‘Well now, there’s a solemn little face!’ John Blackwood had seen Scarlet emerge from the house, and he was glad of it. The ground was set so hard beneath the frost that it was taking twice as long to cut through it with his fork. There was the trenching waiting to be done in preparation for the vegetables, and none of the hoeing had been started at all; the work was piling up and his one pair of hands was not enough to keep pace with it all. On top of that, he and Ada had suffered a sleepless night on account of baby Trent acquiring another tooth. ‘Mammy’s alright, is she?’ He felt out of patience, but put on a cheery smile all the same, for Scarlet’s benefit.
‘She’s fine, thank you, John.’ Scarlet went into the wooden shed that was John’s pride and joy. ‘She actually ate her breakfast this morning. I’ve left her peacefully sleeping.’ In spite of the despair she felt, Scarlet’s ready smile radiated brilliance. ‘Right then… I’m ready for work,’ she said, pulling on the thick suede gloves. John always insisted that she wore them. ‘There ain’t no reason in this wide world why we should both be covered in unsightly corns,’ he had told her.
‘Happen you’ll just make a gentle start with the hoeing,’ he suggested, ‘but first, I’ve some’at to tell you.’ He lumbered across the uneven ground until he was close enough to talk to Scarlet in more intimate tones. ‘Now, I ain’t supposed to tell you this.’ He looked furtively towards the smithy, and seeing only Silas at the entrance there, he went on, ‘I tackled your father about getting somebody in to help you round that great rattling house… y’know, to take some o’ the work off your shoulders.’
‘Oh, John!’ Scarlet was horrified. ‘You shouldn’t have done that. It’s a wonder he didn’t give you your marching orders on the spot!’
‘Aye, but he didn’t! Because I made him see that if you weren’t given no help, then he’d have both his wife and his daughter sick abed.’ John gave a crafty little chuckle. ‘That frightened him, I can tell you. He’d have to get somebody in then, wouldn’t he, eh? And he knows it. Anyroad, my Ada’s found a young woman, a tidy hardworking soul… been working as a kitchen-help at the Luttrell Arms. According to my Ada, the girlie’s worth her weight in gold. She’s strong as an ox, too, by all accounts.’
‘Is she local?’ Scarlet was both relieved and intrigued.
‘Been here close on two years. She comes from Taunton way.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Williams.’ John thought hard, the frustration showing on his homely face. ‘Aye! That’s it… Williams. Shelagh Williams.’
‘Has my father agreed to take her on?’
‘Not yet. He ain’t seeing her ’till Friday week.’ And an alarming thought suddenly struck him, and he was anxious. ‘Here!… don’t you go mentioning this to your father, my girl! I were told to say nowt about it. If it comes about, I expect he wants to be the one to tell you, but I think you should know that help might be on its way. An’ if he don’t take this one on, then you just keep at him ’till he finds somebody suited. For my money, this Williams woman is just what you need… my Ada says so, and she’s a good judge, I’ll have you know.’ He wore a look that challenged anybody to say differently.
‘Let’s wait and see.’ Scarlet was used to disappointments and she wouldn’t let her hopes be built up only to come crashing down. ‘You know how difficult my father is. I can’t really see him taking on any stranger to come into the house.’
‘He’d better!’ John remarked, stabbing his fork into the unyielding earth, ‘’cause if he don’t, it’ll be like I said… he’ll have you sick, and then he’ll be in a worse position!’ He yanked the fork from the sods and strode back to his work.
Scarlet remained still for a while, gazing at the empty enclosure where the beheaded chickens had been found; it was strange not to hear them cackling, and the proud manner in which they had strutted about had always amused her. She wondered at the vicious way in which their lives had been ended. John had found them, and though she was made to stay indoors while everything was cleared away, she had later heard John describing to a fellow trader the bloody chaos that had awaited him that morning. ‘It were a senseless massacre!’ he said. ‘In all my born days I ain’t never seen nothing like it! Every last one of ’em… ripped from craw to end. An’ it weren’t no animal that did it, I can tell you that! Naw, I don’t know of no four-legged creature that would tear off the heads o’ twenty-four chickens… an’ set ’em atop o’ the fencing posts like grisly gargoyles. Oh, I don’t mind telling you… it gave me a terrible fright… turned my blood to water, it did, and I’ve not had a peaceful night since!’ Neither had Scarlet.
