The Miller's Daughter (42 page)

‘I know it means telling her that we weren’t married when she was born and that, maybe, we’re not even now, but . . .’

Emma sighed heavily. ‘I really didn’t want her to have to know.’

‘She’ll have to sooner or later,’ he said reasonably. ‘It’s all part of growing up.’ He put his arm about her shoulders. ‘You can’t keep them
young and innocent. You can’t protect them for ever. And I seem to remember you saying not so long ago that there were worse things than being illegitimate.’

Emma nodded. ‘Yes, I did and I suppose you’re right.’ She laid her head against his shoulder. ‘But I dread telling her.’

He gave her shoulders a little squeeze. ‘We’ll do it together. Tonight.’

But by nightfall, Lottie still had not returned home and Emma was almost frantic with worry. ‘She must be with him. At his home – Bridget wouldn’t see
anything wrong in it.’

‘Didn’t you tell Bridget that you were going to stop them seeing each other?’

‘Well, yes, but she’s a very old lady now, William, and maybe—’

Emma made a sudden movement, snatched the keys to the truck from the hook on the back of the door, where they always hung.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Bridget’s.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘No, you stay here in case she comes home.’ She pulled open the back door. ‘I’ll phone you from there. I don’t think Bridget will be on the phone, but I remember
seeing a phone box outside the little shop in the village.’

Most of the houses were in darkness as Emma drove into Thirsby but as she drew up outside Bridget’s cottage she could see that a light still burned in the sitting room window. Emma walked
up the paved path to the low front door and rapped on it with the brass door knocker. She didn’t want to frighten the old lady at this time of night, but she had to find Lottie. She heard the
rasp of a bolt being pulled back and as the door opened, Emma opened her mouth to say, ‘Is she here? Have you seen Lottie?’ But the words never came and she merely stared at the person
standing there, her mouth gaping open. The blood pounded in her ears. Her legs trembled and threatened to give way beneath her.

‘You!’ She hardly recognized the strangulated croak as her own voice.

‘Hello, Emma,’ he said smoothly, almost as if he had been expecting her. ‘How are you?’

‘How . . .? How am I?’ Her composure was returning a little, but with it came an almost uncontrollable anger. ‘How dare you? How dare you stand there and ask me how I
am?’

His hair was a little grey at the temples and the neat moustache was liberally peppered with white hairs. The handsome face had a few more lines than she remembered and there was a purple tinge
to his nose, but it was still the same charming, smooth-talking Leonard; the man who was perhaps, she supposed with a sudden shudder, in the eyes of the law, still her husband.

‘Do come in.’ His grin broadened and his eyes glittered. It was a look she remembered well. Oh, how very well she remembered that expression. He was up to something, she knew. He
had
been expecting her.

In the sitting room, he said, ‘Please sit down. Can I get you a drink?’

Emma ignored his offer and the question she had been going to ask Bridget burst from her lips. ‘Where is she? Where’s Lottie? And don’t pretend you don’t know anything
about it.’

The smirk on his face sent a shiver down Emma’s spine. ‘I wouldn’t pretend with you, my dear Emma.’

He sat down with a nonchalant air of satisfaction that Emma found more disturbing, more frightening, than she had ever felt of his anger, his swift changes of mood.

She sank down on to the sofa, her gaze fixed upon him. ‘You do know where my daughter is, don’t you, Leonard?’ she asked quietly now.

‘She’s quite safe, Emma, my dear. I wouldn’t harm her. In fact, I’d do everything in my power to keep her very safe. After all, she’s part of my family.’
Sarcasm lined his tone.

‘What – what do you mean? She’s no relation to you.’

‘Oh no?’ His lips stretched and his eyes narrowed. ‘Perhaps not a blood relative, no, but very soon, she’ll be my
daughter-in-law
.’

Emma felt the blood draining from her face and the room seemed to tilt. She put her hand to her head and lay back against the cushions. She felt Leonard pushing a glass into her hand.

‘Here, have a sip of brandy. I never took you for the fainting type, Emma.’ There was little real concern in his tone, but she took the brandy and sipped it. The sharp taste revived
her and warmth crept back into her. She had never felt this way in the whole of her life and then she remembered that she had not eaten since lunch time and it was now almost midnight.

‘Leonard, what do you mean? Where is Lottie? Please tell me.’

It went against the grain to have to beg anything of this man, but her maternal love for her daughter made her bury her pride.

