The Lost And Found Girl (37 page)

Read The Lost And Found Girl Online

Authors: Catherine King

Tags: #Sagas, #Historical, #Fiction

BOOK: The Lost And Found Girl
3.48Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

‘You’ll frighten the pony,’ he said with a half laugh. ‘I’ve come to talk about Joseph.’

‘What for?’

‘Well, what do you think of him?’

‘I don’t like him.’

‘Why not? Mr Stanton thinks well of him. Apparently, a lot of the Abbey housemaids would change places with you.’

‘Well, why doesn’t he marry one of them instead of me?’

‘Come on, Daisy. You’ll have your own little house on the estate and enough money to live on.’

‘You said I didn’t have to wed if I didn’t want to!’ she cried. ‘Why are you trying to persuade me otherwise?’

‘Don’t shout at me. I’m trying to do what’s best.’

‘But it’s not what’s best for us, is it? It’s what’s best for Master James.’

‘Believe me, Daisy, it’ll be better for all of us!’

‘Now who’s shouting? Why have you changed your mind?’

‘We have to let each other go. Don’t you understand? My duty is to see you safely wed and – and you have to let me—’

He did not finish his sentence but she understood perfectly. She realised what this was all about. ‘I’m a burden to you, aren’t I? You want me off your hands.’

‘No, of course I don’t.’

She didn’t believe him. She knew her brother. She was watching his eyes and he didn’t mean it. ‘Then why—’ she began. ‘—Oh yes, I see now.’ All of a sudden her world tumbled around her. Boyd had met someone he cared for. He needed to see his sister safely settled before he declared his own love. ‘You have a sweetheart,’ she said. Daisy wondered who she was.

‘I don’t, I don’t,’ he anguished. ‘I wish I did, truly I do.’ He took a deep breath and recovered his composure. ‘Daisy, you are very attractive but you have a strong will that gets you into trouble and I worry for you. I have tried to do my best by you, but I cannot be mother and father to you. You must marry.’

Daisy didn’t understand the whole of what he was saying to her and pleaded, ‘Why must I?’

‘Because I say you must! Daisy, my precious Daisy, the
Abbey owns this village. It owns the shop where you work and it owns me. I have a good position in the stables. Will you at least make an effort to like Joseph? For me?’

She hadn’t realised Boyd was quite so concerned. It wasn’t just about her. The Farrows had said as much. It was about both of them, his future, her future, their future. She sighed. There wasn’t going to be a future with just her and Boyd. That was what he was trying to say to her. They had to make lives separate from each other. The realisation depressed her and her mood became gloomy. But she would be letting Boyd down if she refused to go along with his wishes. ‘Very well,’ she replied. ‘For you, I’ll try. He is coming for tea after the hunt next week.’

The church clock chimed the hour.

‘I have to get back before dark,’ Boyd said and secured one foot in a stirrup. He swung up onto the pony’s back. ‘Remember I shall always love you, little sister.’

She nodded wordlessly. There were tears in her eyes but she blinked them back and she waved him away. As she hurried home to Mrs Farrow with nutmeg for the pork pie fillings she realised that she must be practical about her future. She had been fanciful to ever imagine a romantic liaison with Master James. Boyd had advised her from the beginning to be wary of the young master. He was an aristocrat and they did things differently.

The pie cases were waiting, lined up on the kitchen table. The larger ones had a strip of strong brown paper tied round with string to stop the sides sagging in the oven. Bowls of filling stood waiting on the dresser and the smell of bones boiling for the jelly filled her nostrils. Mr Farrow had gone to the inn and Mrs Farrow was upstairs having a lie down, so Daisy was left alone with her thoughts to finish the pies.

Aristocrats didn’t wed servants. They used them for – for – the word tightened around her heart – fornication. But Master James did not want her for that. He had said so to her face and she believed him because – because she loved him. The steward might be trying to prevent a scandal, but Boyd, dearest Boyd, was trying to protect her from making a fool of herself with Master James. Had she already done that by their brief exchanges and – and by agreeing to meet him in the hayloft tomorrow? Even now, after all Boyd had told her, she was excited by the prospect. Master James wanted to see her!

James had said he didn’t care what others thought and he would do as he wished. He wished to become more acquainted with her. He was attracted to her as much as she was to him. She had to see him tomorrow. She had to. When she dreamed of this, all rational thought fled from her head, all sensible caution was carried away. There was something wholly irresistible about Master James that fired her in a stirring and passionate manner. And that of course, she realised miserably, was the danger.

