Melinda Hammond (13 page)

 Mrs Gatley gave a slight curtsey and awkwardly accepted Mrs Worsthorne's profuse expressions of gratitude while Luke strode across the room and dropped to his knees beside the settle.

 'Cousin! Thank God you are safe - are you hurt?'

 Verity noted his anxious look and did her best to reassure him. She held up her bandaged arm.

 'As you see. Mrs Gatley called out Dr Addingham and he has found nothing worse than a sprained wrist. He says however that he would rather I did not travel for a few days.'

 'The lad said they found you in the clough.'

 'Yes. Delphi bolted, and I was thrown.'

 'You could have been killed,' Luke muttered. 'Where is the mare now?'

 'She is stabled in the - the shippon, with the cattle. She is perfectly safe' added Verity, observing his sudden frown.

 'But she will be using up valuable winter fodder: I will take her back with me.'

 'What, tonight?' Mrs Worsthorne looked up, surprised.

 'But, Luke,' said Verity, 'The animals are bedded down for the night, you cannot want to disturb them now.'

 'I can assure the young master that the mare is in no-one's way,' put in Mr Gatley in his quiet voice. 'And a few days' feed won't harm us.'

 Verity looked at Luke, silently begging him not to offend the dignity of her kind host. At length Luke nodded.

 'Of course,' he said stiffly. 'I am most obliged to you, Mr Gatley.'

 'Verity, you are very pale, my love.' Mrs Worsthorne, peered closely at her Cousin.

 'I am a little tired, Megs. Pray don't worry. The doctor is confident I need only to rest for a few days.'

 'And you are satisfied with him?' asked Luke. 'Perhaps we should call out our own doctor…'

 'Thank you, Cousin, but I see no need. Dr Addingham seemed quite competent and he is to call again in two days' time to tell me if I am well enough to go home.'

 'If you are to stay then you must let me come over to nurse you!' declared Megs.

 Verity resolutely declined her kind offer and in this she was joined by Mrs Gatley who declared that Miss Shore was no trouble at all. A civil but protracted argument then ensued, which was only resolved when it was agreed that Verity's maid should come over every day to assist Mrs Gatley.

 'And be assured you're welcome to stay here for as long as Dr Addingham thinks it right,' said that good woman, twisting her hands together in her apron. 'Lord knows it ain't what you're use to, but …'

 Mrs Worsthorne made haste to assure her that there was nothing lacking in the cottage, and that she had never before seen such a well appointed room. She then declined Mrs Gatley's offer of refreshment, saying that they would have to return to Highclough while there was light enough to see their way.

 'I mean to come and see you tomorrow, if Mrs Gatley will permit? I shall bring Ella with me - she shall look out some clothes for you, too - and Luke will send the coach at dusk to bring the maid home.' Mrs Worsthorne stood back, pulling on her gloves while Luke leaned over the settle to plant a light kiss on Verity's brow.

 'Are you sure there is nothing I can bring you, Cousin?'

 'Nothing, thank you. I am very comfortable.'

 'Then what ails you, Verity?'

 Her eyes flew to his face.

 'You think me troubled?' she tried to keep her tone light. 'It is perhaps my dislike of being idle. Will you come again?'

 He squeezed her hand.

 'Of course. I would stay now, and sleep on the floor if you wish it!'

 Her ready smile appeared.

 'No, no, that would be most improper. See to your estate work tomorrow, and visit me again after Dr Addingham's visit - I am hopeful that he will say then that I can go home.'

* * * *

 When the visitors had gone, Mrs Gatley made Verity comfortable in her makeshift bed and left her to rest.

 'I shall be in the kitchen with Father and Jed, so you only has to call if you want me,' she said, straightening the covers around her patient.

 Assuring her that she would sleep, Verity waited until she was alone then reached under her pillow and pulled out the arrowhead. She asked herself why she had not told Luke about it. It was, she thought, because she feared to acknowledge even to herself that it could not have found its way under the saddle by accident. Someone had deliberately tried to harm her.

*

 The next day Verity realized the truth of the doctor's words as she stirred. Her joints ached at every movement, and she was glad to take a little laudanum to help her sleep through the morning. She smiled bravely during Mrs Worsthorne's visit, uttered her thanks for the fresh clothes that the maid had brought with her, but decided she would not get up that day. With Verity dozing on the settle, there was little Ella could do for her, and the maid spent the hours helping Mrs Gatley with household chores. As dusk approached, Ella helped her mistress into a fresh nightgown and tidied her hair before returning to Highclough. It was some time after the gig had collected the maid that the men of the house descended from their looms at the dinner hour. As they passed through the main room they spoke briefly to Miss Shore before making their way to the kitchen while Mrs Gatley helped Verity with her meal.

