White Water (25 page)

‘I saw him in the distance,’ said Felicity. ‘He was lying in the shelter of a large outcrop of rock. The sheep were all around him, grazing. He had no dog then to warn him of my arrival. When I reached him I could see that he was either asleep or cupshotten — there were several empty pitchers nearby.’ She faltered, seeing him again in her mind’s eye, spreadeagled against the turf, breathing heavily. She saw the thick stubble round his jaw and the slack mouth from which a trickle of saliva ran. He smelt of sour ale and urine. His clothes were filthy and stained. ‘I stood looking down at him and dreaded waking him. At last I coughed but he didn’t stir. I spoke his name and he still didn’t move. I thought he was still asleep but when I called him louder and he still lay there I began to think him ill — or even dead! I looked around but there was no one else in sight, so I knelt beside him and touched his arm. Then I put my head down to listen to his heart and — ’

Martin’s arm tightened round her as she broke off again, biting her lip. A fierce shudder swept through her as she recalled what happened next, as she felt his arms clamp her and his raucous triumphant laughter rang in her ears. He held her in a vice-like grip and pulled her down on top of him. She struggled wildly, too frightened and breathless to scream out and well aware that no one would hear her if she did. He rolled over until she was beneath him.

‘I couldn’t move under his weight,’ she whispered, ‘and the smell of him choked me. He was trying to kiss me and I couldn’t fight him off so I bit him. He swore and then laughed and said — he said he’d tame me. We were on a slope and he rolled us both down so that I was dizzy when we stopped. I was crushed and bruised and my whole body ached. He knelt over me, so I was trapped between his legs.’ She swallowed hard and Martin could feel her body trembling. ‘He started to loosen his clothes with one hand and with the other he tugged at mine. I held my bodice together and pushed him as hard as I could. He lost his balance and I wriggled out from under him. As I scrambled to my feet he caught at my skirt and held on, trying to steady himself. As I tugged myself free my skirt tore and I left most of it in his hand. I ran from him — how I don’t know, for I was breathless and so terrified that my legs seemed to have no strength in them at all. He ran after me, laughing and roaring and shouting that I’d “got his blood going”, and saying what he would do with me when he caught me.’

‘And did he catch up with you?’ Martin asked after a long pause.

‘No, he didn’t. He slipped or tripped — I did not see what happened, but when I looked back he was on the ground, nursing his ankle. He didn’t follow me and I came back to the house. No one knew what had happened and I couldn’t bring myself to speak of it. I hid in my chamber until I had recovered, then I changed my gown. I told the mistress I couldn’t find him. He came limping in the following day with his report and I kept out of his way. The dress was quite ruined. I burned it piece by piece.’

‘And you told no one?’

‘I’ve told you. I welcomed his death and yet I feel I should think kindly of him now.’

‘And you don’t.’

‘No. If I had the power to bring him alive again I wouldn’t use it. Is that a terrible thing to say?’

He shook his head. ‘My poor little Felicity. Have you never known a man’s love?’

‘Never. There’s only Jon and we feel nothing for each other.’

‘Don’t judge all men by Mark Wynne,’ he said.

‘I don’t. I’ve met you and you treat me with kindness.’ He kissed her on the side of her forehead. ‘I shall see to it personally that your husband is all that you desire,’ he told her lightly. ‘Tell me your requirements and I shall seek out the perfect man.’

‘My requirements? Oh no, Martin, I — ’

‘Tell me!’ he insisted. ‘Describe your perfect man.’

She was silent. If she described Martin he would guess her secret. If she described anyone else it would be false. ‘Eyes?’ he prompted.

‘Brown with flecks of grey.’

‘Hair?’

‘Dark.’

‘Age — do you like older men? Allan’s age, mayhap?’

‘Allan? How old is he?’

‘Nearly twenty-three.’

‘No, too old.’

‘Your own age, then?’

‘Not that either. A younger man, mayhap a year younger.’

