Her lips tightened into a thin, ugly line and her face contorted with rage. ‘She didn’t get rich and she hated the child, but he never lived to do it again, did he?’ Suddenly she lifted her head and spat in his face.
Richard returned to Chasebury Manor, his mind seething with the revelations. Betsy was undoubtedly family, she was his brother’s child and what Agnes said was consistent with what he already knew or surmised. What he had not known was that Ben had been involved with both sisters. He tried to remember the exact words which burst from Agnes’s angry lips.
‘Scum, that’s what he was but mine until that night.’ She had also said something about his drunken state and it was all of a piece with how his brother had been. Drink and women.
Obviously Betsy had no idea of any of this and for a few moments he contemplated leaving things as they were. Then he knew he could not. This was something he had to do. Apart from any other consideration he had already committed himself by talking to Agnes about it.
Betsy Forrester was his brother’s child and she was in trouble. She had run away from her husband for whatever reason, and at present he could not conjecture why, but he had seen her in the market and she had run when she saw him. That reaction had become easier to understand once he knew that she had left Daniel Forrester. But still both he and Daniel had no idea where she was, and a woman roaming the countryside alone was in danger. Especially one as beautiful as Betsy.
Maybe he should talk to the farmer and tell him about the connection with the Choicely family – yet what use would that be? No, the answer was to find her and take it from there. The bitterness of the Salden family was understandable as far as wanting money for Ben’s child went, but nothing warranted killing Ben. Nothing.
When Betsy’s mother had been unsuccessful in her attempts to obtain money or recognition – and he could imagine his mother’s scathing remarks and denials on behalf of her elder son – then she should have stopped short of murder.
That night Richard dreamt he saw Ben racing through the woods as he used to do, much too fast, being thrown as the horse reared or even touched the rope, then backed away. He saw a woman in black, with her back to the figure on the ground, lurking behind a tree several yards away. Suddenly she turned and looked at that deathly still form; then, swirling her cloak more closely around her she made off in the opposite direction.
Richard gasped, then woke up, sweating profusely. The face he had clearly seen in those few seconds was a younger version of the woman he had been talking to this very afternoon: Agnes Salden.
Richard rose and walked over to the window. The full moon was bathing the garden below with a ghostly whitish-yellow light and he shivered. Agnes had killed his brother. Not Betsy’s mother, but the woman his brother had apparently spurned. He thought his brother’s murderer was dead but she wasn’t, she was alive and even now trying to obtain money from his family.
He moved from the window and paced the room. Of course it was only a dream, but it was vivid. And it made sense. It was Betsy’s mother who had come to see his parents and gone back empty-handed and unacknowledged. It was Betsy’s aunt, the one Ben had been dallying with first, who had wreaked a terrible revenge after he scorned her for her sister. God, what a mess. And yet out of all this came Betsy, the woman he had not been able to get out of his mind since he first set eyes on her. The woman he too was secretly hankering after.
Agnes sank into a chair and rested her heaving shoulders on the table. She remembered how it used to be when Benjamin Choicely came for her at least twice a week. Oh she knew she wasn’t the only one, but she was young and vibrant and she knew how to please a man in bed or, as happened most times for her, under the trees in the woods. Sometimes, especially in winter when the winds blew and the rain pelted down, Ben would take her on the back of his horse to a hut hidden in the forest just beyond the Chasebury estate. There on a bed of straw they made passionate love to each other.
Benjamin Choicely had been the man of her dreams, and although she knew he would never marry her she was happy to let things go as they would. He was the sort who would always need someone else and she intended always to be that someone. Her stupid sister was prettier but she was dull, deadly dull, when it came to men. Look at the one she had eventually married and had umpteen children with? And look at the child she had the one time Ben took her?
