The Lost And Found Girl (16 page)

‘Come and make friends with him,’ he suggested. When she did not move, he added, ‘You can help take care of him.’

‘I’ve not seen to horses since before …’

‘Well, you’ll just have to learn. If you are not well enough to look after a horse how will you manage in charge of a child?’

This time he thought he noticed a vestige of his message getting through to her and he realised that it was her need for her children that would motivate her to get better. This was the brightest glimmer of hope for him so far. She was in a dreadful state as a human being but she was above all else a mother and that was rooted deep within her. She might do his bidding for her children. He fervently hoped that she would. He hated himself for being the cause of so much pain, and he guessed that she despised him as much.
Would she ever forgive him, he wondered? It was hard enough to know she could never be his true love, but he hoped they might resurrect their friendship. Simon had not prepared him for this personal despair that had descended over him.

However, she did not snatch her hand from his when he took it for a second time and allowed herself to be led out of the stable. He lifted her bodily and sat her on a mounting stone outside the stable and reckoned that if she did make a run for it, she wouldn’t get far before he caught up with her. He led his horse outside to saddle him. She watched but made no comment and he wondered where her thoughts were. Laudanum, he guessed.

Abel had come across the sidesaddle when he had tidied the tack room before Simon left. It was very old but had been well oiled in the past and was serviceable. He tightened the buckles and mounted, settling himself on the horse blanket behind the saddle and walked his horse towards her. She was watching him.

‘When did you last climb the fell?’ he asked.

Her eyes were blank. He leaned down towards her. ‘I can’t hear you. What did you say?’

She looked about her. ‘I want to get down.’

The stone wasn’t very high but he said, ‘Don’t jump. You’re too weak and you’ll hurt yourself.’ He offered his hand for support. ‘Come for a ride on the fell with me.’

She shook her head. ‘I want my medicine first.’

‘This is medicine. Stand up.’

‘Where is it?’ she demanded but she took his hand and scrambled to her feet on the mounting stone. ‘Where is it?’ she repeated.

‘It’s out on the fell. Will you come with me?’

He saw the alarm in her eyes and kept a firm grip on her hand. ‘Don’t be frightened.’

‘I – I can’t ride.’

‘I’ll be with you,’ he replied.

‘I don’t want to.’ She pulled at his hand but he held tight.

‘I’ll teach you. Turn around and I’ll lift you onto the saddle. You want your new medicine, don’t you?’

‘You’ll take me to it?’ she asked, turning and backing into his waiting hands.

‘I’ll show you it,’ he answered, hoisting her over the saddle.

She yelped as the pommel dug into her thigh, but quickly sank into position. ‘I don’t like it,’ she protested.

‘You will,’ he answered and took up the reins from behind her.

Her hands gripped his forearms and he could feel the rigidity in her body. ‘Relax. You are quite safe. You can’t possibly fall off while my hands have the reins. Hold onto them if you wish.’

He walked his horse slowly around the farmyard before he felt her body soften and relax. The sun had broken through the mist and the fells rose majestically in front of them. He headed his horse towards the fields behind the farm and spurred him to a canter.

She shrieked and his arms tightened around her.

‘Move with me. Gently does it. Feel the horse’s rhythm.’

‘Stop him!’ she yelled. ‘I want to get down!’

‘Don’t shout. You’ll frighten him. Keep your back straight.’

‘I can’t!’

‘You can.’ He continued with the canter.

‘Slow down, I’ll fall off!’

‘No you won’t. I’ve got you. Don’t resist him. You’re riding, not fighting.’

‘I want to go back.’

‘Not yet. My horse needs his exercise.’ He pressed his heels gently into the horse’s flanks and increased the canter, heading him around the field then across from corner to corner and side to side. The sun’s rays stroked his face.

‘Please take me back,’ Beth said every time they neared the gap in the wall where the gate used to be.

‘One last effort,’ he answered. ‘Hold on tight.’ He flicked the reins and increased the canter to a gallop.

‘No!’ she protested.

