She wanted her medicine, where was her medicine, why had they taken it away from her? ‘Give me my medicine!’ she yelled. But he wouldn’t, he was as bad as Mrs Roberts. Mrs Roberts? Where was Mrs Roberts? Had she taken her medicine away? ‘Give me my medicine!’ she yelled again, punching with her fists and kicking with her feet.
Through the red oblivion she saw a face, a distant face from the past, a strong face full of pain, a masculine face with tears in his eyes and on his cheeks. A man’s face; a man she knew; a man who wept. He brought her warm gruel and held a pail under her head when she vomited. He held her hand as she flopped exhausted on the couch pushing away his offers of fresh water or a damp cloth.
She wanted to die. Death was preferable to this tortured hell and she kicked and shouted again to tell him so. He was cruel to her. When she was thirsty he forced her to drink a warm concoction of bitter herbs, tipping the fluid into her mouth and pinching her nose so she had to swallow. But the brew calmed her demons to allow her a brief respite of sleep and when she awoke he was there. He was always there, sitting in a kitchen chair, watching her.
Abel was astonished by her strength when he was forced to restrain her. He never knew when her pale thin form would turn into that of a tigress or where that energy came from, for she could lift a chair and throw it at him if he was not vigilant. He rubbed a bruise on his shoulder which was evidence of his neglect. But a week after Simon Brady left, Beth was taking light broth and keeping it down.
The sun, though weak and without much heat, graced a cloudy Dales sky on the day that Beth remembered his name. ‘Abel Shipton, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, madam,’ he replied.
She rubbed her hands up and down the sides of her head. ‘Oh don’t you “madam” me. It hurts. Everywhere hurts. Are you my prison guard?’
‘Is that how you see me?’
‘Mrs Roberts ran away from me so they have sent you instead.’ She rubbed her arms where he had gripped them. ‘You are most certainly stronger.’
‘No one sent me and I am sorry if I have hurt you.’
‘What have you done with my medicine?’
‘It is the medicine that has made you ill. You took too much of it.’
‘I needed it! And I need it now.’
‘Dr Brady advises that you do not.’
‘Who is he to tell me what I need? Of course I need it! Where is it? Give it to me.’
He shook his head, frowning. ‘I cannot. I do not have any.’
‘You lie! You all lie to me. Give it to me!’ She reared her body off the couch and staggered. ‘I’ll get it myself. Where have you hidden it?’ She crashed around the kitchen and scullery, pulling away pots and jars, leaving them where they smashed to the floor scattering their contents over the flagstones. She heaved against the latch of the locked larder door. Yes, Mrs Roberts kept it in there and the key on a chain around her waist. She ran against him, thumping his chest with her fists and yelled, ‘Give me the key!’
‘It will be of no use to you. There isn’t any medicine, as you call it, in there,’ he replied calmly. Simon had prepared him for the worst and she was no contest for his strength. But he must be gentle with her for in spite of her ferocious bouts of anger, she was fragile.
‘Why should I believe you?’ she yelled. ‘You are the same as all the others, scheming against me for your own ends!’
He did not resist her flying fists and eventually she stopped beating him.
Her eyes darkened. When she had first met him she had thought that he was a servant rather than a tenant and had been wrong. Had he not wanted her then? Once upon a time, he had desired her as a woman, at least until he had discovered she was Edgar’s wife. He would have wooed her all those years ago if she had been the ladies’ maid he thought she was. He had truly desired her.
‘Why are you here?’ she asked.
‘Would you prefer me to leave?’
She reached up to dust off and straighten his lapels with her hands. ‘Your jacket is very smart for a shepherd. Have you turned yourself into a gentleman, Abel?’
For a moment his eyes widened and then narrowed again just as quickly. ‘I have means,’ he answered evenly.
She smiled and allowed her fingers to trace the edges of his lapels until her knuckles brushed his jawbone and he flinched. She was standing too close to him for his comfort. ‘Do you have a wife as well?’ she murmured, nudging at his knee with hers.
