by Anna Jacobs
Sewell moved hastily through the door.
Will tugged his arm away from Sarah and went to stand in the doorway, arms folded. He watched as the two men mounted their horses and rode off. As a final petty gesture, Sewell deliberately rode through the piles of weeds Petey had pulled up, scattering them across the driveway.
The noise of the horses’ hoofs died away down the drive. Sarah turned to her rescuer and said faintly, ‘That man must be quite deranged! How can he possibly believe he has a right to buy this house - or that I am an impostor? My identity was verified most carefully by the lawyer in London.’
Feeling concerned about the treatment she had received and the pallor of her face, Will gestured to the small parlour. ‘I think you'd better come and sit down for a minute or two, Mistress Bedham. It’s a shock the first time you meet Sewell and hear him rant on like that.’
‘It certainly is a shock! I was beginning to fear that he was going to attack me.’
‘Oh, I don’t think he’d do that. He usually leaves the actual violence to his two henchmen.’
‘Is he always so - like that?’ She became conscious of his arm around her shoulders, the warmth and strength of it, and paused to look up at him and give him a grateful half-smile. Suddenly she felt rather shy, and breathless, and was glad when he guided her to a chair and stepped back again, not seeming aware of the confusion into which his closeness had thrown her.
She missed his arm round her shoulders when he moved away and went to stand on the other side of the fire, for since her mother’s death there had been no one to touch her. She saw him look across at her anxiously and tried to pull herself together. She wasn’t so foolish as to tremble for hours because a brutal man had threatened her - but oh, she was foolish enough to be thrown all a-tremble by a kind man’s strong arm, she now found.
‘Sewell gets into a fury when he’s denied something he wants,’ Will went on. ‘Like when he wanted my family’s farm - for a damned pleasure garden!’
‘Why do people trust him enough to borrow money from him, then?’ she wondered.
There was silence until Will said softly, ‘I don’t believe my father did borrow money from him. He’d no need to do so and he’d always hated the very idea of borrowing. He’d have gone without rather than borrow - and from such a man, too. No, I’ve thought it through many times, and it’s just not possible.’
She stared at him, arrested. ‘You truly believe that?’
‘Aye. But I’d be grateful if you didn’t repeat what I said to anyone else.’ He didn’t know why he’d told her, come to that, except he felt at ease with her, as if he could say anything and she’d understand.
She was frowning, then said slowly, as if thinking aloud, ‘My uncle also had debts to Mr Sewell.’
‘So it seems.’
All the air seemed to vanish from the room and she had trouble breathing as she tried to come to terms with all that this implied. ‘Why has no one stopped him?’ she asked at last. ‘Or at least, challenged him?’
‘Because he’s rich. And cunning. Even I would have thought it my father’s signature on the bills. But one of these days I shall be in a position to see that Sewell gets his just deserts. I cannot forget what he did to us, because my mother still weeps over it.’
Will hadn’t raised his voice, but the chill hatred in it made Sarah shiver.
He noticed, paused for a moment, then spoke more calmly. ‘Please rest for a few minutes, Mistress Bedham.’
Before she could do so, she caught sight of herself in the mirror on the chimney breast. ‘Oh dear! I hadn't realised what a mess I was in! No wonder he thought I was a maidservant!’ And she wished Will hadn’t seen her looking like this, either. She’d never bothered much about her appearance, but he made her want to.
Oh dear, she was being foolish again!
He smiled reassuringly at her. ‘It’d have made little difference. A woman on her own is fair game to a brute like him.’ He watched curiously as she pulled off the mobcap and pinned up her soft, straight hair again.
She flushed under his scrutiny. ‘You, too, catch me at a disadvantage, Mr Pursley.’
His face resumed its guarded look. ‘’Tis no disadvantage to be caught working. I’ve no time for idle folk. But if it’s not convenient to speak to me now, I can always come back later.’
Her sense of humour betrayed her. ‘I’m like to be even dirtier by then, sir. Won’t you sit down?’
‘Thank you.’ He dropped onto a chair, looking tired suddenly.
