by Dilly Court
An unrelenting sun blazed from a sky bleached of colour by the intensity of light and the heat of midday. Dartmoor stretched before them as far as the eye could see, the tussocky grassland burned brown with only patches of green surviving where underground streams carved their way through the peat to form Wolf Tor mire.
Caroline drew her pony to a halt, shielding her eyes from the sun. ‘What’s that?’ she asked, pointing to a stone cross on a cairn constructed from granite slabs.
Aiken followed her gaze. ‘’Tis Wolf Tor cross. There be lots of them there things on the moor. Some say they was built so that the monks could find their way from one abbey to the next, but I don’t know. You’d have to ask the witch.’ He clamped his grubby hand over his mouth. ‘Forget I said that, miss.’
‘The witch?’ Maria had been following at a distance but she joined them now, reining in her pony with difficulty. ‘Where’s the witch, Aiken?’
He shook his curly head. ‘Just a name some gives her, miss. Don’t take it serious, not if she’s a friend of yours.’
‘I think he means the woman who lives at Wolf Tor Farm.’ Caroline fixed Aiken with a stern look. ‘Is that right?’
‘Yes, miss. Like I says, it do mean nothing. Just talk, you understand.’
‘I can’t wait to meet this lady.’ Caroline wiped beads of sweat from her brow. ‘How far is it now, Aiken?’
‘Over yonder.’ Aiken clicked his tongue and encouraged his pony to walk on, leaving Caroline and Maria little alternative other than to follow.
The land rose and fell gently, and in a hollow surrounded by stunted trees and a low, dry-stone wall, Wolf Tor Farm came into view. A thin plume of smoke spiralled up into the sky and washing hung limply on a line stretched between two wooden posts. A collie burst out through the open door and flew across the vegetable patch, barking its head off.
Aiken cupped his hands around his mouth and emitted a strange sound, a cross between a halloo from the hunting field and a cry of pain, but this had the desired effect and a woman emerged from the house. She uttered a sharp command to the dog and it dropped to the ground, eyeing the intruders with suspicion.
‘I should leave you here,’ Aiken said nervously. ‘Can you find your way back without I?’
‘I think you should wait for us. This might not be the right place.’ Caroline turned to Maria, who was staring wide-eyed at the unkempt creature who was hurrying towards them. She might, to someone who believed in such things, have been mistaken for a witch. Her long dark hair hung in lank strands and her skin was tanned to the colour of a walnut, but as she drew nearer, Caroline was struck by the size and shape of the woman’s eyes, which were so like Maria’s that there was no mistaking their relationship. Her heart sank. Could this thin, ragged creature be the mother that Maria had so longed to meet?
She dismounted, handing the reins to Aiken. ‘Wait here. I don’t think we’ll be staying long.’
‘This can’t be the right place,’ Maria said slowly. ‘I think I might wait here while you ask directions, Caroline. That woman doesn’t look very friendly and I’m afraid of the dog.’
Caroline walked slowly to the gate in the wall and waited for the woman to reach her. The dog was lying down, but it was looking at her distrustingly, and even though she was not afraid of animals, Caroline knew enough to treat the creature with respect.
She waited until the woman was close enough to hear her. ‘Good morning.’
‘What business have you here?’
The cultured voice came as a shock, but Caroline was wary. ‘I’m sorry to intrude, ma’am, but we are seeking information and I wonder if you could help.’
‘I have nothing to say.’
‘I think you know why we’re here,’ Caroline said softly. ‘I can see by your expression that you think you might know the young lady who came with me. Her name is Maria Colville.’
The woman tossed her head, a haughty action that sat oddly on someone dressed in rags, and the hand that she raised to smooth back an unruly lock of hair was work-worn and calloused. ‘I’ve never seen her before.’
‘Might I ask you name?’
‘You’d better leave before my husband sees you. He doesn’t like strangers.’
‘I’m not surprised. If you are who I think you are then he should be ashamed of treating his wife like a common skivvy.’
‘I hear him coming. Go now.’
