The Straw Halter (12 page)

W
hen Richard Choicely returned to Chasebury that evening he thought again about Betsy Forrester. He had been amazed when she ran off so quickly, almost as though she were running away from him. She had not even asked where it was that he had seen her husband. And she had looked so startled, almost afraid, he thought. He wondered whether there was any kind of trouble between them. Maybe they had quarrelled. Now that he came to reflect upon it Daniel Forrester had seemed very agitated.

It was none of his business really, but Richard was uneasy about his feelings for Betsy. She excited him physically and at the same time he felt such a tenderness for her. She was
exquisitely
beautiful and while he longed to make passionate love to her there was a part of him that wanted to protect her. In
addition
to all that he knew that she could be his niece.

The more he thought about that aspect the more it seemed likely. The dates fitted and her resemblance to his mother and to Ben was extraordinary. She
must
be family. He poured himself a brandy and decided to ride over to the Forresters’ place the following day and quietly check things out. He would say he had business in the area and, finding himself close to the farm
where his steward had been injured, he had called to offer friendly greetings. That it was not a usual procedure, to pay a social call on a farmer and his wife who were not connected to his estate, he shrugged off. Richard had never let his position stand in the way of talking and mixing with people he found interesting. And he found Daniel Forrester and his wife,
especially
his wife, very interesting indeed.

Something odd was going on. There was, after all, that
business
of seeing her when he visited Sam and she was looking for a young boy about whom she knew very little. The boy she found and whom she thought was the one she needed was the lad Sam said was a bit simple, called Zac. Where did he fit into all this? It was a strange situation.

Richard also wanted to find out who the woman running from the scene of his brother’s accident was. His father’s
gamekeeper
was a truthful and honest man, not given to fantasies, and if he told his son about this woman, then she existed and she was up to no good, he thought.

In his mind he went over what Jim Pike, had told him. That his father had seen a rope stretched between two trees but when he returned after they had taken Ben to the house, the rope was gone. And he saw a woman with a black shawl over her head hurrying through the woods.

The most likely suspect was Betsy’s mother, but would she have risked being seen so soon afterwards? Or had she had no choice? Maybe she had not expected Ben to be found so quickly and of course if his and Jim Pike the elder’s surmising was right, she had to retrieve the rope as quickly as possible. The more he thought about it the more confident he was that Betsy’s mother had murdered his brother because none of the family would acknowledge the child.

If he was able to prove that Betsy was Ben’s daughter and had Choicely blood in her he might also find that her mother was a murderess. Perhaps he should not take this any further but simply get on with his own life. He knew he would not do that until he had found an answer.

Richard had always wanted to know things ever since he was a child. The coachman had shown him how the wheels were attached, how they turned, how everything was made. The cook had shown him how to make little cakes and biscuits, the butler had explained how wines were made, from the picking of the grapes to the bottling and racking and the housekeeper’s daughter had taught him about love. She was in her early
twenties
and he was seventeen when she took him into the summer-house.

He had never forgotten her and even now could picture her framed in the doorway, pulling down her pink-cotton skirt and smiling at him. ‘Thank you Richard,’ she had said. ‘I’m going to stay with an aunt for a week but I’ll see you when I come home.’ There had only been one more time with her because she went away soon after and married a farmer. He never saw her again.

What he wanted to know now was more difficult than any of the things that had gone before. Maybe too much time had elapsed to unearth the truth but he was going to try.

Daniel scoured the fair for Betsy. Several times he caught a glimpse of dark hair, which was always someone else. He talked to people everywhere, a laughing man in the crowd round the cattle-stall said a young woman had thrown a bucket of water over the squire, but he had been on the edge of the crowd and not seen anything of that.

Several times he returned to the hiring section in case she was
looking for employment. The one place he knew she would not be was the wife-selling arena.

He went home at the end of the day feeling exhausted. Of course she might not have gone to the fair, knowing he would be there, but he had to try and it was the best place if she hoped to find work. What now? He resolved to visit again, every day the fair was there, which would be almost a week, he knew, in case she assumed that he would only go once and so would not be hiding from him on subsequent days.

In bed that night he tried to think where she might go for refuge. Not to her family. Her mother was dead and she couldn’t abide most of her relatives. Not to his family either. Nevertheless he knew he must question them all just in case.