‘Not yet.’
Her knuckles continued along his chin. She turned her hands and traced her forefingers around his cheeks and then – and then very gently across his lips.
‘Once upon a time, you wanted me as your wife,’ she said softly and felt his body stiffen. His lips parted a fraction and nibbled at her fingers as she held his gaze with her own. She knew from Edgar what men wanted from women and how urgent that need might be. Then she remembered how horrendous the act was and for a second she wavered. But he would fall asleep afterwards and then she could search his clothes for the key. Her desperation for the key surmounted all her fears. She only had to communicate to him her willingness to partake but in that she had no experience for with Edgar she had not been willing.
Abel closed his eyes as he nibbled her fingers and his breathing quickened. But no, his eyes were not quite shut for she detected a tiny glitter between the thick dark fringes of his lashes. He was different from Edgar but she supposed the act would be the same. The couch was not big enough for them both and the kitchen floor was cold and hard. Her bedroom too would be cold, not to say unkempt, but the bed was large and soft for Abel to slumber afterwards as Edgar had.
She would have the key and be down to the larder and back before he woke for another bout. And with her medicine it would not matter what he did to her and how many times, for she would have no feeling and that is how she wanted to be. When she was floating on her cloud of oblivion Edgar could behave as cruelly as he wished towards her; as indeed could his mother or Mrs Roberts. And now Abel Shipton. No one could hurt her when she was shrouded in her fog for she felt nothing.
She inhaled Abel’s masculine aroma, remembered Edgar’s demands on her and hesitated. But she must go on for she needed her medicine, her medicine … Saliva gathered in her mouth and she recalled Edgar’s boorish brutish invasion of her virtue. The hurt and pain had assaulted her feelings as well as her body and he had been indifferent to her protests. He had not loved her, not even cared for her. He would have realised how much she hated him if he had. Edgar’s affections were for himself and she supposed all men were the same in the bedchamber.
Edgar had fallen asleep afterwards. If Abel slept she could take his key and find her medicine. She needed her medicine. She would do anything for her medicine …
She swallowed the saliva gathering in her mouth and pulled at the neckline of her gown until she had exposed the swell of her breasts. She reached inside with one of her hands, cupping the soft flesh and pushing it upwards, until she revealed the nipple …
Edgar had growled at her like an impatient hungry dog. Abel – Abel did not growl. He was – was, well, different, she thought briefly, but he was a man and all men were the same, Mrs Roberts had told her, when it came to taking their pleasure. Pleasure? For Beth it was no pleasure, only an endurance and she hesitated. But she wanted her medicine and this was the only way …
She heard the muted rumble of a suppressed groan and sidled closer, using her other hand to reveal a second nipple as she attempted to squirm against him. But Abel did not bend his head to bite her flesh, nor use his hands to knead and squash her breasts together as Edgar had. His eyes opened wide and the lump in his throat rose and fell as he stared at her and swallowed.
‘My God,’ he whispered, ‘what has Edgar done to you?’ Then his hands did move to her breasts. His firm fingers pushed them back into her gown. ‘Do you truly believe you can persuade me with your body?’ He pulled up her neckline and snatched her woollen shawl from a chair. ‘Cover yourself,’ he snapped
. ‘And get your cloak. We are going outside.’
‘I won’t!’ she shrilled. ‘Not before I have had my medicine!’
‘There is no medicine!’ he shouted. ‘Stop calling it that. It’s laudanum. It’s poison. The same poison that is smoked in the opium dens of Liverpool and London. You have to stop taking it.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And I am here to make sure that you do.’
‘But I must have it. I must.’ Her voice cracked and she slumped on the chair. ‘I can’t go on without it.’
‘Yes, you can.’ His voice was firm but softer. ‘You have to. It’s the only way. Come with me.’