* * * *

 After dinner, the family settled down in the kitchen and Verity could hear the men's voices drifting through the open door, discussing wool prices, and whether their pieces would be ready to take to the Cloth Hall on Saturday. A clatter of hoofs in the yard and a loud rapping at the door interrupted their conversation. Sleepily Verity turned her head to see Mr and Mrs Gatley coming out of the kitchen. The woman stood back as her husband put his hand on her arm.

 'It's all right, Mother. I'll do it.'

 In a leisurely fashion he stepped across to the door and pulled it open. A muffled figure filled the doorway.

 'Good evening, Gabriel. I beg your pardon for calling so late.'

 Verity's eyes flew open, her pulse began to race as Mr Gatley stood back to let Rafe Bannerman step into the room. His great-coated figure seemed to fill all the space and she felt a hot panic rise and block her throat. She was not ready - she would not see him! If she had been at Highclough, a servant would have announced the visitor and she could have made her excuses, but here in this farmhouse there was no escape, Mrs Gatley was already greeting the visitor warmly, dropping a curtsey and offering him refreshment. He was obviously well-known to the family.

 'Thank you ma'am, a cup of Gabriel's home-brewed would be very welcome.' Jed, emerging from the kitchen, was sent back to fetch a tankard of ale for their visitor and Mrs Gatley bustled about Verity, bringing a lamp, plumping up the pillows and putting a shawl about Verity's shoulders before allowing Mr Bannerman to approach. Miss Shore was glad of the few moments' delay as she tried to control the tumult of emotions that this visitor had roused.

 'Pray excuse my calling so late,' he repeated, 'but the moon is up, and when I heard you were nursing a young friend of mine….'

 'You are most welcome, Mr Bannerman,' Mrs Gatley assured him, stepping back from the settle. 'Miss Shore will receive you now.'

 Verity clutched nervously at the blanket as the gentleman approached her.

 'So, Miss Shore, you tumbled into the clough!' The voice was friendly enough but she could see that he was frowning, black brows drawn together. It was impossible to read his expression.

 'Aye, sir. Rolled almost from top to bottom she did.' Jed handed a brimming tankard to Mr Bannerman. The gentleman's eyes did not move from her face.

 'You are fortunate to be alive, then. Did you suffer any hurt?

 'No sir. Merely a few bruises and a sprained wrist.'

 'Can you recall what happened?'

 'I - no. Delphi bolted and … I woke up here.'

 'It must have been an ordeal, nevertheless.'

 'It could have been much more serious, if young Mr Gatley had not found me.'

 Rafe Bannerman turned to the young man. 'You saw what happened?'

 'Aye sir, that I did. I'd been walking in the long pasture, you see, and was just coming back along Clough Bottom when I heard a horse thundering along the cliff top, then all of a sudden she stops, and Miss Shore goes sailing over her head and rolls over and over, down almost to my feet. So I picked her up and fetched her home as quick as I could.'

 'And you saw no one else?' Mr Bannerman asked him. 'You're sure of that?'

 'Aye, I'm certain of it. There was no one else on the road, I'd have seen 'em.'

 'Brigg' horse lost a shoe,' put in Verity. 'Just after we had reached the moor. I left him walking back to Highclough.'

 'How unfortunate.'

 She put up her chin, fighting off the panic as she forced herself to look at him.

 'Yes, Mr Bannerman, it was, wasn't it?'

 'And the mare, has the incident given you a dislike of her? Would you like me to take her back to Newlands with me?'

 'No. That is, if - if you think Lady Winter would not object, I - I should like to keep her.' She found she could not meet his eyes.

 'Sally has already left Newlands, but I am sure she would not object.'

 Verity nodded slightly. She wished he would sit down rather than tower over her so menacingly, but he continued to stand. She kept her eyes lowered, her free hand plucking nervously at the covers. Abruptly, he stepped back.

 'I am sorry, you are tired and you do not want me here.' He drained his tankard and picked up his hat and gloves from the table. 'I have stayed too long - I came only to assure myself you suffered no serious hurt.'

 'Thank you.' Her voice was scarcely above a whisper.

 As he turned back towards her she forced herself not to shrink from him but he merely bowed to her before turning once again to his hosts.

