A Dorset Girl

by Janet Woods

  After Rosie and Daisy left, Siana slept, oblivious to the thin-faced woman who’d entered to remove the tray.

  Mrs Pawley gazed down at the battered figure and wondered what the world was coming to when the squire gave house room to such a low creature. She sniffed. Now the other one had turned up!

  What Miss Isabelle would say when she found out didn’t bear thinking about. And Mrs Pawley intended to make sure she did find out. Oh yes, she most certainly would. There was such goings-on in this house that would make the old squire turn in his grave, upright gentleman that he’d been.

  The shadows had moved around by the time Siana woke. It was late afternoon. She gazed at the cherubs on the ceiling and for a moment wondered where she was. Then she remembered and groaned in despair. She couldn’t stay here, but she had nowhere else to go.

  There was a tap at the door. The knob turned and somebody peeped inside. A maid smiled at her and turned away. ‘Miss is awake now. You can go in.’

  The first through was a boy – a boy so gaunt Siana didn’t recognize him at first. The boy was followed by Elizabeth. ‘Siana, my dear. Look who is here to see you.’

  ‘Josh! Oh God, look at you! You’ve grown so thin I hardly recognized you. Come and give me a hug.’

  Josh tried to hold back a sob but didn’t quite succeed, though he struggled manfully to get a hold of himself. Siana held out her good arm to him and drew him into a hug. He cried a little, then stopped and said with quiet despair, ‘Why did me mam have to die?’

  With tears in her eyes, Siana gazed over his thin shoulders to engage the eyes of Elizabeth. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I can’t stay here.’

  Elizabeth drew up a chair. ‘You won’t have to, my dear. Let me tell you what has happened and what is arranged. It will give us both some breathing space.’

  Later, when Josh had composed himself and was occupied with examining every ornament and painting in the room, Siana said quietly to Elizabeth, ‘Did you know Daniel was going abroad?’

  ‘Not until just before his departure.’

  ‘Where has he gone, Elizabeth? Why didn’t he tell me he was going?’

  Looking shocked, Elizabeth stared at her. ‘Why, Daniel is in Italy, I believe, though he’ll be travelling to many countries over the next year. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you, but you were occupied with your sister at the time, and the trip did come up rather suddenly.’

  The explanation was only just credible. Siana was wounded by Daniel’s lack of regard for her feelings, especially since he had confessed to loving her.

  At the end of the year, perhaps Daniel would decide they were not suited after all. She gazed at the amber ring and anger flared in her. Then again, perhaps she would decide that for herself.

  11

  Poole! Siana hadn’t appreciated her surroundings during her previous visit, when Daisy was in the infirmary. Now she gazed at the bustling crowds with awe. They had left the quay behind and were negotiating the narrow main street.

  Snuggled up to one side of her, Daisy had been rocked to sleep by the motion of the carriage. Opposite her, Elizabeth was an upright figure in blue velvet trimmed with grey fur.

  Straightening her back and shoulders to match her mentor’s, and clad in the serviceable brown skirt and bodice the squire’s housekeeper had brought her, Siana wondered if she’d ever be as elegant.

  Certainly not in the alternative garments the woman had purchased, a severe black skirt and bodice made of scratchy fabric, the seams of which chafed her armpits. Still, she was grateful to be decently covered and warm. Her new boots pinched a little, but in time they would shape themselves to her feet, if the opposite didn’t happen first. The clothes would last her for many seasons if she looked after them.

  She caught the squire looking at her. His amber eyes were slightly teasing. He gave a faint smile when she selfconsciously pulled her mother’s shawl tighter around her shoulders.

  He turned to Elizabeth. ‘Can you imagine what the redoubtable Mrs Pawley was thinking of when she bought the garment Miss Lewis is wearing?’

  Elizabeth bestowed a small smile on him. ‘I’d prefer not to. Her choice of style and fabric is an abomination.’

  ‘You must make sure she has something more attractive to wear, and get rid of those clod-hopper boots.’

  ‘They will do,’ Siana mumbled, her face reddening. ‘You have been more than kind as it is.’