He tightened his arms around her, so that his elbows dug into her body. They rose and fell as one on the horse’s back. He could hear her panting with exhaustion and wondered briefly if he had taken her too far too soon. Simon had advised that a physical challenge would help her to fight. He doubted it himself as she was so weak but the physician insisted and Abel respected his advice. Eventually, he slowed his horse to a canter and turned his head towards the gateway and the farmyard. Beth had ceased her protestations and gone quiet. Her shoulders were sagging with fatigue and he hoped he had not over-exerted her in this first outing.

He slid from the horse and just caught her as she slumped towards him and her body draped limply over his shoulder. He lowered her feet carefully to the firm ground. Her head lolled and as he lessened his grip on her, her knees buckled.

‘Hold up, Beth. You’re down now. Stand straight.’

Her eyes focused briefly. ‘I can’t,’ she mumbled and crumpled in his arms.

Dear God, she had fainted. He had gone too far. He had reckoned without her ten years of lethargy under the influence of the laudanum. He should have known she had no reserves of energy, she was as light as a feather anyway and
although she ate some of the food he prepared for her, her appetite was not good. But as he carried her to the kitchen couch he noticed a delicate pink glow in her pallid cheeks and he was reminded of the healthy young girl she used to be. His heart swelled with hope that it was not too late to make her well again.

She was as mud-spattered as he was from where the horse had kicked up turf. He laid her on the couch and fetched the smelling salts from the kitchen cupboard. To his great relief they revived her and she opened her eyes. He offered her water, which she took.

Beth sat up with a groan, drank the water then wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

‘Feeling better?’ he queried.

‘No,’ she replied. Every aspect of her body was hurting and she needed her medicine. ‘Why did you do that to me?’

‘Dr Brady advised physical effort in the open air.’

‘He’s a monster. Did Edgar send him? Oh yes, I see now that Edgar will never come back to me. I am a burden to him and he wished to be free.’ Suddenly she was overcome by a genuine fear that she was right and Edgar wanted rid of her from his life and that he was prepared to leave her to rot, away from his aristocratic family. How long had she lived here, roaming the fell and slowly fading? Seven years? Ten? She had at times overheard the carrier telling Mrs Roberts Edgar had visited Settle to see his mother but came no further. ‘Does Edgar want me dead?’ she cried. ‘Has he sent you to do the deed? He’s going to kill me!’ She pulled the rug around her and squeezed up against the back of the couch. ‘You are a monster, too!’ she yelled. ‘You want me dead, don’t you? Edgar has sent you to kill me.’

Abel didn’t reply at first. She lashed out with her arms
but he caught them and held them tight in his grasp until she grew tired of the struggle and weakened in his arms. Then he whispered, ‘I want you well again. I shall not give up the fight until you are, and neither must you. You owe that to your children.’

‘My babies,’ she whined. ‘Where are my babies?’ But she felt calmer and her voice was tiny again. ‘I – I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t have your strength.’

‘I have strength for both of us and you must keep trying! You are through the worst!’

She fell back on the couch and closed her eyes. ‘It hurts,’ she wailed. ‘My head and body hurt and I am so, so tired …’

She was exhausted and he hoped she would sleep. He covered her with a warm blanket and went to draw water from the scullery. For the middle part of her ride he had believed she had enjoyed the fresh air on the fell. He remembered how she used to love the fells and as he did it stirred his passion for her. He was determined to take her out there again. But he acknowledged that, in his haste, he may have pushed her too far. No matter, he would make it up to her and prepare her for another ride tomorrow.

In Beth’s brief interludes of clarity she was determined to get well. But she did not seem able to sustain the effort. She needed help. She needed her medicine, just a little of it to see her through and she begged him to give her some. He wouldn’t and she hated him for that. Why wouldn’t he give it to her? It was the only aspect of life worth living for and if that was taken away for ever, what was there left? And then she remembered her children and Abel’s promise that he would find them for her. She believed him. She had to, for he was her only hope.

She woke from a sleep that had not been punctured by the demons and she surfaced slowly in the warm cocoon of a soft feather bed. She opened her eyes. It was daylight but gloomy and she was in Edgar’s bedchamber. She had no idea how long she had occupied this bedchamber or how her dressing robe and felt slippers came to be warming on the fireside chair. She was dressed in her work-a-day calico
petticoat and drawers. There was no sign of her gown or corset. Her head ached and when she tried to move her arms and legs, they screamed at her. She groaned. Everywhere hurt so much it was impossible to sit up.