‘Did you buy your cattle?’
‘Aye. Fine beasts. I’ll soon have them in top shape. It’s about them I’ve come to see you.’
‘Me? But I know nothing about cattle.’
His scowl was back. ‘Cattle sickness has broken out again in the village. If I leave my new beasts to graze free on the common with the others, they might catch it too. Besides - I don’t want Hotton's stringy bull mounting my new cows. I don’t like his get.’
She blinked at this blunt talk, but realised it wasn’t meant to offend, so didn’t take issue with him.
‘So I came to ask you - would you let me keep my cows in your park? There’s a wall round it, do you see, and the grass here near the house grows lushly. We could fence off an area for them to graze. Then, if you would let me, I’d fence round the home farm properly or plant a quickset hedge. A lot of folk are doing that now, enclosing, they call it. Then I’ll be able to choose the sort of cattle I breed and the crops I grow, and not have them spoiled by other folk’s beasts and weeds. We had our own enclosed meadows at Hay Nook Farm.’
Sarah noticed how his taciturnity vanished when it came to agricultural matters, for on that subject he had the confidence that came with expertise, plus a love of his subject.
When she didn’t say anything, he went on desperately, ‘I couldn’t pay you in money, but I could pay you in kind - milk, butter, eggs, my mother's cheese.’ His voice cracked and he broke off, furious with himself for betraying his desperation.
So much passion, and all for his land and stock, she thought.
Unable to think clearly with his gaze fixed so hungrily upon her, she stood up and went over to look out of the window. What would people think of her if she allowed cattle to graze in the home park or on the lawns in front of the house? Well, she knew what Mr Sewell thought of her already and she didn’t care, so why should she care about what strangers thought? Besides, the benefits would be considerable - free milk, butter and eggs, he’d said. The less she had to spend on food, the more she’d have to spend on the house. And that roof was in desperate need of repair. The rain was coming in in several places and had already done considerable damage.
Her eyes lit up, as an idea came to her and she turned to face him. ‘I don’t see any reason why you shouldn't keep your cows here.’
He let out his breath in a great whoosh. ‘You mean - you'll agree?’
‘On certain conditions, yes.’
‘Conditions?’ His voice became wary again.
‘Not unreasonable ones, I hope. Are you good at repairing things, Mr Pursley?’
‘You have to be, on a farm. I like working with wood, I will admit.’
‘I like wood too,’ she confessed. ‘I like polishing it, making it shine.’ She laughed. ‘And that's a good thing, because there’s a house full of furniture and panelling here that needs polishing. No one has touched most of it for years.’
He nodded. If she’d talked about music or poetry, he’d have retreated, because he had no time for poetry and was almost tone-deaf. But making wooden things shine, yes, he could appreciate the pleasure in that. ‘What are your conditions?’
'That you'll help me with some temporary repairs to the house.’
His face, which had been apprehensive, cleared instantly. ‘Oh, yes, I can do that! As long as you leave me to do it in my own time, whenever I have an hour to spare. It couldn’t take priority over looking after the farm, but I could make time every now and then. Woul
d that do?’
‘That would be quite acceptable.’
‘And the home farm?’ he prompted. ‘Will you let me put a fence or a quickset hedge round it? As owner, you have the legal right to do that. I used to think enclosure was a devil’s trick and I argued with Parson many a time, but now I’ve seen how disease can spread when the grazing’s open, destroying all a man’s built up, well, I’ve changed my mind. If we’d still been at our farm, I’d not have lost my other cattle.’
He gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘First time I’ve ever agreed with Sewell about anything! He’d stare if he heard me say that. He’s wanted to enclose the village land for years, but your grandfather wouldn’t agree. Mr Rogers says it needs an Act of Parliament and you have to have four-fifths of the owners or copyholders in agreement to do it. You still own two-fifths, even though your grandfather sold so much, so Sewell can’t do anything without you. Old Squire wouldn’t hear of enclosing or changing anything, but perhaps you'll feel differently?’
‘Would it not be expensive to fence the land?’
