Briar Patch (6 page)

Roz looked at the small pile of clothes on her bed. She'd heard that Carrie Blake had given birth on the night of the fete. There were some pretty things: lace blouses and underwear that Roz didn't need and a blue dress that should fit Carrie. She'd added a string of coral beads, a matching pair of earbobs and a paisley shawl.

Would Carrie accept them from her? The gift was late and perhaps too little, but it was all she could do to show how sorry she was. Roz hadn't understood until now. All the shock and anger had been against Dick Blake for killing her father. Now Roz understood her ordeal only too well.

Roz could hear a meadowlark trilling in the sky above her head and caught sight of rabbits munching on the lush grass. A herd of Herefords was out in the pasture, enjoying the spell of good weather rather than huddling together in the pen as they did throughout the winter. She'd never had much to do with the home farm as a girl because her mother said that ladies didn't, but she'd enjoyed seeing the young calves and the lambs in spring. She hadn't wanted to know what happened to them when they were taken off to market.

She'd been too sheltered, too pampered. Had she not been so shocked by Mr Harcourt's remarks about her father's behaviour she would not have gone walking alone that night. Well, she'd had a rude awakening. The reality of life had jumped up and smacked her in the face.

What was the good of weeping over spilled milk? She couldn't undo what had happened. She was what her mother would call a fallen woman. It was unlikely that she would make a good marriage now because any man that asked her must be told the truth.

Roz suddenly saw the huddle of buildings ahead of her and realized that she'd reached the Blakes' farm. The house was so much smaller than the hall, though it looked to have several bedrooms and was substantial. The farmyard was at the back. She could hear a cock crowing and other animal noises coming from the rear and there was a strong smell from the cowshed. At the front was a small garden where vegetables grew amongst a variety of herbs and roses. Someone liked flowers, but the garden had mainly been used to grow food.

Roz walked up the path to the front door and knocked. The answer was a while in coming. When she heard the sound of a bolt being drawn, she realized that the family probably used the back entrance. The door was drawn back warily and a woman's face appeared round the side.

‘Mrs Blake? You don't know me. I'm Roz Thornton and I've brought some things for Carrie – just a few clothes and a string of coral. I wanted to say . . .'

‘Who asked you to come here? Take your charity and go back where you belong, Miss Thornton. My Carrie doesn't need your cast-offs.'

‘Of course you're angry. I am very sorry for what happened to your daughter. If my father did what Carrie claimed, he deserved to be punished – though it was a pity your son didn't go to the magistrate instead of killing him.'

‘A pity, was it? The pity of it was my Dick was daft enough to go after him in front of everyone and get shot for doing something that needed to be done. Your father was a disgrace to his name. My Carrie wasn't the only one to suffer at his hands.'

‘I understand your bitterness. If I could I would do more but most of these things are unworn. I thought Carrie might like them.'

‘You thought wrong. Get off my land and take your blood money with you.'

Roz flinched as the door was slammed in her face. She ought to have expected something of the sort but that didn't stop her feeling humiliated. She turned back the way she had come, smarting at the injustice of the way she had been treated. It wasn't her fault Carrie had been raped and given birth to an illegitimate baby.

‘Miss . . . wait a bit . . .'

At first Roz ignored the cry and kept walking, but when it was repeated she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. She was surprised to see that Carrie Blake was running towards her, her long hair streaming in the breeze. Now that her body was no longer big with child, Roz could see how lovely she was – and how young. How could her father have raped her? Her eyes closed as she recalled her own humiliation. What must this girl have felt?

‘Miss . . .' Carrie gasped. ‘Ma shouldn't have spoken like that to you.' Her gaze went to the bundle Roz had wrapped in the paisley shawl. ‘That's pretty – is it for me?'

‘Yes. I brought you several things, including this shawl – but your mama would not allow me to give them to you.'

‘Ma's sharp sometimes.' Carrie's eyes lit up like a child's in a sweet shop. ‘Will you still give me them things, miss? You ain't mad at me, are you?'

