by Evie Grace
He could impose as much as he liked, she thought, but it wouldn’t do either of them any good. Her heart wanted to stay while her head told her to leave, to put some space between them before any awkwardness developed.
‘Let me at least go and check on the cottage and bring some more of my belongings.’ She had only the clothes she stood up in and a couple of Emily’s dresses that she’d pulled in at the seams.
‘Of course. I’ll arrange for Daniel to drive the horse and cart with you.’
‘I can walk,’ she said.
‘I know you can, but I want you to travel in comfort, if not style.’ He smiled. ‘To be truthful, I’ll miss you. I’ve got used to having you around. It’s – well, never mind. If it is how you want it to be. Ma used to say, “Least said, soonest mended.” Goodnight, Catherine,’ he said, turning and walking abruptly away. She heard his tread on the stairs as he retired to his room.
She sat up for a while, pondering what had passed between them that evening, how his mood had changed from upbeat and cheerful while they were toiling in the garden, to a more sombre one that had come on when she had mentioned leaving Overshill.
She took pleasure in cooking and keeping house for him, and he seemed genuinely grateful for her efforts. If she’d thought that there was any chance that he could feel for her in the same way as she felt for him, then she would stay on, but there was no possibility of him treating her as anything other than a friend when she had rejected him for his brother all those years before.
He had loved Emily with all his heart and he had lost her. How could he ever love another?
Widowers did remarry, but she assumed that that was out of convenience. Stephen needed a mother for his children. What better solution than find another wife? And who would marry him when she was there in the way?
She promised herself that she would stay another month. That would be hard enough, because she knew that the longer she stayed at Forge Cottage, the more painful it would be to leave.
A few days later, Daniel and Catherine set out on their expedition to Faversham. She would have liked Stephen to have been the one to accompany her, but it would only have added fuel to the fire of the village gossips.
‘It is a lovely day, miss,’ Daniel said as he drove the horse along the lanes. The sun was rising through a bright blue sky, its rays caressing the hop bines, encouraging them to unfurl their leaves. The spikes of barley were a lush green and the apple blossom was drifting in the air on a gentle breeze. ‘Where are we heading for once we reach town?’
She gave him the name of the road.
‘I should like to walk around the market as well,’ she said. ‘We should collect my belongings first, pick up some provisions and then you can drop me at the Guildhall. We can meet a couple of hours later.’
‘The master expressed a wish that I stay with you at all times,’ Daniel ventured.
‘Knowing your master, I suspect that it was more of an order than a wish,’ Catherine said lightly, ‘but I can assure you I will be perfectly safe, and I won’t tell if you don’t.’
‘I’ll make sure I keep out of trouble.’ Daniel chuckled.
They collected her belongings from the cottage, then went to the market together to buy provisions for the family: a sack of potatoes; a dress for Jessie; peppermints and cheese. Daniel loaded them onto the back of the cart.
‘I’ll see you soon,’ Catherine said. ‘Don’t be late.’
‘I won’t be far from here,’ he promised.
She inhaled a deep breath of fresh air, tinged with the scent of bad eggs and fish from the creek, before retracing the steps that she’d taken with Agnes on their very last day together. Her heart ached as she recalled the weight of her body in her arms, the way she had pinched her mama’s cheek and giggled.
‘Agnes,’ she sighed. ‘Where are you?’
She carried on towards where the Berry-Clay brewery stood, and as she walked through the crowd, she spotted a woman with a child. The child was a girl, the same age as Jessie, and dressed in a fine white lace dress, white socks and leather shoes. She wore a white bonnet that cast a shadow across her face, but she knew it was Agnes. She moved closer, her heart pounding. She recognised the woman – it was Miss Treen, dressed in a starched uniform with her hair up in a bun. Behind her walked Mr James with another woman – his wife, she guessed. And then she realised that she’d been duped.
