by Mary Nichols
She found out when, waking early, she dressed in a simple round gown in pale blue muslin laced at the front and without panniers, slipped into some sturdy shoes and went down stairs. They were fast asleep on the settles in the parlour. She silently withdrew and crept out of the back door.
The sun was a golden orb peeping over the summit of the hill. The sheep seemed hardly to have moved since the day before. The lark still sang. She supposed that would always be the same, whatever the outcome of her quest. The world would keep turning, people would be born and marry and die, just as if she had never been. It was humbling and yet somehow comforting. She wandered along the path she and Jonathan had taken the previous day, going over their conversation, the strange way they had met, the gambling and the duel. Had she really pretended to be a man and behaved in that unladylike manner? No wonder he laughed. It would have been funny if it were not so deadly serious.
Sighing, she sat down on the rock by the path and looked down at the roof of the Shepherd’s Crook. It really did not deserve the name of inn—it was no more than a hedge tavern. Three weeks before she would never have considered staying in such a place. Indeed, she had never been inside an hotel, let alone an inn. Three weeks before…How her life had changed. And might change even further, when she found the elusive Catherine Fellowes. Jonathan had suggested going home, leaving the past buried, and though half of her wanted to do that, to have everything back to what it was, she knew that was not possible. You could not turn the clock back. And half of her could still hear that imagined voice saying, ‘Come unto me.’
She stood up. The die was cast. Today was a new day, made for new discoveries.
Halfway down the hill, she met Jonathan coming towards her. He was dressed in country clothes, brown cloth coat and nankeen breeches. He was hatless and his hair was tied back in a queue. ‘You are up betimes,’ he called as he approached. ‘Could you not sleep?’
‘The sun shining through the window woke me. It is a beautiful day.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. She seemed more cheerful than she had been the day before. ‘The fair will enjoy good weather. Will you come down to breakfast. Then we can go to Moresdale. That is, if you want to.’
‘Yes, of course I do.’
He turned and they went down together.
Moresdale was a hive of activity as woven-willow hurdles were being made into pens for the sheep, which were being driven in from all over the hills. How the shepherds and their dogs managed to recognise their own and keep them separate, Louise had no idea. Already some of the stalls were set up and doing business, selling everything from ribbons, lace, stays, hats, buttons and buckles to cabbages, blueberries, books and pamphlets, puppies and kittens. There were flags and bunting everywhere.
At the other end of the village, on a relatively flat piece of land, the lines were being marked out for the races and the competitions. Bowling for a pig was likely to be a favourite with the crowd and competitions of strength such as hammer throwing and arm wrestling. There were also skittles, archery and bowls and races for the children and, the high light of the day, a competition to decide the best sheepdog. Joe and Betty went off on their own, to investigate how to enter some of the competitions.
Jonathan and Louise, arm in arm, strolled among the crowds who were making their way to the open space where a dais had been set up. It had an archway of inter twined flowers and half-a-dozen chairs. This was where the dignitaries were gathering to open proceedings. Louise, with Jonathan in tow, pushed her way to the front of the crowd, determined to see as much as she could.
‘I wonder how old the Dowager is,’ Jonathan murmured.
‘You think she might be Catherine Fellowes?’
‘It is a possibility.’
‘I prefer to think Catherine Fellowes has nothing to do with the Hall,’ Louise said. ‘A poor relation, perhaps, many times removed. I think of her as a sad person, someone who was forced into parting with her child, perhaps because she was too poor to keep her. Or perhaps she died in childbirth and her grieving husband could not bear to look at his child who was so like her mother.’
He did not point out that theory did not accord with her account of what she heard her father and mother saying—according to them, Catherine Fellowes was still alive. And so was her husband. If it comforted her to think that, who was he to say differently? He squeezed her hand in reassurance as a carriage drew up. It was easy to see it had once been a splendid affair, but now the gold paint had tarnished and the coat of arms on the door had faded. A driver in a fustian coat and woollen breeches sat on the box seat and on the step behind stood a giant of a man in blue-and-white livery, who looked about him, frowning at the crowds. As soon as the carriage stopped, he jumped down, opened the door, let down the step and held out his hand. It was grasped by a black gloved hand and that was followed by the lady herself.