Now he knows, she told herself, and the idea was at once sweet and terrifying.

‘And what height should you prefer?’ he asked calmly. She drew away from him slightly and turned to look at him.

‘Don’t!’ she said quietly. ‘Don’t play this game with me, Martin. I believe you know how I feel about you. I won’t pretend.’

Her directness confused him and for a moment he blustered, denying the truth of what she said.

‘Stop Martin, I beg you. I’m not ashamed of my feelings for you. I will never be your wife, I accept that. I would not presume to be more than I am. My twenty-five crowns will not buy me a Kendal — ’

‘Felicity! Don’t — ’

‘Let me finish what I have started, Martin. I cannot unsay it even if I would. No, this is the time for speaking the truth. For me, if not for you. You have treated me respectfully and with kindness. I don’t deceive myself that you feel anything more for me — ’

‘You are wrong, Felicity. I — ’

‘I know how you feel for Eloise. You have spoke of her with love in your voice.’

He was silent, astonished by her perception and she went on:

‘You must marry well and you will not marry me. But that doesn’t stop me from loving you, Martin, and I do. I don’t ask anything in return for my adoration. I am content that you are near and we are friends. I want to be allowed to love you in my own way. I expect nothing from you.’

Martin felt an unutterable sadness at her words. He also felt guilt. He had been aware of his effect on her and had enjoyed her admiration. There was nothing wrong in that. But he had drawn from her a confession of her feelings and for that he must accept responsibility. But for her gentle, passionate declaration he felt guilt. He had thought to play with her emotions, perhaps even amuse himself at her expense. Not unkindly, but without consideration for
her
feelings. Now she had expressed her own love and his knowledge of it. She knew that he had enjoyed her esteem and he was vaguely ashamed of his behaviour. He recalled the glowing picture he had painted of Eloise, and cursed himself for an insensitive fool. He had smiled at Felicity, letting his eyes express more than was in his heart. He had tried to enchant her and he had succeeded. To one of his looks and charm it had been all too easy.

‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘I’m not worthy of your love but I doubt I will convince
you
of that.’ He wanted to be as honest as she had been but that would hurt her. Her honesty at worst could only flatter him. His honesty might well destroy her.

‘I am honoured by your affection,’ he said, choosing his words carefully, ‘and touched by your honesty. You say I will never marry you and that is true. I must look elsewhere for a bride as the family sees fit. My circumstances demand it. But you say I do not love you and I must argue with that.’

‘Martin! You — ’

‘Hush, little one! Let me have my say. I feel a kind of love for you, not quite brotherly yet not lustful either.’

She laughed shakily but did not interrupt him. ‘Eloise
is
very beautiful. She is also hard and I think greedy. But to speak of her that way is ungentlemanly. All I mean to say is that she appeals to the baser instinct in me and you appeal to the finer. Do you understand at all?’

‘I think so.’

‘I cannot wed you, Felicity, but I love you for your gentle spirit. If I am to stay in Appledore and not travel, as seems likely, I should like you to stay on here. Will you be my loving companion? Would such a position appeal to you?’ His voice had resumed its bantering tone but he had said enough of love to satisfy Felicity’s needs.

She nodded and her eyes shone with a new brilliance. He was all that she had hoped and he had said he loved her. Not lustfully and for that she was relieved. She was not ready for that. But a loving companion was precisely what she craved. She sighed with happiness, unable to believe her good fortune. As she slid down into the boat with him, to lie chaste and safe in his arms, she knew he had only to command it and she would follow him to the ends of the earth.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The celebration supper was normally provided for those workers involved in bringing in the harvest, and it included all who worked on the home farm and the house and stables staff at Heron and Ladyford. It was held in the Hall at Heron, which simplified all the preparations. This year, however, Maria and Hugo were keenly aware of the plight of the out-of-work miners, and so they had decided to extend the range of the supper. They invited all the tinners and their families — those working as well as those unemployed. Some of the most needy among the latter had been taken on temporarily to help with the harvest, and thus did qualify for inclusion in the supper. A few worked willingly, others resentfully. The tinners were a proud people and farm work was considered very inferior and not worthy of their skills, but few of them could afford to turn down the opportunity of earning a shilling or two to buy food for their families.

