by Janet Woods
She was taken aback, but slightly flattered by the query. ‘I’m Siana Lewis, sir. My mother was Megan Skinner but I’ve taken her maiden name now.’
‘Ah yes.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Such a tragedy. How are you managing, my dear?’
‘Well enough, thank you, sir. The reverend is kind. I keep his books and he’s teaching me my lessons, as well.’
Edward’s eyebrow rose a fraction. Was he now? This was better than he’d hoped for. Not only was she well spoken, but the girl was teachable. ‘Tell me, what are you studying?’
She smiled, charmed by his interest. At least he hadn’t laughed at her. ‘History and geography. I intend to be a teacher or a governess one day.’ Her smiled faltered, for she remembered her promise to her mother. ‘That’s if I can find a post with a wage enough to support my baby sister. By the time I’m trained, my young brother will be old enough to help financially and we’ll rent a cottage together.’
‘I see.’ The squire patted her hand. ‘You have no intention of getting wed, then?’
‘Oh, no, sir.’
He chuckled. ‘A pretty girl like you?’ he teased. ‘There must be something wrong with the local lads if they’re not queuing up to court you.’
Siana blushed as she moved to the sideboard to pour him a drink. There were two decanters and they looked exactly the same. She gazed from one to the other, perplexed. ‘I don’t know which is the sherry,’ she confessed.
‘The paler one. The other is a rather indifferent brandy.’ He joined her at the buffet as she picked up the sherry, leaning over her shoulder. ‘It belongs in the smaller glass, my dear.’ He took the decanter from her hands and poured two glasses.
She wanted to move away, but he had her trapped there. Not that he was touching her, but she was certainly aware of his warmth. He held the second glass to her lips. ‘Try a little sip, Siana Lewis.’
She didn’t have time to protest when the glass was tipped. She was forced to swallow the liquid before it ran down her chin. It was sweet and slightly sticky, coating her tongue. She tried not to gasp when a worm of warmth trickled down inside her chest.
His eyes were the same colour as the sherry. ‘Enjoyable?’
‘Yes . . . thank you, sir. Now I must get on with my work.’
His eyes were filled with amusement. ‘Relax, Siana. Join me in another drink.’
Siana thought she heard the faint click of a latch. Though it could be the kettle cooling on the hob, or the bridle on the squire’s horse as it tossed its head, she decided.
His mount was a splendid mare, her coat quivering and polished to the high gloss usually found on the fruit of the chestnut tree. Muscles rippled under her skin and a plumed tail sprang from her powerful hindquarters. As the horse gave a little whicker and stamped her hoof, the squire’s head cocked to one side in a listening attitude.
Firmly, she said, ‘It sounds as though the reverend has returned. Sir, would you stand aside, please. I have work to do.’
He chuckled, staring at her for a moment, his eyes hooded over in thought. Then he grazed the back of his fingers down her face and whispered. ‘You should be dressed in satin, silk and lace, and those pretty little hands should be covered in rings. I could set you up in a fine house with servants. What d’you say to that, girl?’
Siana was no fool. Her childhood had made her aware of the ways of men. She’d learned to cope with the stares, the seemingly accidental touching, the pinching, the innuendo and the blatant suggestions.
But those were the crude ways of farm labourers, not those of a man who smelled of soap, who dressed immaculately in the finest cloth and displayed a gentleman’s manners.
Edward’s approach flattered her. Edward Forbes was an attractive man, lacking the middle-aged corpulence most gentlemen of his age had acquired. His hair was an abundance of dark and silver streaks, his eyes were a warm tawny brown, reminding her of a lion she’d seen pictured in a book. He’d made it clear what he was about, and he was willing to give something in return for his pleasure.
Ahead of Siana was a life very much like her mother’s had been if she wasn’t careful. She hated herself for momentarily being tempted. It wasn’t the thought of comfort, though it would be wonderful not to wake up and wonder where the next crust was coming from. But she had to think of Daisy and Josh. The responsibility of her siblings was a heavy burden to carry, but carry it she would. She’d promised her mother.