Mr James had lied when he’d said that Agnes would be adopted by an acquaintance of his. He had taken her. It was his wife who had been unable to bear children. It was no wonder that he’d been prepared to set her up with the cottage and get her out of the Union. He knew that he would have been found out if she’d stayed. Someone would have mentioned his child and she would have put two and two together.
She began to follow them, her mind in turmoil. All she wanted was to scoop Agnes into her arms and carry her away, but she had signed the agreement and if she revealed herself, she would be putting her daughter’s future in jeopardy.
The child pulled away from her governess and ran back towards Mr James and his wife.
‘Papa, Papa,’ she cried, holding her arms up to him. He lifted her up, laughing with her.
‘I wish you wouldn’t spoil her so,’ his wife said.
‘She is young,’ Mr James said. ‘Of course we can spoil her. Agnes, Papa would like to buy you a toy and some barley sugar.’
‘You will make her demanding and petulant.’
‘It isn’t in her nature. She is the sunniest, brightest and most loving child in the world.’ Mr James gave Agnes a hug and put her back down on the cobbles. ‘Agnes, run along to Miss Treen and take her hand. I can tell that your mama is worried about appearances. She wishes the people of Faversham to see that you are growing up to be a lady.’
‘I wish you wouldn’t talk so loudly,’ his wife said, ‘Someone might recognise her. I still think I was right to suggest we give her a new name, one of our own choosing.’
Mr James’ face became uncharacteristically stern. ‘Agnes’ name is the one thing her real mother left her. I won’t be the one to take that away from our daughter.’ And with that he turned his back on his wife, and looked adoringly after the little girl.
The sun came out through the clouds. Miss Treen opened her parasol and held it above Agnes’ head.
Her daughter wanted for nothing, Catherine thought. She had an adoring father who would more than make up for the cold fish that was her adoptive mother. She had a governess and fine clothes and, what’s more, she appeared carefree and happy, but it was no consolation. Not only had Mr James taken Agnes from her, he had changed her identity completely. He had discarded the name that she and Matty had chosen for their daughter. That hurt more than anything.
Catherine tasted the metallic sweetness of blood on her lip as she drew back and watched them go, Agnes growing smaller and smaller until she disappeared into the distance.
She headed back to Market Place to meet with Daniel.
‘Am I relieved to see you, miss.’ He was slurring his words. ‘I was thirsty so I sent a boy to fetch me a pint of ale.’
And the rest, she imagined.
‘I was wondering where you’d got to. In fact, I was afraid that you’d come to harm – the master would have had a right go at me if I went home without you.’
‘I’m well, thank you. Just a little tired.’ She forced a smile. ‘It’s been a long day.’ She spotted a boy trying to drag the sack of potatoes from the back of the cart. ‘Hey, stop, thief!’ she shouted. The boy ran. Daniel tried to run after him, but he could only stagger to the first corner where the boy disappeared.
‘Little tyke,’ he muttered. ‘I wish I’d have got hold of him.’
‘No harm done,’ Catherine said, checking their purchases. ‘We should be getting back.’
Daniel’s face grew pale and sweaty. He clutched his stomach.
‘I think I ate a bad oyster,’ he groaned.
‘Or drank one too many strong
beers,’ Catherine suggested.
‘You will tell the master that it’s the oysters that got to me?’
There was a time when she wouldn’t have covered for him, but now a little white lie wouldn’t hurt. Daniel was a good lad and Stephen would suffer if he sent him on his way for being in his cups.
‘You get in the back. I’ll drive,’ she said.
‘No, miss.’
‘No arguing. Wrap yourself in one of the blankets. Go on. What are you waiting for?’
He clambered into the back of the cart and lay there groaning each time Catherine drove over a bump or a rut. The horse, a bay with a Roman nose and white feathers, plodded along as dusk began to fall – he knew his way home so Catherine didn’t really have to do anything except make the occasional clicking noise in her throat to make him walk out a little faster.
Eventually, they arrived back at Overshill. She pulled the horse up outside the cottage and Stephen, who must have been waiting up for her, came straight outside.