But she was strong. Did not folk say that to her? Well, strong-willed anyway. But was she strong-willed enough to turn away from Master James when every fibre of her being was urging her to welcome his advances? Perhaps he would not be there, in the hayloft, tomorrow? Perhaps Mr Stanton had spoken with him as firmly as he had done with her? And perhaps Master James had ignored his advice as she did?

The first meeting of the New Year was one of the biggest, drawing in villagers and townsfolk alike. Anyone with a connection to Redfern, if they owned or could hire a suitable mount, was invited to hunt. Mr Farrow’s son from the
farm was there and, to Daisy’s surprise, so was Mr Shipton, smartly turned out on a fine black hunter. He cantered over to say good day to Mr and Mrs Farrow who were hovering on the perimeter in their trap.

‘You ride to hounds, sir,’ Mr Farrow boomed.

‘I was a farmer before I became a stock dealer and your son secured me an introduction. Are you enjoying the spectacle, Mrs Farrow, Daisy?’

‘We are, sir,’ Mrs Farrow replied.

Daisy avoided his eye but was forced to look at him when he addressed her. ‘Mr Farrow was telling me about your brother last night. I hope I shall meet him later.’

Why would he be interested in Boyd? Daisy felt uneasy. He must know who they were and where they came from! He was from Father after all and, no doubt, after Boyd’s wages too. Her desolation deepened and she was pleased to be occupied selling pies from the back of the trap. But as the morning wore on and the cacophony of hunting horn, calling and barking receded into the distance her mood began to lift. Every minute took her nearer to James.

‘I’ll take the rest of the pies to the stables as before, shall I?’ she suggested.

‘I suppose you may. We don’t want them going to waste. Don’t be late for tea.’

‘My brother will make sure of that, ma’am.’

‘Well, Joseph is expected at five and you want to look your best.’

‘I have laundered my lace collar and cuffs ready.’

‘That’s the spirit, my girl,’ Mr Farrow responded. He held the reins steady while she climbed down with her basket. ‘All the pennies you make today will go towards your bottom drawer.’

‘Oh, you are so generous, Mr Farrow,’ his wife gushed.

The stables were quiet as many of the servants were following the hunt. She left her basket on the mounting stone by the pony stables. The horses were out and she wandered from empty stall to empty stall then went outside to wait for Master James. She noticed him on the edge of the woods taking off his riding hat and swapping jackets with one of the stable lads who was holding his horse. She slipped inside the pony stable door out of sight and was lingering in the dark interior when he arrived. He stood at the foot of the hayloft ladder with the jacket hooked casually over his shoulder and called, ‘Daisy, are you up there?’

‘Over here.’

‘What are you doing hiding in the shadows?’ He flung the jacket on a pile of clean straw, crossed the swept floor and put his arms around her, dropping kisses on her hair. ‘I thought you might not be here.’

‘I haven’t long.’ Any further conversation was lost in an embrace that squashed the breath out of her, along with all her resolutions to reject his aristocratic advances.

He lifted his head and tipped her chin so she was looking directly into his eyes. ‘What’s wrong?’ He had undone his waistcoat and now he unwound his necktie and opened the top buttons of his shirt. She noticed a spring of dark hair curling at his throat. He took out a small package wrapped in white silk and tied with a narrow red ribbon. ‘You’re not happy,’ he stated, taking hold of her hand. ‘Come and sit with me on the straw. Perhaps this will cheer you.’

He handed her the small soft package.

‘For me?’ She untied her gift carefully. Inside, neatly folded, lay three laced-edged handkerchiefs with beautifully
embroidered corners. ‘Oh,’ she breathed. ‘They’re daisies, how thoughtful.’ She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. ‘They are very pretty. Thank you.’ How would she explain them to Mrs Farrow? They would have to be her secret. She rewrapped them carefully in the silk and stowed them safely in her skirt pocket.

He sat on the straw stack and tugged at her hand to join him. She resisted an overwhelming urge to throw herself into his waiting arms. Oh, how she would have loved to feel his arms around her. But she replied, ‘I cannot.’

‘What has happened, Daisy? Why are you unhappy?’

‘I shall not be able to meet you after today.’

‘I don’t understand. Are you going away?’

‘No,’ she groaned with a choking sob. ‘I wish I were. I am to be married.’

‘Married? It cannot be. I shall not allow it.’

‘Oh, James, even you cannot stop this. You and I can never be together.’

‘Don’t say that!’