‘Sir, I do not find you physically repulsive, but I promised my mother I would uphold certain standards. I’ve never craved silk or satin and I’m content where I am.’
The squire inclined his head and stood aside. ‘You’re certainly a sensible girl, Siana. Tell me your price and rest assured, I’ll pay it.’
Colour rose to her cheeks as her anger mounted. ‘Nothing you could offer would compensate me for the insult. I’m well aware of your past, for Elizabeth Skinner is married to my stepbrother, and your son Daniel resides in this house. I was in church last week when you introduced your bride to the district. What manner of man desires so many women? Not a good one, I’ll be bound.’
‘One who appreciates true beauty.’ His eyes held hers for a long moment. ‘A wicked man who knows how to please a woman in many ways.’
‘You’re not getting any younger,’ she said brutally, ‘you will need your energy to keep your young wife pleased.’
He shrugged. ‘Isabelle will not need to be pleased. She is there to provide heirs for the estate, and will bear my name and title. You would be kept for my true pleasure.’
A little shudder ran through her, and it wasn’t altogether unpleasant. Rattled by the sudden discovery of her sensuality, she gained the understanding that she wasn’t going to be as in control of certain feelings as she’d expected to be.
She didn’t know quite what to do, so she tore her eyes from his and whispered, ‘I am as good as Isabelle. Let her be used for your pleasure whilst I provide you with—’ She bit her tongue and her eyes widened at what she’d been about to say. ‘Excuse me, sir,’ she stammered, and, pushing past him, bolted from the room.
The squire smiled to himself as the door closed behind her. Up close, he was pleased with the girl’s looks. Her manner was disconcerting, however, the deference shown to him by most of the workers’ families was lacking – almost as if she considered herself an equal.
He didn’t know quite what to make of her twisted logic, but somehow knew he wasn’t as offended by it as he could have been. She was not bold, but she hadn’t shied away from certain matters or reacted in too simpering a manner either. Innocent though the girl undoubtedly was, she was also aware of the ways of the world.
Dammit! Siana Lewis intrigued him mightily. He put the glass on the tray and picked up his hat. He would seek out Tom Skinner, he thought, striding down the hall towards the front door. He was a wily fellow who could be counted on to come up with a solution for a coin or two.
He tossed a penny to the lad who’d been minding his horse. The mare quivered as his strong thighs spread across her back. Ever the capricious beast, but the best hunter he’d ever known, she crabbed sideways, her iron-shod hooves fashioning an intricate dance on the hard-packed ground. He leaned forward, fondling her mane, gentling her. ‘Steady, my beauty.’
He could feel the eyes of the girl watching him, but the lace curtains of the rectory hid the watcher well. Beautiful, mysterious eyes she had, her long lashes as dark as midnight.
She had not found him repulsive, she’d said, but then, women never did.
He smiled, raising his crop to his hat in farewell before spurring the horse forward.
He’d decided to have Siana Lewis, whatever the cost to himself.
And once Edward Forbes had decided on something, nothing was allowed to stand in his way.
6
The following Sunday, after the church service, the squire’s steward paid Tom a visit.
The pair disappeared into the parlour, and when Tom shouted out for
some refreshment, Elizabeth took them in a tray of tea and a fresh batch of scones.
Although they’d met on many occasions over the past twenty years, and his eyes engaged hers in a moment of recognition, Jed Hawkins nodded impersonally to her. He was the squire’s man through and through.
She would have lingered outside the door to listen, but the floorboards creaked and she knew Tom would have an ear cocked for her to move away. Hawkins’s visit would provide her with an opportunity to do something about Josh though. Shovelling some bread into her apron pocket, Elizabeth warmed a dish of broth, filled a jug with water and hurried out to the barn.
‘Quickly,’ she said to Josh and, loosening the bonds around his wrists, spooned the soup into his mouth. He swallowed it down eagerly, nearly choking on the bread. In her haste, half of the water went down his front.
