Replenish the Earth (15 page)

Sarah nodded, still close to tears. She let Mistress Pursley fuss over her and drank the mulled cider obediently, holding the warm pewter tankard gratefully between fingers that still trembled a little.

She thanked Will stiffly when he later deposited her at the front door of the Manor. He carried the basket inside for her in silence, telling Hannah to see if she could talk her stubborn fool of a mistress into lying down for a rest.

Fuming, Sarah watched him stride out, but when he’d driven off, she burst into tears and allowed Hannah to fill a warming-pan with hot coals and pass it over her bed.

‘It’s none of Mr Pursley's business and he can keep his high-handed behaviour for those who like that sort of thing,’ she declared. But oh, how she wished she hadn’t been born lame. How ugly she must look, limping like that.

‘Soft-hearted, he is, Will Pursley,’ said Hannah, ‘for all he tries to hide it. He means well and if you ask me, it was a good thing that fool Amy Barton did turn him down after he lost Hay Nook Farm. She’s a hard piece, for all she’s so pretty, and she’d have made him a bad wife, as Jamie Yarrow is finding out to his cost. Proper hen-pecked, he is now, as anyone can see.’

‘Was Mr Pursley betrothed, then?’ Sarah was unable to conceal her interest.

‘Ah. He was for a time. But she wouldn’t marry a poor man, wouldn’t Amy, so she broke it off when he was told to leave the farm. The very next day she sent her father to tell him, the heartless jade. He took it hard, coming on top of everything else.’

She looked sideways at her mistress and added, ‘He’s a good farmer, is Will Pursley, best in the district. And Parson do set a lot of store by him too. Make a good husband, he would!’

‘I’m too tired to gossip,’ declared Sarah, and cut off the conversation by rolling over and closing her eyes. But her thoughts didn’t stop twisting about inside her head. Would he even consider it? Dare she ask him? Oh, no, it was not to be thought of. She would die of humiliation if he turned her down.

No, she didn’t dare risk it. Definitely not.

But if he were to accept . . ?

Chapter
8

‘Mistress! Mistress! Come quick! Someone hev opened up the gates and let in one o’ they cows from the village!’ Mary came rushing into the house, shrieking the news. ‘Jack Boddy's Tinker, it be. Come quick! Will Pursley be chasin’ her now, tryin’ to drive her away.’

She saw with satisfaction that she had an attentive audience and indulged her taste for dramatic gloom still further. ‘Likely all his cows will hev took the cattle sickness from her an’ we’ll lose the whole herd!’

‘Oh, no!’ Sarah slipped her iron pattens on over her house shoes to lift her out of the mud, and limped out with the others to see what she could do to help. Her quarrel of the previous day with Will was completely forgotten, as well as her embarrassment at the thoughts he aroused in her, for she knew how bad this could be for him.

She found the cows milling about on the grass near the yard and a strange animal, a scrawny red-brown beast, tied up in a corner of the yard lowing miserably, while Will stood with hands on hips scowling at it.

He turned towards her. ‘You should be resting today. And don’t try to come over here. It’s slippery.’

‘I heard about the cow and wanted to know if we could do anything to help you.’

He came across to join her, his fists clenched by his sides, anger in every line of his body. ‘It’s a good thing Robin built that inner fence around my cows. Otherwise we might be in trouble. This was done on purpose, you know. I came over to fetch the cows for milking and found the small gate open. I closed it myself last night. I’m always careful about it.’

He drew in a breath rough with anger. ‘This has got to be more of Sewell’s work. His men must have had a hard job persuading that poor beast to walk though the small gate, for she’s always been skittish.’

‘Are you sure? Why should he persist in this vindictiveness? Could it not be just - just an accident?’ Her voice tailed away.

‘I told you. I closed the gate myself last night. And anyway, the padlock was sawn through.  This was no accident; it was planned. Sewell told me when he turned me off the farm that he wanted me out of the neighbourhood.
I’ll not rest till I’ve got rid of you,
he said. I’ve never forgotten his words - or his tone! And he’s driven others away, once he’s set his mind to it.’