‘Grace.’ A man appeared in the doorway, filling it with his huge bulk. What little hair that remained on his scalp was iron grey, as were his mutton-chop whiskers and shaggy beard, but he was dressed like a country gentleman, and his well-cut tweeds were a complete contrast to the shabby garments worn by his wife. ‘Come inside, woman.’
‘I told you to leave. Now look what you’ve done.’ She turned and ran towards her husband, head bowed and shoulders hunched, as if expecting a rain of blows.
Elias Quick stepped forward, giving her a shove that sent her stumbling into the house. He shook his fist at Caroline, baring yellowed teeth. ‘I don’t know who you are, but get on your way. We don’t welcome snoopers here.’ He whistled to the dog and it ran to him, ears flattened and tail between its legs. Quick booted the unfortunate animal into the house, stepped inside and slammed the door.
A shudder ran down Caroline’s spine. There was no doubt in her mind that the woman was Maria’s mother, but perhaps Nanny Robbins had been right. Maybe it would be best if Maria kept her romantic notions about her parentage rather than being exposed to the horrible truth. She walked slowly back to where Maria and Aiken were waiting.
‘That was my mother, wasn’t it?’ Maria’s cheeks were deathly pale and her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘You don’t need to lie, Caroline. I heard the brute of a man calling her Grace, and Aiken said that this farm belongs to Elias Quick.’
‘We’d best be heading back, miss,’ Aiken said urgently. ‘I can smell rain in the air and with it will come the mist. Us don’t want to get caught in Wolf Tor mire.’
‘I can’t leave yet, I need to speak to her.’ Maria caught hold of Caroline’s hand. ‘I want to ask her why she abandoned me.’
‘Not now,’ Caroline said in a low voice. ‘It’s obviously a bad time.’
‘But I might not get another chance.’
Aiken circled them on his restless pony. ‘Look at they clouds forming to the west. It’ll start to mizzle soon.’
‘We’re coming.’ Caroline used the stone wall as a mounting block and settled herself in the saddle. ‘Lead on, Aiken.’ Ignoring Maria’s protests she urged her pony into a trot, heading in the direction of the village.
Aiken’s forecast proved correct, but thanks to his warning, they reached the inn before the going became too difficult. The cold, damp fog had swallowed up the moors with alarming speed, obliterating the sun within seconds. Aiken led the ponies off to the stable, leaving Caroline and Maria to make their way into the snug bar behind the taproom, where a fire had been lit. The landlord’s wife bustled in, clucking like a mother hen when she saw their dishevelled state.
‘Lord love us, what you need is a nice hot cup of tea, maybe with a tot of brandy in it to warm you up, and a bowl of my beef broth. It might be high summer, but that there mist makes it feel like winter.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Brewer,’ Caroline said, smiling. ‘That would be lovely.’
‘Shall be done dreckly, miss.’ Mrs Brewer was about to leave the room when Maria called her back.
‘Wait a moment, Mrs Brewer.’
‘Yes, miss.’
‘Do you know the people who live at Wolf Tor Farm?’
Mrs Brewer’s lips pursed and her brow crinkled in a frown. ‘Not exactly, miss. Will that be all?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Caroline said, casting a warning look in Maria’s direction, which apparently went unnoticed.
‘What does that mean, Mrs Brewer?’ Maria demanded. ‘You must know something of the family. Everyone seems to know everyone’s business round here.’
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p; ‘I’m sure I keep myself to myself, miss. As to the Quicks – they don’t mix with us in the village and we don’t venture often to that part of the moor. ’Tis haunted, they do say.’
‘Can you tell me more?’ Maria said eagerly. ‘What sort of ghost is it?’
‘I don’t hold with such pagan nonsense, miss. Now, I’d best get your hot food. We don’t want you to take a chill after your soaking.’ Mrs Brewer whisked out of the room without giving Maria a chance to question her further.
‘It’s just silly superstition.’ Caroline stood up and held her damp skirts out to the heat of the fire, watching the steam billow up in front of her. ‘Don’t take any notice, Maria.’
‘They talk of hauntings and witches as if they were an everyday occurrence. Do you think there’s any truth in their tales, Caroline?’
‘None at all. They’re just stories made up to frighten children and gullible people.’
