Abigail Moor (13 page)

“That I will
never tell you for they would finish you off, one way or another.
You on your own are in no position to harm them or their
reputation, but they could destroy you as they did your mother. To
protect you, that secret will go to the grave with me, so don’t
waste your breath asking me again. I mean that, Abigail.” Martha
stared at her and there was a determination in her eyes that was
absolute.

Martha had a
defiant look on her face that Abigail had seen many times over the
years. It was one that meant there was no use pressing the point.
Abigail left it there. Her maid had dropped any attempt at calling
her Mrs Moor and it felt to Abigail that her soul was laid bare.
She didn’t accept what Martha had said in entirety; however, she
had to for the moment. Besides, enough of her personal situation
had been revealed to these two strangers.

“So what
happened to my mother, Martha? Surely, I have a right to know
that?” Abigail was filled with frustration. There were people
living their lives still twenty years after they had destroyed her
mother’s reputation and it appeared that nobody had brought them to
justice.

“She died,
love.” Martha could not look at her.

“In
childbirth?” Abigail’s heart felt as though it would break.

“Afterwards,
lass... It was not your fault, none of it. Abigail, your mother
would have been extremely proud of you and she could not have found
you a better home than the one you have shared with Lord
Hammond.”

“Yes, she
could. I could have been with her,” she said.

Her recently
purchased mourning coat now seemed most fitting. She slowly
repeated one word over and over again in her mind – Grace, what a
lovely name. If ever she was fortunate enough to have a baby girl,
conceived and born of love, it would be called ‘Grace’. This she
promised her dead mother, who for the first time in Abigail’s life,
had a name and was somehow now very real to her. Abigail was not
pleased with Martha and she showed it by stepping back outside.

“Mrs Moor,
would you care to walk a few minutes before we resume our
journey.”

Abigail’s mind
was still trying to digest the information she had just been told.
It had shaken her and her understanding of who she was. However,
her spirits lifted as she heard Joshua’s voice. He was so
considerate and caring she thought. She looked up at him and
smiled.

“That would be
lovely. Is your leg a little bit stiff?” she asked hoping that it
was not an inappropriately personal question, but had noticed he
was limping slightly.

“It tends to
play up after being in one position for too long. Mrs Moor, if it
is not indelicate of me to ask, how long ago did you lose your
husband?” He stared down at her as she stopped, unsure how to lie
so blatantly to this honourable and kindly man.

She did not
want to deceive him further, but was now committed to her
subterfuge. It was then she looked to see Martha and Molly both
looking for them as the postilion had announced he wanted to
continue with the journey.

“Oh, we are
needed,” she said and started to make her way back. She was aware
of Joshua walking at her side but did not answer his question.

They boarded
and Abigail was keen to steer the conversation away from herself
and her ‘dead’ husband. “What trade did you refer to Martha?”
Abigail asked naively.

“Smuggling,
contraband, it’s a thriving business around these parts,” Martha
explained and Joshua nodded.

“You heard this
from Ezekiel?” Abigail asked bluntly.

Martha lifted
her eyes slowly to meet Abigail’s. “He’s my old friend Ezekiel.
He’s a good man and honest too.”

“Oh, cheer up,
Martha. Look on it as an adventure, a chance to see the sea.”
Abigail tried to lift the conversation and inject some feeling of
hope.

She looked at
the gentleman and the girl in front of them. “You two are on an
adventure are you not?”

Joshua glanced
back at Abigail. “Life tends to be one long one...”

“You’ll excuse
me if I don’t quite share your enthusiasm, ma’am,” Martha’s reply
was terse, but the girl’s eyes were full of life and mischief.

“Honestly,
Martha, sometimes I think you have no faith.” Abigail’s retort
caused her maidservant to take in a sharp breath then burst into a
fit of laughter.

“You amaze me,
miss… Mrs Moor.” Martha wiped a tear away from her eye as her laugh
subdued to a chuckle. “It is easy to have faith when all your
creature comforts are met, and your bed is dry and comfortable.
Let’s see how far it goes when your room smells of the damp and the
bugs bite you in your sleep – if you can get any, that is!”