‘John.’ Scarlet came to his side.
‘Aye?’
‘Who do you think killed the chickens?’
He shivered. ‘Lord only knows,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘or the divil.’
‘Was it the same “divil” who did all the other things?’
‘No question in my mind.’ He glanced at the enclosure. ‘Let’s just hope they never come back. One thing’s for sure… I ain’t going into Taunton for a new wagonload of fowl… not ’till I’m sure!’ He shivered again, this time out loud. ‘I never want to find such wanton butchery like that again!’ Just for a minute his mind’s eye saw every gory detail and, in the background, before he thrust it all away, the shadowy image of a figure in a long dark cloak. ‘Fetch me that wheelbarrow from beside the shed afore you set to with the hoeing.’
In the mouth of the smithy Silas leaned his weight against the great shire, determined that, in spite of its resistance, he would master the beast.
‘She’s a stubborn old mare,’ remarked its owner, a jolly whiskered fellow as round as the barrels he carted on his wagon. ‘The bugger won’t let anybody near her hooves if she can help it… allus has been a cantankerous old sod!’ he chuckled as the shire threw a tantrum that almost trampled Silas underfoot. ‘Go on, lad,’ the portly fellow urged, ‘if anybody can master her, you can!’ He was obviously enjoying the entire proceedings with pride, grinning broadly when Silas grabbed the shire’s feathers in his fists and thrust the hoof between his knees, where he wedged it tight once more. ‘She’ll not be still, I tell you, young man… she’s an obstinate old bag.’
Vincent Pengally had also been watching and now, when he came forward, the whiskered fellow saw what he carried and was appalled. ‘No… I’ll not let you put a twitch on her,’ he protested, staring at the small noose in the blacksmith’s hands. It was a hateful device that pinched a horse’s upper lip and caused it to be subdued by terror.
Silas also saw the blacksmith’s intention, and he fiercely shook his head, gesturing with his hand that the shire was calming down. He could manage.
‘Want to do it the hard way, do you?’ The question was a sneer, but Pengally was halted, not by the dark hostility in Silas’s eyes, but because the whiskered fellow ran a wagon and four. His customer was valued, and out of the four, only this particular mare was troublesome. Quietly seething, he nodded his head and returned to the forge.
In that moment, Silas raised his eyes as Scarlet returned to the shed for the wheelbarrow. The pleasure he felt in just seeing her betrayed itself in his quiet gaze. Pengally saw it and was infuriated.
Finally, when the mare was shod and the whiskered fellow had led her away down the path and out of sight, Silas found himself confronted by Vincent Pengally, his face dark with rage. ‘I ought to skin you alive,’ he hissed, ‘and so help me, I will… if you ever again challenge me in my own smithy.’ Silas was not intimidated. He felt only contempt for this man. ‘D’you hear what I’m saying? Don’t try it again, or you’ll feel the weight of leather on your back!’ Silas continued to boldly return the hostile stare, although it mellowed when the other man continued. ‘And Scarlet… don’t think I didn’t see the cow-eyes you were making at her!’ He thrust his face forward, his voice dropping to a whisper and only then, at what he said next, was there real fear in Silas’s young heart. ‘I can’t stop you
from looking, you bastard… unless I gouge out your eyes. But, if you have dreams of touching her, you’d best put them out of your head. I’m warning you because… before I’d see you lay a finger on her, I’d rather she were dead.’ In his terrible rage he began trembling, his vivid grey eyes swimming with tears. ‘Make no mistake about it,’ he said gutturally, ‘I would take her life without a second thought!’
