by Janet Woods
Ryder made his way over to West Street. It was his second visit to the workhouse in Poole that day. Having hired the minimum of staff for the Madigan estate he’d packed them off on a hay cart, along with their baggage and some livestock.
Ryder promised to return for more servants when the snow had cleared. ‘I’ll need two men of all work. One of them can be a lad. It would be an ideal father-and-son position. I’ll also need a coachman and stable hand, a laundry maid, and …?’ He ran his hand ruefully over the growth on his chin. ‘A personal servant wouldn’t go amiss, perhaps you know of someone suitable.’
The warden smiled. ‘I do know of an experienced manservant. His master left the district a few years ago, though he gave the man a generous bonus.’
Ryder gave a faint grin, suspecting he might know the man more intimately than most. ‘Tell me it’s John Moore. I thought he was moving in with his son and I gave him a cottage and an allowance to carry him over. What’s he doing in the workhouse?’
‘The son married four years ago and the pair sold the cottage from under John and took off. He lived at Madigan House for a short time but was turned out when the caretakers died.’
‘Who turned him out?’
‘Them who took charge,’ the warden said darkly. ‘I’m not one for tittle-tattle. Be that as it may, John wasn’t doing any harm there and he offered to take on the task of caretaking for no reward. Instead, the Reverend Bryson slid his wife’s nephew into the position, name of Luke Ashburn. The reverend gave John’s allowance to Ashburn, as recompense for the work he was doing. The reverend reckoned he was your next of kin, and that gave him the authority. Greed if you asks me.’
While it was true that the reverend was a distant relation and was his legal heir, the man had been presumptuous in thinking he could step into Ryder’s shoes and just take over.
‘It sounds as though Ashburn is overzealous.’ Guilt filled him for neglecting his estate for such a long time. ‘John must be getting on for fifty, is he still able?’
‘That he is. He’s a little on the sedate side, though.’
‘John was always a little on the sedate side but he’ll do me nicely. If he’s not too proud to take his former position send him out to the house on the next wagon.’
‘I’m sure he’d be delighted. I’ll go through the books to see who might be suitable for the other positions. Most of them will appreciate being offered the chance to work. Do you need nursery staff?’
Ryder laughed, because the nursery at the top of the house would accommodate a dozen offspring as well as matching nursemaids. ‘Not at the moment, but you never know what the future will bring.’
The Pelham girl appeared and after a moment of scrutiny, bobbed him a curtsey. She stood quietly while her release was obtained, holding tightly to two hessian bags that were little more than sacks with straps attached. There was an air about her, as if she were expecting bad news. It made him feel uncomfortable.
Eventually, she asked, and in a voice so soft he could hardly hear it, ‘Have you found my stepmother?’ Her calmness belied the dread in her eyes.
‘I have. Mrs Pelham has a fever and needs some care and attention. She will be my guest until her health improves enough for her to move.’
A smile instantly transformed her grave face into one of charm and the words rushed out of her. ‘Adele has survived, then … thank goodness. I was so worried, especially when Mrs Bryson at the rectory said she wouldn’t have survived the heath.’
Adele! The name punched Ryder in the heart with some considerable force. Surely it couldn’t be his Adele – not after all this time.
He dismissed the thought but it stole into his mind again as possibilities arose. Could it be her – his lost love? The rector had told him the pair had relatives at Brackenhurst. He would have had said more had Ryder not cut him off, making it clear he had neither time nor inclination to stand and gossip.
Dare he ask the girl?
No … it would be a coincidence for them to have returned to the district at the same time – and too much of one to find himself in the position of having saved her life and being obliged to take her under his roof. He would look like a fool if it were someone with the same name.
It wouldn’t be the first time he’d looked like a fool, so did that matter?
He took in a breath. ‘I understand you have relatives hereabouts. What are they called?’
‘They’re not my relatives, they’re Adele’s. I don’t know their names, but they are two aunts who live in a cottage she owns in Brackenhurst.’
