White Water

by Pamela Oldfield

  ‘If ’twas so terrible,’ he said, ‘why did you stay so long? You had only to write to your father and he’d have taken you away. Lord knows, he dotes on you enough. You only have to lift a finger — ’

  ‘I had no wish to distress my parents,’ she told him. ‘They were content, believing that I was happy. They thought Heron a fine place.’

  ‘And so ’twas, you were just telling me.’

  She frowned impatiently. ‘I said ’twas a large estate and a big house — ’

  ‘And a tin mine. Don’t forget the tin mine.’

  Eloise looked at him suspiciously. Was he playing with her? No, he would not dare. He would not risk her displeasure. He looked at her still in that certain way and there was unfinished business between them. She wondered anxiously if he remembered the day she had rejected him. Probably not, she thought. Such men do not suffer. ‘Aye, and the mine,’ she added. ‘But ’twas not thriving. They had mismanaged it all and the fortune was gone. Sad to see a fine inheritance lost by such folly.’

  ‘So you were misled,’ he persisted. ‘Your parents were fooled by these Kendals.’

  She hesitated, unwilling to admit that her family could be duped so easily.

  ‘I don’t think you properly understand,’ she said at last. ‘Nor ever will if I explain it a dozen times or more. Let us just say ’twas an unfortunate period of my life from which I am glad to escape.’

  He laughed. ‘So here you are, back in Rochester and your fond father is no doubt arranging a new match for you.’

  ‘He is … But enough of me, Steven. What are you about these days? I thought to find you wed by this time.’

  ‘Mayhap I haven’t found the right woman,’ he suggested. ‘Maybe I’m pernickety who I marry. I don’t have a doting father to arrange my future for me, but I’ve had my share of comfort, don’t you fret. A young man like me doesn’t need a wife. There are plenty of willing beauties in Rochester and I’ve found a fair number of them.’

  Eloise bit her lip, restraining a caustic comment. ‘I don’t doubt it,’ she said with an attempt at lightness. ‘You always did have a winning way, Steven Kennet. I still remember the touch of your lips upon mine, brief though it was.’

  ‘Do you? Now I’ve forgot that.’

  Damned liar, she thought. He did remember. She forced a smile. ‘If your luck holds out I might remind you,’ she said with a provocative toss of her blonde head.

  ‘My luck?’ he said. ‘There is nowt wrong with my luck. ’Tis you that seems afflicted by bad luck. This Martin and this Allan you’ve spoke of at such length. Two fine handsome men and you couldn’t land either one of them!’ Her eyes blazed suddenly but hastily she lowered her lids. ‘I told you, I would not have them,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, they did want you then?’

  She swallowed hard. He was going to make this as difficult as he could, but she would win. It might take all her cunning, all her guile, but she would not be rejected by Steven Kennet. She was still beautiful. No, she was more beautiful! He wanted her, it was written boldly in his eyes. But if he recalled her scornful treatment of him then he wanted his revenge. Was he worth her time, she wondered? She had almost decided to surrender to him, to restore her faith in her own desirability. And to experience once more the ecstasy of love which she remembered only too well. Her body and mind were ripe for love and while she waited for her father to negotiate another husband, she might well amuse herself with Steven Kennet.

  If only he did not push her too far in his zeal for revenge. She wondered how he would take her — in a furious passion of delayed longing, no doubt. Her senses thrilled at the prospect.

  ‘They wanted me,’ she said carefully.

  ‘But you teased them and ran away!’ he said.

  ‘That was spiteful,’ she said, allowing her lips to tremble. ‘I was much younger then — I was afraid.’

  ‘Afraid, my eye!’ said Steven. ‘I saw the way you fluttered those lovely fingers up there, at that very window. Such a delicate “farewell”!’

  She faced him squarely. ‘I would have thought a man like you, with all the “comfort” you’ve had, would have easily forgot a young girl’s foolishness.’

  ‘You thought wrongly, then.’

  ‘It meant so much to you? You wanted me so desperately?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘And now you don’t?’

  ‘Have I said that?’

  ‘You imply it by your insulting remarks and spiteful looks.’