Silas was surprised to find himself shaken to the core, even though he knew he should not be so shocked at whatever threats this man made. He was unstable; made even more so by the weird happenings of late, directed towards Greystone House and claimed by Pengally to stem from witchcraft. At first he had sworn that it was Silas plotting against him, but then the drawing of a hanging body had appeared on the smithy door on the very night when Pengally had stood watch over Silas with a primed shotgun. From then on, and for many weeks after, he had been like a man possessed, inconsolable, and going in fear for his life. Only after a prolonged period when no further incidents occurred did he become calm enough to carry on his work as before. But the whole series of bizarre events had desperately unnerved him.
Silas was in no doubt that the words uttered by the blacksmith just now were no idle threat, but a sincere intent. Because of the magnetism that existed between himself and Scarlet, there must inevitably come a time when her life was in great danger. He had been deeply aware of it for some long time, and he saw that the awful responsibility was his. And, even though it would be a painful thing, he had vowed to make the ultimate sacrifice, for Scarlet’s sake. It was almost time. Particularly since John had confided in him the possibility of a companion and help for Scarlet.
‘Come in! Stand over here where I can see you in the light.’ Vincent Pengally turned a sour face towards the young woman who was lingering in the doorway of the parlour, her brown eyes seeming nervous under his bold glowering stare. She was a slim figure of medium height, demurely dressed in a brown fitted tweed coat, with a cream cloche hat squashed over her short brown hair. Round her neck was a long broad scarf in a vivid green and yellow chequered pattern. She was neither pretty nor plain, but having the sort of face that rarely attracted a second glance. When she hesitated, Pengally’s voice boomed out across the parlour, causing her to jerk forward. ‘Move yourself… I haven’t got all evening.’ He indicated the chair which was situated opposite, at the other side of the black-leaded fire-range. When she was seated on the edge, seeming uncomfortable and ill at ease, he let his scrutinous grey eyes rove over her stiff upright form, regarding with satisfaction her sober and neat appearance. ‘Be so good as to remove your hat,’ he told her in a surly voice.
‘Pardon me, Mr Pengally.’ She snatched the hat from her head and placed it most carefully on her knee, clutching the brim so anxiously that its shape was altogether changed.
‘You don’t look very old to me, girl!’
‘I’m not a “girl”, sir. I’m a grown woman.’ Her brown eyes observed him intently, ‘I have experience… and I’m not afraid of hard work.’
‘What kind of experience?’ He was shocked to find that her staring brown eyes disturbed him. To hell with this damned business, he thought, and damnation to Hannah for putting him through it!
‘I went to work in an asylum when I was only fourteen. There were twelve old people in the institution. I cared for them all at different times. Besides the nursing, I was obliged to carry out various other domestic duties. The work was hard and unrewarding, but I did it well.’
‘Hmh!’ He regarded her in a hostile manner, ‘You do have references, do you?’
‘When my father died, I left the area and haven’t been back since. It isn’t possible to obtain further references for that particular period in my life… not now. The institution closed down some time back.’ She saw that he intended to speak, and was fearful that she would be dismissed. ‘However, I have been employed at the Luttrell Arms for almost two years… as general domestic assistance. I have here a formal reference regarding my good qualities and amiable manner whilst in their employ… and a note from my first employer.’ She reached into her deep leather bag and withdrew a long brown envelope which she handed to him. ‘You’ll be pleased to know that I can read and write, and have a small knowledge of the piano.’
‘Huh!’ He gave an insulting laugh, ‘You’ll find little use for “piano knowledge” here at Greystone House… indeed, I would positively frown on it!’ Opening the envelope, he perused the contents with remarkable swiftness, his impatience with the whole proceedings clearly evident as he thrust the documents into her hand. ‘Read and write, you say?’ She nodded. ‘Hmh… well, the Luttrell Arms manager speaks highly of you and your work there. “An exemplary and outstanding employee” is how he describes you.’ She nodded again, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of her small thin-lipped mouth. ‘Why do you want to leave?’
‘I hadn’t thought of leaving, sir… until Mrs Blackwood made mention of it, when I happened on her in Pelham’s shop the other week. Oh, I like the domestic work well enough, and I dare say it’s likely I would have stayed on at the Luttrell Arms for a while, but you see, sir… I do miss the caring, the satisfaction of looking after people who genuinely need help. It’s so rewarding, and there’s nothing like that at the Luttrell Arms. So I do believe that now Mrs Blackwood has got me thinking about it again, I’ll find myself a position of that kind… whether it’s here at Greystone House, or some other place.’
