A Mother's Sacrifice (22 page)

‘Oh, he would never think that of us, I am sure. Well, the old one wouldn’t. I don’t know about the new one.’

‘Help me drag it back, just to be on the safe side. Take hold of a front leg. It’s not too heavy. Just a youngster, I fear.’

‘Don’t remind me.’

‘It was an accident. I should think it’s here only because it escaped the Squire’s cull. You have probably done him a favour.’

Together they heaved the flaccid animal through the undergrowth and were just wading across the stream when they saw Farmer Bilton approaching on his hunter.

‘What’s going on here? Well, you don’t have to tell me. I can see for myself. You’ve been poaching the Squire’s deer. I knew from the start you were up to no good.’

‘It was eating my greens, so I shot it!’ Quinta protested.

‘Oh, aye? When did you learn how to load and shoot that thing?’

‘I only meant to frighten it!’

‘I suppose the vagrant had nothing to do with it?’ he retaliated sarcastically.

‘It was in my garden! It was!’

‘Don’t give me that. The Squire’ll want to know about this. He’s the magistrate, you know. I warned him you were giving shelter to a poacher on my land. He’ll not argue with me now when I turn you out.Your ma will be begging me to take you in.’

He tugged his horse’s head around aggressively and addressed Patrick. ‘You and that crippled father of yours’d be well advised to leave the Riding. When Sir William hears about this he’ll send for the constable.’ He spurred his horse into a gallop and headed in the direction of the Hall.

‘Are you certain the deer was on your land?’

‘Of course I am. Do you doubt me, too?’ She heaved angrily on the foreleg and slipped on a wet stone.

‘Of course not. But there’s no doubt that I finished him off on the Squire’s land.’

‘He would have died anyway.’

‘Here. Take the gun and I’ll drag him on to the bank.’

She hesitated.

‘Take it. It’s not loaded now.’

She did, until he dropped the animal’s front legs well into the rough pasture between her garden and the stream.

‘Farmer Bilton’ll be back, and with the Squire’s gamekeeper. I’ll leave the carcass here. Even though he’s rightly yours, if we give it back there’s no harm done. Hand me the gun now, and go inside. Do as I say.’

She blinked at his tone. He was not asking her, he was ordering her. He walked towards the cowshed without another word. She took off her gardening apron and scrubbed her hands in the bucket by the cottage. Then she went indoors to tend the dinner, but she could not concentrate on her tasks. It was a long time before Patrick came indoors without his gun.

He said, ‘I didn’t mean to speak harshly to you but I don’t trust that Farmer Bilton. He doesn’t like me or my father living here. What was he talking about the other day, when he said the old Squire had promised you to him?’

‘It’s a lie. He had no rights over me anyway, but my mother told me he had suggested it to my father and, well, he presumed my father would take his advice without question.’

‘Your father didn’t promise you?’

‘Not as far as I am aware. My mother would have known and she is dead set against Farmer Bilton.’

‘We must stay calm.’ He sat down at the table.

‘But we have done nothing wrong! You can go back to the pond.’

‘I’m not leaving you until this matter is cleared up and the deer is off your land.’

‘Well, dinner won’t be long.’

‘It smells good but my appetite has gone.’

‘Mine too.’

Patrick did not talk for a while. He appeared to be deep in thought and he frowned for much of the time. She, too, was worried about what Farmer Bilton might do and before long they heard horses approaching. They looked silently at each other and got up to go outside.

‘Who’s the gentleman on the thoroughbred?’ Patrick whispered as two horsemen cantered into the yard.

It was not the gamekeeper. ‘It’s the young Squire.’

‘He’s not very young now.’

He was still handsome, though, in a dashing way; quick-thinking and agile. Quinta thought him an attractive gentleman. As a very young girl, sitting in the back pew at church, Quinta had fancied that she would be his bride one day. Her mother had been shocked when she told her and actively discouraged what she called a ‘silly notion’.

Now she realised how foolish she had been. When the old Squire died and he inherited, he was already a successful mine-owner and iron-smelter as well as a gentleman farmer with a wife who was the daughter of a wealthy manufacturer from the town.

