Bitter Inheritance (9 page)

What on earth had she done? Sally wondered, to make this man hate her so much? It would be most interesting to meet Mr
Radford and she no longer felt afraid. She felt like telling him what was what, using the longest words she could find. A philosophical debate about women and their capabilities was just what he needed to set him straight.

The next day was cloudy but rather warmer and the snow in Thorpe had melted, although they could still see patches of white on the moorland. Promising to take extreme care, Sally set off as early as she could, Jed trotting proudly along the Kirkby lane as though he knew the errand was important. Sally went through Kirkby and took the moor road, enjoying the unusual feeling of freedom and the sensation of speed. Much as she loved Badger’s Gill, it was good to get away for a few hours just for a change.

Snow had drifted on the moor, filling ditches and banking up behind stone walls, and up here the air was colder, but the roads were clear. Low clouds hung over the highest ridges and the November sky looked as though more snow was possible. A horseman came towards her, a familiar shape and Sally felt the familiar flutter when she saw that it was Robin. His saddlebag was stuffed with papers.

‘Hello Sal, what are you up to? I’ll ride a mile or two with you.’ And he turned his horse’s head and came alongside.

‘I’m off to see the landlord, Robin. To ask him for the tenancy. I really want to stay at Badger’s Gill.’

The young man grinned at her and shook his curly head. ‘We must be complete opposites, lass. All you want is to stay at Thorpe, while all I want is to get away!

That’s why I do the errands for Father, like this one today. Got me out of the village for an hour!’

Sally stared straight ahead between her horse’s ears, in shock. ‘I never knew that you wanted to leave, Robin. Are you unhappy or something?’ He’d always seemed so carefree, it was hard to believe.

‘Well, I’ve been here all my life, except for school. I want to go off and have adventures, see a bit of the world! But I don’t talk about it at home. They want me to farm with them for ever. Or of course I could go into law like Father, and advise all the old farmers on their legal problems and how to sue their neighbours. It upsets the family to think that I might leave. That’s why I’ve never
mentioned it to you.’

‘And what do you really, really want?’ She looked at him briefly and slowed the horse down.

‘Shall I tell you? Don’t say a word, it would upset Ma and Pa. I want to set up a farm of my own in Australia. To achieve something myself, instead of tagging along with the family! The twins will still be here, the folks can manage without me. I’m trying to find out how to go about it. I think you can still get cheap land in Victoria. It’s all forest, you have to clear it yourself. And I’ve a little money of my own that Grandfather left me.’

Sally swallowed. ‘And are you planning to take anyone with you? A wife, perhaps?’ It was the first time she’d asked him about his future plans.

‘Not so fast, my girl! I’m not ready for matrimony yet. And I’m sure the life will be a bit rugged at first. Too rough for a woman. But tell you what, bairn, when I get the farm organized I’ll be looking round for someone like you!’ He beamed at her.

‘Wh-what do you mean?’ Jed made his own way up the road, as Sally stared at Robin.

‘Oh, you know, somebody who’s not frightened of hard work, and likes getting dirty and all that.’ Robin waved a hand airily. ‘Somebody who doesn’t care about pretty dresses and doesn’t worry at all about how she looks. That’s what I’ll need. A worker!’

You don’t know me very well young man, thought Sally. The image he had of her was disappointing and she was hurt. But not devastated. Robin was just insensitive, when she thought about it. Marcus, to take an example, would never have said something like that. But it was no use thinking of Marcus either, except as an antidote for yearning after Robin. There would be no future with Robin for her; she could see that even more clearly now. He would probably find a sturdy Australian girl to marry, and if he did come back to look for his old friend Sally it wouldn’t be for love, but for convenience.

‘Goodbye, Robin!’ He turned back to Kirkby and she waved as he left, riding out of her life, it seemed. And this time I mean it, she thought. He’s too – what is it? Too practical for me. There is no romance in Robin.

Sally set herself to think of the business in hand. They passed
the Drovers’ Inn on the top of the moor, a sort of dividing line between Wensleydale and Nidderdale. There were a few horses tied up outside and Jed snorted at them as he passed. They were now in foreign country, on the other side of the hill.

‘Now, how shall I talk to Mr Radford? Politely but firmly, I suppose.’ Jed cocked an ear as though he were listening and trotted on. ‘I’ll begin by asking him what he wants from a good tenant and that will give me a clue about what to say. And then I’ll ask him whether it matters who farms the place? Surely all that matters is the land and whether the buildings are falling down?’

As she drew nearer to Nidd Grange, the Radford headquarters, Sally began to feel slightly nervous. So much was at stake! And the tone of those letters was so hostile, she couldn’t really hope for a good reception. Although if the letters were the expression of a rather sardonic humour after all, he might appreciate a spirited reply. Either way, she would know more when she met this ogre. She reminded herself that she too was a High-Sider, with the fierce Viking ancestry that seemed at times to surface all these centuries later. She could stand up to a Radford!