‘How much are you paid at your present employ?’
‘Two pounds a week, and board.’
‘Hmh! That seems over-generous to me, Miss Williams. I don’t intend to be so foolish with hard earned money.’
‘Of course, sir.’
‘The position here will pay one pound each week… with a room, warmth and food. The duties will be shared with my daughter, Scarlet. Presently, she helps on the land, runs the house and cares for Mrs Pengally, and the girl is not yet fifteen.’
‘I understand, sir.’
‘I have my hands full with the smithy and overseeing the accounts. I’m a hard-working man, Miss Williams. I need an orderly house and food on the table when my labours are done. The last thing I want is to have two sick women on my hands.’ He regarded the young woman closely. ‘Scarlet is good on the land; she would continue her duties there… and would equally share the domestic tasks about the house. As for her ailing mother… I would prefer that particular burden to be eased from her altogether.’ He stiffened his back and brought his piercing grey eyes to bear on her, seeming pleased when she appeared to flinch beneath his stony glare. ‘So you see, Miss Williams, the work here will be hard, and the pay not so attractive. No doubt your enthusiasm has been squashed?’
‘On the contrary, Mr Pengally.’ She appeared to bristle, her gaze returned with confidence. ‘I would be pleased to care for your sick wife; it’s what I do best. And though the wages won’t be as rewarding… I shall have the pleasure of your daughter’s company, a deal more freedom, and the opportunity of living in a house, instead of business premises.’ She saw the slow arrogant smile spread over his features, and her fingers tightened so fiercely on the brim of her hat that it tore.
‘Are you saying that you agree to the terms?’
‘I am.’
‘Good!’ He was both pleased and surprised, his grey eyes once more closely regarding her, a thoughtful look on his coarse features. It was a while before he went on. ‘Then you may report Monday week, if that is suitable?’
‘It is, sir.’ The relief flooded her round face. ‘May I see Mrs Pengally?’
‘I suppose you might as well know what you’re taking on… Scarlet will show you the way.’ He got to his feet, gesturing for her to do the same. ‘One other thing you need to know, Williams,’ he said, ignoring the way she frowned on hearing him refer to her as ‘Williams’.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘My daughter… Scarlet. I forbid you to behave in an irresponsible manner in her presence.’
&
nbsp; ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Scarlet is a quiet girl. She’s been brought up to find pleasure in her own company. She’s not allowed to waste her energy on foolish pastimes… no going into town, fancy clothes, barn dances and such like. She attends the market with my hired help, John Blackwood, and has never found the need to mix with empty-headed young people. Everything Scarlet needs is here… at Greystone House. She has no need of the outside world. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Perfectly clear.’ There was astonishment in her face, and a look of doubt, or possibly disgust.
‘Another thing. I have been forced, by certain past circumstances, to take into my employ a most devious young man by the name of Silas. Scarlet is particularly forbidden to have anything to do with him. Part of your duty will be to ensure that these two are kept well apart!’ He waited for her reaction, and when she merely nodded, he went on. ‘He won’t give you any trouble… although don’t be fooled when he pretends to be dumb. He can speak as well as you or me, only he prefers to remain surly. He has an area in the barn, where he sleeps… Under no circumstances is he ever to be allowed in the house. He has a tray set outside the barn in the morning, and another when his labours are done… if the smithy keeps us busy until well into the evening, you’ll be so good as to fetch us a plate of sandwiches. You must bring them, Williams… do not send Scarlet. The smithy is out of bounds to her.’ He led the way across the room. ‘Is all of that clear enough?’
‘I shall do exactly as you say.’
‘Good!’ He flung open the parlour door and went into the hall. ‘Scarlet!’ He directed his voice towards the kitchen, where he suspected Scarlet to have been waiting. ‘Leave what you’re doing, and come here.’
Scarlet Page 14