Yet they had produced no children between them. It was said that his wife was always with child but of a weak constitution. She lost infant after infant until her health began to fail. It was not for the want of advice, money or care. Indeed it was known to be a great source of sorrow for husband and wife. Quinta remembered that when she heard tales of his expansive influence in the Riding.

She looked up at the man she loved and smiled nervously. He searched for her hand in the folds of her skirts and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The Squire slid easily from his horse and Farmer Bilton dismounted more awkwardly.

‘Is this he?’ Sir William demanded loudly.

‘Aye, sir. Vagrant and poacher. Should be locked up, I say.’

‘I shall be the judge of that.’ He approached Patrick with the arrogant bearing of the gentry. ‘What have you to say for yourself?’

‘It was me, sir,’ Quinta answered. ‘I shot the deer because it was eating my garden greens.’

‘He’s told her to say that to save his skin,’ Farmer Bilton responded. ‘He’s wormed his way in here, taking advantage of a poor widow. He thinks he can take over the land and the maid. Look at her, innocence itself, and him - he’s just a dirty gypsy.’ He clenched his fists threateningly. ‘By God, if you’ve had her I’ll kill you! I will!’

‘Be quiet, Bilton!’The Squire had raised his voice to a boom. He stared silently at Quinta for what seemed to be a long time and then asked, quite kindly, ‘Where is your mother, Miss Haig?’

‘She’s gone into town, sir.’

‘And left you alone with this vagrant on your land?’

‘She - she has gone to the Dispensary, sir.’

‘Does she ail?’

‘A little, sir.’

‘I see.’ He looked at their clasped hands, pursed his lips and turned to Patrick. ‘You, show me the carcass.’

Reluctantly, Patrick let go of Quinta and led the Squire across the pasture. She watched the Squire circle around the beast and then inspect the grass, laid flat where they had dragged it from the stream. He looked across the water at the crushed undergrowth where the animal fell. Then he bent to examine its wounds. His voice carried clearly in the still August air.

‘This creature was killed in my wood, using two shots, and from a rifle, if I am not mistaken. I do not tolerate poaching on my land.’

Quinta strained her ears to listen to Patrick’s reply. She heard his low deliberate tones, but could not make out his words.

‘Where is the rifle?’ the Squire demanded loudly.

This time there was silence from Patrick.

‘Insolent ruffian! I demand that you give up your gun!’ Again Patrick did not reply.

The Squire was almost as tall as Patrick and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket. ‘By heaven, I am the magistrate! You will answer me or I shall have you in chains.’

Quinta held her breath as Patrick murmured a reply, shrugged off the Squire’s hand, bowed his head briefly and strode across the pasture towards her. ‘What did you tell him?’ she whispered.

‘The truth; that the deer was on your land and it was shot by accident.’

‘But not that I did the shooting?’ she queried.

‘We have done nothing wrong,’ he replied quietly and held a finger to his lips for a moment.

She remembered an adage her mother often used: least said, soonest mended, and nodded briefly.

The Squire had hurried after Patrick. ‘Bilton!’ he yelled. ‘Search the property. Find that rifle.’

‘Aye, sir.’ He headed for the cottage door.

‘No!’ Quinta started forward and was stilled by Patrick’s strong grip on the back of her skirt.

‘Stay where you are, miss,’ the Squire ordered. ‘You are not wholly innocent in this sorry incident.You will do as I say or I shall send for the constable.’

She guessed Patrick felt as outraged as she did and dared not look at him when they were forced to listen to Farmer Bilton crash through her home and her possessions. He came out empty-handed and went into the cowshed, only to emerge with the same consequence. He opened the privy, looked in the woodshed and trampled on her garden as he hunted.

‘Try the log pile!’ the Squire barked and Farmer Bilton pushed it over, spooking the horses as the logs rolled across the yard.

Eventually, angry and sweating, Farmer Bilton growled, ‘He must have dropped it in the stream.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Bilton! Even a stupid gypsy would not do that. The gun is here somewhere. I shall send my constable to search for it. He is more used to the ways of the criminal.’

‘We are not criminals, sir!’ Quinta protested.

The Squire stared at her again. ‘You are not, Miss Haig, but you are tainted by your association with this ruffian. I shall remove him from your land and save your good self from further corruption.You are fortunate in having such a vigilant neighbour as Farmer Bilton to watch over your welfare.’