  The squire smiled. ‘They will not do, my dear. If we are to make a lady out of you, you must dress the part.’

  Siana couldn’t forget the squire’s proposition to her at Reverend White’s house. But since then he hadn’t been overly familiar with her, so she could only conclude he’d been the worse for drink. ‘Why would you want to do that, sir?’

  ‘Because Richard White saw something in you and it amuses me to help you rise above your class,’ he said lightly.

  ‘And Daisy and Josh?’

  ‘Josh is a bright lad, and a survivor. He will serve me loyally.’ He gazed at Daisy and smiled. ‘As for the child, she reminds me of my daughter. Charlotte was about that age when she died from diphtheria. Her mother, Patricia, became ill from grieving.’

  When his eyes came up to hers Siana saw the glint of tears. A lump grew in her throat. Her sympathy reached out to him. The squire must have truly loved his wife. ‘I’m sorry she suffered.’

  ‘Patricia had eyes a little like yours, but a lighter green. Hers were as mischievous as spring before she became ill. Yours are as enigmatic as the depths of the forest, but your soul touches on the surface, as hers did. Sometimes, I can sense your mood.’

  Closing her eyes for a moment Siana experienced the still depths of his sadness. There might as well have been nobody else in the carriage when she exchanged a smile with him. ‘Is she always with you?’

  The squire nodded.

  Elizabeth leaned forward, breaking the contact between them. She placed a hand over the squire’s and frowned slightly. ‘You must try to put Patricia’s death behind you, Edward.’

  He squeezed her hand and let it go. ‘Of course I must, Elizabeth. There’s nothing quite so boring as a melancholy man.’ Leaning back against the corner, he gazed out of the window.

  Melancholy or not, Siana thought the squire anything but boring. She saw him smile faintly when Josh’s laugh rang out.

  Josh was seated with the coachman, a huge grin on his face. He felt like a proper toff in his warm clothes and new boots, his cap pulled down over his ears.

  Unused to the motion of this mode of travel, his knuckles gripped the bucking seat rail as he gazed below him to where the shining rumps and powerfully muscled backs of two black horses undulated with each stride.

  ‘By God, the wind whistles up here, all right,’ he said to John, the coach driver.

  The coachman’s nose was pinched and red-tipped from the cold. ‘You’ll get used to it when you start work proper, my lad.’

  Josh drew himself up. ‘I haven’t said I’m going to work for the squire yet. Besides, I’m ready to start work now.’

  ‘Not according to the doctor, you ain’t. He wants you stuffed like a Christmas goose first.’ John shot him a sideways glance. ‘Can’t say I blames him either. You’re as thin as a sparrow’s whistle.’

  ‘My sister said she’ll soon fatten me up now.’

  John slid him a grin. ‘A bonny girl, your sister.’

  ‘Better’n most of the girls around here, ’cept for Elizabeth, of course.’ A smile illuminated his gaunt face. ‘She be a real fine lady.’

  ‘The squire can sure pick ’em, but that there lady be old enough to be your mother, so don’t you go making any sheep’s eyes at her, now. Not unless you want to be laughed at. She’ll be an old lady long afore you be ready to sow your wild oats, young un.’

  When Josh’s face flamed red, the coachman chuckled.

  They were moving along a quiet road with a backwater at one side and houses set back in splendid gardens at the
other. The tide was out, leaving the sea bed exposed as a pungent ripple of mud flats. A few people were carrying pails or baskets. They poked at the mud with sticks, or dug with shovels, piling up the mud in cones. Sharp-eyed seagulls wheeled and screamed overhead, swooping now and then to pluck up a wriggling worm or a stranded fish.

  ‘What be they digging for?’ Josh asked.

  ‘Cockles and crabs to sell on the quayside, I reckon,’ John murmured.

  Josh took note of it. He’d had his fill of poverty and had experienced the life of a labourer under a bad master like his brother. He’d seen how a toff like the squire lived, too. Josh didn’t like his family being beholden to the squire. He suspected he’d be a bad man to cross if the fate of Will Hastings was anything to go by. But Siana was doing the best she could for them and he’d go along with it for now. Eventually, though, he intended to be his own master. If there was a means of making extra money in this town, he wanted to know of it.

