The Lost And Found Girl (7 page)

However, as soon as all his lambs were born, Abel loaded the donkey with rope and timber and set off to construct a temporary crossing over the stream. The days lengthened and the weather improved. Beth wished she could enjoy it more but feared she was sickening for something. She felt unwell. When she looked at her reflection she was pale and resolved to take regular walks in the bracing Dales air. The stream subsided and Abel had managed to cross it with the donkey and his temporary raft. He went on to Settle for news and their much-needed supplies. It was a full three months after the tremor before Beth noticed a small procession winding up the track towards the farmhouse.

Edgar led the way on his hunter, leading the pony with
Mrs Collins perched regally on its back. Abel followed with a burdened donkey. Beth broke into a run then checked her eagerness and waited patiently by the track wrapped in her cloak. She noticed Abel took the donkey straight round to the farmyard without a word. She guessed he did not like Edgar and his mother any more than she did. But Edgar was her husband and she greeted him loyally.

‘You are well, sir?’ She did not expect a reply and went on, ‘I must speak with you urgently.’

‘Don’t bother me now. Help Mama down.’

Beth held out her hands for support. Mrs Collins leaned heavily on her shoulder as she slid off the pony and went into the house without a word.

‘Where is Mr Roberts?’ she asked. But Edgar was already leading the pony away and she followed him to the stable. Abel was unloading the donkey at the back door but there was a commotion indoors, a cry and then – was that weeping?

‘Where is Mr Roberts?’ she repeated.

‘He died.’

‘Dear Lord, no. What happened?’

‘God knows. I’ve been in the South Riding.’

‘Was your visit a success?’

She noticed a grimace and guessed it had not been.

‘Not your affair,’ he shrugged.

Perhaps not, she thought, but my news is
your
affair.

‘Please Edgar.’ She was not going to let him dismiss her as he had in the past. Not now. ‘I have something important to say.’

‘Nothing at High Fell is important to me any more,’ he replied and concentrated on unbuckling his saddle.

‘Edgar, will you stop doing that. I must speak with you. I have news.’

‘You have news? What news can you possibly have?’

‘I am with child,’ she smiled. She was pleased. It was what marriage was for and it made the horrid experience of her wedding night worthwhile.

He was genuinely astounded. ‘You’re what?’

‘I am carrying your child, Edgar.’

‘Good God, are you sure?’

She hadn’t been at first, but she was now. ‘I am. I wanted you to be the first to know.’

He appeared to forget what he was doing. ‘So soon,’ he murmured. ‘This will make a difference.’ He dropped the tack on the floor and led his horse into its stall, securing the door thoughtfully ‘I must speak with Mama immediately.’ He left her standing in the stable and went straight into the house.

Beth caught up with him in front of the marble fireplace in the hall. Mrs Collins was warming her hands and both mother and son turned to look at her. She opened her cloak and smoothed the front of her skirt to show her small but noticeable swelling.

‘It cannot be yours, Edgar? Look at her. Barden assured me she was a maid but –’ Mrs Collins shivered, ‘she is showing already.’

‘How dare you accuse me so!’ Beth protested. ‘Of course my child is Edgar’s.’

But Mrs Collins continued to fret. ‘I should have had a physician look at her. You never know with orphans. She could have lain with any number of passing tradesmen.’

‘Madam, you insult me! Ask your son. He knows I was a maid when he brought me here as his bride. Edgar?’ Beth turned to her husband to support her and to her surprise he did.

‘Calm yourself, Mama. The girl speaks the truth. I can
swear she was a maid on her wedding night.’ Beth tried not to show her distaste as she wondered how many maids he had lain with before her. He went on, ‘The child is mine and, oh don’t you see, Mama, if the child is a boy he will secure the Redfern line. This will work in my favour. His lordship must receive me now.’

Redfern? Lord Redfern? So it
was
Redfern Abbey they had been referring to. It was the biggest and wealthiest estate in the South Riding with a reputation for having a hundred servants. However, she realised from Edgar’s comment that his recent visit, despite the advantage provided by her dowry, had not had the intended outcome. The family rift had not been healed.

Mrs Collins’s eyes gleamed for a second. ‘A son, certainly, will be welcome for the succession. But Lord Redfern will wish to see the child and, heaven forbid, its mother. She is not a lady and his lordship may not approve of her.’