She raised her head from the table now, and began to wonder. Was it only the once? She had always presumed so, but …
‘He was mine,’ she said to the empty room. ‘Oh, he had strumpets all over the county, but he always came to me twice a week. That stupid cow of a sister had to be the one to get with child, and never me. He wouldn’t have cast me off like that. I would have stood up to his mother and father and anyone else, they’d have had to have set me up properly and looked after me if they wanted to marry him off to someone more suitable.’
She banged her fist on the table until it hurt. ‘And this is Richard, the younger brother who is now the heir. And what of Betsy? The inheritance ought to be hers. She is Ben’s child, but she’s a girl. If only she had been a boy I would have helped in the fight all those years ago because Betsy would have inherited, and we’d all have benefited, but all she got was her father’s beauty and her father’s nature. I’ve always hated her. I still hate her.’
After a while she rose and poured herself some ale. She could feel her heart thumping and knew she needed to calm herself. That stupid girl had always got on her nerves. As a baby she had been far more appealing than her own children. As a child she had a certain haughtiness not apparent in any of her cousins, and every time she looked at her Agnes saw Ben. How she had kept it to herself all those years was hard to believe now.
Ben had deserved to die and she had planned his death because he never returned to her and after all the glory months no one else satisfied her. But the last straw was her sister. That sealed his fate. That he went to her and she was having his child was too much. She tried three times to see him; she knew that he was avoiding their entire family because of the expected birth. ‘Stupid cow, she should have got rid of it or made him provide. I would have.’
She recalled how she used to wake in the middle of the night, remembering how it had been and realizing that it never would be the same again. She had not minded the others, but to spurn her for her own sister was more than flesh and blood could stand. That was when she knew he had to die.
She knew his ways so well and was confident she could carry it out. If she was never again to enjoy the ecstasy that was Benjamin Choicely then neither should anyone else, especially that sister of hers who was pregnant with his child.
Now, after all these years, his brother had the nerve to come here and say he would only do business with Betsy – Betsy who was the reason she lost Ben. Betsy – the child she had hated since her birth. Agnes nearly choked on the weak ale she was drinking, and, spluttering with rage as each thought chased around inside her head, she paced the small room. That was another thing: how did he know where she lived? And where was Betsy? It seemed everyone was looking for her and no one knew where she was? First had come that disagreeable husband of hers, Daniel, and now Richard Choicely too.
If she found Betsy before that high and mighty Richard Choicely she’d tell her a thing or two, by God she would. But where to start looking for her niece? She seemed to have disappeared completely. Probably with a man somewhere, Agnes thought. Like father, like daughter. Well, if that girl was going to come into money she, Agnes, was going to have some of it for herself and her family. But especially for herself. That would be some sort of justice.
Chapter 15
After returning from a delivery of milk to Graceden, the village three miles away, Daniel stopped by the church, tied the horse to the railings and went inside. He slipped into a pew at the back, knelt down and prayed that Betsy was all right, that she would send word to him. If only she would do that he knew they could sort it out. He loved her and he was as sure as he
could be that she loved him, but the straw halter was more like an iron band between them. The remedy was in his hands, he knew, but if he never found her again what could he do? If he did find her – and he would never give up looking – then his first act would be to get rid of it. As it was he tormented himself with looking at it every day as a form of punishment.
When he came outside a few minutes later he wondered about the boy Betsy had said lived in this village, the one who had come with the message that someone was in the stable. But it didn’t matter to him any more. He simply wanted Betsy to come home. Finding the boy was not important. He had himself driven away the person he loved. It had not been easy at first to understand that she loved him too. Throughout his life he had never known such happiness. He had always been the ugly and unwanted one. His youthful liaisons with women had been loveless, and until he brought Betsy to Redwood Farm he had little real passion or tenderness in his life. He unhooked his horse and cart and turned for home.
He was busy on the farm and Jim was tact itself, never mentioning Betsy in Daniel’s hearing. One day Daniel said to him, ‘Meals aren’t as good now the mistress isn’t here, Jim, but I do my best.’
