A Rose In Flanders Fields (5 page)

He peeked out from our hiding place to check both the stall and the imminent arrival of his employer, and I thought fast. ‘I ride alone when I can. Up behind Oaklands and towards the quarry. I try to go out on Sundays, usually as soon as I’ve changed after church, and stay out until teatime if the weather’s dry.’

Will touched my cheek and I leaned into his hand. ‘Well, there’s a rare bit of luck; Sundays are my afternoons off. I’ll be waiting by the quarry after lunch.’ He frowned slightly, but it was a happy kind of puzzlement. ‘I know this is ridiculous, but I have the vague suspicion I might have fallen for you.’

‘Ridiculous,’ I agreed, but my eyes stayed on his and I felt the pull between us, impossible to ignore. I daren’t press my lips to his again, for fear we’d become lost in time, so I let them linger against his jaw instead. It was almost as hard to break away. ‘This has to be our secret, for a while at least.’

He nodded. ‘It’s not that I’m ashamed of you,’ he said solemnly, ‘but, you know, a man of my social position has his reputation to consider.’ I cuffed his arm and he smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.’

‘One day we’re going to be able to tell everyone and not think for one minute they wouldn’t approve,’ I said. ‘Things are definitely changing.’

He studied me for a moment. ‘I hope you’re right, I honestly do. In the meantime, not a word, I promise.’

‘Not a word,’ I repeated, and he drew me close again, his hands locked in the small of my back, only the contented sigh stirring my hair telling me his happiness matched my own.

Five months later he was holding me again, but neither of us was happy.

Chapter Four

Breckenhall Quarry, January 1913.

On New Year’s Eve, my worst fears about the Kalteng Star had come true. It had gone missing during the huge party mother had thrown, and although I’d fully believed in my own desire to be rid of it, the shock rippled through all of us. Mother was obviously distraught, although to others I knew she made a vast effort to appear coldly calm, and I felt the guilt lying over me like a terrible weight throughout the fruitless search.

But in the end the blame had fallen squarely on Lizzy, and nothing we had been able to do had persuaded the jury otherwise. The so-called evidence had built and built, and I had watched even her fiery determination crumple in the face of it, until she stood, shaking and helpless while they delivered the verdict.

Mary Deegan, who had formed a closeness with Lizzy from her first day, had defied etiquette and put her arm around me as the words fell like rocks into the silence, and Lizzy had looked back at us both as they’d taken her down. Her face was white and stunned, her eyes looked bigger and bluer than ever in contrast as she no doubt prayed for a last minute intervention, and then she was gone, to begin a ten-year prison sentence in Holloway Women’s Prison, London.

We returned to Oaklands in silence. Mary was fighting tears but she wouldn’t let them fall in front of me. That was another way in which she and Lizzy were different; had it been the other way around I know Lizzy would have been unable to control her distress. But I could tell Mary wanted to be alone, and so, after a brief word of mutual comfort, and a heartfelt promise to do everything I could to get Lizzy freed, I let her go and went to my own rooms to try and make sense of what had happened.

I had not gone downstairs at all that night, and Mother had not tried to persuade me. She too was in a state of shock, but for her it was more to do with the loss of the Kalteng Star than the terrible injustice that had befallen my friend. She told me Ruth would take up Lizzy’s position first thing in the morning and I nodded, too wrung out to argue. I fell into bed, and lay awake with burning eyes until the early hours, wondering what Lizzy was doing and if she was all right.

When I awoke from a shallow and unsatisfactory sleep, I had taken advantage of the fact that I was temporarily without a formal maid to leave the house unnoticed. I asked the stable-boy Billy to saddle Orion, and rode up to the quarry. Even though it wasn’t a Sunday I knew Will would not let me down. Sure enough he was there, and clearly had been for some time; he was freezing cold and shivering in the biting January wind, and came down the hill to meet me. I slid off Orion and into his arms, and we clung together, leaning into the buffeting wind while I wept out all the anger and despair I’d kept hidden in front of everyone else. When I eventually wiped my eyes, he took my hand and we walked in silence up the hill, over the wet grass, to the big rock at the top.

‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t there yesterday,’ he said as we sat down, heedless of the puddles in the uneven surface. ‘Markham said he wanted to go to support Ruth, if you ever did, and someone had to keep the shop open.’

