The Girl with the Red Ribbon (38 page)

‘No, you're wrong, Father,' she cried. ‘It warns me when things are about to happen. Or it did,' she muttered, stroking the naked flesh where it had been.

Her father shrugged. ‘You're just like your mother, and there was never any point arguing with her, she always maintained she was right,' he said with a grin. ‘I take it your Jack was one of those Preventatives, then?'

‘Yes, and he thinks I betrayed him.'

‘Ah, I see now. He told you about the raid, you came here to warn me, then he turned up, saw you here, and went mad. Well, girl, that is a bit of a mess and no mistake. Never mind, we'll think of how to square things.'

She looked at him hopefully. ‘Do you think we can?'

He nodded. ‘Of course. Everything sorts eventually.
He was looking mighty mad when he left. I reckon you'll need to give him time to cool down and sort his head out. Chances are he'll come to his senses, and it will give you time to think about what you want, too. Meantime, why not stay here with me? It would be lovely having you round the place again, and Lord knows it needs some attention. Fanny was never one for housekeeping, that's for sure.'

‘What happened to that Mrs Dunmore? I thought she was meant to be helping, and wasn't she going to cook for you as well?'

Edward shook his head. ‘Turns out she was an old crony of Fanny's. All they did was blether. Not a jot of work got done between them, nor any meal cooked neither. Off they'd go each morning to the market or Honiton, spending, spending, spending! Chatting, chatting, chatting! Couldn't afford it, or stand the noise, so Mrs Dunmore had to go.'

‘You mean you actually put your foot down, Father?'

‘And not before time, I can tell you. I'd have been bankrupt if I hadn't. Old Davey had a hunch what Fanny was up to. Told me I should insist on seeing the accounts. I nearly blew my haystack when I did. Been a right old fool one way or another,' he said, looking so forlorn that Rowan smiled.

‘I guess you missed Mother after she passed away.'

He nodded. ‘Silly to think I could ever replace her. Fanny was just an aberration and could never hold a candle to my Hazel.'

Insistent lowing from the shippon pulled him from his reverie. ‘Better get milking or those poor cows will be
busting. If you're staying, our Rowan, happen you'd best change into something more suitable.'

Staring down at the yellow sprigged dress, Rowan grimaced.

‘You're right, Father, or by the time I've got this place anywhere near clean, it would be black as the chimney. Do you need help with the cows first?'

‘No, that's all right, Rowan. I've pretty much got used to dealing with them myself. I miss young Sab, though. Couldn't believe it when I came down for me breakfast that morning and Fanny told me you'd run off together. She was so plausible, even dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief, and then she put a plate of bacon and egg in front of me … Of course, that should have been a warning in itself.' He shrugged and pulled on his cap. ‘Oh, well, the cows won't wait while I stand here mithering.'

‘I'll have breakfast waiting when you've finished,' she promised. ‘Then I'll go and tell Mother what's been going on.'

‘Well, you'll have to tell old Davey too; he's laid alongside her.'

‘I'll do that,' Rowan said.

Although Rowan put an appetizing plate of bacon and eggs in front of her father, he seemed distracted throughout their meal. Glancing at him across the table, she saw that he had dark shadows under his eyes and was sure he'd lost weight. Obviously the past few months had taken their toll, and she was alarmed to see how old he looked.

‘Thanks, Rowan, that were right nice,' he said, pushing his empty plate away. ‘I haven't had a decent spread like that since you left.'

‘Sorry there was no bread, Father. I guess Fanny didn't make any yesterday.'

He shook his head. ‘Nor the day before that, nor the week before, come to that. If your auntie Sal hadn't met me regularly in the village with some of her baking, I reckon I'd have starved.'

Rowan frowned. ‘Why did you meet her in the village?'

‘Fanny were so rude to her, Silas forbade her to set foot inside here. Still, they'll be able to visit again now,' he said, his face brightening. ‘I'll let them know her majesty's left when I go out later.'

‘You're going out?'

‘Yes, got a spot of business to see to whilst you visit your mother. No doubt it will take you all morning to tell her what you've been doing,' he said, smiling as he donned
his cap, then lifted the latch. The dogs heard him and began barking.

‘They'll be able to come indoors again now, won't they, Father?' she called.

His answering grin lit up his face, making him look younger again.

Deciding to leave the clearing up until later, Rowan snatched her shawl and basket from its nail and made her way outside. The sun had risen, and the chickens clucked around her bare feet as if they were pleased to see her again, although she knew they were really after scraps.

‘Well, look who the cat's dragged in,' a kindly voice called.

Looking up, Rowan saw Mrs Stokes standing in the doorway of the wash house. The woman seemed to have aged considerably since she'd last seen her, and was looking dishevelled.

‘Mrs Stokes, what are you doing here?' she cried, her heart lifting at the sight of the charwoman. ‘I thought you usually came in on a Monday, or at the weekend if the clothes were stained.'