Jim looked solemn and a bit embarrassed and Daniel said, ‘It’s all right, lad. We’ll manage but there won’t be any apple-pies until she comes home.’
He saw Jim’s surprise and added, ‘She’ll be back one day.’ Silently his mind and heart said, please God, and then the two men were quiet as they ate their bread and cheese.
He was down the bottom field when Jim came to fetch him. ‘Some people to see you, master. Said they were called Rosa and Bill.’
‘Rosa and Bill?’ Daniel racked his brains but he could not think who they were. He knew nobody called either Rosa or Bill, he was sure.
‘I’ll be down in a few moments. Will you keep your eyes on them, Jim?’ He finished his job and walked down to the farmhouse. The couple were outside talking to each other.
‘Mr Forrester, I hope we aren’t intruding, but we met Betsy several months ago and as we were in the area we just called in to say hallo.’
‘I’m so sorry. She isn’t here just now. She won’t be back today,’ Daniel said rather too quickly.
‘Oh, what a shame.’ Rosa looked disappointed, ‘We have to move on and don’t know when we shall be this way again. Never mind, we mustn’t keep you, I expect you are busy.’ She held out her hand. ‘Nice to meet you. Perhaps we may look in next time we are this way again?’
Bill proffered his hand too and Daniel, frantically trying to find words that would give him news without letting them know Betsy was missing, said, ‘I ought to offer you refreshment and if my wife were here she would do so, but she’s away nursing a relative just now and we are short of workers.’ The lie came suddenly and easily.
‘That’s fine,’ Rosa said, her deep voice soft with concern for him. ‘We just came in on impulse.’
‘I’m glad you did. Where – where did you say you met my wife?’
‘At the fair in – where was it, near Canterbury a couple of months ago, wasn’t it, Bill? We go to so many of the fairs and meet so many people that it’s sometimes difficult to remember which one was which.’
‘Yes, of course it is. We – we were at the fair, Betsy and me, on – on several of the days,’ he said.
Rosa began to walk away and Daniel said, ‘I’ll tell her you came by. She’ll be sorry to have missed you, I know.’
He watched until they were out of sight. Damnation. Why hadn’t he found out more. They knew of him, knew his name and that Betsy lived here, or had done. How had Betsy met them, in what way were they her friends? Wearily he turned back towards the fields.
The fair near Canterbury, he thought. That wasn’t the one he had been to. But Betsy had told them where she lived. Hope soared in his heart. She would not have done that if she hadn’t wanted them to seek her out. Did it mean she meant to return soon? His step was lighter as he went back to the bottom field, and Jim, watching him from the cowshed, noticed this and hoped those two people had brought good news to the master.
Rosa and Bill walked the two miles to where they had left the caravan in a field belonging to a farmer acquaintance they often met around the fairs and markets.
‘That poor man, he’s under a dreadful strain,’ Rosa said, ‘but I’m glad we’ve seen him now and who knows, we may be able to get them back together?’
‘Now, Rosa darlin’, leave well alone,’ admonished Bill. ‘We mustn’t interfere. You’ve done what you wanted and met Daniel, now leave things be. It’s not our concern.’
Her eyes were smiling as she turned to him. ‘Yes it is our concern, Bill, because Betsy’s our friend. She’s desperately unhappy without him and that man we’ve just left wondering who we are and how we are involved in her life, is pining for her too. I could feel his pain.’ She laid her hand over her chest.
‘I love you, my Rosa, but you’re a fussy old mamma sometimes. Betsy became like a daughter to you, didn’t she?’
‘Yes, I suppose she did, and we are in a wonderful position to bring them together because we know where they both are. Don’t fret, Bill, I shan’t do anything until the time is right. And maybe we won’t need to do anything anyway, the good Lord possibly has his own plan.’
Bill slipped his arm round her. ‘I’m sure He has, so He doesn’t need help from you.’