I shook my head, dismissing the apology. ‘I knew that diamond was going to cause upset. I told Lizzy so myself the night I got it.’

‘Who do you think really stole it?’

‘I have no idea. I would suspect the Wingfield boys if they hadn’t been seen elsewhere at the time.’

‘What about their mother, Clarissa, isn’t it?’

‘She was questioned by the police, and lots of people saw her too.’ I sighed; it had all been going around and around in my head for so long I was dizzy with it. ‘I’m going to write to Uncle Jack as soon as I get home. He works for the government, he must be able to do something.’

‘Darling, he’s a diplomat, he’s not part of the –’

‘It doesn’t matter! I have to do something!’

Will pulled me against him and tucked my head beneath his chin. ‘I’m sorry. Yes, you’re right, he might at least know someone who can help.’

‘We have to try everything,’ I said, and I felt him nodding.

‘We will.’ He paused, then went on, ‘Evie, I know she’s closer to you than your own family, but trying to absorb Lizzy’s unhappiness won’t ease it for her. Can you imagine how cross she’d be if she knew you were spending your days worrying and crying over something you have no power to change?’

I drew back, suspicious. He sounded awfully selfish, and it surprised and unsettled me. He frowned, then realised what was going through my mind and shook his head. ‘I’m not suggesting you forget about her, that you ignore your feelings or that you be cheerful for anyone’s sake but your own, and hers. All I’m saying is that, when you write to her, you hold on to that determination we all love about you, and don’t show her a moment’s doubt. Do your crying with me, cry all the time if you need to.’ He touched my cheek, and his face was earnest, and more than a little helpless. ‘I don’t want to see you sad, but if you must be sad with someone, let it always be me.’

That afternoon when I returned home, I wrote to Uncle Jack, and then to Lizzy, keeping Will’s words in mind and forcing my determined cheerfulness onto the paper.

‘Dearest Lizzy. I have written to Uncle Jack in the hopes he may help secure your release, I don’t know how, but he does seem to know some terribly important people. I await his response, but will write to you immediately as soon as I hear he is on his way, for I am sure he soon will be!

Yr loving friend,

Evie.’

As I reread the words before sliding the paper into the waiting envelope, I felt them wrap themselves around the despair in my heart and soothe it; there was nothing more I could do, but Uncle Jack would ride to the rescue, there was no question about it. Lizzy’s fate now lay in his hands, and my own rested in mine and Will’s; it had come as a breathtaking shock to discover how suddenly everything could change, and I realised I must treasure every fleeting and fragile moment of joy while it was still within reach.

The spring of 1913 was dull and wet, and gave way to an equally dull, but dry summer. Will and I continued to meet each Sunday; it was difficult to find any more time since mother had realised I would soon be turning nineteen, and was in danger of becoming the spinster of the parish. Of course, the loss of the Kalteng Star was having an effect on the number of potential husbands that crossed the threshold of Oaklands Manor, but there were still plenty for Mother to urge in my direction, and to question me over after I had returned from whichever dinner or party I had been whisked away to.

I played my part, of course. I danced with fathers, spoke glowingly to mothers of their sons’ fine qualities, befriended sisters and curtseyed to grandmothers. I laughed with suitors and allowed a brief brush of lips on my gloved hand when we parted, and told Mother I’d had a wonderful time and would very much like to see that young man again. Then I went to my room, dismissed Ruth, and lay in the dark thinking of Will.

The day after a particularly excruciating party was a Sunday, and despite a strong breeze it was a rare sunny one. With Orion loosely tethered to a bush and munching at the grass, I climbed onto the high rock and looked across the valley to see Will, striding up over the hill with that eagerness he never tried to hide. His dark hair blew back from his face, showing strong, clean lines of jaw and cheekbone, and I enjoyed watching the unconsciously graceful ease with which he moved across the uneven ground towards me.

I stood up and waved, the wind whipping at my skirts and threatening to tug me right off the rock, and he shouted at me to sit down before something awful happened but instead I began to dance from foot to foot, just to make him walk faster. It worked; he began to run, laughing, until he was able to spring up beside me and press his smiling mouth to mine.

He tasted cold and fresh after his walk, and his skin was flushed with good health and contentment. I could tell he was going to say something momentous and romantic, and I waited with impatient and growing anticipation, while he searched for the right words.

