeed, that she would welcome him with kisses – if that was what he wanted.
He came very soon, knocking at the kitchen door as Becky sat down in the early evening, resting after the day’s work. Ruth opened it, looked back at Becky and grinned. ‘Joseph Freeman to see the maister. Tell un to come in, shall I?’
‘Yes – well, yes, of course, ask him in.’ Becky was surprised, yet she’d been waiting for him every day. She got up, slowly walking towards the door, making sure she didn’t show the excitement building inside her, and smiling coolly at Joseph who wiped his boots, removed his hat and stood just inside the kitchen doorway. ‘Mr Fielding’s in his study. I’ll take you up. This way.’
She knew Mrs Mudge and Ruth were watching, wondering, guessing, and was glad to walk into the hall and up the stairs, Joseph just behind her. Only when she reached the top of the staircase did she turn and allow her smile to show her feelings. She waited until he stood beside her. ‘You’ll be here. We’ll see each other often …’ she murmured. Now she was close to him she looked into his grey eyes and then saw something there that took away her smile. ‘What is it? Something’s wrong….’ Her voice was low because the study door was only a few steps away.
Joseph narrowed his eyes and kept his distance. ‘I’m not coming, Becky. I need different work, not here, but somewhere else, out on the moor.’
‘What? But why? I thought you’d be pleased… I told him you were a good worker. It’s such a chance.’ She couldn’t believe it. All her hopes and dreams were being thrown back at her. A black pit of self pity and anger filled her mind and her voice rose. ‘I don’t understand you! Sounds like you don’t want to be here, with me. So you don’t care, after all. Like Briggs said, you’re just one of those men who pick up a girl and then leave her.’ Tears swam and her voice wavered. ‘Got another one, have you? Somewhere else where it’ll be easier to kiss her and take what you want?’
He lunged forward, arms on her shoulders, shaking her, so that she felt the strength of his hard body and knew how she would miss his presence, his touch. His voice roughened. ‘Don’t say that! You know it’s not true! I�
�m going because I know it’ll be better than being here. It’s part of what I’ve got to do. It’s for us, Becky, for us. Can’t you understand that? It’s because I want you to be with me that I have to go.’
Behind them the study door opened and Rupert Fielding stared out, frowning, eyebrows raised. ‘What’s all this about?’ he rasped, looking at Joseph. ‘Who the hell are you and what are you doing here? Becky, explain, please.’
She swallowed her threatening tears, took a deep breath and met his accusing eyes.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Fielding. This is Joseph Freeman. You wanted him to come and work, you said, but—’
Joseph’s deep voice cut in, polite but determined. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I was glad to hear that you were offering me employment, but I have other work so can’t do as you want.’
Becky looked at the floor but knew Rupert Fielding was inspecting Joseph from head to toe. He probably thought this was a wild man, one of the travelling labourers always up to tricks to earn a penny or two. He would most likely be glad that Joseph had refused the offer of work. ‘I see,’ he said coldly. ‘Very well then, go and do your other work. But why are you here in my house with Miss Yeo, making such a row?’
Drifting Shadows Page 13