‘Where’s Daniel?’ he said.
‘He ate an oyster or two. They’ve had an unfortunate effect on him.’ She smiled and he smiled tenderly back. ‘Would you put the horse away while I make sure he’s all right?’
‘Of course. I suppose I’ll have to unload the cart as well,’ Stephen said with a mock sigh.
‘I’ve bought a new dress for Jessie.’
‘I hope it wasn’t too expensive.’
‘It’s a gift,’ Catherine said firmly as he took the reins and unhitched the horse.
‘I didn’t intend to sound mean,’ he said. ‘I’ve been to see the squire about the tenancy of Wanstall Farm.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He didn’t commit either way. He pointed out that I had very little experience of farming and that I’d be taking a considerable risk with my ideas for the land. It would be a stretch financially, if I were to go ahead.’
‘I can picture you there with the children.’
‘It could be possible if I let go of the forge. There’s plenty of room for a workshop in the yard and the stables are still standing. I could employ someone to manage the farm side of things while I build up the horse business.’
‘Is that what you want?’ Catherine asked.
‘For a while I didn’t want anything, not without Emily at my side, but I have to provide for my children.’ He smiled. ‘I like being a blacksmith, but I’m happiest working with the horses. There’s nothing more satisfying than getting a horse back to health after a bout of lameness.’
Catherine waited until he had led the horse around the corner to the stable before she woke Daniel, shaking him roughly by the shoulder to rouse him.
‘Ugh, what’s the hurry?’ he moaned.
‘Get up quickly,’ she hissed. ‘Go to bed and sleep this off.’
‘I’m dying.’
‘You aren’t, I can assure you. Now, get up and take yourself off to bed before Stephen gets back.’
He rolled out of the cart, dropping onto his feet. With the blanket wrapped round him, he ambled inside, tripping over the doorstep and cursing out loud.
Catherine couldn’t help smiling to herself. She doubted that he would drink too much again in a hurry.
‘Where’s Daniel? Did he look after you?’ Stephen asked when she returned to the kitchen.
‘I’ve sent him to bed. He has a touch of a fever, nothing serious.’
‘That’s strange. I’ve never known him to be ill. He has the constitution of an ox.’ He eyed her inscrutably from his place on the bench against the wall near the fireplace. ‘I suppose that even the ox has his weaknesses. It’s all right. I won’t punish him this time, but if it happens again …’
‘He’s a young man. He needs guidance, that’s all.’ She changed the subject. ‘I saw my daughter Agnes today.’
Stephen sat up straight. ‘Did she know you?’
‘It was merely a glimpse, but I’m sure it was her. Oh, Stephen, I wanted to run up to her and take her in my arms.’
‘She is well cared for?’
Catherine nodded.
‘I’m sorry. That was an idiotic thing to say. Why should that be any consolation to a mother who has given up her child out of necessity?’ he went on.
‘She looked happy. She was laughing with the man who is now her father. I know him. He’s a good man at heart, and wealthy beyond measure.’ Looking back, it reassured her that it was Mr James, not some complete stranger, although she was sad that he’d had to lie to her. At least she knew where Agnes was so she could see her again.
‘I’m glad.’ Stephen sighed. ‘I’ve had a difficult day.’
Catherine sat down beside him and rested her hand on his shoulder. She didn’t trust herself to move any closer.
‘Grief is a wayward creature. It comes and goes. Sometimes you think you’re free of it, that you’ve suffered enough, but then it comes back like a big black dog and takes you up in its jaws again. I miss Emily, but it isn’t just that. When you are gone, Catherine, the house feels empty. When I walked back in for dinner in the middle of the day, I was expecting to find you here with the children. Without you, there is no laughter, no happiness, nor joy. Please, can you find it in your heart to stay a little longer? Another month or two, that’s all I’m asking. What do you say?’