‘No, but they do. Betsy and Daniel. A little nudge in the right direction. She knows where he is but he doesn’t know where she is, yet.’
‘Rosa.’ There was an affectionate warning note in his voice.
She turned into his arms and kissed him long and tenderly. ‘I love you, Bill. Come on, we’re nearly there, I can see the caravan.’
They moved on a few miles that evening, and later, cosily in bed after their loving, with Bill snoring by her side, Rosa thought again about Betsy and Daniel. She had indeed grown very fond of the young girl and maybe Bill was right about the daughter bit. They had not been able to have children and she accepted this as part of her lot in life, but it never stopped her from dreaming.
This particular dream had not occurred for some while, but it was vibrant now and she decided they must soon turn the caravan towards Lord and Lady Aston-Jenkins’s home and see how Betsy had fared.
Rosa slept well and it wasn’t until the following morning, when she went outside to watch the sun come up over the fields, that the awful fear that Betsy might have moved on from Clover Court came to her.
Betsy decided she must find another place before the spring and Lily Aston-Jenkins’s wedding. It was possible that she and Marie would be asked to help upstairs at some stage of the proceedings. It was a small staff and although so far she had avoided doing this she feared it would come.
Under normal circumstances she would have relished the idea, but not now. Richard Choicely would recognize her, she pulled a rueful face, there was something to be said for being nondescript, one of a crowd. She had always stood out, as a child and as an adult, and it had seldom brought her anything but trouble.
Once Richard Choicely was part of this family the dangers of their meeting would be greater. Yet there was one part of her that wanted him to see her and possibly tell Daniel where she was. Although why would he do that? Of course he would not. He had no interest in her beyond the politeness that, she realized, he extended to everyone he met. She and Daniel had helped one of his men and he would not snub her, wherever they met. Yet when she saw him at the fair he had said that Daniel was looking for her, which might mean that he would send word to Daniel.
Since working here she had heard what a good man he was. Cook had been introduced to him and one day, in one of her more talkative moods when they were having their meal, she had told them how he said he spent a lot of time in the kitchen of his home when he was a boy.
‘He said it gave him a taste for kitchens which were usually warm and happy places. Miss Lily will be well-suited with that one, for all that he is ol
der and has been wed before.’
‘I reckon as to how cook’s in love with Sir Richard,’ Marie said to Betsy one morning when they were alone in the kitchen peeling the potatoes. Betsy laughed and tried to change the subject but Marie would not be moved.
‘He is a lovely man,’ she said. ‘Not for the likes of you and me of course, but he looks so romantic and he has such a wonderful smile. When I was upstairs,’ she said ‘upstairs’ with a kind of swagger, ‘and I served him, he looked right at me when he said thank you.’
Cook returned then and even Marie knew better than to indulge in discussion of the family when she was around. Betsy privately thought it was Marie and not cook who was in love with Richard Choicely and smiled to herself when she thought that she might, just might, be his daughter.
Cook herself opened the back door when Rosa called. ‘I was in the area, my caravan is along the lane at the back,’ said Rosa, ‘and I wondered if I could have a word with Betsy, who’s the daughter of a dear friend of mine.’
Cook looked across the room, ‘She’s busy right now. Betsy, do you know this woman?’
‘Yes, cook.’
‘Well, if you want to chat you can go at five for one hour. That’s if you have everything prepared for dinner this evening. You must be back by six – do you understand?’
‘Yes, cook. I will be,’ Betsy said quietly. They usually were finished by five anyway and had an hour where they were allowed to go to their rooms if there was nothing urgent to do in the kitchen, so cook wasn’t really giving her anything. Still, it would be best to keep on the right side of cook, who wasn’t a bad sort really, Betsy thought.
She sent a dazzling smile across the room to Rosa, who, with a quick ‘see you soon then,’ to her and a warm, ‘thank you so much,’ to cook, quickly left.
The Straw Halter Page 16