She gazed at his bruises, knowing she could do nothing to help. Tom had beaten him black and blue for sneaking into the kitchen and helping himself to some bread and cheese during the night. The lad would stay tied up in the barn tonight to teach him a lesson.
‘I’m going to have to tighten your bonds again. I’ll make them a bit looser.’
Josh nodded. His eyes were large and wounded. He was just a child, reminding her of Daniel at that age. He’d never have been punished so severely for stealing food.
‘I’m sorry, that’s all I can do to help,’ she whispered, fearful she’d be caught. ‘I have to get back before his visitor leaves. Don’t tell Tom I was out here.’
‘Thanks, missus, but I’d die rather than get you in bad with our Tom. He ain’t fit to lick the muck from your boots.’
She touched his face in sympathy. Such a thin little lad, but he was unexpectedly resilient, and brave. And to think she’d expected to dislike all the Skinners.
The child Hannah was caring for was a delight. Not that the care consisted of much. Daisy had become dirty and thin, her body was covered in sores from infected flea bites, her nose constantly ran and her hair was matted and filthy.
Hannah complained bitterly about her, and about the infant she carried. It was due to be born very soon, and Elizabeth wondered what would happen to Daisy then. The woman was a sloven. She didn’t have the wit to care for one child, let alone two.
She ran back to the house, grabbing up a couple of logs on the way and arriving just as the steward was preparing to leave. Tom stared suspiciously at her flushed face. ‘Where’ve you been?’
‘To the woodpile, the fire was low,’ she said, breathless from running.
His gaze darted to the two logs in her arms and he seemed satisfied with her answer.
She didn’t ask him what the steward had wanted because she knew that was what he wanted her to do. She’d learned that passive disobedience was much more satisfying than open defiance. Tom flared up at the least provocation, but although he might have a certain cunning, he didn’t have the intelligence of sound reasoning, being more comfortable using his fists to settle an argument.
Elizabeth had never been subject to physical abuse before she’d married Tom. His unpredictable violence had her living on her nerves. She sensed in him a core of irrationality barely held in check. One thing she knew, she couldn’t take much more of it. But then, she didn’t quite know how to make an escape, either.
She flinched when he thumped on the table with his fist. ‘Squire thinks I’m hurting you, Lizzie. Whatever gave him that idea?’
‘He’s got eyes in his head,’ she muttered.
His hand folded around her bodice and he yanked her to her feet. ‘If I thought you’d been telling him tales—’
‘I haven’t seen him, except in church, and then you’ve always been with me.’ But he’d planted a seed in her mind now. Edward obviously cared enough to dislike her being hurt. If she appealed directly to him surely he would listen.
‘What about that boy of your’n? Has he been sneaking around here whilst I’m away?’
‘No, Tom. I promise,’ she lied.
He smiled nastily at her. ‘I’d better not catch him at it, then. And from now on I’ll only hit you where it don’t show.’ And he punched her in the stomach.
Elizabeth fell to the floor, drew her knees up and began to retch.
Tom stared down at her and laughed. ‘And in case you’re wondering if Sir Edward bloody Forbes is still interested in you, the old goat wants a younger bit of pie. He’s after Siana.’
Shock filled Elizabeth’s mind, then as the pain receded, she thought that the girl could do worse than take Edward Forbes as a lover. She could marry someone like Tom Skinner.
She remembered the tentative smile Siana had offered her in church, as if she’d wanted to make friends. Apart from the girl’s beauty, there had been something achingly vulnerable about her. Siana had an indefinable quality that Elizabeth, whose status had excluded the friendship of other women, had been instantly drawn to. No wonder Daniel liked her.
It would be nice to have another woman to talk to, she mused, her own need surprising her. But she hadn’t responded to the smile, remaining aloof and withdrawn into herself. She’d never been accepted when she belonged exclusively to Edward. Now she belonged to Tom, she might as well not exist.
She dashed away the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She would not give in to self-pity.
‘The squire had come to an arrangement with my old man before he died, ‘ Tom was saying. ‘I’ve always thought Siana would be a right juicy little tart. But he’ll have to come up with a better offer, else I’ll break her in myself.’