Maria had intended to preside over and supervise the supper, but changed her mind when the trouble between Martin and Eloise flared. Melissa willingly offered to take her place as supervisor, but felt that Eloise, as a future Kendal, should sit at the head of the table in Thomas’ absence. Eloise was easily persuaded to do so. The day of the supper dawned hazily, but with a brightness that promised fine weather when the morning mist finally dispersed. The Hall would not hold the increased numbers, so the largest barn was pressed into service and soon after cockcrow Matt and Jon were at work, pushing and pulling sacks of grain, ploughs and barrels to the far end, to make room for the tables. They moved armfuls of rakes, scythes, and flails, collected buckets and pails, coiled ropes and stacked an assortment of ladders neatly in a corner. The barn itself was high and wide with whitewashed walls, and dark rafters supported the sagging thatch. It smelled dankly of wet straw and rats and leather, and as soon as a sufficient space had been cleared the men set to with brooms to sweep up the earth floor. Within seconds the air was thick with dust and Jon began to cough and splutter.

Matt wrinkled his nose disparagingly. ‘Stinking stuff! Tis to be hoped they’ll put down a few herbs to sweeten the place.’

‘They will — or rather,
we
will. There’s to be fresh straw and lavender. We’ll open all the doors and windows to let the air blow through.’ He peered down at a number of rat holes revealed by his sweeping. ‘I reckon we shall need Nat Gully again before long. The rats are back again. Nothing gets rid of them for long.’

‘Aye,’ said Matt. ‘That first sack I shifted was leaking corn like water! Little varmits!’

They swept out the stale straw and left the barn for half an hour for the dust to settle and the clean air to do its work. They had to collect trestles, boards and benches from various places — Ladyford had offered two and there were several stored at the mine. Another small trestle was fetched from the buttery. As they collected them, they were stacked outside the barn and shortly after Melissa appeared to inspect their work.

‘There were a hundred and ten at the last count,’ she muttered, ‘not counting ourselves. There’s how many boards — seven and a small one? That’s ten to a board and six to the small one — ’ She looked hopefully at Jon and Matt, but the former shook his head regretfully.

Matt, however, considered what she had said. ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘I reckon that’s about it.’

Melissa looked vaguely surprised. ‘Is it?’

‘Aye,’ said Matt. ‘What you said about the tables and there being seven and all that.’ He glanced at Jon to see if he was impressed, but Jon was hiding a grin and did not meet his eyes.

Melissa did a rapid calculation on her fingers. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I think not quite enough. Seventy and six — we’re short by twenty or more.’

‘That’s what I said!’ Matt protested. ‘Leastways ’tis what I meant to say.’ He looked accusingly at Jon. ‘You’re not much help, any road. Not saying nowt, are you?’

Jon shrugged good-humouredly. ‘Mayhap we could make up a table with an old door,’ he suggested. ‘Set it on four barrels.’

‘Oh, that’s well said,’ cried Melissa. ‘I’ll leave you to see to it, Jon. See what you can find. Now, Matt, I want you to take the shears and cut a good quantity of greenery to decorate walls and tables. Eloise will see to the arranging later. Put it in water until ’tis needed. Oh dear, my head will never save my feet! I’ve left the candles at Ladyford. Mayhap I can send young Ellie over, or Lorna — if I can find her. She is always gadding about with that young Nathaniel. She’d best have been a boy, that one!’

Matt disappeared into the wood with the shears and Jon went off in the opposite direction. Melissa stood for a moment, deep in thought, then went inside the barn and began to consider where the tables should go. Just then Eloise joined her, looking very businesslike with an apron over her skirt.

