Anna Jacobs (22 page)

As darkness began to fall he debated whether to stay on a bit longer, but decided the old ladies would have found shelter for the night by now. If they hadn’t, if anything had happened to them, his master would not be entirely displeased. They were more trouble than they were worth, really, for there was no profit to be made from them.

Mounting his horse he rode slowly back to Marymoor, looking forward to a good dinner at The Woolpack and hoping Seth would pop in for a chat. He’d watch the road for another day or two, then if he didn’t see any sign of the old dames, he’d try something else. There were times when you had to be patient and this was one of them. The groom would have reached Newgarth by now, with news of what was happening.

* * * *

Seth turned up just as Frank was finishing a hearty meal of lamb stew in the common room of the Woolpack. He gestured to the other man to join him, but Seth gave a small jerk of the head to invite Frank to follow him outside instead, so regretfully he left the rest of the food and heaved himself to his feet.

The two men strolled along the street.

John gestured to young Sam to follow them.

“Have any luck today?” Seth asked.

“No. Did you see anything?”

“Yes, we did actually. We captured both of the old biddies.”

“Ah! My master will be grateful.”

Seth stopped to grin at Frank in the light of a lantern hanging outside a house. “No, he won’t.”

“What the hell do you mean by that? You haven’t killed them, surely?”

“Of course we haven’t. It’s just that we need them ourselves, so I’m afraid your master will have to manage without his dear sister. And in case you have any idea of making trouble . . . ”  Without warning Seth punched Frank in the jaw and watched in satisfaction as the other man went sprawling. He pulled a dagger out and flipped it from one hand to the other. “Let me warn you now that it’ll be safer for you to get out of the village at once—far safer—or you might find yourself in even worse trouble.” He rapped the blade of the dagger on his palm, then turned and walked briskly away.

Seth had disappeared into the darkness before Frank managed to haul himself to his feet, for he was still feeling muzzy from the well-placed blow. He was furious that he’d been taken for a fool. “We’ll see about that,” he muttered and went back to the inn to look for the landlord.

Sam had enjoyed the sight of Chadding measuring his length on the ground, because the man had shoved him out of the way several times, as if a mere boy didn’t count for anything. He hurried home, eager to tell his dad what had happened and what he’d overheard.

When Chadding came back into the inn, he ordered a pot of ale.

“Eh, that’s a nasty bruise. Fall over, did you?” John said.

“Yes.”

“I’ll get your ale.” Grinning broadly, John walked across to the current barrel. Served the rascal right.

When he carried the tankard across, Chadding looked up at him and said abruptly, “I need some information and I’ll be happy to reward you for helping me with it.”

“If I can do owt to help, you’ve only to ask.”

“Tell me about that fellow Elkin. Where exactly does he live? Tell me everything you know about him.”

* * * *

The young groom arrived back at Marymoor in the late afternoon and found Jem and his master talking earnestly in one corner of the stables. They stopped speaking as they heard his horse snorting its pleasure at being home, then when they saw who it was, they both strode forward.

“Did you find them, George?” Matthew asked, even before the traveller had dismounted.

“No, sir. They’d run away from Newgarth before I arrived there.” George explained what had happened and how he’d lost the two old women somewhere along the moorland track that led to Marymoor. “Mr Elkin had passed by, though.”

“Had he, indeed?” Matthew stood frowning. “He and that rogue of his have been out of the house since this morning. Do you think he could have found the old ladies?”

George shrugged. “Someone did. But I saw no sign of Mr Elkin myself, though the woman I spoke to was quite sure no one else had passed her cottage. But another woman I saw earlier weeding a field had definitely seen the old ladies heading towards Marymoor. She said they looked tired and were walking slowly.”

Matthew frowned into space for a moment and the others waited respectfully.

“Elkin’s own house isn’t on the Rochdale road, though he can ride out anywhere he chooses, I suppose.” He came to a decision. “I want you and Jem to ride along that track as soon as it’s light tomorrow morning. See what you can find, but try not to let Elkin or his man see you. Come back here as soon as you can, though. We have a trap to set.”