‘She’s not an object to be bought and sold.’
‘He bought you, didn’t he? And after he had you, I got offered the leftovers. It can work two ways, that can.’
Siana was lovely, with a fresh innocence about her. Men were corrupters with an appetite for the innocent. Better Edward than Tom Skinner, though. Elizabeth couldn’t keep the disgust from her face as she spat, ‘I think you’re vile.’
‘Not as vile as I could be.’ He slid the belt from his waist, folded it in half and slapped it experimentally against his hand. Scrambling across the floor, Elizabeth hunched into a corner between the dresser and the wall, making herself as small as possible. The first stroke landed across her shoulders.
In the barn, Josh struggled against his bonds when Elizabeth began to scream.
Daniel couldn’t remember the exact moment he’d fallen in love, but the realization had grown swiftly over the last month. Like a mushroom growing in a dew-soaked field, suddenly it was ready for picking, and urgent, before the sun sucked the moisture from the tender skin.
Love had come too soon, long before he was ready to accept it. But his initial anger had gradually become disbelief, then happiness as he accepted the emotion as a true one. His heart pounded when Siana was near and he was newly born, an infant in the face of this powerful, surging emotion.
He took to reading poetry, finding himself staring into space when his attention should have been on his work. He’d discovered he intensely disliked the profession he’d trained for. He felt trapped, cooped up in a stuffy room from morning until night, and he hated writing the dryly worded copies of the court reports, as required by his employer.
Perhaps he should have been a farmer after all. But no, he wasn’t cut out for that either. A steward perhaps? After all, his father wasn’t a farmer. The squire just ran the estate with the help of his steward. If he’d been born on the right side of the blanket, Daniel knew he’d be learning to rule the estate in the same way that his father did.
He tried to swallow his resentment. Edward Forbes had been as real a father to him when he was young, as he was remote now. The man had been kind, and interested in his education. Daniel had hero-worshipped him.
Learning he was second class had wounded Daniel. He’d been about twelve at the time, his life all mapped out for him. He’d been expected to learn the way of the land and it was made clear that the deeds to Croxley Farm would eventually be his.
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br /> But all he craved was the regard of the man he loved. His need to catch his father’s attention and prove himself better than his expectations had sent Daniel on a different path of learning.
The resulting argument had driven home to Daniel his true status. The squire had all the power, and he was powerless. They were polite with each other now, two gentlemen meeting on a social level, their kinship and his bastardy never mentioned . . . though Edward Forbes sometimes asked politely after his mother. Not that he’d be interested in her ill-treatment. She’d been discarded in favour of Isabelle, who would provide the estate with sons and heirs.
Croxley Farm was a prize in itself, the cream of the land on the estate. Daniel hadn’t recognized its potential then. He bitterly regretted allowing his pride to turn it down, especially since doing so had placed his mother in an untenable position.
But it was too late for her. Much as he wanted to, Daniel couldn’t afford a wife on his salary at present, especially one with no dowry and a brother and sister to support.
He took the problem to his godfather, setting it before him after the Sunday service.
‘Don’t think I hadn’t noticed your regard for Siana. Normally, I’d be delighted, for Siana would make you an excellent wife who’d be content with the small comfort your living would provide. But she’s young, Daniel. She has a strong sense of duty towards her siblings. She’ll not desert them.’
‘I cannot support them all at the moment, but neither can I go on avoiding her without saying something. Tell me, what should I do?’
Richard smiled. ‘Given time, you will be able to offer Siana a home. In the meantime, perhaps you could make it easier on yourself and procure lodgings in Poole. I know of a respectable widow who takes in boarders. She has a clean, comfortable house, with stable room for your horse. I could go and see her tomorrow if you’re agreeable.’
It sounded like an ideal solution to Daniel. Then he thought, what if she gives her heart to another? Or worse, her innocence. He gazed at Richard. ‘What if Siana does not care enough for me to wait?’