‘We’ll need a dozen torches,’ Melissa told her, ‘Jon can fasten them along the walls and we can use that raised platform for the fiddlers.’

Eloise nodded. ‘And the family — where shall we sit?’

‘At the far end, do you think?’

‘I think so. Minnie wants to know how many loaves to bake. She has forgot.’

‘Loaves? Ah, Maria said twenty, but now I think on it ’twill be too few. We will feed a hundred or more and they will be very hungry. Times are so hard for them, poor souls. Tell her forty if she has enough flour. If any is left over the most deserving shall take it home.’

‘And if there is
not
enough flour?’

Melissa sighed distractedly. ‘Then Ben can ride to the mill and fetch back another small sack. No, wait. I have some at Ladyford. He can ride for it if necessary. Maggie will know where it is.’

Eloise hurried off and Melissa was left alone once more. There was so much to do. If only Maria had delayed her visit to Kent. Maria had not confided in her, but Melissa guessed at the reason for her hasty departure and sympathized. Sons could be a great trial, she reflected, and was thankful that Oliver was happily wed. Still, she envied Maria in one respect, for at least she had her sons around her and knew that they slept safe in their beds at night. But that was a foolish way to think, she reproached herself. She had a daughter-in-law and two fine grandchildren and a good friend in Maggie. Her dearest Thomas had recovered his health. There were so many things for which she was thankful it would be churlish to complain because her son was at sea. Especially as he promised to return a rich man. She allowed herself a smile but then marshalled her wandering thoughts. There was work to be done. The bare earth floor of the barn caught her eye and she raised one finger to tap her lips. ‘Clean straw and lavender,’ she said briskly and went to see what Ben had done with it.

*

Allan and Hugo returned from London to find the preparations well under way. They were in high spirits, for their journey had been a fruitful one. They had promises for the financial help they sought and the future of the Heron mine was beginning to look distinctly healthy. With Bucher’s expertise and the additional finance, they could begin work on two new drifts and, with the installation of the new machinery, re-employ most of the men they had thrown out of work.

Hugo was a little puzzled and disappointed to find that Maria and Martin had already left for Romney House, but soon after midday the messenger arrived with Felicity’s letter, informing them of Ruth’s death. Hugo realized then that she would have gone anyway on receiving the sad news. It seemed they were destined to hold the harvest supper without her.

Allan was pleased to find Eloise in a more cheerful frame of mind. The preparations for the supper were keeping her busy and for the time being the Gillis family were forgotten. She greeted him warmly and was obviously enjoying herself — and greatly looking forward to the evening when she would grace the head of the table. For the first time she would act as mistress of Heron and the idea thrilled her. She threw her arms round his neck and hugged him. The news of their success in London pleased her, too, and she clung tightly to his arm as they went up the steps into the house. She was glad that Martin had gone. She now had Allan to herself. Allan, who in a month’s time would be her husband and Heron her rightful home. Stretching before her she saw a delightful succession of harvest suppers with Eloise Kendal as queen of ceremonies. She saw herself engaging staff — a suitable tutor for their children; maybe a dancing teacher for herself. Just as easily, she pictured herself dismissing unsatisfactory servants — she would be firm, polite and implacable.

‘Later we shall decorate the barn with green boughs,’ she told him excitedly, ‘and Maggie is bringing some coloured ribbons and baubles for the tables, but do not look into the barn until we are quite finished. I want to surprise you. Oh — and I have planned a short speech.’

‘A speech?’

‘I thought it proper that I should, Allan. I thought to apologize for Maria’s absence and thank them for their efforts. Do say you approve.’

‘If it pleases you to make a speech — ’

‘Oh no, Allan. Is it seemly?’

He laughed. ‘Of course it is. A nice gesture. Tell them also that I love you!’

‘Allan! I don’t dare, though I wish I could. But mayhap you should give the speech instead of me? I might be too bold.’