‘No, of course not. I'm sorry my father did that to you – and that you had a baby. I know these things don't make up for what he did, but I thought you might like them?'

Roz handed Carrie the bundle. The girl dropped to her knees and untied the knot, examining the contents with cries of pleasure. She looked up at Roz.

‘Are all of these for me?'

‘Yes, of course. I haven't worn most of them, Carrie. The beads are coral and given to me by an elderly aunt years ago. They are worth a few pounds if you wished to sell them.'

‘No!' Carrie held on to the beads fiercely. ‘I ain't never going to sell them. I shall wear them under my dress so Pa doesn't see them and take them off me.'

‘Will your mother let you keep the things, Carrie?'

‘I'll hide them safe. She won't know. No one knows where I hide my treasures.'

Mrs Blake had made it clear she regarded the gift as charity and rejected it, but Carrie must have heard and followed. Roz hadn't the heart to refuse her and surely it could do no harm.

‘Well, you know best.' Roz paused, then: ‘I should like to see your baby one day, Carrie. Is she as pretty as you?'

‘Ma says she's perfect, better than me.' Carrie raised her head and looked Roz in the eyes. ‘Folk say I'm daft but I know what goes on, miss. I wanted a baby of my own and I've got one. Pa wants to give it away but Ma won't let him.' She gathered her things. ‘Thank you for these, miss.' She hesitated, then: ‘I take Milly for a walk in the mornings sometimes and I go down to the wild meadow. I could bring her tomorrow.'

‘Would you do that?' Roz smiled. Perhaps Carrie was a little simple but she certainly wasn't stupid. She liked her dreamy look and the smile that lit her eyes from inside. ‘I should like to see her if you don't mind, Carrie.'

‘I'll bring her tomorrow,' Carrie promised. ‘Thank you for the things, miss. I've never had pretty bits like them beads and the lace.'

‘You are very welcome.' Impulsively Roz moved towards her, kissing her on the cheek. ‘I shall walk to your wild meadow at this time tomorrow.'

‘Bye then, miss.' Carrie seemed to be looking beyond Roz and her eyes had lost their animation, becoming vacant as she stared into space.

Roz realized that she had switched off. She walked away, glancing back a couple of times. Carrie was still standing in the same place, clutching her bundle in her arms. Roz understood why people thought she was daft; she wasn't really, just different.

Some of Roz's anger had drained out of her but now she felt empty and lost. The future seemed grey and endless. What was she going to do with the rest of her life?

At least she was luckier than Carrie. Yet Carrie hadn't seemed resentful. She'd said she wanted a baby, which struck Roz as a little strange. Somehow that didn't fit with her story of being raped, but perhaps she only felt like that now she had the child. Her emotions must have been all over the place these past few months.

Roz would not have to face the same humiliation. Her womanly flow had started six days after the night she'd been raped. Had she been carrying Paul Richmond's baby, she might have killed herself. Her mother would never have forgiven her for bringing shame on them.

It was going to be hard living with just Lady Thornton for company. The move to the dower house would happen while Philip and Julia were on their honeymoon. Before that there was the wedding.

‘We shall stay with Julia's aunt for a few days,' Lady Thornton had told her daughter the previous evening. ‘Lady Mary is giving Julia a wedding reception as a gift. I had thought they might prefer to have the wedding here, but apparently Julia's aunt wants to have it at her home.'

‘That's kind of her, Mama – and will save you the trouble.'

‘As if I should grudge anything I do for my children. However, Julia is anxious to oblige her aunt and naturally Philip agreed. I shall arrange for our things to be moved while we are away and we'll return to the dower house.'

‘I suppose we couldn't let the dower house and take a house in Bath?'

‘Whatever are you thinking about?' Lady Thornton looked down her long nose. ‘I couldn't possibly afford to live in Bath. You must make up your mind to a quiet life at home with me – or find someone to marry.'