Chapter Nineteen
Catch him Crow, Carry him Kite
She stayed on for a month, then another, until a full four months had gone. She had to give up the cottage in Faversham, packing up her possessions and carrying them back to the forge on a second expedition with Daniel, who managed to avoid the drink on this occasion. The idea was that she would store them in the lean-to at the rear of Forge Cottage until such a time as she moved out and found another place from which to run her business.
In early August, there was a drought. The soil was etched with cracks and the stream stopped flowing, its course marked by a series of shallow pools. The beans were struggling to reach the tops of the canes and the marrows in the garden were failing to thrive.
Catherine’s love for Stephen was stronger than ever. All it would take – as for the crops – was a drop of rain, a word or a touch from him, to bring it springing to life.
Then one afternoon, the rain came in long, stormy bursts, soaking the ground and pouring from the gutters into the valley. The stream swirled and gurgled, cutting a deeper channel for its progress. The beans flourished and the marrows swelled.
Catherine was standing in the kitchen, stirring custard to go with the cherry pie she’d made and watching the water running down the window, when Stephen appeared with an armful of bright flowers that glistened wet: larkspur, dahlias and delphiniums.
‘Where are the children?’ he asked as he kicked off his muddy boots at the back door.
She untied her apron strings and hung it on the hook.
‘Maud has taken them for a walk in the woods. They were getting fractious.’ She smiled. ‘It wasn’t raining when they left.’
‘It won’t hurt them to get caught in a shower or two,’ Stephen smiled back. ‘We can talk in peace.’ He handed her the flowers. ‘These are for you.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, turning to open the bottom of the dresser to find a vase.
‘That can wait,’ he said. ‘Put them down.’
She straightened. ‘They will wilt out of water.’
‘There are plenty more where they came from.’ He stepped up close, took them from her and placed them on the table. He reached for her hands. ‘Why must you always be in such a rush? Come and sit down.’
He led her out to the bench where they sat down side by side.
‘What’s this about?’ she asked. ‘Is there news of the farm?’
‘This has nothing to do with the squire’s plans.’ Stephen cleared his throat and it felt like they had gone back in time, and he was about to declare his fondness for her. He looked down and started to rub at a mark on the side of his forefinger.
‘Let me
have a look at that,’ she said.
‘No, it’s all right.’
‘I’ll fetch a needle from the sewing box. It won’t take two minutes. You’ll see.’
‘You are deliberately diverting me from what I need to say.’
‘Wait there.’ She returned with Emily’s felt book of needles, picked one and asked him to hold out his hand. She glanced up into his eyes as she felt the warmth of his skin. ‘This will hurt a little, but not for long.’ She held his hand, feeling the strength in his fingers. ‘Hold steady.’
‘Haven’t I always?’ he said gruffly.
‘You’ve been a wonderful friend to me, Stephen.’
‘One of my biggest sorrows is that I lost touch with you after the trials, but what could I do? You disappeared without trace.’ He looked down at his finger. ‘Go ahead. I’ve braced myself for the pain,’ he added wryly.
She pressed the end of the needle into the skin overlying the splinter.
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘that’s nothing.’
She dug a little deeper, removed the needle and squeezed his finger.
‘Ouch.’ He winced.
‘I’m sorry.’ She caught the end of the splinter between her fingernails and pulled it out. ‘There. All done.’ She flicked the metal filing away. Stephen sucked briefly on the wound then looked more closely at the damage.
‘Shall I fetch you a bandage to stem the flow of blood?’ Catherine teased. ‘I swear that the baby is braver than you are.’
‘Thank you, but no more teasing. I’m trying to be serious.’ He took her hand. ‘I’ve been practising the words I was going to say, over and over again at the forge, but now they’ve completely flown out of my head, so I’ll say it as it is. I want to marry you.’
She didn’t know how to react.
‘I’ve shocked you,’ he said softly. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’ve taken me by surprise,’ she admitted.
‘I heard Jessie calling you Ma the other day.’
‘She’s asked me to be her mother, but I’ve explained that Emily must live on in her heart as she does in mine. I can’t possibly replace her.’