  He threw back his head suddenly and laughed. ‘Well, well, a fine pair we must make, sitting here arguing if we will or we won’t. I’ve learnt a lot while you were in Devon being made a fool of by the Kendals. A fair reputation I’ve got, I can promise you. No one makes a fool of Steven Kennet and gets away with it — but I just might make an exception in your case. I say I might. Those wide blue eyes that speak so clearly to me — Oh they do! The message rings like a peal of bells in my ears. I know what you want, Eloise Ballantyne.’ He stood up and crossed the small distance between them. Slowly, he put his arms round her and raised her to her feet. She began to tremble, unable to control the clamour of her body crying out for the attention it had lacked for so long. He pulled her closer, keeping his eyes fixed on her face, noting the flush that coloured her cheeks and the way she unconsciously parted her beautiful lips. Her chest rose and fell, hastening its rhythm. He let the fingers of one hand travel up her back until it touched the bare skin at the nape of her neck. Eloise gasped with pleasure.

  ‘I might make an exception,’ he repeated softly. ‘Would you care to be the one exception to my rule, Eloise? How would you like to discover for yourself all that I’ve learned while you were away? Would that please your sweet body? Answer me, Eloise.’

  Wordlessly, she nodded her head, as his fingers explored the lobe of her ear and the contours within it.

  ‘Steven!’ she gasped, feeling her whole body come alive with a great aching desire for his.

  He ran his finger softly along her teeth. Then down went his hand to her breasts, first one then the other, feeling for the nipples which stood out stiffly through the material of her gown. She snatched at his other hand and held them both against her breasts. He raised an eyebrow and his eyes glinted with malice.

  ‘So you do want me, Eloise Ballantyne. Say it then and maybe you shall have all that’s mine to give. Maybe you’ll have it more than once. I warrant you’ll want it, Eloise. They all do and you’re no different. Do you realize that? No different to any of them. They all want it, you see, and when they get it they want more — ’

  ‘Steven!’ She clung to him fiercely, pulling his lips against her own, moaning.

  He teased her and his hands fell to her waist and back and down past her waist to her thighs. She cried out.

  ‘Tell me that you want me, Eloise!’ he insisted. ‘Say it! I want to hear it from those sweet lips.’

  ‘I — Oh Steven — ’

  ‘Say it! I, Eloise Ballantyne want you, Steven Rennet.’

  ‘No — I cannot — ’

  He put his mouth to her ear and whispered, ‘Say it!’ His tongue reached in. ‘Say it, Eloise. You want me, don’t you?’

  She nodded again, aware of nothing but her body’s overwhelming need for his. She would enjoy him. Oh, she knew it. He had promised. More than once, he had said. She would want him again and again.

  ‘Say it, Eloise.’

  ‘I want you, Steven Rennet. I, Eloise, I want you, Steven Rennet. I want you. I want — ’

  But he had stepped back, a look of triumph on his face. She tried to cling to him, gasping, imploring, but he pushed her away.

  ‘But I don’t want you,’ he said. ‘So don’t wait around!’

  And then, with a slight flutter of his fingers, he was gone and Eloise, broken and defeated, was left alone with the echo of his laughter ringing in her ears.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Frank Innly’s wife, when approached on the matter of Felicity Carr, w
as sorely tempted to agree. Another pair of hands would be useful and so would the extra money. The girl, apparently, had twenty or more gold crowns that the old lady had left her and that was a lot of money. However, she resisted the temptation long enough to think it over carefully and finally said ‘No’. Her reason was no secret. She told her husband plainly that a girl who would lie with a man who was not her husband would lie with any man and she knew Frank Innly! He would doubtless be the next. All his protests to the contrary went unheeded. Frank was still an attractive man. His work in the fields kept him lithe and lusty. His wife, on the other hand, had borne more children than was good for her figure and she had also eaten too well. She was shapeless and tired of nights. Felicity would be neither once the child was born. There was a short sharp argument and it was decided that Felicity would not be welcome. Instead, she approached her elder sister, Dorothy Waller, a widow of thirty-six whose husband had left her with five sons to bring up. In that household there would be no danger of Felicity corrupting the husband. If she chose to set her cap at the eldest boy no one would object. Lucas was eighteen and Felicity was a better match than he could expect to make.

