Replenish the Earth (16 page)

Was that the best he could do? thought Sarah scornfully. ‘My mother, sir - as you must be well aware, since you were her godfather - was a short woman, with dark hair. I have here her locket, which
you
gave to her on her sixteenth birthday.’ She unfastened it from her neck and held it out.

Hannah took it from her and passed it to his lordship in disapproving silence.

He took it in his hands, recognising it at once. His expression grew sad as he studied the face inside it. To think that pretty little Elizabeth, whom he had known from birth, was dead before him!

‘Hrrumph. That’s certainly the locket I gave my god-daughter. No doubt at all about that.’

Sarah decided it would be wise to supply him with further proof. ‘Moreover, I remember my mother telling me many things about you. You were Master of Hounds and you used to ride a big grey called Captain, which would dance for a piece of sugar loaf.’

He could only gape at her and finger the locket again.

‘My mother, sir, often used to reminisce about her youth and I believe I have heard tales about most of the people she knew. Am I correct so far?’ 

‘Well - er - ahem - yes.’

‘Pray question me further. We don’t wish to leave any doubt in Mr Sewell’s mind, do we?’

‘No need for that, ma’am. I am convinced of your identity.’ He produced a large handkerchief and mopped his brow. 'Fully convinced.’

Sarah turned to the doctor. ‘Have you no questions to ask me, sir? If you are here to question my sanity, then pray proceed! For I have better things to do with the rest of my day, I promise you, and would prefer to settle this ridiculous business quickly.’

It was the doctor's turn to display extreme embarrassment. ‘Been observing you, madam - er - Mistress Bedham, I should say, from the moment we arrived.’

‘And, have you come to any conclusions about my mental capacities, sir?’ 

‘I have no doubts about either your sanity or your breeding, Mistress Bedham. You seem a remarkably lucid young woman and have coped admirably with a difficult situation.’

‘Thank you.’

He bowed slightly. ‘My name's Shadderby. Surgeon
and
physician. At your service any time. Teeth pulled, draughts concocted, only the best leeches used.’ He bowed again, ignoring his lordship, and walked out of the room. He had no intention of further antagonising a potential client.

He was followed with alacrity by Sam Poulter, who had already been made aware of his Prue's displeasure about this attack on Mistress Elizabeth's daughter. Not that he’d had any choice about coming, he thought aggrievedly. He
was
the village Constable, after all. But Prue wouldn’t take that into account, would she? When something upset her, she just let fly. He was in for an uncomfortable evening, he had no doubt.

Left alone with his icily polite hostess, Lord Henry begged Mistress Bedham to accept his apologies and to believe that he had only been doing his duty, however distasteful. ‘Thought it best to inquire informally into the matter, before allowin’ anyone to take official steps. Save us all a dashed lot of trouble. But regret the inconvenience. Deeply regret it. Trust you'll accept my apologies and take no offence. Pray believe that you have my very best wishes for your future here.’

Sarah bowed her head slightly and requested Hannah to show the gentlemen out.

* * * *

‘By Jove,’ Lord Henry told his wife that same evening over supper, ‘damme if I didn’t know her for a Bedham almost from the first - without that damned deposition or the locket! Cool as ice, she was, and had a look of her great-grandfather. Remember him well. She could have been his sister today - well, I know he didn’t have one, but if he had had - What's that? Oh, she’s a great tall maypole of a woman. Not pretty, though not ugly, either - no style at all in her dress, and lame into the bargain. Had to admire her courage, though. Didn’t flinch, didn’t weep and wail. Set us in our places good and proper. What?’

He blew out an angry puff of air. ‘No,
of course
she’s a gentlewoman. Saw that at a glance. Her behaviour throughout showed excellent breeding. She made me feel dashed uncomfortable, I can tell you! By George, she certainly did that!’ He shuddered at the memory and paused for a moment to wipe his brow.

‘That Sewell fellow ranted and raved like a madman when he came to lay the complaint before me. Shouting and threatening
me
. Never did take to him. Common fellow! Ugly customer, too. Treats his dependants harshly. No sense of duty. Well, this is one trick he didn’t win, as I was pleased to inform him. What? Oh yes, I visited him after I’d left her. Thought it needed doing at once before he took the law into his own hands.’