  The carriage took a couple of left turns into a quiet, leafy street, presently drawing to a halt outside a pair of painted iron gates.

  A blustery, salted wind came across the mud flats. Ragged clouds chased each other across the sky. The horses’ coats steamed a little and their tails flicked from side to side, sending pungent dung smells up to their passengers. One of the animals turned its head to look at him, its soft brown eyes patient and unconcerned, its mane blowing to one side. It stamped its hoof on the dirt and snickered quietly to itself.

  ‘Here we be,’ John said. ‘Hop down and open the gate. When we reaches the house, you can unhitch that mean ol’ mule from the back, then take him to the stables. Give him a nice rub down and a feed to make him feel at home. Let what happened to your brother be a lesson to you, young Josh. Remember: if you looks after your beasts of burden, they’ll allus look after you.’

  ‘What about the other nags?’

  ‘Don’t you worry none about them. They be my responsibility.’

  The house took Siana’s breath away. It was two storeys high with attics above, and built solidly of stone. The arched windows had an air of secretiveness about them.

  Rosie, who’d been appointed their housekeeper and sent on ahead to ready the house, appeared round the corner, her cheeks apple-red from the wind and a beaming smile of welcome on her face. Her large white apron billowed in the breeze.

  ‘Lordy me, if March hasn’t arrived early to blow the cobwebs away,’ she said, and taking a key from her pocket, handed it to the squire.

  Siana followed the squire and Elizabeth up to the panelled oak door. Ceremoniously, he inserted a key in the lock. ‘Rosie wouldn’t have had time to clean all this by herself so it might be a little dusty inside,’ he said apologetically. ‘As soon as you’re settled in, I’ll hire a maid of all work to help Rosie.’

  ‘I can help her,’ Siana said, remembering a little wistfully the joy of polishing the Reverend White’s wooden banister. ‘It will save you money.’

  The squire lifted an eyebrow at her words and exchanged an amused smile with Elizabeth. Embarrassed, and not quite knowing what she’d said wrong, Siana blinked as they advanced into the dimness. She stood uncertainly in the hall, watching John and Rosie carry in the luggage, wondering if she should offer to help. She wasn’t quite sure what her status was.

  Daisy woke up, stuck her thumb in her mouth and gazed wonderingly about her. Don’t get too used to it, Siana thought. We might be on the street again next week.

  ‘I’ve put Mrs Skinner in the large room at the front,’ Rosie said to John. ‘Miss Lewis is in one of the smaller rooms overlooking the back garden. You can put her bags there.’ Rosie turned and smiled at her. ‘It has a door to the adjoining room where Daisy can sleep. You and she be far enough away from the other rooms not to disturb anyone’s sleep.’

  About to enquire where Josh would sleep, Siana managed to stop herself. She and Elizabeth would decide for themselves once the squire had gone.

  But Edward didn’t leave for two weeks. Instead, he moved into one of the guest rooms. Within days he’d hired a couple of servants, young women who were willing to do anything from laundering to acting as ladies’ maid.

  It was obvious Elizabeth enjoyed the squire’s company. Siana had never seen her so happy or animated. Her eyes shone and her cheeks carried a becoming flush.

  Siana had to admit, the squire had a great deal of charm. Gradually she relaxed in his company, allowing herself to be drawn into the conversations and shyly contributing with the limited knowledge she had when asked a question. She plucked up the courage to call him Edward when requested, stuttering it out at his bidding and blushing pinkly all the while. He and Elizabeth laughed at her reticence.

  Neither of them drew her attention to her mispronunciation of words as Reverend White had. By paying diligent attention to the way her companions spoke, by imitation and by practising when she was alone, for she wanted to improve herself, Siana began to refine her country dialect.

  ‘I’m pleased to notice you are modest, and not in the least opinionated,’ Edward said to her one day.

  ‘Indeed, why would I be opinionated when I grew up in a house where female opinion was not worth the air it cost to express it?’

  ‘And your modesty?’ he asked, sounding interested. ‘You are not forward like most country maids.’