‘But it’s true! All this – this clandestine meeting is fanciful and – and – has no – no future.’

‘It is only secret from my guardian and soon he will be in a higher place. Truly, he does not have much longer. His physicians have advised me so and his lawyers have already written to my real father.’

‘And what will your real father say when he hears of our trysts?’

‘He has his own secrets and he will understand.’

‘It will all be too late,’ she cried. ‘I have a suitor. My brother approves and Mr Farrow has given his permission. Your steward’s wife is already planning the ceremony.’

‘Mrs Stanton is involved?’

‘My suitor is one of your footmen. He – he is to take tea with me after the hunt today.’

‘So this is Stanton’s meddling. I see that now. Well, I shall just have to put a stop to it, shan’t I?’

‘No!’ she cried. ‘You mustn’t!’ Her outburst caused him to frown irritably but she went on before he could protest. ‘Please don’t interfere. Mr Stanton has made my situation clear. If I do not marry I shall have to leave Redfern and Boyd will not let me go alone. He will lose his position and we shall both be homeless.

‘Mr Stanton? Mr Stanton? He is not Lord Redfern!’

‘But he is in charge of the servants. James, I beg of you, do not approach him. He will lay the blame at my door and Boyd will suffer. Hush! That might be him.’ She heard voices from outside and scurried to the door.

‘There you are, Boyd,’ Daisy said and stepped outside in the bright sunshine. ‘I’ve been looking for you in the stable.’

‘Thank goodness you’re here. Master James is about somewhere. One of the stable lads said his mare went lame. I’ve had a look at her but she seems fine to me. Still, it was sensible of him not to risk the hunt.’ He bit into one of her pies. ‘These are good. It was the last one, but you’ve got quite a few coins in your basket. Come on, I’ll walk part of the way to the village with you. I have something to ask you.’

Chapter 33

Daisy glanced back at the closed stable door once and it remained firmly shut. It was most likely to be the last time she would see James alone and her heart felt heavy. It was a silly fantasy of hers but, nonetheless, it was strange how they had both recognised a kindred spirit the moment they had set eyes on each other.

She wondered if she could forget him just as quickly. She thought not. He was under her skin. She did not understand how she could believe that she loved him when she hardly knew him. But she did. It was as though he were already part of her although they had not even kissed. And now she had to forget him.

She heaved a great sigh and said, ‘What is it you want to ask me, Boyd?’

‘Oh yes. What do you know about Abel Shipton? They say he’s a friend of Mr Farrow’s farming son.’

Daisy told him what she knew about his occupation and connections. ‘I think Father has sent him.’

‘Me too. He’s been asking me a lot of questions. He actually came looking for me during the hunt.’

‘He’s been to dinner with the Farrows a couple of times. He said I reminded him of someone.’

They walked for several yards in silence before Boyd went on. ‘He was questioning me about you, Daisy. He wanted to know personal things, like he – he might want to court you.’

‘Oh it’s definitely not that. He’s not interested in me in that way. He said so to Mr Farrow. Ask him, he’ll tell you.’

‘I don’t need to. I believe you. I asked him straight why he wanted to know. He wouldn’t say until he had spoken again with you, but he hinted that we might have relations in the Dales.’

A cold hand clutched to her heart. ‘Relations! He has been sent by Mother and Father, hasn’t he? You’re almost of age but I’m not.’ Daisy suddenly thought of a really good reason to marry Joseph.

‘I asked him the same question and he was vague. I didn’t know what to make of him. He seems a trustworthy sort of fellow most of the time. But I tell you, Daisy, he was quite secretive. I don’t like secrets as well you know. He wanted to know if we knew a vicar called Milo.’

Daisy shook her head at first and then remembered. ‘Wasn’t he the vicar when we were little and went to Sunday school? He upset Mother by moving to Leeds.’

‘Oh yes. I remember. Reverend Miles Milo. Mother said he married for money and secured a better living.’

‘She never mentioned any relations in the Dales. She would have done if we had any, wouldn’t she?’

‘Not if they weren’t the religious sort, or she thought they were common,’ Boyd answered.

Daisy lapsed into silence at the memory of her own parents. Eventually she said, ‘They must still be looking for us.’

Other books

Murder at Moot Point by Marlys Millhiser
Bloodtraitor by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes
A Quiet Flame by Philip Kerr
The Eleventh Plague by Darren Craske
Constant Touch by Jon Agar
Third to Die by Carys Jones
A Sterkarm Kiss by Susan Price