A Time Like No Other (30 page)

And now this bombshell!

Lally watched his shoulders slump and wanted to go to him to . . . well, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do but his rejection of her a moment ago seemed to imply he did not want or need comfort.

‘What are we to do?’ she asked hesitantly. ‘Would he really destroy our lives and the lives of our children if we do not do what he wants, whatever that is?’

Harry passed his hand over his face, thrusting it through his hair. He walked slowly towards the door, opening it for her to pass through then followed her into the drawing room. The dogs were there, sprawled in front of the fire, and they both thumped their tails on the thick carpet in greeting. He sat her down on the sofa, moving the dogs with his foot, then poured himself a stiff whisky before sitting down opposite her.

‘It is widely known in Moorend that Roly and I are not good friends. You look surprised; well, it’s true. And you must know that . . . what happened between you and my brother’ – his face was grim and she turned away to stare into the fire – ‘does not endear him to me. But that is not all of it. They say in commercial circles that neither of us appreciates what the other contributes to the business. Our looms and frames are working to capacity and to order, though I’m beginning to see Roly’s constant journeyings as self-indulgence but Roly insists that without his travels there would be no orders to fill. There has been for a while a fast-accumulating tension between us which Roly sets out quite deliberately to aggravate. He has always been ambitious but he lacks caution. He is autocratic and shrewd but he is not always fair. Perhaps this is a way for him to achieve what he wants.’

‘What is that, Harry?’

‘We will have to wait and see. Now, would you like some hot chocolate before we go to bed?’

He made love to her that night with a passionate abandon that surprised her, revealing more of himself and his feelings than she had ever seen before. His hands and tongue explored the whole surface of her skin, the curves and crevices of her body with minute care, all scrutinised and caressed. His teeth possessed themselves of the lobes of her ears, the bursting rosy nipples of her breasts, not painfully but compellingly as though to let her know and to reassure himself that she belonged wholly to him. His penetration of her was deep and explosive and when it was done, though she did not herself climax, his body nailed itself shuddering to hers and he groaned as though in agony.

Though neither of them knew it she became pregnant that night.

The days passed and though she questioned him each evening as they dined together he had nothing to tell her. He would wait for Roly to make the first move, he said. It seemed Roly was taking a great deal of interest in the actual running of the mill, surprising the hands by being at the locked mill gate of either High Clough, West Heath or South Royd at the amazing hour of half past five every morning, obliging latecomers to stand outside until breakfast time and whereas Harry had thought the loss of three hours’ earning punishment enough Roly fined them as well. When Harry remonstrated with him, he was told that he was concerned only with efficiency which improved time-keeping in the sheds.

‘And what is to happen when you go off on your extensive travels again?’ Harry asked him mildly.

‘We will see,’ Roly answered slyly.

The days moved on and became colder as October turned to November. It was becoming too raw now for the children to roam about the gardens and woodland with Lally, Susan and Dora, but on one fine day when the sun shone from a brilliantly blue sky they all wrapped up well and ventured out. The visit to Folly Farm in the summer had resulted in three kittens joining the nursery which was becoming overcrowded with four children and two big dogs. Caterina was considered too young as yet for a kitten but Jamie, Alec and Jack were given one each. Goodness knows, said Polly McGinley, who the father of the litter was, for each kitten was an entirely different colour. Coal black with a white star on its pointed little face was one, a soft and velvety grey another and a pure white little thing which was immediately appropriated by Jamie who was, as the biggest and oldest, the leader in the nursery. Within a week all interest had been lost and it was left to Dora to transfer the three waifs to the kitchen where they settled down equably with the kitchen tabby until, as children do, they carried them off back to the nursery to be played with for an hour.

The three of them were in the perambulator with the delighted baby, curled under her soft blanket, while Jamie, Alec and Jack hopped, skipped, ran, jumped about the vehicle, darting off in different directions to investigate some fascinating object they spotted.

‘Have you seen anything of John recently?’ Lally asked Susan, for it was accepted in the house that Doctor Burton was much taken with the widow and the gossip in the kitchen was rife.