‘Micky and Lottie have gone away to be married.’ His lip curled. ‘And then one day, the mill will be Micky’s.
My
son will own Forrest’s Mill.’

Emma gasped. ‘So that’s what all this is about.’

‘Yes, it is. I’ve waited a long time to get my revenge on your old man – and you for that matter. I came back here, you know, after the war.’

‘Came back? When?’

‘VE day, when the village was having one big party in the market place. I saw you with him, with Metcalfe, and I saw your little girl. I knew then I couldn’t come back. It was too
soon after the war to be safe. I wouldn’t have put it past Metcalfe to turn me in.’

‘Turn you in? Oh, you mean because you’d deserted?’

‘Desertion in the field was a serious crime. There was this big push, you see. It was chaos, absolute hell. More than half my unit were killed. I was in a crater with only one other feller
left alive and he was in a bad way. I’d had enough. So, I left my dog tags on a body that was so smashed up it was unrecognizable and I legged it out of there. I roamed around France for a
while and then I met Helen. She was trying to run her small farm single-handedly. Her husband had been in the resistance and had been shot by the Germans. I worked on the farm and eventually
– ’ he grinned now, ‘moved in with her. It was the perfect cover until the war was well and truly over.’

Emma was only half-listening but enough had penetrated her stupefied brain to ask, ‘So why have you come back here now?’

His face was suddenly ugly. ‘I want what is rightfully mine. I never could stand to be beaten, not at cards, nor in a deal, not at anything.’ The sudden smile was vulpine. ‘By
the way, it was very good of your lover-boy to restore the mill for me. I must remember to thank him personally.’

Anger gave Emma back her strength. She leapt up, standing over him, shaking her fist in his face. ‘You’ll never get my mill, Leonard Smith. Over my dead body—’

‘That’s exactly how I will get it, or at least how Micky will. It’s not that I want to live in it, or run it. I’m doing quite nicely in the Midlands. Oh no,’ he
stood up slowly and stood close to her, ‘I just want to see justice done.’

‘Justice?’ Emma hissed. ‘What about you? What about you, the deserter? There ought to be justice in that.’

His smile was confident. ‘There was a case two years ago where a man was brought to trial for desertion in the war. They’d only just traced him. The case was dropped. Lack of
evidence. And with a name like mine? Smith? Who could possibly prove anything?’

‘I could. I’ve got the telegrams and the letters from the War Office.’

‘And I’d tell them I came back after the war to find you had married another man while I was serving my country. You’d be had for bigamy.’

Suddenly, it was a war of nerves, a battle of wills.

‘What about you? Haven’t you married Helen?’

He laughed. ‘Oh no. We’re not married. And neither are you, Emma, my dear. At least – not to Metcalfe.’

She tried another tack. ‘Lottie – and Micky – they can’t get married. They’re too young. They need parental permission.’

Leonard’s smile was a sneer. ‘Never heard of Gretna Green, Emma? They’re on their way there right now. On a train bound for the Scottish border.’

‘I’ll go after them. I’ll stop it . . .’ Her voice rose and they heard a creak of floorboards from the room above them.

‘That’s Mother. Damn it, Emma, you’ve woken her.’

‘I’ll wake the whole bloody village, if I have to,’ Emma screamed, deliberately now. ‘You’ll not get away with this, Leonard!’

They both heard the querulous voice from the top of the narrow stairs. ‘Who’s there? Leonard, are you there?’

He opened the door of the sitting room and called out to her. ‘Go back to bed, Mother.’ But Emma grabbed his arm, pulled him out of the way and pushed past him into the narrow
hallway.

‘Bridget.’ She looked up the stairs to see the old woman standing there, her hair ruffled, her thin bare feet poking out from beneath her long cotton nightdress.

‘Emma?’ There was surprise in her tone. ‘Is that you?’ She started down the stairs. ‘Whatever are you doing here?’

Behind Emma, Leonard said harshly. ‘Mother, go back to bed. It has nothing to do with you.’

With asperity, Bridget said, ‘Be quiet, Leonard. I’ll not be ordered about in my own house,’ and moments later she was downstairs demanding an explanation, quite unaware of the
unusual appearance she was presenting to Emma. Without her make-up and the blonde hair that was, Emma realized now, a wig, the old woman actually did look the age she must be. Her own hair was thin
and wispy white and her face was lined with tiny wrinkles. Without the frilly, high-necked blouses or dresses she always wore to hide it, Emma could see now that the skin around her neck sagged in
folds. But her eyes were bright and knowingly sharp.