‘No! You can’t. We are to be—’

‘Hush, Quinta,’ Patrick interrupted, ‘do not say any more.’

‘You,’ the Squire cried, pointing at Patrick, ‘will be silent! You will come with me now to answer for yourself in the town court. If you do not I shall send my constable and his men to hound you down as a fugitive.’ He went to his horse and rummaged in the saddlebag.

‘Do not worry, Quinta,’ Patrick whispered hurriedly. ‘I told him the truth but Farmer Bilton has already poisoned his mind against me. My father is in the town and he will speak up for my honesty. I’ll make contact with him from the gaol.’

‘Gaol?’ Quinta’s heart constricted in her breast.

‘It is only until the Squire is persuaded I am innocent.’

‘Step aside, miss.’ The Squire approached Patrick with a hank of rope. Patrick held up his wrists while the Squire bound them and fastened the loose end to the strapping on his horse.When he had finished he asked, ‘May I take it that your mother will be home soon?’

‘Oh yes, sir, very soon.’

‘Mr Bilton,’ the Squire ordered as he remounted, ‘you are responsible for this young woman’s safety until her mother returns.’

‘Aye, sir, you can rely on me,’ Farmer Bilton drawled. A smile distorted his fleshy features. ‘I’ll take full charge of her now.’

Patrick said quickly, ‘Keep the door barred, Quinta. I’ll tell Father to send your mother home immediately. I love you. Never forget that.’ The horse moved off, jerking the rope and pulling Patrick away from her.

‘I won’t. I love you, too,’ she replied hoarsely. She wondered if he had heard her.

‘Now then, my lass.’ Farmer Bilton walked towards her.‘Why don’t I come inside with you and you can draw me a tankard of that fine ale you have in your pantry.’

Quinta darted across the yard, jumping nimbly over the scattered logs, and ran swiftly into the cottage. She closed and barred the door behind her and pressed herself against it out of sight of the front window.

She heard him banging on the door. ‘You can’t stay in there for ever,’ he called. ‘I can wait. Now that jumped-up gypsy is out of the road, I can wait a day or two more.’

She leaned against the woodwork, feeling the metal fixings jab into her back. Her eyes roved around the kitchen. She had newly baked bread, fresh water and meat in her cooking pot. She could stay inside with the door barred for a week and Mother would be home, surely, within a day or two.Two against one was better odds for her, she thought.

‘Come home soon, Mother,’ she said to the empty room. ‘What is keeping you in town for so long?’

Chapter 15

After the surgeon had left the inn, George had joined Laura in the dining room. ‘It is all set for tomorrow, Laura,’ he said. ‘If you feel strong enough, I should like you to be with me. Is that too much to ask of you?’

‘Of course it isn’t. I shall be pleased to return some of the kindness you have shown me. But I do think Patrick should be here. Please let me fetch him for you.’

‘It is better he looks to his own future than waste his time fretting over mine.’

‘But - but . . .’ Laura did not know how to say it. ‘You might ...’

‘Die? Not me. Old Boney couldn’t kill me off, so why should this? Besides, we have had ten good years together and he knows I can’t go on without the attentions of a surgeon.’

‘He would want to know of your decision.’

George shook his head emphatically. ‘My greatest wish is for him to marry your daughter and settle in the South Riding. And - and I should be at ease tomorrow if you are with me.’

‘Even so, you ought to send word to him.’

He gave her a strange look, wide-eyed yet enquiring, as though he were not used to such argument and she guessed he wasn’t. He had spoken his final word on the matter.

Laura did not agree with him, but she said, ‘You have been very kind to me and I shall be pleased to tend to your needs.’

‘The surgeon has an attendant who will do all that is required, but I should like you to be there when I wake up.’

‘Then I shall. And do all I can to hasten your recovery.’

‘I have a wedding to look forward to, and so do you. Did I see lace in the draper’s shop when we visited? Quinta would look well in a little lace.’

‘Indeed she would, but I am afraid it is too dear for me.’

‘But not for me. You may charge it to my name. It is all arranged with my lawyer, Laura. Choose something pretty for her.’