Maria stared at her, frowning. ‘But what we saw at the farm was real enough. I think that poor woman is my mother.’
‘You don’t know that for certain,’ Caroline said carefully, although she herself was convinced that the woman they had seen was Grace Colville.
‘I feel it here.’ Maria clasped her hands to her heart. ‘I have to speak to her and persuade her to leave that terrible man. You saw how he treated her and the poor dog.’
Caroline shook her head. ‘It’s none of our business, and even if she is your mother she chose that life. She could have walked out at any time over the past twenty years, but she stayed with Elias Quick. Don’t ask me why.’
‘I think he keeps her a prisoner. You saw how thin and ill she looked, and her clothes were in rags. I won’t rest until I’ve seen her again and asked her all the questions that have been bothering me all these years. You must help me, Caroline. Please say you will.’
Faced with such a heartfelt plea it was impossible to refuse. ‘All right,’ Caroline said grudgingly. ‘But we will have to work out a strategy.’
‘I don’t want to waste time talking about it. Let’s go tomorrow, first thing.’
‘Mr Quick must leave the house at some point. Perhaps he goes to market or has business in the nearest town, which takes him away from home. We need to find that out.’
‘And will you go with me?’
‘Of course I will, but only if I can be sure that we won’t bump into that dreadful man.’
Maria leaped to her feet and threw her arms around Caroline, giving her an enthusiastic hug. ‘Thank you. I knew I could rely on you.’
Caroline ventured into the taproom early that evening, which was quiet apart from a few old men seated round the inglenook smoking clay pipes and drinking ale. Mr Brewer was behind the bar and pleased to share his local knowledge, although he was obviously curious as to why Caroline was interested in such a rural event as the local market, which he said was being held next day in Bovey Tracey. Caroline diverted his attention by asking if they could hire Aiken and the ponies again in order to see more of the countryside, and, at the mention of money, Mr Brewer’s eyes lit up.
Caroline escaped from the prying eyes of the locals and went to find Maria, who was in the snug bar gazing out of the window.
‘It’s arranged,’ Caroline said triumphantly. ‘Aiken will take us to Wolf Tor Farm tomorrow morning.’
‘But what about Mr Quick?’
‘It’s market day in Bovey, which isn’t that far from here, so Mr Brewer said. That should give us time to visit the farm and have a word with Mrs Quick.’ Caroline sat down on the settle beside Maria. ‘Are you sure this is what you want? Are you prepared to face the truth, either way?’
Maria nodded. ‘I think so. I have to know if she’s my mother. You must understand that, Caroline.’
‘I do, of course. I know how much I miss my mama and she’s safe and well and not too far away from here, as it happens. I thought we’d pay a call on Daumerle before we return to London.’
‘I’m not sure I’ll be coming with you,’ Maria said hesitantly.
‘Really? Why?’
‘If Mrs Quick is my mother, I want to get to know her. Perhaps I can find somewhere to stay so that I can see her often.’
‘Maria, you’re not thinking straight. From what I’ve seen of Elias Quick he wouldn’t be sympathetic. If he treats his wife as he does, how do you think he would behave with you?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps I can persuade her to leave him and we could set up home together.’
‘And live on what?’ Caroline clasped Maria’s hands in hers. ‘The money from pawning your ring won’t last long, and you’d have to find work of some kind or you’d starve.’
‘I don’t know what I could do. I’m not fitted for anything, Caroline.’
‘I know, and I’m in a similar situation. We just have to think things through, and if Mrs Quick is your mother, and if she wants to be free from her bullying husband, then we’ll have to get her away from here as soon as possible.’
‘I could take her home to Grandmama,’ Maria said doubtfully.
‘Do you really think she would take both of you in?’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘We’ll deal with each situation as it happens. Tomorrow you’ll find out if this person is your mother, and then you’ll have to decide what you want to do. I’ll help all I can, but I can’t promise a miracle.’