‘Come along, Leonard. I’m waiting.’

Emma dragged her gaze away from Bridget back to Leonard and then back and forth between them. ‘Do you mean you don’t know what’s going on, Bridget? Does she?’ This to
Leonard, then she turned back to Bridget, ‘Do you know where Micky and Lottie are?’

‘I know where Micky is. He’s gone on one of these survival courses. He’s camping somewhere in the Lake District.’ Now Bridget stared at her son. ‘Isn’t
he?’

‘According to Leonard,’ Emma said, ‘Micky and Lottie are on their way to Gretna Green to be married.’

Bridget gasped, her wrinkled hand fluttering to her throat. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. They can’t. They’re only children. Can’t you stop them, Leonard?’

Emma bent over her and said slowly and deliberately, ‘Apparently, it was all Leonard’s idea – to get his hands on Forrest’s Mill.
My
mill. But if he thinks that,
he’s got another think coming.’ Now the initial shock of seeing her husband once more, of learning of his devious manipulation of her young and naive daughter, had worn off, Emma was
once more in control of her emotions and her resolve. She faced Leonard. ‘No one,
no one
, will ever take my grandfather’s mill from me.’

Leonard smirked and said with a confidence that sent a fresh sliver of ice down her spine. ‘Even you can’t live forever, Emma – ’ he paused and then added pointedly,
‘
Smith
.’

Emma drove through the darkness back to Marsh Thorpe. There had been nothing more she could do. Not even Bridget could move her son to put a stop to his plans.

Emma had spoken briefly to William from the call box outside the village shop, reassuring him that she had found out what had happened, that Lottie had come to no physical harm.

‘But what is it? Where is she?’ Even down the crackling telephone wire, she could hear the anguish in his voice.

‘I can’t explain now. I’m coming straight home.’

He was waiting for her in the yard, holding a storm lantern. Almost before she had pulled the vehicle to a halt, he was opening the driver’s door. ‘Are you all right? Where’s
Lottie? Isn’t she with you?’

Stiffly, Emma climbed down. Tiredness washed over her in waves. She put her arms about William and leant her head against him. ‘Oh, Em,’ he said huskily. ‘What is it?
What’s happened?’

She lifted her head and said wearily. ‘Come inside and I’ll tell you everything.’

When she had finished, William ran his hand distractedly through his hair. ‘What ought we to do? Tell the police?’

Emma covered her face with her hands and groaned, ‘I don’t know. I just don’t know what to do. Will the police help in a case like this?
Can
they?’

‘I’m not sure. I would have thought so.’ He came and put his arms around her. ‘Look, let’s not panic yet. She’s obviously with Micky. He’ll look after
her.’ He paused and then added, as if seeking reassurance himself. ‘Won’t he?’

‘Oh yes, he’ll look after her. That I do know. They want her alive and well and married to Micky,’ she finished bitterly.

‘You think young Micky’s in on it all then?’

‘He must be. Oh, I know he’s not planned it. That’s Leonard. But he must know what’s going on. He must be party to it.’

‘Mm.’

She looked at him. ‘You’re not sure, are you?’

He sighed heavily and shrugged his shoulders. ‘I suppose you’re right. It’s just – well – a disappointment, that’s all. I actually liked the lad.’

‘Yes,’ Emma murmured. ‘I think that’s the worst part. So did I. I daren’t think what Lottie will do. She’s crazy about him. It’ll break her heart. But
she’s young. Maybe it’s only infatuation. She’ll get over it.’

William ran his finger gently down her face, tracing the line of her cheek. ‘Will she?’ he said huskily. ‘Can you be sure of that? I never got over my youthful infatuation. She
was – is – the love of my life.’

Emma closed her eyes but the tears still squeezed out and trickled down her cheeks. ‘Oh William.’

They went to bed for a couple of hours but there was no sleep for either of them. They lay in each other’s arms. There was no passion, merely a mutual comfort.

‘I’d better go and tell Sarah,’ Emma said heavily about eight o’clock. ‘Lottie always nips across to see them before catching the bus to school. Sarah will be
watching out for her. I can be back for nine to open the shop.’

Emma felt as if her feet were leaden as she walked across the yard and through the orchard. Then she stopped. Sarah was standing beneath the trees, a short distance from the wooden hives,
watching the comings and goings of her beloved bees. ‘You know,’ she said without looking round, ‘they seem very excited this morning. Now, I wonder what’s going
on?’