“Are you going to tell Mrs Pascoe what’s happened?” Jem asked when George had gone to stable his horse.

“No. It’s only guesswork at the moment and I don’t want to worry her unnecessarily. We’re only supposing the two old women were her mother and maid, only guessing that something’s happened to them.” Though he had a strong feeling that this was Mrs Jannvier, and that Elkin had been involved. It was too much of a coincidence for two other old ladies to be making for this isolated village.

After a further silence, he added slowly, “Set watch tonight round the house again tonight and inside it, too, Jem. I’m not having Elkin creating mischief in my own home. As for tomorrow, make sure his man finds out I’m going to buy some stock and which direction I’ll be taking. Let’s see if they’ll take the bait.”

“You’re putting yourself too much at risk, Matt lad,” Jem protested.

“How else can we draw them into the open? But I’ve chosen a lane which doesn’t have any shelter close to it, so I don’t think the risk is great. We’ll keep watch on it from dawn to prevent anyone getting near, and we all know how unreliable pistols are from a distance.”

But Jem couldn’t help worrying as he went about his business. He didn’t like this at all. If anything happened to Matthew, Mrs Deborah would be in serious trouble.

And so would he and the other inhabitants of Marymoor. In such a small place what people did affected their neighbour’s lives as well as their own, especially what the landowner did.

* * * *

Mrs Elkin looked so much better when Deborah went to check on her that evening that she asked gently, “Do you think you’ll feel well enough to leave tomorrow?”

The older woman’s face crumpled and she stared pleadingly at her hostess. “Another day, perhaps? So that I’m truly rested?”

Deborah found herself unable to refuse this plea and nodded.

Both mistress and maid sighed in relief.

“Will your son be taking you home in his carriage?” Deborah asked.

“I suppose so.”

“We should let him know how much better you are.”

“Tomorrow?” Again, it was a plea.

“Very well.”

Deborah went away to see about supper, then changed into her one good gown and waited for Matthew in her room. She heard him come running up the stairs, no mistaking his tread. When he stopped in the doorway, he smiled at her in that way she was beginning to recognise. The smile crept across his face slowly, as if he hadn’t done much smiling in his life, lighting up the sombre planes and making him look younger. She hadn’t seen him smile at anyone else like that.

“Wait and talk to me while I wash and change my clothes?” he begged.

“Of course. I wanted to speak to you anyway, to tell you Mrs Elkin is much better.”

He frowned. “So she’s leaving tomorrow?”

“She begged to be allowed another day here and I—well, I found I couldn’t refuse her. She’s a very unhappy woman and seems terrified of her son.”

He looked at her in resigned exasperation, but didn’t protest her decision, because it suited his current plans. Besides, it was already clear to him that Deborah was not the sort to turn away from someone else’s troubles and he liked that in her.

“George has returned,” he said abruptly, changing his mind about telling her.

“Did he see my mother?”

“No. It seems she and Bessie had run away by the time he got to Newgarth.”

She could only gape at him. “Run away? But why would they do that?”

“Your uncle apparently dismissed Bessie and told her to leave the village before nightfall, so your mother went too. George followed their tracks for a while then lost them.” Matthew hesitated, then added, “And it seems your uncle’s put up posters saying your mother has lost her wits. He’s offering a reward to anyone who finds her and returns her to his care.” He watched the colour drain from his wife’s face and reached out to grasp her hand.

“He’s threatened to have her locked away before,” she whispered. “It terrified her. I think he’d do it, too.”

“Well, from now on, we’ll take her in charge and make sure no one frightens her. Who better to look after her than her own daughter?”

She looked at him numbly. “If we find her in time. If she’s all right.”

He pulled her into his arms and held her close. “We will find your mother, love, I promise you.”

She nodded and watched him finish dressing in the one good suit he had, made of fine dark grey broadcloth, instead of the brocades and silks Elkin wore. She knew which she preferred. As she watched it occurred to her that he had called her “love”. Did he really mean that, or was it simply the casual form of address used by Lancashire folk?

It was with reluctance that she moved forward to accompany him downstairs for supper. She didn’t want to share him with anyone else, especially Elkin. They’d had so little privacy since their marriage. “I wish we could stay here and not go downstairs,” she murmured.

