Pauper's Gold (38 page)

Despite the reason for her return, Hannah was happy. She’d always liked the work at the mill, and now she was older, it was much easier. She was treated by the Grundys as a daughter and
she had Ted as a friend, though he, she thought with a frown, might be trying to become a little too friendly. And her ruse seemed to be working: no one had recognized her.

But then, she met Daniel.

She was running up the stone stairs to the workroom early one morning, holding her skirts high so that she did not trip. And she was singing just as she used to, her pure voice echoing clearly
up the staircase. Daniel, coming down, stopped and stared at her climbing towards him, her eyes downcast. He stepped in front of her, barring her way, and she would have cannoned into him and might
have fallen backwards down the stairs if he hadn’t grasped her strongly by the shoulder. She gave a little cry of alarm. As she looked up and saw who was holding her, her heart sank.

How could she have been so foolish as to be singing? Daniel, more than anyone else, would remember her singing. It’d been a joke between the three of them – four counting poor little
Jane.

Daniel wouldn’t have forgotten the girl who sang.

Now he was looking down into her face, into her clear, blue eyes.

‘You! It
is
you. I thought I was hearing things.’ He flung her away from him so that she stumbled and fell heavily against the wall and only just prevented herself from
tumbling down the stairs. ‘Why’ve you come back?’ he asked bitterly. There was no pleasure in his tone at seeing her, no welcome in his eyes.

Hannah’s eyes glinted and her mouth tightened. ‘I’ve unfinished business. I told you I’d come back one day. That he wouldn’t get away with . . . with what he
did.’

Daniel’s face was a sneer. ‘Oh aye? And what d’you reckon you can do to a powerful man like Edmund Critchlow? Don’t you think that if there’d been a way,
I’d’ve found it?’

Now that she was close to him, she could see that the years had treated Daniel harshly. His grief at the loss of his twin and the bitterness in his heart had twisted his handsome, boyish
features, had eaten into his soul and made him older than his years. He was only eighteen, yet he could have been mistaken for thirty.

‘Oh, Daniel,’ Hannah said sadly.

He saw the sympathy in her eyes and spat, ‘Don’t pity me. I don’t need your pity or anyone else’s. You shouldn’t have come back.’

‘You told me before that I shouldn’t be going away.’

‘No, you shouldn’t. Not then. You left me to cope alone.’

‘But . . . but you blamed me. Said it was my fault. I . . . I thought it was better if I went.’

Daniel ran his hand through his hair. He was unsure now what he really felt. Seeing Hannah again had confused him and awakened feelings in him which he’d worked so hard to bury. But seeing
her again – the girl his brother had loved, the girl that Luke had given his life to protect – had brought back all the pain and suffering. He hated her. She’d ruined his life.
He’d never been able to love another human being the same as he’d loved his brother. He would never love anyone else the way he’d loved Luke.

The way he had loved Hannah.

Unbidden, the realization came to him with a jolt.

He’d watched them together and been consumed with jealousy. Older now, he recognized the feeling, and those old emotions were flooding through him again at the sight of her. He’d
never known – and with a shock he realized that he still didn’t know – whether the jealousy was directed at her because Luke had loved her and she’d come between the twins,
or whether it was because she’d loved Luke and not him. Had be been jealous of his own brother?

Even after all these years, Daniel still did not know.

‘Get out of my way,’ he growled, and pushed past her to continue on his way down the stairs. ‘And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of my
way.’

Stricken, Hannah stared after him for a moment. Then lightly she ran down the stairs after him and caught hold of his arm. ‘Daniel, wait a minute. Please.’

He stopped. ‘What?’

‘Please, Daniel, don’t give me away.’

He stared at her for a long moment, gave a brief nod, pulled himself from her grasp and continued down the stairs without another word.

Hannah leaned against the wall, closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.

Now – there was only Mr Edmund to face.

‘So – how’s it going?’

Adam was smiling down at her as she stood in front of her machine. As she glanced up at him, she was struck once more by his likeness to his father and yet there was a difference. A very
important difference. His brown eyes were warm and friendly, not cold and disdainful. His mouth curved in a smile, not in a cruel sneer.

‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I think Mr Scarsfield is pleased with my work.’