‘He will not involve himself. His lawyers tell me he is firm in his views. He has tried to disinherit me and cannot because Grandmama’s marriage was legal and so was yours. I am the heir and Milo has ensured the legal people have the documents to prove it.’

Beth noticed Mrs Collins’s eyes glaze over and her mouth began to work at unspoken words. The woman was obsessed by her quest to restore her son to Redfern, and she, Beth, had become a pawn in her plan. ‘They will want to see the birth,’ Edgar’s mother said. ‘What shall we do?’

Edgar began to speak soothingly to his mother. ‘I shall tell him she is too delicate for the journey. They will understand that I do not wish to take any risks with a possible heir to Redfern Abbey. You are tired from your journey, Mama. Why don’t I take you to your chamber for a rest?’

Edgar had forgotten she was there as he reassured his mother and they moved away wrapped up in their own thoughts. Beth smoothed her hands over her swelling. She might be carrying the heir to Lord Redfern! She could hardly believe it. Edgar was the current heir. Yet in spite of an invitation to a shooting party, he had not been received by the present lord so his grandmother’s behaviour was not forgiven. But, Beth realised, her child would make a difference to her status at High Fell Farm. She smiled to herself and stroked her small stomach again.

When Edgar ordered her to his bedchamber after dinner that evening she echoed his own words and responded, ‘It is not wise, sir. I do not want us to take any risks with our unborn infant.’ And, oh joy, he accepted her reasoning. Moreover, he left on horseback the following morning to convey his news to Lord Redfern’s lawyers and wait around hoping for a thawing of relations. Beth watched him ride away and thought that married life at High Fell would not be so bad, after all.

Beth liked being with child. She felt it had gained her status in the household and, somehow, made her more comfortable in Abel’s presence. She could accept his offers of help to carry a pail of milk or climb over a stile without uneasiness or guilt. She had her child to think of now and the safety of her child must come first.

Abel went down to Settle again for men and materials to repair the bridge. A letter came for Mrs Collins from Edgar to inform her he was staying in the South Riding for the summer. She was angry and snapped and snarled for a while. Beth realised how irrational she could be in her behaviour and stayed out of her way, pleased to have the farmyard to occupy her. She enjoyed the outdoor life at High Fell and
looked forward to her gardening and dairy work while she could. In June, Abel brought his sheep down for shearing and went with the carter to take the fleece to market. The summer was kind and the fells became her friends as she walked the paths and tracks. Her happiness was complete when Edgar sent word to his mother that he would not return to High Fell until Michaelmas, by which time Beth’s size was really slowing her down.

Beth felt her awkwardness most when she was milking the nannies in the morning. The milking stool was so low. One day she heard a sound in the quiet stillness of the stable.

‘Is that you, Mrs Roberts?’ she called.

It was a dark morning. The clouds were low, enveloping the farm in a dampening drizzle. Then she heard the sheep baa-ing. Surely they had not wandered this close to the farm? But the fells were strange mystical places in the mist and sounds were known to travel across valleys. In spite of her knotted shawl, Beth’s back was chilled and she wished she had donned her cloak to do the milking. Beth’s stomach was so huge she could hardly reach round it for the udder. She grasped a knotted rope on the side of the stall to heave herself to her feet and as she did so felt a twinge in her back. She would have to have help with the farm once the baby was born.

She grimaced as she bent to pick up the pail of milk, suddenly alert as she heard a shrill whistle and the distant bark of a dog, then the sheep again. They were nearby. She hurried outside and strained her eyes through the mist. Sure enough, the flock was pouring across the lower fell and into one of the fields enclosed by dry-stone walling on the slope behind the farmhouse. She put down her pail and walked in that direction until she saw Abel burdened by a large
backpack, holding open the gate as the sheep streamed through.

Her heart lifted and she waved. ‘Good morning, Abel.’

He glanced in her direction and raised his hand. She waited patiently until Sally had herded the flock into the pasture and he had secured the gate.

‘It will be a fine day when the mists lift,’ he called as he walked across to the farmyard.

‘I hope so,’ she responded. Beth loved the fell and escaped to it as often as she could.

She was excessively pleased to see Abel and felt cheerful as she waddled towards him. He was the only person on the farm worthy of a conversation and she wanted to throw her arms around his neck to welcome him. His face, she thought, registered a little pleasure, but he always retained the stiff formality that he had assumed when he had first discovered her identity.

