Thirza slowly continued, recounting the sad day when Grace discovered she was pregnant and went to see the young maister about it. ‘Told him how she were and what would he do about it, but he just laughed, and told his dad who said Grace must leave home and have the baby somewhere else. Didn’t want neighbours to know, see. Gave her some money, he did, and suggested a place she could go to in Newton. Made her sign a piece of paper sayin’ she’d had the money an’ wouldn’t come back. So she left us. I mind the day….’
Thirza’s eyes swam and Becky said quickly, ‘Don’t tell me any more, you’re upsetting yourself.’
‘But I must. Must tell you how it happened. Once you were born, she came home here. Said she wasn’t well, and would I look after you for a day or so. Course I said yes an’ wanted her to stay, but she’d signed Mr Fielding’s piece of paper and he’d said he’d want the money back if she didn’t stay in Newton. Said he’d threatened to end our tenancy, too, so off she goes and we didn’t see her no more.’
Becky saw it all in her mind; the young mother parting with the new baby; Thirza worrying even as she cared for the child, and then the awful news that Grace had died. How terrible that must have been, for everybody. Her mother, dying in lonely surroundings with no one to care for her; Thirza and Roger, still alive at the time, deciding to keep the baby, but not letting anyone know it was Grace’s child. Making the secret….
‘We were glad to have you, maid. But we knew that we mustn’t let maister know that you were Grace’s child case he turned us out. So that’s how it happened an’ all of us told you I was your Ma. When Roger died, you were too young to care very much, an by then Will was treating you like you was his sister. So we went along with it – and so did all the village and everybody.’ Another painful sigh. ‘The Lord knows what they’ll all say now.’
Becky put an arm around the thin shoulders and hugged her grandma. ‘It doesn’t matter what anyone says. I bet some of them suspected and I think Nellie Mudge knew. Well, now Mr Fielding has got to be open about it and let the truth be known, so they can talk as much as they like.’
They were still discussing the matter when Will and Dinah returned at the end of the day. Dinah smiled shyly at Becky and said, ‘Doesn’t make any difference, do it?’ Will frowned as he kicked off his boots. ‘Course it does.’ He looked across at Becky. ‘You gotta sort it out with the maister. You’re his daughter, so he has to treat you like his own. What you gonna say to him when you go back? That is, if you do go back.’
Becky met his gaze and nodded. ‘I’ll go back,’ she said slowly. ‘You’re right, of course, he’s got to treat me properly. But I don’t know what I’ll say – not yet.’
When she reached High Cross Manor she saw that Tom had the trap ready, with the cob already in the shafts. He nodded his head towards the house. ‘Maister’s waitin’ for you, Miss Yeo. He said you’d be going out this afternoon.’
Becky saw curiosity in his eyes and turned away. ‘Thank you, Tom. I’ll go and tell Mr Fielding that I’m back.’
Walking through the kitchen she met Nellie’s direct stare and knew she must explain her absence. ‘All that bother this morning,’ she said, as casually as she could manage, ‘Meant I had to go home and talk to Will and Ma.’ The name seemed to lodge in her throat – not Ma, but Grandma now – and she coughed it away. ‘Has Mr Fielding been asking for me?’
‘Yes,’ said Nellie, curiosity plain on her lined face. ‘Came down in a rage – said where were you. We said we didn’t know and then he went out to see Tom. Going out when you comes back, Tom ses.’
Becky nodded, said nothing more and went upstairs to the study. She knocked, feeling nervous but determined to have the matter out. Told to enter, she did so, and met Rupert Fielding’s dark gaze as she closed the door behind her. Standing quietly in the centre of the room she sucked in her breath. ‘I’m sorry I went off this morning. I knew I had to go and see my mother—’ She stopped abruptly. Now was the terrible moment. ‘To see my grandma and tell her I knew about you and Grace – my mother.’ It was out. She felt the air around her clear.
They stared at each other and for a long moment neither said anything. Until Rupert eased himself out of his chair and limped across to stand beside her. He looked into her wide, expectant eyes and slowly nodded. ‘You’re a good girl, Becky. Your heart is in the right place. And I have to confess that I have grown fond of you – even without knowing, until the other day, that you are actually my daughter. Indeed, Briggs did us a good turn, using my father’s journal to bring daylight into what was an unhappy little business, but which has now had a wonderful result.’
His smile was one she had never seen before, lighting up his drawn face and lifting straight lips.
‘A wonderful result …’ she repeated his words bitterly, seeing a new, happier light in his eyes and feeling an instant sense of resentment about his unthinking selfishness. ‘For you, perhaps.’ Her emotions overflowed. ‘But for my mother it was a lonely and shameful death. And for my grandmother a life of keeping a terrible secret, until today, when she is having to go back into all that pain and hurt, which you, and you alone, caused. I see nothing wonderful in any of it.’
She watched his expression change from ease to tense surprise. His voice, when he replied, was stiff, words coming out in small jerks of automatic defiance. ‘But you’re my daughter. I can give you a new life. We’ll go to the solicitor, I’ll make a new will. You’ll come and live here, of course. You’ll never need to worry about your future, about money….’