  Which reminded her that she’d rebuffed his advances. Realizing he had not approached her in that regard again, she coloured a little as she gazed at the amber ring on her finger and tried to remember Daniel’s kiss on her forehead. It was hard to recall, as if it had faded from her memory.

  She thought of the lack of privacy she’d grown up with, and the crudely suggestive stares of Tom Skinner. Once she’d been bathing in the stream and had noticed her stepfather watching her from behind a tree. Unconsciously, she pulled her mother’s shawl closer about her shoulders and shuddered. It was best not to be noticed.

  As if she could read her mind, Elizabeth placed a comforting hand over hers and changed the subject. ‘I have discovered a dancing academy in town and have determined you will learn to dance when your arm is not quite so painful.’

  Edward smiled. ‘A good idea, every young lady should be able to dance. We will invite some guests to supper to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. I will hire a pianist and a fiddler and Siana will be the belle of the evening.’

  Her birthday was only six weeks away. Horrified at the thought, Siana’s eyes widened. ‘I will not know what to say or how to act.’

  A slight frown creased his brow and he placed a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder, gently massaging the base of her neck with his forefinger. Watching them, Siana wondered what it felt like to receive such a gentle and intimate caress.

  Her face heated as he noticed her gaze. As his finger continued to gently circle, he smiled slightly, his eyes half hooded, almost somnolent. His voice was a low growl. ‘My dearest girl, Elizabeth will make sure you are ready. Won’t you, my dear?’

  Elizabeth’s hand came up to cover his. ‘Of course I will, Edward.’

  ‘I’ll be leaving here in the morning,’ he said casually, and yawned behind his hand. ‘I have an early start, so if you ladies will allow it, I’ll retire early.’

  Perspiration had pearled between Siana’s breasts. She felt strangely light-headed and her skin tingled. She hoped she wasn’t sickening for something.

  Not long afterwards, Elizabeth announced her intention to retire too. Not wanting to sit around by herself, Siana thought she’d go to her bed, as well.

  One of the new maids had lit the lamp in her room. She checked on Daisy, who was fast asleep, cuddling her favourite rag doll. As she gazed down at her sister, a lump grew in her throat. Daisy had survived because of Edward’s largesse. God help her if they ever had to go hungry again.

  Tentatively, for she found it difficult to demand help, she rang for one of the maids to help her get ready for bed. The girl did what was necessary, then brushed out her hair and bobbed a curtsy. �
�Will that be all, miss?’

  ‘That’s all, thank you,’ Siana mumbled and climbed into bed with the book she was reading about the marcher lords – an early present from Edward for her eighteenth birthday. It was the first book she’d ever owned and she reverently touched the brown leather binding before allowing her finger to trace over the title.

  She turned to the inscription inside.

  To Miss Siana Lewis in celebration of her 18th birthday on 12 April 1834, a gift from her obedient servant, Sir Edward Forbes, Bt.

  He had lovely handwriting, she thought as her fingertip lightly slid around the curving loops of his name.

  Her obedient servant? She giggled at the thought. How grand it sounded. If only her mother could see her now.

  She opened the marked pages and read until the words jumbled and danced in front of her eyes. Only then did she turn down the lamp and snuggle under the covers, her mind full of the strange, savage people who’d guarded the Welsh borderlands. Her finger touched against a pulse in her wrist. Had her mother told the truth? Did their blood really run in her veins?

  The house was as quiet as a church, with just an occasional creak from the floorboards or the click of metal cooling in the grate as the fire died. From outside came the sigh and rustle of the trees. They were friendly sounds she’d grown used to. Grand though Cheverton Manor was, she decided she liked this house better. Being smaller, it had a more welcoming, homely feel to it.

  Nearly asleep, Siana was jolted awake by a muted cry. Heart thudding, she listened intently until all she could hear was the loud hiss of silence pressing against her ears. The cry was not repeated and she relaxed. It must have been an owl.

  Edward must have risen early, for the sound of his carriage departing woke her the next morning. She sprang out of bed and rushed to the window in time to see Josh close the gate behind them.

  Siana saw very little of Josh after that. She cornered Rosie one day. ‘Where’s Josh sleeping?’