‘No, Mrs Stokes has to call upon request, if you please,' she intoned, in a fair imitation of Fanny's faux posh voice. ‘In other words, every other blinking day. Couldn't be fashed to do nothing herself, that one. Old Davey was right, that woman's naught but a slut, if you'll pardon my French.'

‘I was sad to hear of his passing away, Mrs Stokes, but it wasn't like him to speak ill of anyone,' Rowan said, looking puzzled.

‘Well,' the woman hesitated, ‘I suppose I can tell you
now he's gone. Davey knew he'd seen her majesty somewhere before. It was that smell, you see; got right up his nose. Said she had a face like a fusty ferret. Racked his brains for weeks till he remembered. It were last year when he'd been in Exeter for supplies. Saw her touting for trade outside one of those dens of iniquity, you know, them places where men go when they want a bit of young flesh.'

Rowan raised her eyebrows. ‘You mean she …?' Rowan gasped, hardly able to put it into words. Luckily Mrs Stokes understood her meaning.

‘No, dear, and she'd never dirty her hands doing anything herself. Lured the young girls, she did, promising them big money and fine clothes, all for a few minutes being nice,' she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. ‘When Davey realized who it was your father had married, he didn't know whether to tell him or not. He was fond of Edward, thought of him like a son. Anyhow, he confided in me, and we decided he probably wouldn't believe it anyhow, him being that smitten.'

‘Yes, he certainly was,' Rowan replied, thinking back to when Fanny had first arrived at the farmhouse. ‘Well, Mrs Stokes, you'll be pleased to know Father sent her packing last evening.' She laughed as the older woman look incredulous and then gave a whoop of delight.

‘I knew this day was going to be good. Anyway, where's young Sab? Place has gone to racksitts since you two left. Must admit, it shocked me to me core when Fanny said you'd run off together.'

‘But we didn't, Mrs Stokes. It was a story she hatched up. Look, I haven't time to explain now,' Rowan said,
seeing the woman's eyes widen with curiosity. ‘One day, when you've time, drop by the kitchen for a cuppa and I'll tell you all about it.'

The woman looked disappointed for a moment and then nodded.

‘Guess, I got too much to do this morning anyhow,' she said, pointing to the dirty laundry piled high on the floor. ‘You anything for laundering?'

Rowan thought of the clothes she'd worn on her journey back from Saltmouth. ‘Oh, yes, I have stockings, petticoat and a yellow dress that need seeing to. They're up in my room so I'll go and get them.'

‘No need, I've got to get the bedding anyhow. You know, Miss Rowan, although you look the same, you're kind of different, like you're all grown up.'

‘That's exactly how I feel, Mrs Stokes,' she said, shrugging.

As she continued on her way, she stared down at her homespun. It was cheap and thrown together compared with the fine dresses she'd been wearing these past few months. Still, Madame Louisa would have to agree she was dressed
à propos
for the farm, she thought, picking her way through the yard, which needed a good swilling down.

She walked on past fields that were filled with crops needing harvesting, ditches that required clearing and overgrown hedges that needed trimming. Nearing the old oak, she quickened her pace and couldn't help shuddering as she remembered the night she'd been snatched. Still, it was broad daylight and Fanny had gone for good. A skylark's happy trill sounded nearby, lifting her spirits, and the feel of warm earth beneath her bare feet gave her the
sense of connecting with nature in a way she hadn't for a long time.

She wasn't going to let one woman's vindictiveness spoil her life. After all, if she hadn't been snatched she wouldn't have become an apprentice milliner, or met Jack, would she? Except she no longer had a job and probably no follower either, she thought, carefully picking her way through the overgrown brambles. Everywhere was a shambles, just like her life.

Finally reaching her mother's resting place, she was pleased to see it had been tended and looked as tidy as the new one alongside. She didn't think she could bear it if this special place had been neglected like the farm. Throwing herself down on the grass between them, she rolled onto her stomach.

‘I'm home, Mother,' she whispered. ‘Hello, Davey and dun collie. You'll all be pleased to know Father has sent Fanny packing.' The branches above rustled, sounding like a sigh of satisfaction, she thought. ‘So much has happened since I last visited you, Mother. Good things and bad. Let me tell you …'

It took her some time to unburden her soul. The words came out hesitantly at first then, like a dam bursting, all her pent-up emotion came flooding out. ‘It's lovely seeing Father again, but my coming here to warn him angered Jack. He accused me of betraying him, and rode away without giving me back my red ribbon. How will I know what to do without it?' she cried.

But there was no answering breeze, only the stillness of silence. ‘Perhaps you can't hear me without it? I couldn't bear it if you're no longer with me, Mother,' she sobbed.
‘Please send me a sign to show you are listening.' This time there was a faint, answering ripple. The grasses round her mother's resting place parted, and there in the centre lay one perfect four-leaf clover. Rowan's heart lifted and warmth coursed through her veins.