“So, are you
saying that only the rich can afford to have a faith and that all
others must live in despair?” Abigail quipped back at Martha.

“No, I’m not
saying that either! How you twist my words, Mrs Moor!” Martha
flushed as she looked up at Joshua who appeared to be amused by
their disagreement.

Abigail stared
at her flustered maid. She had cracked through her normally capable
exterior and hit a raw nerve.

“Look, save
that sort of thinking for folks who have time to dwell on such
things. What I’m trying to advise you, Miss..es Abigail, is that we
have to look out for ourselves, our own future, in case things
don’t go right with ...things... That’s all I’m saying. It’s a
cruel world out here.”

“But I shall
learn, Martha. I am quick of wit, and I am far from weak.” Abigail
saw her maidservant smile, then she patted Abigail’s shoulder as if
comforting the young child she once was.

“Aye - that you
are. So if we get into trouble you can think your way out of it,
whilst I get a job that pays us some coins to buy our food and
provide a roof over our heads.”

Joshua let a
chuckle escape whilst Martha looked out of the window; Abigail
guessed she was smirking.

“Apologies,” he
offered, not very convincingly.

Abigail felt
her cheeks flush. The stranger who had helped the street urchin,
limped slightly and obviously must be in some degree of pain and
discomfort, seemingly suffered in silence, yet had such warmth of
character in his face when he smiled. He now knew that she had
limited means and was vulnerable in some way. Yet, she had no fear
of him.

“If it comes to
that, ‘if’ mind it does, then I shall find suitable work also. I
shall not sit back and idle away the day whilst you labour,
Martha.” Abigail was annoyed when Martha did not acknowledge, what
to her, was a magnanimous gesture. After all she had never expected
to have to become a servant in any form. She was raised as a lady,
she was told that was what she was. So was it her fault if life had
turned itself around on her and now she was the one who had no
home, father or settled future?

Abigail broke
the silence. “You are not kidnapping this girl, obviously. Are you
therefore rescuing her in some way?”

“Yes, I am
saving her from a fate that many a vulnerable young woman has
befallen.”

“Why?” Martha
asked.

“Martha!”

“No, it is a
fair question. Because of the children in the village back there,
because of the dead fathers, brothers, uncles and lovers who do not
return to look after their children. Or because a bullet in my leg
turned my brain soft.”

“Then let us
help each other,” Abigail said.

Joshua
nodded.

“We are indeed
friends in need, sir,” Abigail remarked. She longed to ask about
the bullet, the circumstances and take him and the girl to the
sanctuary of her home. Instead, he may learn more of her troubles
and she dreaded what he would think of her as a result. She cared
about that, which surprised her.

The landscape
would soon change as the sky darkened and they ascended from the
Vale of York by the steep road to the open moor that would lead
them to the coast.

Abigail was
glad when the post chaise finally neared the coast. She was as
excited as a child as she had never seen the sea. She peered across
the countryside where, in the distance, a grey blue mass of water
could be seen. The air was different; it smelt of salt and was
fresher than the air in the city. The distant call of gulls was
proof that they were nearing their destination. In the far distance
she could see the ruins of an old abbey standing majestically on
the headland.

“Look, look!”
Molly stared excitedly back at Martha.

“Yes, I see
it.” Martha’s voice was flat, with absolutely no enthusiasm.

Abigail looked
at her and could only see gloom in the woman’s face.

“What is it?
Surely it is good to be back here? You must have come from here,
didn’t you? Martha, is this your home town?” Abigail stared at her,
waiting for a reply. At first there wasn’t one.

“My Tobias died
when I was only newlywed. He was a fisherman and there was an awful
storm. I was so pleased to leave this place and thought I never
need come back here again. It has brought me nothing but bad luck.
I fear nothing has changed. It’s not a place where I want to be for
long.”

“I’m sorry
about your Tobias, Martha. I never knew you were married. But then
there is so much I have never been told, that I need to know. I’m
sure that once you have returned and faced your pain it will no
longer be so great.” Abigail squeezed Martha’s hand.