He stopped in the doorway, turning to look at her. “Do you?”

She nodded.

He pulled her into his arms again for a quick embrace. “So do I.”

His lips were close to her ears, his breath warm on her cheek. And when he raised one hand to twist a strand of her hair round his finger, she felt herself sag against him.

“Ah, Deborah!”

Her name was the merest whisper then his lips moved against hers and she lost herself in his kiss.

His breath came unevenly as he pushed her away from him. “Later.”

She nodded and tried to pull herself together, but it was difficult with desire for him still swirling round her body. She hadn’t realised how much you could hunger for a man’s touch, how love came from the body as well as the heart and mind.

It was a moment before he reached for the door handle and even then he hesitated before saying quietly, “When I invite you to ride out with me tomorrow, please refuse.”

The warmth inside her was replaced abruptly by fear.

What was he planning to do? She’d have asked him, but he’d already left the room and was waiting for her on the landing.

* * * *

Elkin was determinedly affable over supper, but Deborah noticed a gleam in his eyes, as if he were mocking them while play-acting the polite guest. She wished she had hardened her heart to Mrs Elkin’s pleas to stay. It was too late to do anything about that now, though.

“Did you enjoy your ride out?” she asked as she picked at her food, feeling duty bound to introduce one or two topics of conversation into the leaden silence that didn’t seem to worry Matthew at all.

“Greatly,” Elkin said. “There’s nothing like rational exercise for keeping up the spirits and maintaining a healthy body. I apologise for not letting you know I’d not be here for dinner, but I went further than I’d intended.”

“You can maintain a healthy body even better with hard physical work,” Matthew said dryly.

Elkin’s sneer became pronounced. “I’m afraid some of us were not cut out to be farmers. Gentlemen do not work with their hands.”

Deborah stared down at her plate, suddenly finding herself without appetite for the food on it.

“Well, some of us lowly fellows enjoy being farmers, and you’d not have much to eat if we didn’t. Deborah, I’m going to inspect some beasts I’m thinking of buying in the next village later tomorrow morning. Do you want to ride with me?”

She pretended to consider his invitation for a moment, tempted to accept in spite of what he’d said earlier. “No, I think not. I have too much to do here.”

After forcing down another mouthful she looked at Elkin. “Your mother was much improved today. If she keeps up this progress, she’ll be ready to leave the day after tomorrow.”

Matthew paused in his eating. “Good.”

“One should never outstay one’s welcome, should one?” Elkin sneered.

Deborah ignored that. “There is also the question of the Simleys. I hope you’re prepared to employ them, Mr Elkin, because they seem quite devoted to you. Whatever your decision, I’ve told them to leave when you do.”

He laughed, a snarl of sound. “Oh, I’m sure I can find something for them to do. But it won’t look well, your turning off your uncle’s servants so soon after his death.”

Matthew said in chill, emphatic tones, “They’ve been in your pay for a while now, and I won’t employ disloyal servants.”

“I simply wished to keep myself informed of my uncle’s health and since he didn’t write to me, it seemed easiest to ask the Simleys. I’m still not convinced that he changed his will of his own accord.”

Both men stared at each other across the table and the tension rose palpably until Matthew waved one hand dismissively. “Well, as long as the law is convinced he did and I know it’s the truth, you can believe what you want.”

Elkin’s expression was, for a moment, murderous.

Deborah’s heart was in her mouth as she waited for something to happen, but it didn’t. Both men turned to their food and addressed it in silence, as if neither was ready for a confrontation. Gradually the tension eased a little, but things were never truly calm when these two men were in the same room.

After the meal was over she rose, unable to bear any more. “I’m tired. I think I’ll retire now.”

Matthew waited till she’d left to say to Elkin, “You’d be wiser to accept what’s happened.”

Elkin shrugged ever so slightly. “When was I ever wise?” he asked the ceiling.

As the door slammed shut behind Matthew, he smiled down at his glass of port. “Enjoy your possession while you can, Pascoe. Tomorrow it’ll end.”