‘No, no, they will love to hear it from you. Give your speech and I’m certain you will do it prettily. Now I must change and persuade Minnie to give us some refreshment. I cannot wait until the evening and nor, I wager, can Hugo! We stayed overnight at an abysmal inn and the meat was scanty and over-cooked. Tell me when all is ready and I will come and admire your barn.’

By seven o’clock the transformation was complete. The barn was ablaze with lights from the burning torches along each wall. Green branches hid the stained walls and formed a graceful awning over the top table, which was set at right-angles to the others. The tables had been covered with sheets and long strands of ivy trailed down the centre of each with, here and there, a glass bauble or a cluster of ribbons tied in bows. A sheaf of corn made of bread was suspended over the centre of each table and two stooks of real barley held the barn door wide open. Each table groaned with dishes of apples and nuts, with which the hungriest could blunt the edge of their appetites before the arrival of the main dish. From one of the rafters a solitary ginger cat watched the proceedings with, now and then, a suspicious flick of his tail.

Allan and Hugo looked round with obvious pleasure and announced themselves duly impressed.

‘You have all done exceedingly well,’ said Hugo. ‘My thanks to all you good ladies — and men — who have wrought the miracle. The old barn even
smells
good. Is there any lavender left within a mile radius of Heron?’

They all laughed and after a little more conversation they retired to put on their finery and reassembled just in time to greet the three fiddlers hired to play throughout the evening’s festivities. They were three brothers named Dan, Sam and Willie Crocker and were in great demand at all functions, for they were rightly judged the best in the neighbourhood. The three musicians joined the family in a toast to the evening’s success, then took their places and struck up the first tune, so that the first visitors to arrive would not find the barn silent as well as empty.

Allan wore green and gold with a golden feather in his cap. Hugo wore dark brown trimmed and slashed with white. Melissa was in blue, Maggie in a slate grey with orange lace and Eloise wore a striking gown of purple silk, cut very low and decorated with red and gold braid.

‘Here comes the first couple!’ whispered Maggie as an elderly man and woman walked towards them. She looked very frail but her face was tanned by the sun and Allan thought he had seen her working in the fields. Most of the labourers worked until the day they died unless struck by infirmity. It was a hard existence and the feast days and celebrations were, for most of them, the only excitement in their lives. Allan hoped they would enjoy themselves.

‘Come right in and find a seat,’ Melissa urged them. ‘Matt shall give you a drink — Ah, here comes another. Good evening to you and welcome … And Nancy Fookes, I remember you — and here’s a whole cartload arriving! We’ll be rushed off our feet soon!’

She darted off to see that the food was ready, leaving Hugo, Allan and Eloise to greet each new arrival. They came shyly, the men uncomfortable in the best clothes they possessed, the women with flowers, ribbons or feathers stitched to their gowns or worn in their hair. Most came smiling but a few nodded stiffly, their resentment written plain on their faces.

Whenever they could, they addressed their visitors by name in an effort to make them feel welcome. Gradually the tables filled up and the chatter, once drowned by the music, now threatened to overwhelm it, but the three men drank heartily and played harder than ever.

There was cider and fresh brewed ale for everyone. The pitchers were set along the tables and replaced as soon as they were empty. Trays of veal pies and mutton pasties arrived — Maggie had excelled herself — and two pigs, cooked the previous day, had been carved ready and piled high on the trays, beside hunks of chicken and thick slices of spiced sausage — Melissa’s speciality. Ellie ran to and fro, with bread, cheese and beetroot pickles, her face glowing, her hair tied back with a red ribbon and a few ears of barley.

On the top table sat all the Kendals with the exception of Martin and Maria. Melissa was there with Nina who, in a bright red dress and coloured beads, looked more gipsy than ever with her swarthy skin and dark flashing eyes and black hair. Thomas had remained at home with the little ones and Nina and Melissa, with Jacob, would ride home as soon as the meal was over. Nina had not long recovered from the birth of her second child and was still feeding him herself.