‘Thank you, Mother.' She gently plucked the tender stem, then leaning forward, kissed the spot it had sprung from. ‘I'll be back soon,' she promised, placing it tenderly in the pocket of her apron.

Her steps lighter now she knew her mother was still listening, she hurried back towards the farmhouse. Passing the fields with their abundance of crops, she stopped. A vegetable broth would make a welcome supper, she thought, pulling up carrots, turnips and onions and placing them in her basket. There wouldn't be time to make any bread today, but she could put a couple of potatoes to bake. Seeing the profusion of vegetables and the brightly coloured flowers that covered the hedgerows, she excitedly began planning the dyes she would make. Then her heart sank. She was no longer an apprentice milliner, was she?

The sun was overhead by the time she got back to the farmhouse. Quickly, she cleared away the dishes and set about preparing the vegetables. The pot of broth was soon simmering over the fire, and she looked around the room, wrinkling her nose at the patina of grime and dust that covered every surface. She would give everywhere a much-needed clean.

It was late afternoon before she heard Blackthorn's hooves clattering into the yard. A few moments later the door rattled open and her father stood there with a bundle in his arms. He sniffed the air appreciatively.

‘My, I haven't smelled anything this good since …' he shook his head.

‘Breakfast?' Rowan teased.

He laughed, then looked around the room, taking in the gleaming surfaces and scrubbed table set ready for their meal.

‘Everywhere looks grand, Rowan. You've obviously been busy and I've had a fruitful journey. Look what I found strewn along the track.' He held out the bundle, which Rowan could now see were clothes. ‘It seems Fanny's greed was greater than her strength,' he said with a chuckle. ‘I'll get Mrs Stokes to wash them and then you can see if the Poor House can make use of them. Can you imagine her majesty's face if she sees them folk wearing her finery?'

Rowan giggled at the thought. ‘You're wicked, Father,' she teased.

‘I'm sure the Good Lord will forgive me after what I've been through these past few months. Now, I must see to the stock, and then we'll eat. Afterwards, I've got a nice surprise for you, my girl.'

‘What's that?' she asked, looking at him curiously. He grinned boyishly, but wouldn't be drawn. ‘Do you want any help?'

‘No, that's all right.'

‘Well, I'll take those clothes over to Mrs Stokes's cottage, shall I?' she asked, anxious to be doing something.

Her father's face dropped. ‘She's not there. Fanny turfed her out so Mrs Dunmore could have it.'

‘What!' Rowan shouted, remembering the woman's dishevelled appearance. ‘Oh, Father, how could you?'

‘Fanny insisted, said as it was a tied cottage I should have asked her to leave when Mr Stokes passed on,' he said, looking shamefaced. ‘I did let her have the old shepherd's caravan, so she had somewhere to live.'

‘Well, now Fanny's gone, Mrs Stokes can have her cottage back, surely?'

Her father brightened. ‘You can go and tell her the good news first thing in the morning,' he said, and disappeared outside again.

When he returned, the dogs scampered in behind him, barking joyously and circling Rowan's feet for petting, before settling contentedly in their old places beside the fire.

‘Feels like a home again, doesn't it, Father?' Rowan exclaimed, ladling out their broth.

‘It certainly does, and will feel even more so soon. I called to see Sab down at Pear Tree Farm.'

‘Sab? How is he?' she asked, anxious to hear how her friend was faring.

‘He's grand. When you told me his work there was only temporary, I thought I'd see if he wanted to come back here permanently. I'm desperately in need of help here and I miss the young fellow. Of course, I had to clear it with Farmer John. He was surprisingly agreeable, although obviously Sab'll have to stay until he finds a suitable replacement. Seems he knows of a young lad nearby looking for work. Be quite like old times again, with the three of us, won't it?'

Rowan nodded, but couldn't help wondering if she wanted to remain on the farm.

Unaware of her doubts, her father continued, ‘It was
always my intention to leave the farm to Sab and the house to you, and these past few months set me thinking.'

She looked at him in surprise. ‘You're not ill, are you, Father?' she asked, looking at him anxiously.

‘No, but I'm not getting any younger. Supposing I'd died and the farm had passed to Fanny? It was probably why she married me, anyway. She'd have sold it to strangers. I had nightmares thinking about it.' He shuddered. ‘Any road, after that narrow escape, I decided to get things sorted straight away.'

‘But Fanny is still your wife, Father,' Rowan pointed out.

‘Not in the true sense. The marriage was never consummated, see,' he muttered, staring down at his dish.

‘But she said … I heard …' Rowan stuttered to a halt, remembering the noises she'd heard coming from their bedroom.

‘Fanny was very good at flirting and promising, but not delivering the full works, if you get my meaning. Said she wouldn't risk getting in the family way,' he explained, keeping his eyes averted. Seeing the flush spreading across her father's cheeks, Rowan stayed silent. Well, well, so the fabulous Fanny was full of hot air. Could the day hold any more surprises, she wondered. Her father took another spoonful of broth and seemed to recover his composure.