A large fire burned in the grate, its flames licking the chimney back and lighting up dancing shadows on the walls. She swallowed. Oh Lord help her, it reminded her of a previous time, long ago, when she had been imprisoned on her back watching shadows over Edgar’s shoulders. She heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. Please God, don’t let it be Edgar! She couldn’t bear for him to come back now unless – her heart leapt – unless he had brought her medicine with him to take away the pain. She groaned again as she moved her limbs. Her aches were similar to those she suffered after a day scrubbing laundry and beating carpets for Mrs Roberts. She was stiff and weary, and she remembered why. The footsteps stopped outside the door for a moment before it opened and she recognised Abel’s tall figure carrying two buckets of peat. Not Edgar, but Abel. No humiliation but no laudanum either. Abel filled the fuel box wordlessly and went away. She lay there weakly and watched him.

He made the journey several times, bringing the tin bath from the scullery and then kettles and cans of hot water that he tipped into the bath. She watched the steam rising and once or twice he glanced in her direction. Finally he carried in a folding dressing screen from another bedchamber and set it around the bath.

‘It’s ready for you,’ he said. ‘I’ll be on the landing.’

She stared at the steam rising in front of the flames, fascinated by the patterns in the air. She attempted to sit up and found it impossible. Pain tore through every muscle and her joints
seemed to have ceased to move. She wanted her laudanum, but knew that asking for it would make Abel angry and she didn’t want to do that because – because she wanted to please him. She turned back her bedcovers. ‘Don’t leave. I need your help. Truly, I can barely move.’

He hesitated with his hand on the door handle. This was his fault, she thought irritably. He should not have made her ride so far.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I’ll carry you to the bath.’

He approached the bed and hesitated again. ‘You’ll have to take those off.’ He waved a hand ineffectually.

He meant her calico petticoat and drawers. They were so thick that they would absorb too much water and she would have none left to wash with. She nodded and lifted her arms. ‘Help me to sit up.’ He took her hands and swung her to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. But he did not turn his back and he watched as she fumbled with tapes. Then he took her hands so she could stand and let her undergarments fall to the floor. Her shoulders screamed at her as she pulled her chemise as far down as she could reach. ‘Thank you, I’m ready,’ she said and crossed her arms over her flimsily covered breasts.

She expected him to look away as he lifted her from the mattress. She remembered him as a respectful man in his behaviour towards women. But now she wasn’t so sure and she anguished that he had lost his good opinion of her. His eyes travelled all over her and she was the one to look away in embarrassment. She blushed but she was being lowered through the steam into the warm water before she had taken in the strength of his arms and roughness of his jacket. The water was still quite hot and she twitched a little as it made her skin tingle. But she did not complain
and relished the heat seeping through her joints. She let out a long sigh and wallowed.

All she wanted was to hand: soap, jugs of clean warm rinsing water, drying clothes, even a comb and some dressing for her matted hair. She pulled out the remaining pins and worked up a soapy lather with her hands. She inhaled the heat and realised that there was something aromatic in the water and coming off in the steam. She inhaled again and lay back against the cloths draped over the metal edges of the bath, gently massaging the lather into her hair. Her chemise floated on the surface and she punched it down with her fingers, tracing patterns in the bubbles. After she had rinsed away the soap, combed her long hair and wrapped it in a cloth, she lay back again and drifted away in an aromatic haze. When she opened her eyes, another jug of hot water had appeared beside the bath alongside a nightgown and a pair of felt slippers. She groaned as she hoisted herself to her feet and tipped one last rinse over her shoulders.

‘How are you feeling now?’

She jumped. Abel’s voice was much closer than she’d expected.

‘You said you’d wait on the landing.’

‘I changed my mind. I was afraid you might slip as you climb out.’

‘I have taken a bath before.’

‘Not in this state you haven’t. Sit by the fire until your hair has dried.’ He had placed a small stool near the fender.