Seeing his selfish pleasure, she felt only mounting anger. ‘Your daughter, yes, Father, that is who I have to admit I am. But it will make no difference to my life. You see, I know what I want to do, and where I want to be.’ The words were shrill and fast. ‘One day,’ she told him vehemently, ‘I shall marry a good man. But none of it will have anything to do with you. No money, no inheritance, thank you. I’m going to leave this house and never come back. I – I never want to see you again.’
He was speechless. She saw the light fade from his eyes, making them darker and narrower. He cleared his throat, rubbed his back with one hand and held the other out to her. ‘But Becky, you can’t just walk away – you’re my daughter, you belong here, with me….’
Against her will, she recognized his feelings, and then, like a shaft of blinding light, suddenly felt them herself. Father and daughter – what was she doing? Surely she should accept what he said and stay here – live a life of comfort and social happiness?
But suddenly Joseph’s deep voice rang in her ears and she remembered that he found it vital to live his own life, to find whatever it was that his ongoing journey through life demanded of him. Now she knew she must do the same, so, ignoring the outstretched, unsteady hand, she shook her head, and gave her father a last hard look before turning away. In the doorway she paused, but only for a few seconds; and then closed it behind her with the knowledge that she was acting in a way she might well come to regret.
As she walked down the wide staircase she was more than ever aware of the portraits of past Fieldings watching her. She paused on the last step, looked at them and wondered if anything like this had ever happened before in this family. An illegimate child was common enough among the labourers who lived and worked on the moor, but if a girl in the gentry fell for some handsome lad’s charms and persuasions, what had happened to the poor child? Still gazing at the painted faces, she wished she knew; wished someone would help her, advise her how to behave. For now, after all the drama of knowing the secret was unfurled, after sharing Thirza’s distress and Will’s anger, she knew she was at a turning point in her life. She had refused her father’s offer to take her into his own easy upper class community. And Joseph had left her, intent on living finding his own path.
She stood in the marble floored hall, hearing her heart race, and wishing desperately that she knew what to do next.
CHAPTER 17
And then it flashed into her mind like a s
treak of lightning, releasing all the fury and misery she was feeling. She knew exactly what to do.
Upstairs again, in her bedroom, she took off the green dress and slipped into the old brown checked cotton she used for work. Firmly she told herself that the green one had never belonged to her; along with the smart hat it was all part of Mr Fielding’s – Father’s – gift. It took a moment of very strong decision to lay both garments on the bed, and she indulged in one last lingering look. She liked the dress very much and knew it suited her and that she would probably never have another one so elegant and well made – but, no, it wasn’t hers and so must be returned.
She turned back to the mirror, tidied her hair and made sure she looked neat and presentable before gathering her few remaining belongings and wrapping them in her shawl. Foolishly imagining that the room seemed to have a feeling of reluctance at her departure, she gave it a last appraisal, picked up the bundle and went downstairs, this time ignoring the painted, intolerant stares that she imagined followed every step, then returning to the study, knocking lightly and then, without waiting to be invited, opening the door and stepping inside.
She put down the bundle and looked at her father.
He stood by the window, staring out onto the stretching vista of sun-burnished browny green moorland, then, turning as she came in, he caught his breath. ‘Becky – thank goodness you haven’t gone. I’ve been thinking what I can do for you, for your family … to try and make up for all the bother and unhappiness.’
‘Yes?’ Her voice was cool and she wondered at this new feeling of maturity. ‘So what are you suggesting, Father?’
He raised a brow at the unfamiliar word and then smiled, reaching out to take her hand and leading her to the chair by the table. He stood at her side as she sat, and nodded. ‘Well, first things first. You are no longer just a housekeeper but will live here with me as my daughter, in charge of all the household duties and ordering the servants to perform them. I shall open a bank account for you and you can drive into town to buy what ever you want. And as for your family….’
Becky waited.
‘I’ve thought about how I can compensate them for what has happened.’ His voice was easy now, his smile warm. ‘I shall call on your brother – I mean, of course, your uncle –’ the smile slid into amusement ‘– and offer him a different cottage – a better one – on a larger acreage of land. And a means of paying labour to help run it. What do you think of that?’
Becky’s mind flashed to High Cross Cottage, the farm she had been brought up in, with all its discomforts of damp walls and leaking, weedy thatch, and she said very certainly, ‘He won’t want anything different. Just some repairs to our home as it is now. New thatch on the roof, the walls shored up where necessary and perhaps a pump installed for well water.’ She felt a surge of power as she added casually, ‘And you don’t need to ask Will, for I know what he’ll want and it won’t be anything new.’
‘But surely—’
‘And as for Grandma – Mrs Yeo – just pay her the wages due to me, perhaps install a modern range to cook on, and get a girl in the kitchen to do the rough work.’
They looked at each other and the seconds hummed by. Then slowly he sat down, easing painfully into the big chair, still looking at her. She watched a slight frown mar the easiness of his previous smile. ‘I said it once before, didn’t I?’ His voice held a wry tone, ‘when first we met – that you had it all worked out. Well, so you have now, it seems.’