She was tiny and this was emphasised by the width of her hoops and the tight lacing of her stays, all in a deep blue. Her white wig was piled high with rolls and curls and was topped by a tiny hat, perched at an angle on top of the creation. But the thing Louise noticed before all of that, was that she was very old and could not possibly be the Catherine Fellowes she sought.
Hanging on to the big man’s arm, her ladyship proceeded in stately manner to the dais, mounted the steps and took her place on the largest chair. Her servant stood behind her, towering over her. She did not smile.
One of the men on the stage stood up to address the crowd, welcoming them to the fair and outlining the rules of the competitions that would take place after the more serious side of the business had been transacted. Then he bowed deferentially to the Countess and invited her to open the proceedings.
She stood up and came to the front of the dais and stood regally surveying the crowds. Her dark eyes swept her audience and came to rest on Louise. For a moment she appeared shocked as their glances met and held for several seconds, then she drew herself up and declared Moresdale Fair open in a firm voice that belied her age. This was followed by applause and cheers orchestrated by those on the dais. She accepted them without any sign of pleasure, turned to her servant and allowed him to lead her back to the carriage. The next minute it had disappeared in a cloud of dust.
‘She might have stopped and looked round,’ commented a woman, standing beside Louise. ‘We spent hours and hours decorating the stalls and baking cakes and pies. I hoped she would taste one of mine. In’t that just like the gentry, don’t care a toss about us what works to keep them in their palaces.’
‘It was almost as if she knew me,’ Louise said to Jonathan, as they moved away. ‘But she could not, could she? I was only five when I left here.’
‘Perhaps you resemble your mother.’ He, too, had seen that look. On her ladyship’s face, it was not one of unalloyed joy.
‘I never thought of that. There are so many questions I want to ask and they nearly all begin with why.’
‘When do you propose asking these questions?’ On the surface she was wide-eyed, like a child discovering something new, but he knew that beneath that façade she was afraid. And he shared her fear. The outcome of her investigation was important to her and because of that it was important to him too.
‘Soon,’ she said. ‘When I have decided how to go about it.’
‘Would you like me to do it for you?’
‘Certainly not! Do you take me for a coward?’
‘No,’ he said, smiling. ‘Never that. Obstinate and impulsive, if you like, but not cowardly.’
They spent some time going from one event to the next, watching the sheep dogs driving their flocks, listening to the bartering as flocks were sold and taking part in many of the competitions. He walked beside her, behaving in his usual cheerful way, pointing things out to her, commenting on what was happening, laughing at the antics of the people bowling for the pig, frowning at those who were encouraging a couple of cocks to fight. He tried his hand at archery, using a crossbow, and Louise, not to be outdone, ent
ered herself. Drawing the bow was easier than a log bow, but she did not think it was as accurate. She squealed excitedly when she hit the centre of the target and scored better than Jonathan. He smiled, and let her enjoy her triumph. For a short while he had glimpsed the return of the madcap who had so attracted him and it did his heart good. But it was not to last.
They were looking at some ribbons on a stall when they heard someone mention the Dowager Countess and Louise pricked up her ears. ‘She opened the Fair again this year,’ a woman was saying. ‘I don’t know why the Earl leaves it to her. She’s getting too old.’
‘Too old to look after the Hall and that’s a fact,’ her companion added. ‘I don’t know why he don’t come home and see to the place. It is getting more and more neglected.’
‘Because no one will work up there, that’s why,’ a third put in. ‘Except Hamish Mackay and he won’t let anyone near her ladyship. It’s my belief he’s more than a servant. He says who comes and who goes. You can’t get past him or those great dogs of his. They’ll kill you on sight.’