‘No one has asked me,' Roz reminded her mother. ‘I might have said yes had Mr Harcourt shown any interest – but he'd heard about Carrie Blake and I dare say he did not wish to be associated with our family.' His disapproval had made her uncomfortable at the dinner table.

‘Philip told me that her brother had the effrontery to enter the archery contest. He says you let him win the money – did you?'

‘I might have done. She was owed something.'

‘I do not know how you could say such a thing. After what happened, they should never have attended the fete. Philip should have sent him away instantly.'

‘Do you not think that might have caused more scandal?'

‘Please do not contradict me. Allow me to be the judge of what is proper.'

Roz let the argument go. Her mother would be angry if she learned that Roz had taken Carrie some clothes and the coral beads, but there was no need for her to know. Mama seemed to have put the blame entirely on the Blake family, though surely she must have known her husband's reputation. It seemed that her irritation was saved for her daughter, though Roz had no idea what she had done to deserve it.

It was nearly time for luncheon. Roz quickened her step as she reached her home. She was almost at the door when a gentleman came out, a smile on his face as he saw her.

‘Miss Thornton. Your mama said you had gone for a walk.'

‘Yes. It was such a lovely morning.'

‘I know you like to walk and to ride.' Harold Rushden hesitated. ‘Lady Thornton tells me you are moving to the dower house after the wedding. You will find it very quiet, I think?'

‘Yes, I dare say we shall. We must hope that Julia will invite us to dinner or a card evening now and then.'

‘Someone as lovely as you shouldn't be hidden away. As you know, I spend part of the year in London or Bath – if you married me you could hold your own evening parties whenever you wish. Without meaning to brag, I'm thought of as quite a respectable and wealthy man, Miss Thornton – or may I call you Roz? As my wife, you would be the mistress of two houses and have your own horses and rig.'

His proposal was so unexpected that for a moment she couldn't find the breath to answer.

‘Are you asking me to marry you, Mr Rushden?'

‘Yes, of course. Forgive me for being so clumsy. I'm a plain-spoken man, but I care for you – always have. I should be happy if you would take me.'

‘I hardly know how to answer you, sir. I was not expecting a proposal.'

‘Your brother knows my feelings. I thought he would have told you.' His dark eyes were intent on her face. ‘I know you're not in love with me. If you could bring yourself to be a proper wife to me, I would be satisfied with kindness and courtesy, which is what you'll get from me, Roz.'

The words of refusal were on the tip of her tongue. She had no right to accept his generous offer even if she wanted to marry him and in her heart it was the last thing she wanted. Yet what was she going to do if she refused him?

Roz studied her suitor. His features were heavy, his nose short and his jaw square, eyes closer together than she liked, but he was strong and healthy. He had a fine estate close by – and a townhouse. She would be able to live in London for several months a year. It was the life she had been taught to expect.

‘This has taken me by surprise, sir. Would you allow me a little time to consider?'

‘Take all the time you want,' he said and a look of relief spread over his face. ‘I thought you would turn me down flat.'

‘I'm grateful and . . . honoured that you asked,' Roz said. ‘If I give you my answer after Philip's wedding, will that be soon enough?'

‘Aye. Your brother invited me to the wedding but I shan't come. I'll send a gift and leave it at that – I won't badger you for an answer, Roz – and if it's no I'll understand. You might have done better if your father hadn't come to a sticky end. I've country manners and I ain't no oil painting.'

‘You shouldn't put yourself down,' Roz said and offered him her hand. ‘Just because some of our friends have fancy manners and live in town it doesn't mean they're better than you.'

‘Aye, well, I thought that fellow Richmond might have turned your head but he's no gentleman, Roz.' He held her hands between his big ones for a moment then released her.

‘When we return I shall send word.'

‘I'll know when you're back.' He walked on to where a groom stood ready with his horse.

Roz turned her head and watched him mount and ride away. Once upon a time she had thought she would rather remain unwed than marry him, but she had expected to have several offers. Now her chances were practically nil because her father had left the estate in such a desperate situation.