He took her cloak from its hook on the door and wrapped it around her, fiddling with the fastenings. He spoke as though to himself. ‘Had I known how he would treat you I would have taken you with me. But you were – are – his wife, destined to share his title and his wealth. How wrong can a man be? Dear God, I should have realised then. It was a mistake to leave you with those who did not believe you were telling the truth.’
She wasn’t listening to him but a few of his words lingered in her muddled brain. He had reminded her that she was Edgar’s wife. She had so much wanted to be someone’s wife until she realised what it really meant. She was merely a possession to be used and discarded as her husband saw fit, not even allowed to keep her own daughter or see her son. She swayed a little as she stood and allowed herself to be wrapped against the bitter weather. The fell was hidden in mist but for a second the blur in her brain cleared and desperately she tried to hold on to her thoughts.
‘Where are my children?’ she asked in a small voice. ‘I have two children. Do you know where they are?’
He stopped in the process of pulling on his long hunting coat. He hardly knew how to reply for fear of distressing her further. Simon had warned him of his physical task in helping her, but not how to care for her broken mind. Make her face each symptom, he had said. Do not pretend it is not happening. At least, Abel reasoned, she had stopped pleading for her laudanum for a minute.
‘Your son is well,’ he answered, adding, ‘to the best of my knowledge.’ Abel knew that it was in Edgar’s interests to ensure his son’s well-being.
‘My poor baby,’ she murmured. ‘I must see him.’ She frowned. ‘I have a daughter, too. They took her away from me. They said she was a b – b – they said she was yours. They lied. Everyone lied.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Why did they take my daughter too?’ she pleaded.
Abel chose his words carefully. ‘The – the laudanum would have affected your ability to look after her.’
‘Don’t you understand, you stupid man?’ she wailed. ‘It was because they took my children that I had to have it. I should have gone mad without it.’ Her eyes were flashing and she was panting. ‘Perhaps I have gone mad. But I know for certain I should not be if Edgar had allowed me to keep my daughter. Where is she?’ Beth demanded.
Until then Abel had thought she had kept her daughter and the child had been removed to another place for safety, sensibly in the circumstances. What had happened to Beth’s daughter? He tried to hide the concern in his eyes and in his voice. ‘When did they take her?’
Beth knew she wasn’t mad. She couldn’t be or she would not remember any of that day. The day she had been so distressed that she could not see or even think straight. She remembered how Mrs Roberts had given her the medicine to calm her, and how it had worked, taking away the pain of her loss, the pain of her heart, the pain of everything. There was no wonder that she was a sorry shell of a woman now. Her life had been empty for so long. And now Abel had returned and he reminded her of joy as well as pain. She reached out to grab his hand. ‘You were there when they took her away. Where did they go?’
‘When did they leave with her?’ he asked.
‘After you had quarrelled with Mrs Collins they left in the carriage and trap. They took her then and Mrs Roberts said Edgar would return with my son. I waited and I watched but he – he—’ She choked on a sob. ‘He didn’t come back. Not ever. Where are my babies? Will you take me to them?’
Anger simmered through Abel. Dear Lord, surely Edgar was not that cruel? But, he realised with misgiving, that even Edgar would not have a choice when faced with the power of Lord Redfern and his lawyers. He had no idea where Beth’s daughter was – or – or if the child was still alive. What should he say? Empty promises were no solution. He dared not raise her hopes only to dash them later. At this stage of her recovery she would be devastated.
Beth was so distraught that she was gulping back small sobs. ‘They said she wasn’t Edgar’s child and I could not keep her. They said if I let my daughter go I would be able to keep my son. How can a mother choose between her children? I could not so they chose for me. Mrs Roberts said it was for the best and they were being kind by taking my daughter from me and not sending me to the asylum.’ Suddenly the bleakness welled in her heart. Where was her medicine to take away the memories? ‘They lied to me,’ she choked. ‘They all lied.’ The wild desperation returned to her eyes. ‘I want my children. I’m their mother! Why can’t I see them?’