‘So, why don’t the Earl come home?’ the first insisted.
‘How should I know? According to Hamish, he has business in London, which is no loss to Moresdale. A more bad-tempered man I have never met.’
‘What about his wife?’
‘No one ever sees her. Either she’s shut up in the house or she is in London too. It’s the Dowager who looks after things in the village. What she says goes. She even takes the Earl’s place as the presiding magistrate. Had young Timmins put in the stocks when his dog worried Farmer George’s sheep and he’s a simpleton and not above ten years old. Still, if it had been the Earl, he’d have had him strung up.’
The gossipers had no more to say on the subject of the occupants of the Hall and Louise and Jonathan wandered away. ‘It does not sound like a happy place,’ Jonathan murmured.
‘No,’ she said.
‘What would you like to do now?’
‘Let us find Joe and Betty. I am feeling guilty that I have allowed them to be alone together so much.’
‘Joe would never compromise Betty. I think he is genuinely fond of her. You never know, they might decide to wed. Would you have any objection to that?’
‘Me? It is not for me to say. She has an older brother; he would be the one to give his permission. But I have been sadly remiss in my duty towards her.’
‘Then by all means, let us find them.’ She was prevaricating, he knew that, but he was a patient man; he had followed her so far, he could wait a little longer. In that time he might persuade her to let sleeping dogs lie and accompany him back to Barnet. And then they would part. The thought of that depressed him.
Joe was taking part in the arm wrestling, but he was up against a man with huge biceps and was soon eliminated. He grinned ruefully as he left the arena and rejoined Betty, who was standing beside the Viscount and Miss Vail.
‘Bad luck, Joe,’ Jonathan said. ‘Try the races. I think you might have an advantage there.’
Joe and Betty were enjoying themselves hugely, but though Louise pretended to take an interest in everything, her mind was far away. How to get into the grounds of Moresdale Hall without being torn to pieces by the dogs was occupying her mind. And how to find her way into the presence of the Countess and what to say to her when she succeeded. She could not baldly state who she was and demand to know the whereabouts of Catherine Fellowes. She had to be more subtle than that. And if what she learned was not good news, how to tell Jonathan, Viscount Leinster.
He felt rather than heard the sob catch in her throat and turned to look down at her. There was a fixed smile on her face, but there was pain in her lovely eyes and now he knew the reason, he could feel her anxiety, as if it were a physical thing, a great lump of agony that would not go away. He wanted more than anything to relieve it. And perhaps there was something he could do. He had a title and some standing in the haut monde; surely they were not so far from civilisation here that it did not count for something. It would need some thought and he would say nothing to Louise. ‘Have you seen enough?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘I have not,’ Betty chimed in. ‘And there is to be a country dance tonight on the green. We want to go to that, don’t we, Joe?’
‘We will come back for it,’ Jonathan said. He tucked Louise’s hand into the crook of his arm. ‘Come, Louise, let us take a walk.’
Chapter Nine
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘Up that hill.’ He pointed. ‘I have a fancy to see the view.’
The slope was gentle at first, but grew steeper as they climbed. He held her hand, making sure she did not slip, though she was strong and healthy and easily able to make the ascent. Three-quarters of the way up, he stopped and turned. ‘See,’ he said.
She looked down at the village, nestling in the hollow, and could see the crowds and the flags and the sheep pens, quickly emptying as the animals were sold and taken away. But it was not the village he meant; he was pointing a little to the right, and then she saw it. The roof of a large house, heavily screened by trees. ‘Moresdale Hall,’ she said.
‘I think so. I had hoped we might see more of it, but the trees are in the way.’
‘It looks very big.’
‘I expect it is. I have no doubt that when it was built it dominated the village, with clear views all round. A statement of the Earl’s rank and wealth. I am surprised the trees have been allowed to grow and screen it so completely. Not only can the world not see it, it cannot see the world.’