As he was getting into bed, he burst out laughing. ‘Damned if Mistress Bedham didn’t rout us, horse and foot,’ he told his wife. ‘Shouldn't object to you calling on her sometime, my dear.  In fact, be grateful if you would. Owe her a bit of recognition by way of an apology.’

‘She
is
Elizabeth Bedham's daughter, then?’

‘Not a doubt of it!’ 

‘Then of course I shall call! I don’t expect to enjoy the visit, but you have never found me lacking in the common courtesies, I trust, Henry?’

‘Certainly not, my love! Besides, her mother
was
my god-daughter. Feel a bit guilty that I never tried to find out what happened to Elizabeth. Make it up to the daughter a bit, eh?’ 

* * * *

When Will heard about Lord Tarnly’s visit, he hurried to the Manor to see how Sarah was, angry that she should have been treated like that and expecting to find her upset. She should not have had to face them alone. He realised in mild surprise that he had started to think of her by her first name. Well, it suited her better than the stiffness of ‘Mistress Bedham’ and she wasn’t one to stand on ceremony.

However, when he arrived he found her triumphant, eager to share both her anger at being questioned like that and her pride in how she had dealt with the situation.

They shared a pot of tea and sat comfortably together by the fire, for the evenings were still chilly.

When the conversation languished, she said diffidently, ‘Is there a small conveyance in the stables that I could learn to drive? And would it cost a great deal to buy a horse? I’m finding it hard to walk into the village and sometimes it’d be nice to go into Sawbury to do some shopping. Or Hannah might use it in inclement weather to go to that chapel of hers.’

He nodded slowly. ‘I should have thought of that myself.’

‘You don’t think - It’s not an extravagance, is it?’

‘No. There is a small gig you could use. We could hire Rob for a day to set that in order. And . . . ’ he considered the question of a suitable animal, which must be quiet and easy for an inexperienced lady to drive. For a moment he could think of none, then he remembered that his friend and fellow farmer, Edmund Bertil, had spoken of selling an ageing mare which was not up to the hard work he needed. Edmund wouldn’t want much for it, Will was sure, and it’d be perfect for Sarah to learn on.

Within two days, the gig was washed and made safe, and the lessons commenced. He found her an eager pupil, and an apt one. ‘You’re doing well. You need to practise, but you’ll soon have the hang of it, I’m sure.’

She glowed with pleasure at his compliment and thought how wonderful it was to sit up there and let the horse do the work - not that she intended to drive the old mare too hard. ‘I could go out with Hannah sometimes, couldn’t I?’

‘Oh, yes. She’s capable enough. But don’t go out on your own yet. I’ll come over and give you another lesson or two first.’

She watched him stride away, her eyes bright with happiness, caught sight of her own face in a mirror and gave a shamefaced laugh. ‘You must be careful not to let this go to your head!’ she told her reflection, wagging one finger at it. ‘He is just being kind.’

‘You get on well with Will Pursley,’ Hannah said pointedly that evening.

Sarah didn’t respond. She and Will did deal well together - most of the time, anyway.

But to go beyond that, did she dare even think about it? Not yet, not until she had got to know him better. It would help if he gave her some sign that he would not be averse to . . . a closer relationship.

Chapter
9

Before Lady Tarnly could pay the promised visit to Broadlands, Sarah did something which turned Mr Sewell puce with fury and sent his wife cowering to her bed, to avoid his fits of violence against anyone and anything which lay in his path.

The days following the incident with the cow continued intermittently rainy and, mindful of the difficulties she’d had last time she walked into the village after a wet spell, Sarah sent Hannah to market for her. She set Mary to work in the wash-house, where the copper boiler gave off a comforting steamy heat, and told Petey to help Daniel in the gardens, for once without Hetty's supervision, as the child loved market day and always accompanied her mother to help carry their purchases back.