Sally turned carefully off the main Pateley road and went down a winding track, as Joe had instructed. Far below was the green valley of Nidderdale, with the River Nidd shining here and there and the bulk of the Pennines rising at the far side. The Radford farms were spread out over the nearer hillside, and Sally could see a large stone house with an immense stable yard, gardens, orchards and long barns. Some of the land went down to the river, while the higher slopes merged into the moorland. It was an impressive sight. By the time she rolled into the stable yard Sally was feeling very small indeed, perched up on the trap trying to look adequate, if she couldn’t look smart. Jed pulled up and stood quite still, very obedient and on his best behaviour.

A groom appeared and looked up at her appreciatively. ‘Tidy outfit, that, miss. What can we do for you?’ He held a hand out for the reins and tied them to a rail. The trap cleaning had been a good idea; it had impressed this young lad, for a start, even though it wasn’t quite the racy type of trap that the doctor drove and that usually impressed young men. Feeling rather better, Sally smiled at the man.

‘I’d like to see Mr Radford, please. He doesn’t know me, but it’s rather important.’

‘Sorry, miss, boss is away in York this week, on business. Young boss is coming over some time, just to keep an eye on us.’ He gave a sly grin. ‘But, of course, we don’t know when.’

Sally felt her heart drop down to her boots. She was bitterly disappointed; her head drooped and she felt like crying. All this way and he wasn’t at home! ‘Oh, dear.’ She hadn’t thought of that possibility.

‘There’s a farm manager in that office, over there. Mr Hill, he is, you could see him instead. I’ll keep an eye on the pony for you.’ And he gallantly helped Sally down from the trap.

Walking stiffly after her long cold drive, Sally crossed over to the manager’s office and the young groom announced, ‘Young lady to see you, sir.’

The manager looked up from accounts, obviously surprised. ‘Good day, miss.’

Sally went up to the desk and took a deep breath. This man might be able to help. He would know the best way to impress Oliver Radford. ‘Mr Hill? I’m Sally Mason and we farm Badger’s Gill at Thorpe. I wrote to Mr Radford about three weeks ago, asking to keep the tenancy. But today I came to ask him myself. To explain that I and my staff’ – she’d thought of that one, driving over the moor – ‘are quite capable of running the farm properly.’

The manager stroked his beard. ‘Badger’s Gill? You’ll be Robert’s daughter, then. I knew your father when we were young. He was a good man, Robert, very conscientious. Come to the fire, you must be cold.’

A good start; he’s known Father. Sally moved nearer, grateful for the warmth of the fire. ‘Then you’ll know the story. I’ve been asked to leave, about a month after Father died. I believe I saw you at his funeral?’

The man nodded. ‘Big turnout, wasn’t it? Robert was well-liked and he died before his time.’

‘I wonder whether you can help me? Can you persuade Mr Radford to let me keep the farm?’ He might do that, for Robert’s sake. ‘We never made a great deal of money, but we treated the land well, and the stock too. We farmed well, rather than trying to make a quick profit.’ The manager was listening attentively, which was encouraging. Sally decided to press on. ‘Mr Hill, I am farming well. We always took a pride in Badger’s Gill. But I have a feeling that Mr Radford believes otherwise. The agent, Mr Bartram, is always finding fault with me. I gather that he has told Mr Radford that I’m not capable of farming. But it’s not true!’

Looking rather regretful, the manager shook his head. ‘Miss Mason, you’d be better off marrying a young man with a farm of his own and forgetting about independence.’ He smiled in a fatherly way.

Sally’s hope evaporated, as she realized that this was another man who thought that a woman’s place was in the home, not managing a farm.

Mr Hill seemed to feel sorry for her. ‘A bonny lass like you should have the pick of all the young farmers on the High Side! And then you’d have the benefit of a man to look after you, and farm men to do the heavy work.’

Sally smiled dutifully, but stuck to the point. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know many young farmers. But you will remember that Badger’s Gill was ours, once. I’d like to keep it.’ And buy it back for my children, if I ever have any, she added to herself. If ever I make enough money, or find out where Father kept his. ‘So – what chance do you think I have?’

Mr Hill turned in his seat, rather uneasily. ‘Sit down, Miss Mason. I shouldn’t keep you standing.’ He fiddled with the papers on his desk. Sally waited. ‘It’s hard to know what to say to you, my dear. I am afraid there’s not much chance of changing Mr Radford’s mind. There’s the old quarrel, for one thing – Radfords and Masons don’t agree. But you’ll know about that.’