‘It does not tell us much, does it?’
‘No, except perhaps the owner’s wish for privacy,’ he said thoughtfully.
‘That is going to make it difficult to get inside.’
‘You want to get inside?’
‘Yes. I must speak to the Countess, but I am afraid she will not receive me.’
‘Then we shall have to think of a strategy.’
‘Jonathan,’ she said slowly, ‘I am grateful for your support, truly I am, but this is something I must do alone.’
‘Of course, my dear. I understand.’ There was a stray curl being blown across her face by the wind. He reached out and tucked it behind her ear. His touch made her go hot and cold, sending a shiver through her body from the top of her head to her toes. She must not let him see how it affected her, she must not. She turned away.
‘Let us climb a little higher,’ she said.
He sighed and followed. Touching her was not a good idea. It gave him ideas he should not have. She was a whole some, innocent young lady for all her pretended worldliness, he did not doubt that, and as he liked to think he was an honourable man, he must curb his desire. Strenuous exercise might dampen it.
As they climbed higher the terrain became more rocky and they found they had to pick their way between outcrops of rock and huge boulders that looked as if some giant hand had flung them there. Just below the summit they had to negotiate a narrow path with a sheer drop on one side and a cliff face on the other. It was not especially narrow, but there was no room to walk side by side. He went first and turned to wait for her. She was halfway when she came to a stop, unable to move. She had suddenly become petrified.
Jonathan, waiting with his hand out towards her, was surprised; she had never shown fear before. ‘Come,’ he said gently, moving back towards her. There is no danger if you keep close to the cliff wall and do not go too near the edge.’
Still she could not move. She turned so that her back was against the cliff, her arms out to either side, hands spread against the rock face, frozen there like a frightened rabbit.
‘Turn towards me, sweetheart,’ he said, taking another step towards her. ‘This way.’ They could not go back because to do that he would have to pass her and he could not be sure she would not panic and both would hurtle to their deaths. ‘Do not look down. Look at me.’
Slowly she turned her head to look at him. He was calm and resolute, h
is outstretched hand only inches from hers, if she could only bring herself to reach out for it. She could not speak. There were no words to express the terror she felt. He took another step towards her and grabbed her hand. ‘Now turn slowly towards me,’ he said. ‘Give me your other hand.’
His voice was quietly reassuring. She half-turned, lifted her other arm and then he had both her hands in his. Slowly he took a step backwards, taking her with him. And then another. And another. And then they were on a grassy plateau and she fell into his arms.
‘It is all right, sweetheart, you are safe now,’ he said, holding her close, so that her head was nestling in his shoulder. His heart was beating like a hammer. If she had panicked, thrust him from her, refused to take his hand and fallen, he did not know what he would have done. She was precious to him, so precious he could not bear to lose her. He loved her. It was not simply lustful desire for an attractive young woman, it went far deeper that that. It was a wish, a longing to nurture and protect, to have and to hold safe from all ills, to be as one, together facing the world, for always. She had established herself in the core of his being, became part of the man he was, the man he might become. It was a staggering revelation.
The strength of his feeling shook him and though his brain endeavoured to deny it, his heart would not. He stood holding her body close to his, fitting into his so effortlessly they could only have been made as a pair, and groaned inwardly. She was not mistress material, they had already established that. Neither was she suitable as a wife. It was a ridiculous notion, so why was he thinking it? Had he not vowed to think long and carefully about whom he should marry? And what was there to consider about Louise Vail? As the daughter of a parson, she would not be considered a suitable bride for the heir to an earldom; as the product of an illicit union she would be ostracised and not received in polite society. Could love overcome those barriers?
The wind was strong up there on the peak and she was shivering. He put his arm about her and led her to the leeward side of a large boulder and drew her down beside him on the grass. ‘Are you feeling better now?’ he asked, keeping his arm about her shoulders.