She placed her hand on his arm. ‘I’m so sorry! But he won’t be able to drive you away from your home and job because I shan’t listen to anything he says.’

He patted her hand absent-mindedly, clasping it for a moment in his warm hand. ‘Sewell’s trying to get at both of us this way. Don’t mistake it, he’s taken against
you
as well and he won’t stop till he’s got what he wants - or until he’s dead.’

‘Can’t anyone stop him? There must be something we can do!’

He let out a snort of bitter laughter. ‘Tell me what? We have no proof and no prospect of obtaining any, he’s such a cunning devil. And if I did make a complaint against him, who would listen to me? Sewell turned me off his farm two years ago. They'd say it was spite on my part.’

He let go of her hand and gripped the frame of the back door, his knuckles white with the pressure, as he added in a low voice, ‘And besides, he’s gentry; I’m not. That makes a difference.’

‘Could I not do the complaining, then? This is my land, after all.’

He let out a soft noise, an approving murmur. Smiling at her, he patted her hand once again, staring but saying nothing.

She could only stare back at him, for this touch had sent a warm feeling running through her whole body.

After a minute or so, he shook his head, like a man waking himself up. ‘They'd not listen to you, either, Mistress Bedham. You’re a newcomer and a lady. What do you know about such things? And what proof have you, either? Sewell’s got a nasty little lawyer in Sawbury, who looks after his interests and would probably sue you for slander if you tried to do anything. He delights in lawsuits, that man does. And in inventing debts.’

‘But - is the justice of the peace on his side too? That’s Lord Tarnly, isn’t it? Surely he’s not a friend of that man?’

‘Lord Tarnly's fair enough and he doesn’t seem to think much of Sewell - well, that’s what folk say. He doesn’t invite the Sewells over to visit, as he does the other gentry. But he’d not take action against him on just your word.’ He spoke factually, not meaning to insult her. 

‘But we could at least tell him what we suspect and . . . ’

He shook his head. ‘Mistress Bedham, believe me, it’s no use wasting our time. We can only keep a better watch on the beasts in future. I’ll order another padlock for the side gate this very day.’ He left her and went over to fasten a leading rope round the frightened cow's neck. 

She watched him gentling the animal, her heart aching for his helplessness in the face of these attacks. 

Will looked across at her. The yard was full of people, but he spoke only to her. ‘I’d better return this poor creature to its owner, I suppose.’

She could see that even in his distress, his hands were careful as he tugged it gently into movement.

‘Mary, you can see to the other cows this morning, can’t you? You’re a good milker. But take care that you wash your hands and the udders properly! My mother has scalded out the pails already.’

Bridling with imperfectly concealed pleasure at this compliment from a man who did not give them lightly, Mary marched across to the cows and slapped the nearest one on the rump. ‘Come on, my little lovie. Come and let Mary milk you.’

It occurred to Sarah, as she watched Will disappear across the meadow, that no one ever disputed Will’s orders - even on her land. She smiled wryly. He was a good master, but a firm one. Would he make a good husband, too?

If only she had some idea of how he might feel about the idea, she might put it to the test? If she could only pluck up the courage.

* * * *

But Mr Sewell had not yet finished making mischief. On the very next day a carriage with a crest on its doors drove up to the Manor and a footman jumped down from his perch at the rear to rap on the front door of the house. Hannah, who answered it, demonstrated how much she had learned from her new mistress in a very short space of time by showing in the three visitors with calm confidence.

Two embarrassed-looking gentlemen hovered in the doorway of Sarah’s parlour, as if they did not wish to enter. The third visitor was Sam Poulter, who stood shuffling his feet in the hallway behind them, looking everywhere but at Sarah. She had expected the visitor to be some lady come to call upon her, but this was obviously an official deputation of some sort.

What now?

She stood up instinctively to face them, wondering what they wanted and not reassured by their demeanour. ‘'Please come in, gentlemen.’

They moved forward and the minute he entered the room, Sam Poulter burst into speech. ‘This weren’t my idea, mistress. I didn’t want to come a-botherin’ of you. Nor I don’t believe what that man says!’