‘Yes. I can’t afford a proper fence. But I could put in a hedge and reinforce it with dead branches and such till it grew. If you’ll give me the run of your woods and fallen trees, that is?’
‘As long as there’s enough left for our firewood.’
He laughed. ‘You've enough firewood there to last you a hundred years. I’ll gather you a load from time to time, if you like. Those woods have been neglected for years, and there’s all sorts of useful stuff lying around.’
There is was again, this reliance on the produce of your own land, instead of the need to buy things. ‘Tell me frankly, Mr Pursley. Was my grandfather a bad landlord?’
‘Well, he wasn’t as caring as he could have been. Not about the condition of the land, anyway. After your uncle died, your grandfather seemed to lose interest in the estate. Said he needed the money for other things.’
‘Perhaps I ought to think in a more businesslike way and sell you some wood?’ she asked, her humour surfacing again, now that her mother was no longer there to tell her that such remarks were not ladylike.
He grinned back at her, then seemed to recollect who she was and grew stiffer again. ‘I don’t think that would be worth your while. But I mustn’t bore you.’
‘I’m not bored, Mr Pursley. I find such matters interesting. And anyway, I must learn all I can about country ways, if I’m to live here. I shall enjoy doing that. In London there was nothing much else to do but read or talk, and I often grew bored.’ She felt disloyal to her mother, admitting that, but it was true. She had sometimes felt like screaming with the frustration of their narrow life, not to mention her mother’s strict standards about what a lady could and could not do.
She looked around her now, beaming. ‘Here there are so many things to do that I hardly know where to start and I haven’t been bored once!’
What sort of life had the poor woman led, then? Will wondered. He admired her will to work, he did indeed.
There was a sudden downpour of rain outside and that broke the spell. ‘Oh dear!’ Sarah exclaimed anxiously. ‘I must go up and check the attics. Mary's put some bowls up there to catch the worst of the leaks, and they may need emptying.’
‘I’ll come with you and find out what needs doing.’ He led the way out of the room at a brisk pace, intent on the job in hand and not on the social niceties of allowing a lady to go first. She had difficulty in keeping up and he turned to wait for her at the top of the stairs. ‘I’m sorry! I forgot about your lameness.’
She thought it one of the nicest things anyone had said to her in a long time. Most people were all too aware of her lameness and stared at her when she moved, or else averted their gaze, which was just as bad. To have forgotten it completely meant - well, it surely meant that it didn’t matter to him.
Rain was already trickling in through parts of the roof and they worked together to empty the motley collection of bowls and containers out of a sheltered dormer window.
‘I hadn't realised how bad things were!’ he exclaimed. ‘How could a man let his home get into such a state? If I had a place of my own, I’d not have wasted my money on casks of wine and fancy waistcoats, I’d have . . . ' He remembered that he was talking about her grandfather and stopped abruptly.
‘You don’t offend me,’ she said softly. ‘Nor would I!’
When they had finished, he declined an offer of refreshment. ‘No, I’ve too much to do. I’ll bring the cattle straight over when I get them tomorrow, if I may, so I’ll have to mend those gates today. But don’t worry. I’ll not forget the repairs to your roof. There’s quite a bit I can do at very little cost, except for my time. And if you could spare just a little money for some dressed wood, well, I could do even more.’
‘I might be able to do that,’ she said cautiously.
He hesitated, then looked at her sideways, emboldened enough by the rapport that had grown between them to make another request. ‘I’ll need proper shelter for the beasts. My barn burnt down recently.’ He didn’t say it was common knowledge that Sewell’s men had done it, but had added it mentally to the list of his grievances. ‘Your stables aren’t being used. They're a bit ramshackle, but the beasts would be warm enough in there. I could do a few repairs to them as well, so that'd help us both.’
She smiled again. ‘Use them, Mr Pursley, use them. I shall enjoy the fresh milk and I shall be grateful for any repairs you can do. And please don’t hesitate to ask me if you see any other ways in which we could be of mutual help.’