  Dorothy seized the opportunity gratefully and the Kendals were informed. Within a month it was all settled and Felicity moved in to the tiny cottage. She had her own bed chamber, although that meant that Lucas moved back into a room with two of his brothers. The other two younger boys slept with their mother. Dorothy was a feckless but good-hearted woman and she made Felicity welcome. She was genuinely pleased to have her there. The all-male houseful bored her and she was secretly hopeful of a match between Felicity and Lucas. He was a well-built lad with the physique of a wrestler and he was six feet tall. But his heart was gentle and his personality in no way matched his rugged frame. His mildly humorous eyes were blue and he had a curly golden beard. Of all the boys he was the only one to resemble Dorothy’s side of the family, and she kept a special place in her heart for him, telling everyone that he would grow up the image of her father.

  She was a fierce, wiry woman with boundless energy and she worked at the various big houses in the neighbourhood on a casual basis, helping out on washdays, spring cleanings, special occasions and the like. Twenty gold crowns sounded like a fortune, but Dorothy was not avaricious and would have taken her in for much less. Felicity’s child was due in early May and, as Maria had hoped, the delay gave her time to settle into her new surroundings and get to know the family.

  Sam was three years younger than Lucas, for two girls had been stillborn. Then there was Harry, fourteen, Davy, twelve and Robert, eleven. At first they were all very shy and quite abashed to find a pretty girl in their midst, but they soon found that her presence enhanced the home. Their mother was less aggressive towards them, for she no longer felt outnumbered by her family of sons. They ate as well as anyone in their circumstances — and a little better after Felicity moved in — and Felicity took over most of the housework, some of the cooking and she patched and mended the clothes. It was a simple, repetitive existence, but the boys’ cheerful company amused her and Dorothy’s courage inspired her. They were two women, each without a man, and they shared many secrets and much laughter, so that very quickly Felicity looked upon the older woman as half sister, half mother and was surprised to find that she was contented with her new life. The only shadow in this new-found happiness was the nearness of Romney House. It was less than a mile away and the knowledge that Martin was so close tormented her in the early days, but as time passed her new ‘family’ took up more and more of her energy and the memories began, imperceptibly, to fade.

  One morning — it was the second of May — she was outside spreading the previous day’s wash along the hedgerow to dry. She shook each garment free of the night’s creases and draped it carefully, so that the thorns held it well enough to stop it blowing away if the breeze strengthened. There was a hedge alongside the cottage for forty yards or so and it provided the ideal drying ground. As she worked she hummed cheerfully. She was large with the child, for the birth was only a few weeks away and she moved awkwardly, pausing occasionally to straighten up and put a hand to her back where it ached. Her pregnancy had been almost trouble free and she counted herself fortunate. Her minor pains had been swiftly alleviated by Dorothy’s infusions of motherwort. Her cheerful support had also helped greatly.

  ‘’Twill dry a treat today.’

  Felicity turned to see Lucas on his way to work in the nearby smithy where his strength made him invaluable to the blacksmith, who was now nearly seventy and doubled up with rheumatism.

  ‘Aye,’ she answered. ‘But you’re early today, Lucas.’

  She bent to pick up a pillowslip but he was there first and handed it to her.

  ‘All that bending,’ he said. ‘It might well harm the little ’un.’

  ‘I don’t think so, but thank you. Shall you be busy today?’ She had a sudden premonition of his purpose and fought to keep the conversation on mundane matters.

  ‘I came early a-purpose to find you,’ he said. ‘I’ve summat to say. Summat important. Can’t you guess what ’tis?’

  She wanted to say ‘No’ but that was a lie. Her premonition was right and he meant to say it. Prevaricating would do no good. ‘I think I do,’ she said softly. ‘Is it about — you and me?’

  ‘Aye, ’tis that. I was wondering and thinking a lot lately that I’m eighteen and in work and I’ve no maid of my own. And here’s you, with child, and no man. You’re a bonny lass and — ’ he grinned. ‘I’m a handsome man. We’d make a fair couple, I reckon, if you’d have me.’

  ‘Oh Lucas, I — ’

  He put a large finger to her lips. ‘Let me finish my speech,’ he protested. ‘I’ve spent that many hours on it! Where was I? Ah, that’s it. If you’d have me. I’d not mistreat you and I’d care and love the little ’un like he was my own. That I promise. And I’d love you, Felicity, for I nearly do already and I’ve only just set my mind to it!’ Felicity’s face relaxed into a smile and he put the finger under her chin and lifted her head.