The elder of the two gentlemen gestured to him impatiently. ‘Quiet, fellow! You’re here in your official capacity as Constable of this parish. Introduce us, since you have already met the lady, then leave us to conduct this interview.’

Sam muttered something under his breath and looked apologetically at Sarah. ‘This is Lord Tarnly, mistress, and this is Dr Shadderby. They’ve come over from Sawbury to see you.’

Both gentlemen bowed gravely.

Sarah inclined her head. ‘Will you not sit down?’ When they were installed on two armchairs, she waited to see what they wanted.

Lord Tarnly cleared his throat. ‘Er - you claim to be Sarah Bedham, daughter of Elizabeth Mortonby, née Bedham, I believe?’

Sarah stiffened.
Claim to be!
What did he mean by that? ‘I take exception to that remark, sir! I
am
Sarah Bedham, and why you are offering me such an insult, I cannot imagine!’ She glared across at them.

Lord Tarnly made a hrumphing noise in his throat. Whatever the rights and wrongs of the case, it was immediately obvious to him that he was dealing with a gentlewoman. And now he, who had always prided himself on his considerate dealings with the weaker sex, must offer this strange lady further insults. He cursed Sewell mentally. The fellow was a trickster and was after something, even if he had dressed this complaint up in legal terms.

Sarah waited to be enlightened, tapping her foot impatiently. The doctor avoided everyone’s eyes and gazed alternately out of the window then back at his feet, as if dissociating himself from the whole business, whilst poor Sam continued to shuffle his feet by the door and mutter under his breath.

‘I am - ahem - I am here in my capacity as Justice of the Peace,’ stated Lord Tarnly, taking refuge in formality, ‘to - er - to investigate certain complaints that have - er - been laid against you.’

Sarah felt icily calm, having no doubt in her mind as to who had laid the complaints, though on what grounds she could not imagine. She stared at his lordship unwinkingly, leaving him to flounder on through his explanation.

‘The - ahem - the complainant alleges that you are - er - well, an impostor, and that you have - er - fraudulently taken possession of this house and land, which he had an agreement to purchase. We are here to make preliminary enquiries into the matter, to see whether there is a case to be answered.’

She said nothing, for she did not trust herself to speak, but anger churned inside her. Will was right! Sewell was trying to find other ways to harm her!

‘And,’ Lord Henry continued, doggedly doing his duty, but finding it even more distasteful than he had expected, ‘the complainant further alleges that you are - ahem - not in full possession of your mental faculties. The - er - the doctor is here to testify as to your - your rationality.’ His face was scarlet with embarrassment by now, for he had never had to offer such an insult to a lady in his entire life.

Sarah felt quite sick with fury, but this was not the time to lose control of herself. ‘I begin, sir, to weary of Mr Sewell’s interference in my life. I shall furnish you with the name and address of Mr Jamieson, my family’s lawyer in London.
He
is quite satisfied as to my identity. And if you will excuse me for a moment, I can show you a copy of the deposition made by Mr Peabody, my mother's lawyer in London, who has known me all my life.’

She limped from the room, returning with Hannah in tow, to give her moral support. ‘I should prefer, gentleman,’ Sarah stated, with icy calm, ‘to have my housekeeper present as witness to this . . . impertinence.’

Hannah, not subservient and overawed by her company like Sam, was furious that anyone should dare lay a complaint against her mistress. She stationed herself behind Sarah’s chair, folded her arms and stared accusingly at these people who had come on the Devil's business.

Sarah handed the deposition to Hannah. ‘Pray give this to Lord Tarnly.’

Hannah marched across the room and slapped it into his hand, with no respect for his status.

Scarlet-faced, he studied it, then stood up to pass it to the doctor.

‘Ahem!’ said his lordship, trying a more cunning approach, just to be certain, for he did not wish to have to return on a similar errand if that damned weasly lawyer of Sewell’s complained about how they had done this. ‘I was - er - acquainted with your mother. Tall woman with fair hair, a bit like yours.’