Eventually he took my hand, and fixed his eyes tenderly on mine. ‘You’ve got a hole in your jacket.’

I blinked at him, then gave him a look of mock annoyance. ‘And here I was thinking you were about to declare your endless devotion.’

‘Oh, that too,’ he said with a grin, and tugged my hair gently. ‘Ruth not up to Lizzy’s standard then?’ My humour faded, and I sat down. He sat beside me and put an arm around my shoulder. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to remind you.’

‘It’s never far from my mind anyway. I do wish Uncle Jack would write back, no one’s heard from him since the turn of the year.’

‘Do you think he’ll be able to help?’

‘I’m sure he will. He must be owed a favour or two, after all he’s always shooting off at a moment’s notice and it can’t be all his own choice.’

‘And Ruth?’ He waggled his finger through the hole in my jacket pocket.

‘She’s a disaster, of course. She might have been a good kitchen maid but her skills don’t extend any further than that, and she doesn’t seem at all disposed to learning. She doesn’t have Lizzy’s deftness of touch, and doesn’t notice when something needs doing. I have to ask her half a dozen times at least.’

He grinned at my grumpy tone. ‘But is she as cold as ever?’

‘More so, I would say.’ But I didn’t want to waste our time talking about Ruth. ‘I’m thinking of telling Mother I don’t want a maid at all.’

‘You’d want one if Lizzy was still here,’ he pointed out.

‘She was very good, but I miss her friendship more than her skill with a needle. Besides, I can dress myself. And,’ I added drily, ‘I could mend my own clothes a sight better than Ruth Wilkins. I can’t help feeling it’s time to let go of all that nonsense.’

‘So you’re still convinced everything is going to change,’ Will said, staring out over the hills. Then he swung back to face me and stared at me closely. I was ready for him to tell me I had a smudge on my nose, or a leaf in my hair, but instead he said, ‘I want to marry you, Evie. One day. When we can, without upsetting your family. Will you let me?’

I felt a smile creep across my face and saw it answered in his own. ‘Never mind my family,’ I said, ‘it’s not them you’re marrying.’

‘What sort of an answer is that?’

‘It’s a resounding, thunderous yes!’ I stood up again and cupped my hands to my mouth, bellowing down the valley in a most unladylike manner, ‘Mother, can you hear this? I’m going to marry the butcher’s boy!’

I turned back, still laughing, but Will had stood too, and was looking at me oddly. He folded his arms across his chest, tucking his hands into his armpits, but it seemed less as a way of keeping warm than of keeping his distance.

My own laughter died. ‘What is it?’

‘Why did you say “yes”, Evie?’ he asked quietly, his words almost whipped away in the summer wind.

‘What do you mean? I said it because I want to marry you!’

He blew out a breath and looked down at his feet, and I could see he was struggling with something he didn’t want to say aloud, but felt he must. Eventually he looked back at me, and there was a confused kind of hope in his expression.

‘Are you sure you’re not saying it just to upset the apple cart, and you’ll change your mind later?’

‘No! Why ever would you ask such a thing?’

‘In the market, when I gave you the rose, I thought it was sweet and funny that you put it in your hat-band and said it would annoy your mother. I told myself it was because you were, I don’t know…’ he shrugged, embarrassed, ‘a little bit moved, maybe, and couldn’t think of anything else to say.’

‘I was! That was exactly it. Will, don’t –’

‘No, listen. Just now, when you agreed to marry me, shouldn’t your first reaction have been to come to me? To kiss me? But no, you stood up and, well yes,
gloated
that you were going to marry the butcher’s boy. Not me, not Will Davies. The “butcher’s boy”.’

Remorse struck me as I stared at him, at his usually open, cheerful face, now tight-jawed and frowning. I couldn’t blame him for his anger. I wanted to go to him, as I should have done before but it would just look false now – it was far too late. I simply didn’t know what to do.

I looked at him helplessly, hoping my regret would show through my wordless inability to move. He looked back, his face pale, his own silence begging me to contradict what he’d said, but I couldn’t find anything big enough, and significant enough, to say. The feelings were swelling inside me, but they couldn’t find a way to be expressed. Eventually I found a tiny voice and managed, ‘Do you still want to marry me?’