His heart soared, then flopped, and then soared again, but cautiously before it sank again. He trod carefully, flattened by dread. ‘I’m given to understand your father died recently.’
‘We were on our way by ship when he fell overboard and drowned. He was drunk.’ It was a matter-of-fact, unemotional statement.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you, my lord. Our trunks were mislaid in Bridport while we were looking for a carter willing to cross the heath with them. We’re left with what we stand up in.’
Which wasn’t much. The woman in his home was thin to the point of being skeletal. Her face was gaunt … yet there was something about her. Surely that wreck of a woman sleeping in his bed was not his Adele … no, she looked nothing like her. She must be another of that name. He resolved to put his Adele from his mind. ‘There’s a dressmaker’s establishment up the road a ways. We’ll stop there and I’ll kit you both out.’
‘Adele will not like it.’
He lost patience. ‘I’m weary of being informed of what other people like and dislike. Mrs Pelham will have no choice in the matter, since you both must have clothing unless you want to freeze … and if that was your intention, why didn’t the pair of you stay on the heath and make a quick job of it instead of cluttering up my home like a couple of twittering magpies? Only fools would go on the heath in this weather.’
His tirade was met by a steady look, and then her lips twitched. ‘May I point out that you did exactly that, my lord … and with a good result.’
He opened his mouth, and then shut it again, robbed of breath by her impudence. He began to laugh. She had really called his bluff. ‘You have me there, Sarah Pelham. So I did. Thank you for pointing it out.’
A grin licked the corner of her mouth. ‘I’m sorry if my words seemed to criticize. I was thinking of the expense to you, when we have adequate garments for our needs in our trunks. They are in the shipping office, I imagine.’
‘If they were left on the shore they will have ended up on a market stall. I’ll make enquiries when the weather has cleared, but don’t hold out any hope. Where have you journeyed from?’
‘Boston. My father worked for a relative, but he lost his employment.’
‘For what reason?’
‘He never said, but I understood he was accused of being … sometimes he couldn’t concentrate and anger got the better of him. Then it began to happen too often.’
A delicate way of saying he drank too much. Ryder supposed. He liked this young woman. So that’s where they’d gone, and it accounted for the girl’s accent. He’d had enquiries made, of course. He had wanted revenge on the man who’d stolen Adele from him – had wanted to kill Edgar Pelham. Now the man was dead and Ryder’s chance for revenge was gone. He recalled how angry and humiliated he’d been – still was. How could she have left him and gone off with that fancy lout? To add insult to injury it appeared that this girl was Pelham’s daughter.
He could feel his ire, a slow churning sensation deep inside him. He should take Adele back to the heath, watch the snow cover her up and then walk away from her and forget she ever existed. Or he could throw both of them into one of the flooded clay pits, or a stagnant pool. The ice would crack open, allowing entry of the bodies before the jagged shards healed like skin over a wound. They wouldn’t be found until spring, if ever.
But the wound she’d dealt him would never be healed.
&nbs
p; He looked up at Sarah Pelham and discovered her gaze on him. It was guarded, her eyes were steady and dark as though she could read his thoughts. If that were possible she would have learned that his thoughts were hot air, for he wouldn’t harm a hair on Adele’s head, or hers.
Sarah’s father’s sin was not hers. ‘You’ve just realized who I am,’ he said, and it was a statement, not a question.
She nodded, and then gazed at him as though she had something to say and didn’t know quite how to go about it. He would get to the bottom of this – and now. ‘If there’s something you need to say to me, do so now. I won’t chastise you.’
Pelham’s daughter didn’t flinch at his harsh tone. ‘Please don’t hurt her.’
Astonished by the unexpectedness of it, he said, ‘Hurt her? Of course I won’t. Once she is recovered from her illness sufficiently I’ll place you both in the care of her aunts. Tell me one thing, Miss Pelham, and please be truthful. Was she happy with … him … your father?’
The weary droop of the girl’s shoulders told its own tale and was embellished with, ‘I love Adele dearly. I will not answer on her behalf, or break any confidence she might share. Neither will I judge the amount of suffering another person endures because the pain is theirs.’