He looked her in the eyes, then, as if trying to understand whether she really meant what she said. He must have realised that she did, for he nodded in that decisive way of his which she was beginning to recognise. 'Very well. And - thank you, Mistress Bedham. I’ll not forget your generosity.’
He didn’t waste any more time on words, but set off at once to get to work. She stood by the window of her bedroom, watching him stride off through the leafless woods. He didn’t even seem to notice that it was still raining. She touched the window frame, running her fingers down the wood.
The feeling of having come home was so very strong.
And her pleasure in Will’s company was equally strong. Face flushed at that thought, she hurried down the stairs and set to work on her parlour again.
* * * *
A little later Hannah Blair arrived, with half her worldly goods piled on Mistress Bell's handcart. Her daughter, Hetty, was helping young Ned Bell to push it, the pair of them laughing over something.
With Petey's aid, Hannah soon had her things unloaded and then sent Ned and Hetty back for the rest, the smaller things. When she came to ask what she should do, Sarah set her to cleaning the hallway and stairs. Later, the children came back with the rest of the Blairs' belongings and Sarah had the happy thought of setting little Hetty to supervise Petey's efforts to weed the drive, for that morning he had pulled up some of the few remaining ornamental plants by mistake. Hetty nodded solemnly and they left her in charge of him.
‘Will she be all right?’ Sarah wondered aloud. She turned to Hannah. ‘She won’t be frightened of him?’
‘She’s not frightened of any of God’s creatures, my Hetty isn't,’ replied Hannah serenely. ‘And they sense that, for they come to her when they run from others. And what is that poor soul out there, but one of God’s creatures?’
And so it proved. Petey quickly grew devoted to the little girl and would have followed her everywhere had he been allowed. With her to guide him, he proved capable of many more tasks than previously, so Sarah was soon able to reassure Hannah that her daughter was more than earning her keep. As was Hannah.
Sarah had never been so happy in her whole life.
* * * *
After the main meal of the day, which they took at the usual hour of two, Sarah asked Mary to show her where Daniel Macey lived and went off to try to recruit the final member of her staff. She had hardly begun to explore the grounds as yet, becau
se they were so overgrown and she was afraid of falling over in the muddy conditions.
A narrow, well-defined path led from the back of the stables through the woods to a clearing where a small cottage stood in a neat garden. Even now, there were a few early snowdrops blooming and some evergreen bushes to take the eye from the leafless trees. In many of the bare patches of earth, new shoots were pushing their way through the soil, a promise of the yearly renewal of life.
‘He d’keep his garden better than his house,’ grumbled Mary. ‘Daniel! Daniel Macey! Where be you?’
‘Round back,’ called a voice.
‘New mistress be come to see you,’ called Mary.
‘Well, she won’t see me from there, will she? You’ll hev to bring her round here.’
Mary looked at Sarah apologetically. ‘He d’get more quibbly all the time. It’s his age, I b’lieve.’
‘I don’t mind going round the back. Perhaps he’s in the middle of doing something.’
‘Oh, he’ll be doing something, all right. Never stops doin’ things to that garden of his, he don’t. That's why he’ve lived so long. Over eighty, he is. Ain’t found time to die yet!’
Cackling at her own pleasantry, Mary led the way round the house to where a very old man was digging in his vegetable patch. He was thin, but still looked remarkably hale for his years, with a halo of white hair around a bald pate.
‘You should ha’ left that an’ come out the front!’ complained Mary. ‘’Tain’t polite to make Mistress Sarah come round the back. This be our new mistress, Daniel, Mistress Elizabeth's daughter. And this be Daniel Macey.’
The old man eyed Sarah from under bushy white brows. ‘You don’t look much like your mother.’
‘You mind your tongue, Daniel Macey!’ exclaimed Mary, scandalised at this familiarity.
‘Too old to mind me tongue,’ he cackled. ‘If a man can’t say what he thinks when he’s said goodbye to eighty, what can he do? The food don’t taste so good now I’ve lost my teeth, the ale makes me dizzy and my wife’s long dead, poor lass. Not but what I don’t bid ye welcome, mistress. You look a man steady in the eye, at least.’