She nodded. ‘Yes. And I don’t want anything for myself, thank you. No bank account, no new clothes. Indeed, no Father. Because I’m not staying here.’
She saw amazement and a growing expression of anger on the taut face.
‘I don’t believe you. You’re just trying to pay me back, to get your revenge.’
Instantly she snapped. ‘Your word, Father, not mine. I just want to go and get on with my life. Revenge isn’t something I know about. And perhaps you should forget it, too – simply do what you can for my family, and then live your own life.’
His good humour had vanished. He sat up stiffly, staring at her with hard, narrowed eyes. ‘I don’t need advice about how to live, thank you – just remember, will you, that you’re still a tenant of mine – and, yes, you’re my bastard.’ His voice was harsh, and the word hung in the air. He frowned. ‘And must I remind you that your mother was nothing more than an uneducated peasant? Indeed, you’re not much better yourself.’
‘Oh, but I am!’ Something was sparking alight in her mind; confidence, awareness and a certainty that life was beckoning her on. ‘I have learned so much being here, doing your accounts, running the house and learning how to get on with servants.’ She nodded, got to her feet and looked down at him. ‘I’ll thank you for all that, Father, but please understand that I want nothing more from you.’
A long pause while they looked at each other, his face ugly with what she sensed was not just disappointment but also a lack of understanding, while she knew that her own must reflect the calm satisfaction she now felt. For a second she wondered where the sympathy she had once felt for him had gone, but then that brief thought, too, vanished as her own needs took charge. She picked up the bundle and walked to the door. ‘Goodbye,’ she said, without looking back, and left the room.
The door closed behind her and if the loud click cut into her new feelings, perhaps even momentarily reminding her of the loneliness of the man she had left behind, it didn’t stop her leaving the house. Outside the moor was waiting, and somewhere Joseph would be working, timing the day as it ended and an evening of rest awaited him. She hurried down the lane towards the farm, smiling as she went, and knowing with all her heart that she was taking the right path.
They looked at her with amazement, Thirza saying brokenly, ‘But your position – your place there at the Manor – and your father …’ and Will’s brow creasing as he cut in with, ‘Why you doin’ this? Comin’ back here – you don’t have to do this, Becks.’ Even Dinah’s smile died and she turned her head away as if to distance herself from the family argument.
Becky had expected recriminations. She took Thirza’s hand, sitting by her on the settle, and said forcefully to Will, ‘I’m doing what’s best for all of us. Mr Fielding will do repairs to the cottage, make it warmer and drier – I told him you need a new range, and Grandma must have a girl to help with the rough, and you must tell him you need help with new stock and feed. It’s what you deserve, Will, so don’t argue about it.’
Sharp blue eyes met hers as he reached up to the mantel for the tobacco jar. ‘You done all this, then? Told him what to do, eh?’
‘Yes.’ She watched him sit down and fill his pipe. ‘He knows just what I feel, he understands.’ But – did he? Did he not perhaps think her a selfish creature who just wanted something to quieten her family, before disappearing to find her own freedom? She cast away the thought. It didn’t matter what Father thought. All that mattered was her family, here, and Joseph, wherever he might be.
Will was looking at her and she knew what he was thinking. She said the words before he did. ‘I’m here for a purpose, to try and find Joseph Freeman. If you have any news of him, then tell me, please, Will.’ When he made no reply, she forced a smile. ‘Uncle Will, if you want.’
He grunted, but the narrowed eyes lost their hardness. ‘Soft on him, are you? I knew it from the start. Think he’s the one for you, then?’
She nodded. ‘I know it. We knew it soon as we met. He’s working somewhere on the moor, and I want to find him, to tell him about all this muddle with Mr Fielding. I don’t want him to hear talk and start wondering.’
Another grunt. ‘Think that’ll bring him to your side, do you? Maister’s daughter wantin’ the man she fancies?’
Becky tensed. ‘No, I don’t. He’s not like that. He’s different from all the others. He’s—’ How could she explain? ‘He’s trying to make a way for himself before he can ask me to marry him.’
‘Huh. Better get
some reg’lar work then, he must.’
‘Perhaps he has.’ She leaned forward, smiled at him as sweetly as she could, despite her irritation. ‘But I have to find him. Will, help me, please.’
Will looked away. ‘I don’t know nothin’ ’bout him.’
But Thirza had half turned, was looking at her with glowing eyes. ‘So you’ll stay here, maid, with us while you’re looking? Come home, have you? Oh, that’s lovely.’
‘Let’s say I’m home till I find Joseph, Ma.’ She pulled Thirza’s thin body closer and was thankful to see more colour in her cheeks and a look approaching happiness in her eyes.
Her spirits rose. Perhaps things were working out. Perhaps, now she had taken this step along her new path, everything would come about as she hoped and prayed it would.
Dinah’s quiet voice broke into her thoughts. ‘Village knows, Becky. Lots o’ talk ’bout you an’ the maister.’
Becky turned to her. ‘I expect so.’ She looked at the small girl sitting on a stool at Will’s side and wondered what the Meldon family had said. ‘And you – what do you think?’
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