  ‘I’m not a gentleman,’ he said, ‘but I’m honest and I work hard and no one should ever harm a hair of your head if you was mine. Now was that all of it? No, I’ve forgotten a bit. But it’s gone so what I’ve said will have to suffice. Ah, I know it — that you may have a notion to stay unwed and wait for your gentleman to claim you and the child. If that’s what you want I’ll wait a year for you. How’s that for a speech? I must admit I’m proud of it.’

  ‘And so you should be, Lucas. That’s my first proposal and so well said! I’m proud of you. And beholden to you for asking.’ She sighed. ‘The truth is, Lucas, there’s some truth in what you say — that I’d like the child’s father to claim him. I don’t think he ever will but mayhap he should have the chance.’ Lucas nodded and she went on, ‘I’d like to wait and think it over. You are a handsome man and you’d make a fine husband. If ’twas not for the child I’d accept your proposal but — the child should have a chance to be with his father if he’s wanted.’ She swallowed. ‘I don’t think he will be,’ she said, ‘and that’s the truth, but I’ll bide my time if I may.’

  ‘Then can I kiss you?’

  ‘Kiss me?’

  ‘To show you I’m in earnest — and a fair kisser. Then I’ll not plague you further.’ She nodded and he drew her towards him. ‘We’ll not get very close!’ he joked, but kissed her soundly nonetheless. ‘How did you like it?’

  ‘A very sweet kiss! I like you, Lucas. You’re a good man.’

  ‘Well, that’s nice to hear.’ He glanced up at the sun. ‘’Tis getting on. I’d best be on my way. We’ve a busy day ahead. I’m glad we understand each other.’

  ‘Aye. Enjoy your day, Lucas.’

  ‘I will — and you take care. You’re in a delicate way.’ She nodded and watched him until he was out of sight then shook the pillowslip and spread it to dry with a heart grown lighter for his words. Lucas Waller was a good man. She could do a lot wor
se than wed him.

  That night Felicity dreamed — a vivid dream which had returned again and again since the conception of her child — but there was no child in the dream. Hardly a week passed without the dream appearing in her sleep and in her waking moments she tried desperately to hold on to it and recall it in detail. But this she could never do. It slipped from her, leaving only the essence of the dream and the knowledge that it had a significance for her.

  As soon as her eyelids closed and her breathing settled into its regular sleep pattern, the images rose crystal clear. In that last moment before the conscious mind surrenders to the subconscious she thought, This time I’ll remember it, and then she was walking in a strange place, walking up to the doorway of a dilapidated house. A large house with gardens overgrown with weeds and nettles. The trees were large and shapeless and without leaves, and the bare branches and twigs brushed against each other with a sighing sound, although there was no wind to move them. Her hair was longer than it was in reality and reached almost to the ground. She was naked, but she was not aware of the cold although the garden was shadowed by a full moon. As she went up the steps to the front door it opened soundlessly and she went inside. Desolation met her at every turn of the passage which twisted interminably. Dead leaves had blown in through the cracked and broken windows. Cobwebs hung across the corners like massive grey drapes and there was no furniture in the rooms. Door after door presented itself and she opened them and peered inside. The rooms were shuttered but chinks of moonlight gave them an eeriness that did not frighten her. Then she realized that the dimensions of the passage were changing — it was becoming narrower and loftier and her journey though it was faster. Her feet moved more quickly until suddenly she was no longer running but floating along the passage, and she was so high she could no longer see in at the half open doors. She followed the passage, which took her upstairs and along another passage into a room at the end. There were no shutters and the moonlight streamed in. She opened her mouth to scream, for there was a figure sleeping on the floor amid the dead leaves and cobwebs. Although she made no sound, the figure stirred and sat up, staring at her. Martin, Martin, Martin she whispered, but it was not Martin but Allan, looking gaunt and ill. He held out his hands to her but she floated out of the window, up and up towards the moon. The grey moonlit moor passed below her, faster and faster, and there was a great rushing sound as a wind sprang up and swirled her giddily. Glimpses of the old house passed before her, growing smaller and smaller, until it finally disappeared.