She girl was wise beyond her years, as though she’d never been a child at all. Tears seeping into her eyes told him what he wanted to know. The thought that Adele had got what she’d deserved gave him an unworthy sense of satisfaction. It was overtaken by an anger so dense and dangerous he knew he’d put a bullet through the man’s head were he still alive.
The girl was loyal, and for that alone he could grow to like her, Ryder thought as he unhitched Henry’s rein. Clicking his tongue he walked towards the dressmaker with the horses following.
Ryder knew nothing about women’s apparel, though he’d undressed one or two on occasion and found them a tease of buttons and laces. There were several women in the establishment and all of them turned to gaze at him. One bobbed a curtsey. ‘Good afternoon, my lord.’
He didn’t know her but she recognized him, despite the beard. Her eyes were avid with curiosity. He inclined his head before turning to the dressmaker. ‘I require four warm gowns, two shawls, capes and any other garments women need for their comfort.’
When somebody tittered, warmth crept into his cheeks. ‘My companion here will inform you of the size and colours. Send the account to Stephen Tessler’s office. Do you have somewhere I can wait?’
‘I was about to close the shop … the snow will only get worse.’
‘Then you’d better fill my order quickly, because I need to get home.’
‘We have a private room for gentlemen who are inclined to wait for their ladies, or wish to be consulted. It’s through that curtain. You will find the latest news sheet there and I’ll send an assistant through with some coffee. Is there a limit to what you wish to spend, sir?’
‘Please address me as my lord.’
‘Yes, sir … my lord.’
There was a collective intake of breath and the women froze into position, their eyes wide with anticipation, so he felt like a rogue rooster in a hen house.
He tried not to smile at his fancy and had no intention of satisfying their curiosity. ‘I’ll expect to spend a reasonable amount on a basic wardrobe and a female frippery or two.’ He turned to Sarah. ‘You have half an hour in which to make your purchases, young lady, and I’d rather you didn’t consult me. There are several ladies who can act as adviser if you need one, I imagine.’
Sarah’s eyes narrowed slightly at the thought of anyone advising her, but Ryder left her to it while he relaxed with his coffee and news sheet, grinning at the verbal, but mild, skirmish that came to his ear. She was certainly an independently minded young woman.
A world of yearning entered Sarah’s voice when she asked, ‘What’s the cost of that bonnet with the pretty blue ribbons and silk forget-me-nots?’
‘It’s expensive, miss. I doubt if Lord Madigan would appreciate me selling it to a ragamuffin. Basic wardrobe, the earl said, and that’s too good a bonnet for the likes of you.’
The blades were coming out, and Ryder burned for her when someone laughed, and said, ‘The very idea.’
He was about to remind them of his presence when Sarah said, ‘I’m not interested in your opinion of me, just in the price of the bonnet.’
The shopkeeper named an outrageous price.
‘The hat is not worth that much and I could decorate one better myself.’
The shopkeeper snorted. ‘Then go ahead.’
Sarah Pelham finished spending his money in the time he’d allotted her. It had become apparent to Ryder that she had an inclination to barter. When she quietly suggested a fifteen per cent discount might be appreciated he wasn’t surprised. The amount was outrageous, and he chuckled.
‘Certainly not,’ the shopkeeper said, and with justifiable outrage. ‘I will offer you five per cent and no more.’
‘I will accept the five per cent and an extra two for the insults suffered at the hands of you and your customers, that’s seven—’
‘I know what the sum of two and five is,’ the woman snapped. ‘What does a chit of a girl like you know about commerce?’
‘Enough to cancel the order and go to the salon further up the street.’
The woman’s voice changed at the thought she might lose their custom. ‘There is no need for that.’
Oh, well done, Sarah Pelham. Ryder grinned to himself.
She knew a damned sight more than the dressmaker did by the sounds of it, Ryder thought, and with some satisfaction. A trader who insulted their customers deserved to lose them.