 'Thank you for letting me see Miss Shore, and again my apologies for disturbing you so late. Oh, and Jed, perhaps you could find a lantern and we will take a look at the mare on the way out….'

 Verity closed her eyes: she could not protest: he would see the mark on Delphi's back and Jed would explain about the arrowhead in the saddle, tell him that he had given it to her - then Rafe Bannerman would know that she must suspect him.

*

 It was a full week before Dr Addingham allowed Verity to leave the Gatley's farm and when Mrs Worsthorne and her son came to collect her, she was able to walk to the coach with only a little help from Luke's supporting arm. As Luke tucked a warm rug about Verity's knees, Mrs Worsthorne reiterated her thanks to Mr and Mrs Gatley, and pressed them again to take some payment for their trouble. The couple were adamant in their refusal but as Mr Worsthorne was about to turn away, Mr Gatley coughed.

 'There is one thing, sir…. I've a young relative coming to stay, a good lad he is, from Brighouse way. Trouble is, he'll be needin' work, and there ain't a right lot here for him to do, for me and Jed sees to it all between us. Besides, he's not a weaver, more used to working with horses.'

 'Send him over, we'll find him work in the stables' said Luke. He glanced at Verity. 'That is, Cousin, if you don't object.'

 'No, no I am only too happy to oblige.' She smiled and held out her hand. 'Goodbye sir - Mrs Gatley. I shall ride over to see you just as soon as I am able.'

Chapter Twelve

 A prolonged spell of wet weather precluded any outside activities for the ladies during the next few weeks, giving Miss Shore plenty of time to recover. The weather did not prevent Luke from his regular visits to Halifax or Derringden, but for the ladies the only entertainment to alleviate the monotony was a visit of the packman on his circuitous route from Halifax to Manchester. This individual called upon them one drear afternoon when the ladies were busy with their mending. When Ditton announced the packman's arrival, Verity greeted the diversion with relief and instructed that the fellow should bring his wares into the great hall, where they and the servants might view them in comfort. She recognised the spare figure in the brown coat as the same man she had seen at Bridestones.

 'Jason, is it not? So you are back this way already,' she greeted him cheerfully.

 'Aye ma'am, and mighty wet the journey was, though a body still works up a thirst.'

 Verity laughed and requested the butler to bring ale for their guest.

 'Has Ditton told you that you may stay in the barn tonight?' she enquired.

 'Aye, ma'am, that he has.' The packman touched his forelock. 'Though he seemed to think Master Luke wouldn't like it, but I called in at the Eagle in Derringden on my way here, and they was expecting him there this evening. I spotted some very choice spirits there, too, ready to lose a pretty penny at the card table. I doubt if Master Luke'll be home much before the dawn.'

 Verity cast an anxious glance at Mrs Worsthorne to see how she received this news, but she was already looking through a selection of lace tippets and trying not to think of her wayward son. The packman continued to talk as he emptied his bags.

 'I was very sorry to miss you last time, mistress. Quite a to-do there was, with the new Highclough lady lost on the moor. But all's well now, ma'am, is it?'

 'Yes, very well,' returned Verity, sorting through the ribbons he had spread across the wide oak table.

 'The stable lad was saying you came off with nothing worse than a sprained wrist.'

 'Yes, and even that is almost recovered - Mrs Gatley insisted on wrapping my wrist in cold, wet cloths to take away the inflammation.'

 'I cannot see why she should have done so, when you were chilled to the bone to begin with,' declared Mrs Worsthorne, picking out a comb with a decorated handle.

 The packman did not reply immediately, for the butler handed him a tankard of small-beer and he took a long draught, smacking his lips in appreciation.

 'I've heard the cold treatment works, ma'am,' he said at last in his slow drawl. 'The colder the better to take down the swelling and relieve the pain - and they do say 'tis the same with a burn. Wrap it in linen soaked in cold water, and keep putting on a fresh cold dressing to take away the heat.' He tipped out the contents of another bag, scattering a rainbow of sewing threads beside the ribbons. 'I even heard tell that when the Blue Bell Inn at Otley caught fire last winter the landlord was burned something terrible, but there was a guest at the inn, a scholarly gentleman who had spent many years in the East and he made the landlord lie in the snow. Then he kept on packing fresh snow around 'un for an hour or more, and the poor man recovered with barely a scar.' The packman nodded slowly at the ladies, then drained his tankard and turned back to the business in hand. 'Now I've some pieces of the finest Norwich silk if you ladies was wishing to see them - big enough to hem, and mayhap add a fringe to make a fine shawl…..'