Martha pulled
it away from her. “You’re only a child. You have no idea. The pain
is always there, it never goes away. Now, I have to live with it
again, night and day. I am supposed to look on that treacherous sea
and see what? Beauty or the murderous destroyer of maidens’ hearts?
There is evil here. It feeds on the sick, the poor and those who
grieve, and you who know nothing tell me what it will be like. God
help us!” Martha snuffled.

“Yes, if we ask
Him, I’m sure He will. There is evil everywhere; here the sea
claims lives, at the manor Frederick would claim ours. We have no
choice, but at least here you know the place, the past and the
dangers. Together we can survive, just don’t give into this maudlin
spirit of gloom, Martha. Be strong, like I am.” Abigail tilted her
head up. She saw Joshua’s face look upon her with what would appear
apprehension or concern, but his mouth was set. He did not intend
to contradict her and for that she was grateful, because she needed
to believe her own words. She saw Martha’s look of disbelief, as if
seeing her anew.

“Yes, I believe
you are. But Abigail, you have no idea of what may lay ahead of us,
only what lies behind. You have led a cherished life.”

“Yes, Martha, I
do know. The future lies ahead and at this present moment it seems
a lot clearer than my past.”

She then saw
Joshua smile.

The chaise pulled up in front of a large hotel opposite the
harbour’s side. Abigail was filled with excitement; this same
feeling was mirrored in the eyes of Molly. She entered the vibrant
bustling port in awe. New buildings were being added to the west
side, whilst the older town on the east side was a huddle of houses
clinging to the steep side of the headland. Red pantiled roofs
appearing higgledy piggledy were overlooked by an old church and
the abbey’s stark ruins.

The two halves
of this busy whaling port were joined together by a wooden swing
bridge. The sea crashed and roared, the gulls kwaarked noisily
overhead. Fishermen tended their boats, women and children did a
myriad of chores and all seemed to be a swirl of activity.

Abigail
alighted from the chaise and breathed the fresh bracing air. No one
paid them any attention as vendors hustled with fishermen and
passengers alike. Martha stepped down and shivered. Her shoulders
were rounded, they drooped as if she had been overwhelmed by her
troubled memories and she seemed barely able to look at the harbour
side, turning her back to the open expanse of the German Ocean.
Instead, she waited whilst two leather bags were placed on the
ground in front of them. Martha pulled at one and was about to say
something to the driver when Abigail stopped her and spoke boldly
to the man.

“Thank you for
a comfortable journey.” Before she could offer him a coin, Joshua
stepped up and offered him extra coinage.

“Thank you,
sir,” he answered cheerfully, pocketing them quickly, obviously
pleased with his generosity.

They all
entered the inn, Abigail stared around the entrance. She sipped the
tea they had ordered and waited patiently for their meal to be
brought to them. Once eaten, they were all very grateful to be able
to retire to their rooms.

At breakfast Martha whispered to Abigail. “What do you think you
are playing at? We are supposed to be losing ourselves in this
awful place, not sitting here in public, bold as brass.”

“Mind your
language please, Martha.” Abigail saw her tense. She was surprised
that Martha had adopted the relatively new term so easily; she
normally hankered after older slang. Abigail looked up at the
ceiling with an attitude of despair.

Joshua
surprised her further when he addressed her. “May I suggest, Mrs
Moor that Martha eats and then she could take young Molly with her
for a breath of fresh air? Find her some decent clothes, if
possible. I would like to talk to your mistress.” Joshua seemed to
have Martha’s approval as she nodded.

“Well, what
better way to lose yourself, Martha, than in a good cause. Our
young friend here is in trouble also. You could seek out our
accommodation at the same time.” Abigail smiled at the girl,
although the response was not as instant as Abigail had hoped. It
seemed, whereas Molly took to Martha, she distrusted Abigail, that
was clear to see.

“Lady
Fenton-Grange. If you come straight through we will have your
favourite meal served forthwith.” The owner greeted the lady who
had alighted from her fine coach. He was almost bowing as he took
each step. She had such bearing and confidence, that Abigail was
quite lost in admiration.