Ryder scraped his chair back and emerged from behind the curtain in case she needed help. ‘It’s time we left, Miss Pelham. I hope you’ve completed our purchases?’
‘Yes, my lord. The price awaits your approval. The proprietor has discounted her fee on account of the fact that she’s sold me several garments that are no longer fashionable.’ She turned to the woman. ‘We were just about to agree on a percentage, were we not?’
The woman’s mouth opened, then she shut it again and shrugged. ‘Seven per cent, and not a penny less.’
Ryder tied the parcels on to Sarah’s horse and lifted her onto its back. The girl had impressed him. Telling her to wait he went back in the shop. As before, the noise of collective female voices quieted and all eyes swivelled his way.
He purchased two plain bonnets, a variety of silk flowers, ribbons in several colours and a box containing sewing implements, silks and cotton threads. On impulse he bought a couple of feathery plumes, saying, ‘Add the cost of these to the account if you would, and present it to Mr Tessler.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
‘I was disgusted by the animosity shown to my acquaintance in this establishment. The only reason I didn’t cancel the order was because the trunks containing their goods were stolen and they needed something to wear. We will not shop here again. Good day, ladies.’
He strode from the shop, leaving silence in his wake. Joining the hat boxes with a length of rope he hung them across Henry’s back like a couple of drums, then mounted. ‘I’ve bought you a bonnet apiece, and you can decorate them to your liking. It will give you something to occupy your time with. And if you like to read you can borrow books from my library as long as you look after them.’
Her eyes shone for a moment and then she said bluntly, ‘Thank you, my lord. May I ask, why are you being so kind to us? You didn’t have to purchase the bonnets.’
‘Firstly because you’re a female who wanted something pretty in her life, and it’s a way of thanking you for the amusement you afforded me. Going into that establishment was like walking into a den of feral cats. You may call the bonnets your two per cent.’
Her mouth softened. ‘You know they will talk and things will be exaggerated out of all proportion.’
‘You don’t seem to mind.’
‘There’s
no point in minding since I can’t put a stop to it. Adele told me the best way to extinguish a fire is to starve it of fuel.’
He laughed. ‘It’s too late for that.’
‘Adele might think so despite the gift of a bonnet,’ she said.
He remembered, and his laughter stopped. ‘Perhaps Adele shouldn’t have returned home since there was nothing to gain.’
‘She had no expectations.’
Ryder mulled that over in his mind for a moment or two. ‘Tell me something; did she ever mention me?’
‘Now and again, when she thought she would perish on the heath she said it was a fitting punishment for her because of the wrong she’d done you. Though she sent me to get help I know she didn’t expect me to bring any. She thought you were dead.’
‘But you knew who I was … how?’
‘Adele has a locket with a painted miniature of you. Since my father died she wears it around her neck. I recognized you from your eyes and your forehead and hair. Plus there was the idle talk.’
Mrs Bryson, Ryder imagined. The rector’s wife had always possessed a vivid imagination, a busy tongue and an inclination to preach to others in a hectoring manner. For that reason alone he’d never liked her, and she knew it. Adele had believed she was a witch because of her frightening stare.
He urged Henry to a faster pace. Like Sarah, Ryder didn’t want to talk about Adele. He would rather pretend she’d never existed, as he had tried to for the past few years. He put her at the back of his mind, closed the door to his heart and locked it.
Then he recalled the damp flame of her hair lying against her pale skin. Her eyes were greenish grey and darkly mysterious like the needles on the pine trees. He didn’t want to forget her! He needed to see her again, and soon. He needed to make her account for her treachery – make her suffer, as she’d made him suffer.
Two empty wagons approached from the opposite direction and Ryder stopped to ask the driver, ‘Is there much more?’
‘Two more loads after we get back to Poole.’ The man gazed up at the sky. The sun that had made the landscape glisten so prettily that morning was being absorbed by a mist slowly drifting in from the sea. ‘Your man is making hisself useful lifting the heavy stuff and we should finish just as darkness sets in, I reckon. It’s going to come down hard tonight, sir. You were lucky to get all your provisions in time.’