Sally shook her head. ‘I realize that this is a problem, but Father never told me any details about it.’ The hot fire was making her cheeks burn. ‘I know there was a quarrel, but no more.’ She knew
that Father had resented the way in which the Radfords bought the farm. Mother had never once mentioned the Radfords, a silence that was ominous in itself.

‘Oh, dear … well, there’s a matter of a death between them.’ The manager avoided her eyes.

‘You mean a murder?’ Sally looked at him, wanting to know the truth. ‘Please tell me. I’m a Mason, I think I’ve a right to know.’

‘Nobody knows for sure. It concerned your grandfather; he’s been dead for about ten years, hasn’t he? Radfords and Masons were friendly – the two boys, Billy and Samuel, grew up together. Billy was Oliver’s father, of course.’

There was a pause. So, thought Sally, she’d known that they were friendly, once.

‘And then one day when they were in their thirties, with wives and families, they both went off into Foxholes Wood. I think they were taking a short cut to Dallagill, to buy sheep.’

‘So what happened?’ A murder in the family would take a lot of getting used to. Sally was almost afraid to hear what came next.

‘And only one came back. Samuel Mason came back. Billy Radford was never seen again.’

Sally said slowly, ‘And Radfords blamed Samuel Mason? What exactly happened, do you think?’

The manager stood up, as if to end the interview. ‘Yes, Radfords were very bitter, still are. Your grandfather, Samuel Mason, he swore he hadn’t done it. Nothing was ever proved, either way. Samuel was a decent man, as far as I ever knew. I remember him as Robert’s father of course, a very reserved man. As he might be, after all the fuss.’

Grandfather had been quiet, Sally remembered. He didn’t take part in the community’s activities. But he went to church, and helped the vicar in little ways.

‘But that might be why, when he got the chance, Oliver bought Mason’s farm. I’m not sure why he bought it, unless he wanted revenge. So it looks as though he’ll not be likely to leave you there.’ His tone was final.

Mr Hill opened the door. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Mason. None of it’s your fault. Your father should’ve told you years ago. But just to give you an idea of how things are now, I didn’t tell Mr Radford
that I was going to your father’s funeral. He wouldn’t have liked that. And I think it best not to tell him that you’ve visited today.’

‘Thank you, Mr Hill,’ Sally whispered, and crept back to the trap utterly crushed. She’d had no idea of how bad things were between the two families. What might have happened if Oliver Radford had been at home? Just as well that he wasn’t. Sally felt shocked once again. Robin had shocked her earlier, but that didn’t seem to matter now. Even so, two shocks in one day were quite enough. Sally wanted to get back home back to her familiar routine as quickly as possible.

The sky had a heavy look, promising snow. The huge buildings and impressive house looked unfriendly. Radford possessions, the enemy stronghold. And now she knew how unfriendly they might be. Sally patted Jed, a symbol of home. Jed was bored and wanted to be off, so he wheeled smartly and trotted off as soon as she untied the reins and climbed on board. Pity there was no one in the yard to see them go.

Clopping down the track to the Pateley road, Sally thought about her father. He’d tried to shield her from this ugly story, she realized. He’d thought that it was all forgotten and his father had surely never spoken of it. And now it had risen up to haunt her. Poor Father! How it must have irked him, to pay rent to Radfords.

‘Come on, Jed, we’ll soon be home!’ she urged, and the horse responded. They reached the main road as the first flakes of snow began to fall. Her nervous excitement, all her hope, had vanished and Sally felt very tired indeed. But she urged on the horse, trying to cover the ground quickly as the snow whirled round them, narrowing their world down to a few yards of moorland. Sally was not afraid of missing the road. She knew that it would take a great deal of snow to cover the track and there were various landmarks like the Drovers’ Inn, which would be coming up soon on the left. Once past there, she knew the way quite well in all weathers. She and Jed were cold and wet and both of them wanted to get home.

Tired as she was, Sally’s mind was whirring, trying to find a solution to the Radford problem. What if she saw Oliver Radford and made him believe that the old quarrel was nothing to do with the present? She was jerked back to the immediate present with a jolt. A black grouse rose suddenly from the side of the road and
rushed across in front of them under the horse’s feet. Young Jed reared and Sally, unable to control him, saw his front hooves coming up above his head.

‘Whoa, boy! Steady, now!’ She stood up and pulled frantically on the reins. The terrified horse then jumped away from the bird into the ditch. The shafts twisted and the trap slowly turned over on its side. In a moment Sally was in the snow, her face in the bank at the far side of the ditch. She hit her head on a stone and passed out.

When Sally came back to consciousness she could hear the horse neighing loudly, obviously frightened, but dimly, from far away. She concentrated with some difficulty. With a splintering sound, Jed kicked and pulled until he was free from the shafts. He cantered down the road a little way and then pulled up, and it sounded as though he started to nibble at the short moorland grass that poked through the snow.