It had rained in the night and the ground was soft, but the sun had come up and steam rose from the damp turf as they rode to Wolf Tor Farm. The scent of wet peat and meadowsweet filled the air and the bright sulphur-yellow flowers of bog asphodel added splashes of colour to the greens and browns of Wolf Tor mire. A skylark fluttered above their heads, singing her beautiful song in an attempt to lure the intruders away from her nest, and bees buzzed in the creamy-white flower heads of the bridal wort. It was a scene of perfect peace and harmony, but Caroline realised how fast that could change on the moor, and her heart was racing as they approached the gate in the stone wall. Once again the dog raised the alarm and Caroline dismounted, handing the reins to Aiken. Maria followed suit and Caroline unlatched the gate, but the dog went down on all fours, snarling and baring his teeth, as if preparing to attack.
‘Down, Bramble.’ Mrs Quick stood in the doorway, brandishing a shotgun. ‘Stay where you are.’
Caroline stood very still, but Maria seemed to have put fear behind her and she walked slowly towards the house. Mrs Quick raised the gun and then let it drop to her side, calling to the dog to heel.
‘What do you want?’ Her voice shook and even from a distance Caroline could see that the woman was deathly pale and trembling violently.
‘That man called you Grace.’ Maria held out her hand. ‘Are you my mother?’
Caroline hurried across the vegetable patch and the overgrown area that might once have been a lawn, and she placed a protective arm around Maria’s shoulders. ‘You’d better answer her, Mrs Quick. Maria won’t give up until she learns the truth.’
‘You’d best come in.’ Grace Quick glanced around as if half expecting her husband to materialise, and then she retreated into the house.
The smell of boiling onions and herbs wafted from the kitchen at the back of the building, and the hot steamy atmosphere enveloped Caroline as she followed Maria into the room. The collie threw itself down on a tattered blanket in the corner, but it kept its eyes on them as if a single word from his mistress would bring him leaping to her defence.
‘You shouldn’t be here.’ Grace stood with her back to the black-leaded range, clasping and unclasping her hands. ‘What do you want?’
‘You haven’t answered my question.’ Maria’s voice shook with emotion. ‘Are you Grace Colville?’
‘My name is Grace Quick. I am married to Farmer Quick.’
Caroline could see that this line of questions and answers might go on all morning and she stepped forward. ‘Mrs Quick, we don’t mean to intrude or to upset you, but please could you put Maria out of her mi
sery? Was your maiden name Grace Colville? It’s a simple enough question.’
Grace sank down on a wheelback chair by the range. ‘I’m no longer that person. She died twenty years ago.’
Maria flung herself on her knees beside her. ‘Look at me, Mama. You are my mother, I feel it in my heart. Why did you abandon me?’
‘My father left me no choice, Maria. He led Elias to believe that you were the result of a youthful indiscretion, and that you survived only for a few short hours after I gave birth to you. My husband has treated me like a slave, and has thrown my past back in my face at every possible opportunity.’
Caroline stared at her in disbelief. ‘But it was so many years ago, Mrs Quick. Surely he would forgive you for something that happened when you were little more than a child yourself.’
‘Elias is a jealous and violent man. You wouldn’t want to cross him, believe me. The peat bogs have swallowed many a person who got lost on the moor.’
Caroline pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘Mrs Quick, are you saying that your husband is a murderer?’
‘I’ll say nothing more.’ Grace clutched Maria’s hands, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. ‘You must go now and never come back. Do you understand?’
‘But you can’t send me away without a word of comfort,’ Maria sobbed. ‘I’ve dreamed of this moment ever since I can remember.’
Grace raised her hand as if to stroke Maria’s bent head, but withdrew it hastily. ‘Don’t put words into my mouth. There’s nothing for you here.’ She turned to Caroline. ‘Take her away, please.’
‘I will, of course, but I think she deserves an answer, Mrs Quick. Your husband has gone to market. He was seen on the road to Bovey Tracey early this morning and, according to the landlord at the Wolf Tor Arms, is unlikely to return until late this evening. What are you afraid of?’
‘If you knew Elias as I know him you would not ask such a question. He’s unpredictable and he could walk through that door at any moment, so go now, please. It’s too late for me to be anything other than what you see now. I can’t help this girl.’ She tried to stand but Maria flung her arms around her mother, sobbing against her shoulder.