‘He is,’ Adam nodded. ‘That’s what I’ve come to tell you. Your appointment is confirmed. You’re no longer on trial.’

‘Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.’

He leaned closer, speaking above the noise of the machinery, yet only for her to hear. ‘I’d like it if you called me Adam. And would you . . . would you come out with me some
evening?’

She stared at him, wide-eyed for a moment. And then quite suddenly, like a revelation, she saw her way to get revenge on Edmund Critchlow.

‘I’d love to,’ she said huskily.

‘Saturday? You’ll finish earlier on a Saturday afternoon.’ He knew her hours better than she did. Hannah nodded.

‘I’ll meet you near the waterfall behind the mill. Do you know it?’

She nodded. She’d been here a month now. There’d been time enough for her to do a little exploring in the area. He wouldn’t question it.

‘I must go. See you Saturday.’

‘Saturday,’ she murmured.

‘You gonner let me take you for a ride in Auntie’s pony and trap on Sunday?’

Hannah nodded. ‘That’d be nice, Ted. Where are we going?’

Ted shrugged. ‘Where you like. Take you into Bakewell, if you like – if the old pony can manage the hills.’

‘There won’t be any shops open on a Sunday,’ she said impishly.

‘Oho, don’t tell me you like the shops? Uh-huh! There I was, thinking I’d found me a nice girl and I find she’s a spendthrift.’

Hannah laughed. ‘I would be if I had the money, but I haven’t.’

‘Mebbe Sunday’s the safest day to take you into town then.’

She chuckled. ‘Mebbe you’re right.’

‘I’ll come for you about three?’

Hannah nodded. ‘Sunday it is.’

Who’d’ve thought it? Two young men in the space of two days. And what, she wondered, would each one say about the other when they found out?

And find out they surely would.

Saturday evening was dull with heavy April showers threatening. As she took the narrow path behind the mill and came to the footbridge across the river near the waterfall, she
saw Adam waiting for her.

‘I brought my father’s big black umbrella,’ he greeted her. ‘It looks like rain.’

He took her arm and guided her along the narrow path at the side of the River Wye. On their right was the sheer face of the cliff. ‘The village is on the top of this cliff. Millersbrook
– it gets its name from the brook that runs in front of the mill. But I’m forgetting, you must know the village by now.’

She hesitated only a moment. ‘Not – not ever so well. But I’m learning.’

‘I presume you found some lodgings all right?’

‘Oh yes, thank you.’ Hannah bit her lip. She’d better be truthful about where she was living. ‘I’m staying with the Grundys at Rushwater Farm.’

‘Really?’ Was she imagining a slight change in the tone of his voice at the mention of the Grundys’ name? ‘I didn’t know they took in lodgers.’ Then he
murmured, so low that she could scarcely hear, ‘Especially anyone working at the mill.’

‘Don’t they?’ Hannah feigned surprise. ‘Oh! Well, I don’t know then. I only know that I first met them when I arrived here. I walked down the hill . . .’ She
was describing her arrival of years earlier, but Adam wasn’t to know that. ‘And I called to ask the way.’ She glanced up at him. ‘The carter just told us – I mean, me
– that the mill was at the end of the dale, but when I came to the fork in the road, I didn’t know which way to go, so . . .’ She shrugged to indicate the simplicity of what had
happened. ‘I knocked on the back door of the farmhouse to ask the way, and this kind woman invited me in and fed me stew and dumplings.’ She faltered at the memory of the four of them
sitting around Lily Grundy’s table, little knowing what lay in store for them. How innocent they’d all been then!

‘And I suppose she liked the look of you.’ He took hold of her arm on the pretext of steering her round a muddy puddle, but when they’d skirted it, he did not let go. Instead,
he took her hand and tucked it through his arm. ‘Can’t say I blame her.’

They walked in silence, watching the ducks swimming and diving for food and the fish lying just below the surface, their heads facing upstream.

They had walked some distance when they came out of the trees overhanging the path. Before them was a building at the side of the river.

‘Oh! Another mill!’ Hannah exclaimed in genuine surprise. During her previous time at Wyedale Mill, she had heard tell of this one.

‘Yes. This is Raven’s Mill.’ They stood looking up at the tall building, silent now on a Saturday evening. It was set in a narrow valley with nearby houses set beneath the
cliff. ‘It’s strange,’ Adam said, ‘we have workers coming from this village to work at our mill, and I know there are one or two from Millersbrook who work here. They all
use this path every day and must pass one another. I always wonder why they don’t just swap jobs.’