Sally was glad the horse didn’t seem to be too badly injured, or so frightened that he would gallop for miles and get lost. A more experienced horse might have shied, but probably would not have reacted by bolting into the ditch. Jed had seen a lot of ground birds, pheasants and partridges, in the lanes near Thorpe; he should have known better!

Confused and with an aching head, Sally tried to struggle free but the trap surrounded her and was too heavy to move. It blocked her from getting away from the bank. She’d been lucky that it didn’t fall on top of her … it was hard to think. Sally drifted off again and when she resurfaced the snow seemed to have stopped. She could hear Jed munching grass not far off. At least if anyone came by they would see the horse. But how many folks were likely to travel on this road on a snowy winter afternoon? Not many. It was very cold and she’d forgotten to put on the driving cape. Sally fumbled around until she found it and managed to drag some of it across her. Martha’s words came back to her then, with force. ‘And they don’t find you until spring.’ She tried again to get free, without success.

An hour later Sally was ready to give up. The cold had numbed her until she didn’t care any more; all her problems had floated away. Dimly she heard Jed give a whinny, and sounds of another
horse approaching. Would it be friend or foe? Sally had heard tales of travellers in trouble being assaulted and robbed on the moor. Some of the more isolated moorlanders were very wild folk, especially at this side of the divide, they always said in Thorpe. Even the carriers who crossed the moors with goods were suspected of evil deeds. She should have let Joe come with her. At that moment Sally was willing to admit that there were times when a man could come in useful. Robbers would hardly attack a man like Joe.

A deep voice said, ‘Hello, there’s been an accident. Anyone in there?’

‘Yes!’ Sally’s voice was a squeak. Friend or foe, she needed help to survive.

‘Are you hurt?’ The voice was concerned and sounded familiar.

‘Not much, but I can’t get out – the trap’s too heavy!’

There was a small gap at one side and a face appeared. ‘Oh, what a mess!’

‘Marcus!’ Sally was flooded with relief. To her shame, she started to cry. Marcus had appeared, for the third time in her life. It seemed symbolic to her, light-headed as she was, that of all the people in the world, the Roman soldier had come to find her. Everything was going to be fine.

‘Well, it’s Bo-Peep! You poor lass! I’ll go down to the Drovers’ for help. Won’t be long, we’ll have you out in no time.’ Hoofbeats thudded down the road, muffled by the snow. Marcus was going for help. Sally couldn’t think of a better rescuer.

It took a couple of gamekeepers and the landlord of the inn, as well as Marcus, to get Sally out and the trap back on the road. A keeper caught the rather subdued Jed and ran his hand down the horse’s legs. ‘Not much, just a deep scratch or two. No bones broken. We’ll put him in the Drovers’ stables for now.’

Looking at the damage to the vehicle, Marcus shook his head. ‘Not good, but it’s mendable. Let’s look after you first, young lady. Do you come this way often, all alone in bad weather?’ He looked down at her, his deep brown eyes anxious. Sally stumbled and he put an arm round her. ‘Now, I know we haven’t been formally introduced, and one should never pick up a lady without an introduction. But I also remember very well that we’ve met! You’re the
little china shepherdess and I’m a Roman soldier. I’m going to carry you to the inn.’ He spoke lightly, perhaps to lessen the shock.

Sally arrived at the Drovers’, wet and bedraggled, carried easily by Marcus and weeping weak tears of relief. The Drovers’ Inn was used to catering for weary travellers. It was an ancient building with a low, beamed ceiling and stone floors. There was a roaring wood fire in the bar, and a big settle in an ingle nook with warm rag rugs at their feet.

Marcus gently took the driving cape from Sally and put it by the fire to dry. He looked down at her with such concern that she blushed and turned away. The intrepid adventurer was in pain, with an aching head. Her feet and hands ached so badly as the circulation came back that she pleaded to sit away from the fire for a while. They sat at one of the tables and Marcus made Sally drink a small glass of whisky. She began to feel more normal after a while and tried to thank him, but he waved it aside.

‘Just rest, Bo-Peep, and get warm. I am so thankful I was here at the right time. I don’t use this road more than once a month.’

The landlord produced bowls of thick pea soup and hunks of crusty bread and Sally found she was hungry. Then he left them alone. Marcus ate with her and talked quietly about all manner of subjects; anything except horses and spills. Sally felt that he was doing his best to get her over the shock of the accident, understanding how she felt. She felt herself being ever more drawn to this man, and not just because he’d rescued her.

Marcus had read books that Sally knew and was interested in local history, archaeology and natural science. She realized that she’d missed this kind of conversation since her father died. Their talk was wide ranging, but it never touched on personal matters.