Susan blushed, then lifted her head since it was no one’s business but her own. Doctor Burton really had no need to come to the Priory in a medical capacity, for everyone in the nursery and out of it was in rude health. But it was known that he was in the nursery at least once a week and on her day off she disappeared, telling no one, not even Lally, where she had been.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she answered coolly.

‘Oh, come on, Susan, don’t go all coy on me. You know he is . . . sweet on you.’

‘Sweet! Lally Sinclair, how dare you use such a word when speaking of a respectable gentleman. Besides which it is no one’s business but ours.’

‘So there is something. Has he spoken of . . .’

‘What if he has?’ Susan tossed her head, manoeuvring the perambulator between the roots of two massive oak trees, for by now they had entered the woodland known as Tangle Wood through which the rough path led to Folly Farm. Jack was doing his best to climb over a fallen tree trunk, following the other two boys. The dogs had raced off somewhere, probably following the scent of a rabbit and Dora, conscious of her responsibilities, was trailing behind the two older boys. They were intent on being the first to reach Mrs Polly, who made the best gingerbread men in the world.

For a moment the two women were distracted by Jack’s efforts and when the two men stepped out from behind the gnarled and twisted trunk of an old holly tree they were taken by surprise.

It was Jed and Ham Weaver.

19

The two women regarded the two men, first with surprise then with annoyance. Well, Lally was annoyed. She knew them, of course and she also knew that Harry had spoken of turning the Weavers off their land but it seemed they were still here. They studied her and Susan with some insolence and she felt her annoyance turn to anger.

‘What do you think you’re doing,’ she asked them sharply, ‘trespassing on private property? This land belongs to my husband and the tenants will not be at all pleased to know that you are wandering about, and with rifles over your shoulders,’ for both men did indeed have old rifles slung across their broad shoulders.

‘Eeh, will yer listen to ’er, Ham,’ one of them said, turning to smile at his companion who smiled back. ‘Trespassin’ she ses an’ us doing nowt but walk through woods on our way ’ome. Short cut it be ter Foxwell.’ Which was not true, for Foxwell, where the Weavers ‘farmed’ was on the far side of the Priory from where Lally and Susan had just come.

‘Well, I suppose that depends where you’ve come from, Mr Weaver. I hear there is a lot of game to be had in Tangle Wood.’

‘Nay, d’yer see any game on us, missis?’ the first one snickered, holding out his arms in a gesture that asked her to search him, in fact he would enjoy it if she did.

The baby in the perambulator stared with open mouth at the two men, her eyes wide with interest and a flicker of anxiety, for she could sense the disquiet in her mother and in Susan. The kittens popped their pretty faces out of their cocoon and in the far distance Lally could hear the barking of the two dogs, wishing they were here with them now.

‘I shall tell my husband that I have seen you hanging about in the woodland with guns on your person—’

‘Oh, on our
person
,’ sneered the first man and both of them laughed. ‘We wasn’t doin’ no ’arm, missis, as I say, tekkin a short cut.’

‘You were doing no such thing. You are Jed and Ham Weaver, aren’t you, and have no right to be—’

‘We’ve as much right as you two lovely ladies ter be—’

‘Get out of our way, if you please,’ Lally declared stoutly, grabbing at the handle of the perambulator, for the two men had begun to edge towards them. ‘Let us by with the perambulator.’

‘The
perambulator
, is it? Well, I can see where it might be a bit awkward fer yer. Why don’t us give a ’and across this little stream? Come on, Ham, don’t just stand there.’

The little stream to which he alluded was almost dried up and anyone, even small boys, could easily step across it. The light in the glade was still shady despite the falling of the autumn leaves but the sun was lower in the sky. The drift of leaves had begun to litter the ground and the recent wet weather had made it slippery.

‘Don’t touch that perambulator,’ Susan said sharply and both men stopped, then the one who must be Jed, since he had called the second man Ham, smiled, a menacing sort of smile which matched his next words.