Alone in the house, Sarah tried to settle to her accounts, for she was husbanding every farthing and keeping a firm check on how she spent her money. She sometimes thought the villagers would end up calling her Old Scrope, as Mary said they had nicknamed her grandfather, because after his son’s death he had apparently complained at every farthing, or scrope, to use an old-fashioned word, he had to spend on things other than his own comforts.

Well, let them call her that if they wanted; all she cared about in the short term was husbanding her money and repairing the roof. With Will Pursley's help, the worst of the leaks had been stopped, but so much remained to be done to make the house sound again that sometimes she despaired of ever managing it.

Having finished the accounts, she grew restless. After being cooped up in the house for days, she was tired of sitting down, tired of polishing, and sick of cleaning out cupboards, too. On a sudden whim, she decided to go and explore the cellars, where someone really ought to investigate the assorted piles of junk. Hannah said if they got a cat or two to keep the mice down, they could use the cellar for storing hams and preserves. It was the coolest place in the house.

Sarah hesitated at the top of the steps, which were steep, then mentally dismissed an image of Will frowning at her and began to make her way down. She moved slowly and carefully, holding her candle high in one hand to light her way. Shadows danced across the walls to greet her as the flame flickered in the draughts.

When she was only half way down, however, something that squeaked and scuttled from beneath her feet made her jump and cry out in panic. As she moved, she caught her shoe in the hem of her dress, flailed her arms wildly for a moment, then lost her balance and tumbled down the stairs.

Only the rats heard the thump as she bumped her head against the stone wall and landed at the foot of the steps in an unconscious heap.

It was some time before Mary, the first stage of her washing completed, came back to the house and went round to check the fires. Even then she wouldn’t have discovered the accident had Bella not stood whining at the open cellar door until Mary felt obliged to go and investigate, if only to quieten that dratted animal.

Taking a candle from the parlour, which happened to be the nearest room, she lit it at the fire and, grumbling audibly about ‘dogs as is favoured till they don’t know they’re dogs’, she descended the steps.

When she discovered the unconscious body of her mistress lying on the floor in the damp and darkness of the cellar, she screeched with shock and almost dropped the candle. Sucking a finger burnt by the hot wax she had spilt on it, she cautiously approached the body, whimpering to herself and calling Sarah’s name.

When she discovered that Mistress Sarah was still alive, she cried out, ‘Thank goodness! Thank goodness!’ and continued to repeat the words under her breath, because any sound was comforting in the darkness of the cellars.

She tried to rouse her mistress, but when Sarah didn’t stir the ‘Thank goodness!’ gave way to ‘Lord ha’ mercy!’ and an occasional ‘Dear bless us all! What next?’

None of Mary's rough remedies had any effect and her mistress remained unconscious so, weeping and sniffling, she decided to send Petey to the Pursleys for help. She went outside and yelled across the gardens till he came shambling back to the house, but it took a while to get the idea into his head that he must fetch Master Pursley and not return to his work with Daniel. She watched him set off through the woods at a stumbling run, then returned to the cellar. 

It being market day, only Will was at home, for his mother had driven the cart into the village, taking Hannah and her daughter with her for company and protection. Will was so much alarmed by Petey's incoherent gabblings, which included the words ‘mistress is hurt’, that he was quite easily persuaded to follow him up to the big house.

Once there, Petey dragged him towards the cellar, still mouthing incoherently, and Mary, hearing their footsteps, set up a loud wail of distress, which was echoed by the whining of the two dogs. Will hurried down the steps to find Sarah still stretched out on the cold stone floor, only partly conscious, with Mary weeping over her.

His heart nearly stopped at the sight, for he thought at first Sarah was dead. And to think of the great house without her, to think of never sitting quietly enjoying her company again - no, the very idea was anathema.

Then she stirred and groaned, and he muttered, ‘Thank goodness’.

Scolding Mary for leaving her mistress lying there chilled and damp without even a blanket to cover her, he enlisted Petey's help to carry Sarah up to the bedroom. She was so cold and pale he couldn’t at first think what to do, except to chafe her hand and stroke her hair gently back from her forehead, whispering her name as he did so.

‘She’s a-goin’ to die, ent she?’ moaned Mary. ‘Oh, Lord ha’ mercy on us all! What will me an’ Petey do then?’