‘Are you keeping well, madam?’ He held out his elbow. ‘Here, take my arm.’

She did and felt the hard sinewy muscles as she gripped. ‘Thank you.’ She was breathless from her exertion. ‘I can’t wait for it all to be over. I am so huge, it must be a boy.’

‘Maybe,’ Abel replied, looking straight ahead.

He was a man of few words, Beth knew, unless he had something to say, and she was content for them to walk in silence because it did not feel wrong for him to be here, by her side, supporting her. She had not met many men in her short life but she thought that Abel was by far the kindest. He was gentle and strong at the same time, with all the qualities any woman could want in a husband. If only … She allowed her fantasies to wander until they reached the abandoned pail of milk. Beth let go of his arm and bent to
pick it up, bringing on another of her back twinges. ‘Oooh,’ she uttered and immediately straightened.

‘I’ll take that,’ he said. ‘Surely you should be resting, madam.’

‘There’s no one else to see to the farmyard.’

‘You mean that, while I have spent the summer on the fell with my sheep, Mrs Collins hasn’t taken on anyone to do Roberts’s work? Who looks after the pony?’

‘I shall see to him after breakfast.’

‘I shall do it,’ he stated.

‘Will you?’ She was hugely grateful to him. ‘Oh thank you, Abel.’

He gave a silent nod in response. She was used to his grave expression now and went on, ‘Why have you brought down the sheep this early in the autumn?’

‘I lost too many of them last year, what with last winter’s snow and then the rock fall. It’s more sheltered here and I can move the lambing ewes to the barn.’

Beth was impressed by his husbandry. ‘Mrs Collins is lucky to have you.’

His mouth gave a small wry twist. ‘If you say so, madam.’

They approached the back door leading to the kitchen. ‘Will you be staying in the farmhouse with us?’

‘I’ll sleep over the stable where Roberts used to live.’ He deposited the milk pail just inside the kitchen door. ‘Would you tell your mother-in-law I shall be in to see her after breakfast?’

‘Of course.’ On impulse she added, ‘You do not have to behave quite so formally towards me, Abel.’

He did not answer her. He gave her a stiff bow, muttered, ‘Excuse me, ma’am,’ and went off in the direction of the barn.

As she washed up the breakfast pots in the scullery, Beth pondered over his choice of words for the message to
Mrs Collins. She couldn’t imagine anyone ‘telling’ Mrs Collins anything. Rather, she thought it would be the other way around. She finished her chores quickly and went into the kitchen drying her hands.

Mrs Roberts looked up from weighing out bread flour. ‘Abel said to tell you he’ll be seeing to the farmyard from tomorrow morning.’

‘Really? Oh that is a relief. I can barely look after myself now, let alone the livestock.’

‘You’ve got young legs,’ Mrs Roberts muttered. I’ve already told the mistress to expect him.’

Beth collected her cleaning box and a broom to sweep and tidy the dining hall. She did this cheerfully as she no longer thought of herself as Mrs Collins’s servant. High Fell’s farmhouse was a beautiful home and it contained a few pieces of fine, if old-fashioned, furniture. She enjoyed caring for it. Nonetheless, she looked forward to resting her back for half an hour before emptying the chamber pots. Abel was standing by Mrs Collins as she sat at the table. He seemed to tower over her and she looked angry and uncomfortable. As soon as Beth appeared she left her chair and went upstairs.

‘Is Mrs Collins quite well?’ Beth asked.

Abel gave a rare wry smile. ‘I need medications for my sheep and the farm needs supplies so I’m taking the pony and trap down to Settle.’

‘I don’t see why Mrs Collins would be so angry.’

‘Does she need a reason?’

‘Well no, but if there are things I should know …’ Her voice trailed away. It was Abel’s business and not hers.

‘It is no secret. I have arranged for her to recompense me for taking over Roberts’s duties. She does not care to part with any of her money to me.’

Oh, money again. It was all that Mrs Collins thought about apart from her precious son and his inheritance. But Beth did not dwell on it. She had other things on her mind, most of all her lack of confidence in either Mrs Collins or Mrs Roberts to deal with her approaching confinement. Edgar ought to be here making sure she had everything she needed for the birth of his first-born. She said, ‘Would you take a letter to the post for me? It’s for Edgar. He wrote to his mother to tell her he has been staying at Fellwick Hall these past few weeks.’