‘Mm,’ Hannah was non-committal. In the past, she had heard rumours that there wasn’t much to choose between the two mills as regards working conditions, but no doubt some
workers believed one or the other to be better for some reason. Maybe, in the case of women workers, the owner of Raven’s Mill was not a lecherous devil like Edmund Critchlow.

‘Your father? Does he own Wyedale Mill?’

‘Yes, but one day it will come to me.’

Hannah waited, willing him to explain. She wanted to ask about his grandfather, Nathaniel Critchlow, but she wasn’t supposed to know of his existence. And yet, why not? Adam wasn’t
to know that she’d not heard about him from the other workers.

‘Someone was saying,’ she said carefully, ‘that your grandfather started the mill?’

‘Actually it was his father. My grandfather was a young boy when they found Wyedale together. He loved to tell the tale of how it all started.’

Adam was smiling fondly, but there was sadness in his eyes.

Gently, Hannah said, ‘Is he . . . I mean . . .’

‘He died almost three years ago.’ It couldn’t have been long after she left, Hannah thought. ‘He took over the mill from his father, of course, and ran it – very
successfully, I might add.’

Really? Hannah wanted to say sarcastically, but she bit her tongue.

‘He had his first seizure about five years ago. There was a nasty accident. A little girl got her hair caught in a machine and she died. It really upset Grandfather. Then about three years
ago there was the most terrible accident. A boy – well, a young man almost – fell into the water-wheel and was killed. There was an inquest, of course, but no one was to blame.
Accidental death, they said. No one was supposed to tell my grandfather – they knew it would upset him – but,’ his tone hardened, ‘Josiah Roper used to come up to the Manor
to see him and I think he let it slip during a conversation. I’m sure he didn’t mean to, but it brought on another seizure – a bad one – and Grandfather died a few months
later.’ Adam’s face was suddenly bleak.

‘I’m sorry.’ Hannah hoped her words sounded sincere. They were – for Adam. She was sure he’d been fond of his grandfather, and she couldn’t really blame him
for not knowing the truth about Luke’s so-called accident. He hadn’t been there.

‘I don’t think I’ve seen your father around the mill, have I?’ It was difficult to pretend she didn’t even know him, especially when his dark features were so vivid
in her memory.

‘No, he’s away now. He left three weeks ago – just after you started. He’s gone abroad for a few weeks. On business. Looking for new outlets, he said.’ Now there
was definitely an evasive, off-hand tone in his voice, as if the reason he was giving for Edmund’s absence was not entirely the truth.

Hannah wondered if it had to do with the girl whose place she’d taken.

At that moment they felt huge spots of rain begin to fall and Adam put up the large black umbrella. ‘We’d better go back.’

They were in sight of Wyedale Mill when the rain began to fall in earnest, drenching Hannah’s skirt in seconds.

‘Let’s shelter beneath the cliff. You still have some way to go to get back to the farm.’ Taking hold of her hand he pulled her beneath the overhanging shelf of the rock face.
The rain was beating in the opposite direction and they were sheltered.

Adam shook the umbrella and closed it. ‘I don’t think it will last long,’ he said, looking up at the lowering sky. ‘The clouds are breaking up.’

She shivered suddenly and Adam put his arm around her. ‘This wasn’t a good idea. I should have taken you to some grand hotel and wined and dined you in luxury, but I was afraid you
wouldn’t come.’

Hannah looked up into his face, so close to hers. His brown eyes were so earnest, so open and honest that she couldn’t resist teasing him a little. ‘Not good enough to take to a
fancy hotel, aren’t I?’

Alarm crossed his handsome face. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean that. Please . . . please don’t think—’

She laughed. ‘I don’t. I’m teasing you.’

There was no mistaking the look of relief on his face. ‘So,’ he whispered, bending closer, his lips only inches from her mouth. ‘Will you let me take you out one
evening?’ But before she could reply, his lips touched hers and his arms were about her.

His kiss was gentle, undemanding, yet searching, questioning. ‘You’re so lovely, Anna,’ he whispered. ‘You will come out with me again, won’t you?’