Abel held her hand tightly and responded hastily, too hastily he realised as he said, ‘You will! I promise. I shall find them for you.’ He had to do this for her, no matter how long it took him. He was confident he could find the boy, although less sure that he would be allowed to see his mother. He was even more uncertain that he would be able to locate Beth’s daughter for he had no idea who had taken her away or where they had placed her, if she had survived. He pushed the latter thought away. Only a handful of people had knowledge of the girl twin. Abel determined to squeeze the information out of one of them, if he could find them. He corrected himself, when he found them.
His determined tone raised Beth’s spirits. ‘You will?’ she said. ‘You’ll bring them here to me? When will you bring them?’
‘You must get yourself well first.’ He picked up her other hand. ‘Come, walk with me in the fresh air.’
She shook off his helping hands. ‘I can’t. I can’t do anything without my medicine. Give it to me. I can’t go without it.’ He had the key, she recalled. She must get the key from him.
Her lucid moment had gone, Abel realised, and sighed. Her obsession for more laudanum had taken over. He must not let her retreat into the comfort of oblivion again. It would be tough on her and he hated himself for the pain he must inflict on her. He had known from the beginning it was the only way and Simon’s instructions had confirmed his fears and raised his anger at those who had reduced her to this pathetic soul.
‘The medicine was Edgar’s solution,’ he growled at her. ‘It is not medicine, it is laudanum. Do you hear me? Laudanum. You know what it is and I know it will kill you. What use will you be to your children if you are dead?’
‘But I have to have it,’ she whined.
‘No, you do not.’ He snatched up her hand again and half dragged her outside, pulling her behind him as he walked around the yard. ‘You need to start living again. You once told me how much you loved the fell and it was the only thing that was good about your life.’
Beth was clearly distressed by his actions. She pulled against him and shouted. He heard his horse whinny in the stable. He had neglected to exercise the poor creature in his concern for Beth. The horse was lonely, too, now that Simon had departed with his mount, as High Fell Farm no longer kept a pony and trap. He recalled Beth’s instincts for the well-being of animals and hauled her into the stable.
‘Now calm down while you are in here or you’ll spook my horse,’ he ordered.
She fell against the stall, panting and sweating then crumpled into a heap on a pile of straw. He felt desperately sorry for her, but knew he must not weaken. He took the opportunity to have a closer look at the tack and an idea germinated in his mind. After a few minutes Beth seemed calmer.
‘Come and make friends with him,’ he suggested. When she did not move, he added, ‘You can help take care of him.�
��
‘I’ve not seen to horses since before …’
‘Well, you’ll just have to learn. If you are not well enough to look after a horse how will you manage in charge of a child?’
This time he thought he noticed a vestige of his message getting through to her and he realised that it was her need for her children that would motivate her to get better. This was the brightest glimmer of hope for him so far. She was in a dreadful state as a human being but she was above all else a mother and that was rooted deep within her. She might do his bidding for her children. He fervently hoped that she would. He hated himself for being the cause of so much pain, and he guessed that she despised him as much. Would she ever forgive him, he wondered? It was hard enough to know she could never be his true love, but he hoped they might resurrect their friendship. Simon had not prepared him for this personal despair that had descended over him.
However, she did not snatch her hand from his when he took it for a second time and allowed herself to be led out of the stable. He lifted her bodily and sat her on a mounting stone outside the stable and reckoned that if she did make a run for it, she wouldn’t get far before he caught up with her. He led his horse outside to saddle him. She watched but made no comment and he wondered where her thoughts were. Laudanum, he guessed.
Abel had come across the sidesaddle when he had tidied the tack room before Simon left. It was very old but had been well oiled in the past and was serviceable. He tightened the buckles and mounted, settling himself on the horse blanket behind the saddle and walked his horse towards her. She was watching him.
The Lost And Found Girl Page 12