‘That’s a mighty pretty babby yer’ve got there, missis. Be a shame ter jiggle it across this bit o’ stream. No, us two’ll gerrit across. We wouldn’t want ter ’urt babby, would we? ’Ere, Ham, ger ’old o’ that end an’ us’ll ’ave it across in no time . . .’ And before either woman could protest the equipage was wrenched from their protective hands, tossed across the narrow trench of the stream and placed carelessly on the other side. Both Lally and Susan leaped across and huddled defensively over the baby who had begun to wail in distress but the men merely laughed, shouldering their rifles and marching off down the track.

‘Glad ter be of ’elp, ladies,’ Jed shouted over his shoulder, then they disappeared into the trees. The man addressed as Ham had not spoken one word and Lally had time to wonder if he was half-witted.

Both women were trembling when they reached Folly, though they did their best to conceal it. The three boys were sitting round Polly’s well-scrubbed table tucking into gingerbread men and a glass of milk each, though Polly was standing anxiously at the door looking out for the two women and the perambulator with the precious baby in it. Cat was still crying and though both women had longed to stop and pick her up and comfort her they were eager to get to the safety of Folly Farm. Polly plucked the infant out of the perambulator and held her in loving arms.

‘Wheer yer bin?’ she asked accusingly as though the pair of them had been up to no good. ‘Us was wonderin’ where yer’d got to. Them boys an’t lass ’ave bin ’ere a good ten minutes.’

‘Don’t say anything, Susan,’ Lally had whispered as they approached the farm, ‘or she’ll have Sean and Denny out after the Weavers and I don’t want any trouble.’

‘But, Lally, you can’t mean to—’

‘Harry will deal with it. He means to turn them off and I’ll make sure he does it.’

She was very quiet on the way home, she and Susan almost running, with Dora in some confusion behind, but the dogs were with them, keeping close to the perambulator for, as animals do, they sensed some tension in the helter-skelter dash through the woodland. Dora carried the protesting Jamie while Alec and Jack were jammed in with Cat and the kittens and they did not stop until the familiar gate into the stable yard came into sight.

‘Why, what’s ter do, Miss Lally?’ Carly asked her apprehensively but she did her best to smile and shake her head. What with one thing and another she did not feel that she could even answer Biddy’s anxious questions. First the appalling intimidation when Roly had threatened to expose her and Harry to a scandal of terrible proportions and now this meance from the Weaver brothers who seemed to be promising trouble, for it appeared they meant actual harm to her children.

‘No, it’s nothing, Biddy, really. We just wanted to get home but I’d be obliged if you would ask Carly to ride up to High Clough and fetch my husband home.’

‘Fetch Mr Sinclair home?’ Biddy was astonished and so were the maids who were scattered about the kitchen at their various tasks. They had all stopped, of course, turning to stare at Mrs Sinclair. Nobody fetched Mr Sinclair anywhere! He was the master and as such came and went as he pleased and they waited expectantly for further enlightenment.

The children were being hurried, fractious and vociferous with it, through the door to the hallway on their way to the nursery, Susan doing her best to keep them from the inevitable questions that she knew Mrs Stevens would ask. Mrs Stevens had a special place in this household, since before Susan came to reside in it and had become, or so Lally said, her friend, Mrs Stevens had been Lally’s confidante. They were still close and Mrs Stevens thought it her right to treat Lally as she might a relative. She had not taken kindly to Susan’s inclusion in one or two dinner parties given by Mr and Mrs Sinclair, those that had also included John Burton, and had been heard to say that some people should be careful not to get above themselves. It was none of Susan’s doing, naturally, but who could stand against Lally when she made up her mind to do something?

Picking up the baby from the perambulator which had been lifted into the kitchen, she shepherded her charges before her. Jack was awkward. He wanted to be picked up too, since after all she was his mother, or his
mama
as he was being taught to call her, so with some difficulty she lifted him with her other arm and hurriedly left the room.

‘Now then, lass, what’s all this?’ Biddy began, but Lally lifted her head imperiously, repeating her request that Mr Sinclair be brought home at once. She had been badly shaken by the confrontation with the Weaver brothers, for the implication had been that they might harm her children and
that
really did frighten her.