Three days running he went to the fair. He searched and he talked to people who might have seen her; after all she was striking enough for people to remember, but there was no sign of his beloved wife. After those three days he had no heart, nor could he really spare the time, to attend again. He had done his business there on the first day and common sense told him it was foolish to waste energy on the unlikely chance of seeing her.

He rode over to his mother’s farm one morning. They were surprised to see him and he couldn’t tell them why he had come. When Joseph asked about Betsy he said she was busy at home, that he had to come this way and thought he would call in to see how his mother was. He knew it sounded plausible.

He also knew that Joseph was disappointed because Betsy wasn’t there. He told himself again that there was nothing in it, that Betsy was beautiful and she could not help the attraction she had for men. It had nothing to do with her feelings – she did not encourage it yet it still happened. He truly believed this –
and yet she had left. She had denied an alliance with Thomas Shooter and although he desperately wanted to believe her it had looked bad.

Now, suddenly, he knew her denials had been true: there had been nothing between them. Thomas Shooter had made it up and tricked them both. He was sure of it. That boy who brought the message was the key. Betsy had tried to find him and prove her innocence. Daniel felt dreadful. He knew now, without a shadow of doubt, that she was innocent, that he had to find her and bring her home. He cursed his wretched temper that had made him threaten something he would never carry out, to threaten her with the very thing she hated so much, one of the practices they were both trying to stop. He must have been mad. His head drooped on to his chest as physical pain attacked his body. He must rest, he could not afford to be ill. Jim was a good lad but he, Daniel, was needed here on the farm.

For the first time since Betsy had left Daniel slept the night through. Maybe it was sheer exhaustion, he thought, but
whatever
it was, when he woke he felt more refreshed and ready to tackle his work than he had done for days.

At the end of the week he decided to take a trip to Betsy’s family. They had not seen them since the day of her mother’s funeral and he doubted any of them would know where his wife was, but he needed to try everything and everywhere.

As usual he did all that was necessary on the farm, leaving Jim working and in charge, and he took the trap over to Betsy’s home village. He didn’t hold out much hope, but there might be something there that would give him an idea of where to look next. He did not expect to find her there, but if he could have a clue then he would follow it to the ends of the earth. Life
without Betsy was nothing and if she would only come back to him he would ask nothing more for as long as he lived.

Richard arrived at the Salden cottage first. He saw the same man who had eventually answered the door on his last visit. He was just as unkempt but a little more forthcoming. Probably still expected money, Richard thought and decided to play along with this. ‘I’m still looking for Betsy,’ he said. ‘It’s important to find her soon.’

‘Why?’ The man’s eyes were bright with curiosity and what Richard was sure was greed. Shaking his head he said, ‘I can only tell Betsy.’ As he turned away he added, ‘Are you a close relative?’

The greed was definitely showing in the man’s watery eyes at this. ‘Her uncle. Her mother’s brother and looked after her like she was my own when she was little.’

Richard suppressed a smile at this blatant lie but he moved forward as if to go inside the cottage. ‘Well, in that case perhaps we should talk. Shall we go in?’

Although he had spent much of his life in the shadow of his elder brother, Richard had his own kind of charm and
determination.
If this relative could lead him to Betsy, who he was sure was in some kind of trouble, then he was prepared to
compromise
his natural truthfulness.

He was surprised to find that the room they entered was clean and there were two comfortable-looking armchairs each side of the fireplace. Although the family obviously neglected the outside of the place, the inside was looked after. He sat in the chair the man indicated.

‘You must be wondering about my interest in finding Betsy,’ he said quietly, ‘and I will tell you why, but first I need to know your name so I do not give our secrets to the wrong person.’

The man’s eyes bulged with excitement. Richard, who was prepared to say he was a relative of Sir Richard Choicely in order to get Betsy’s uncle to talk, had no need of the subterfuge.

‘I’m Betsy’s Uncle Jack. Her mum died last year y’know. She were my sister. Hard life she had and she always did her best. I helped her a lot – I’ve no childer of me own and Betsy were like a daughter to me.’

It seemed that once started the man couldn’t stop. The prospect which he obviously had in mind, of his niece coming into money was making him reckless.

‘There were a bit of scandal years ago,’ he looked directly at Richard, ‘but me sister, she didn’t hold any grudges, even though she got nothing from Betsy’s father. It were a struggle to bring her up, with the other kids y’know, but she never beefed, though the man what did her wrong was rich. I can’t tell you his name because I promised her mum I never would.’

He looked down to his boots and once again Richard tried to hide a smile. He stood up. ‘I must be going,’ he said. ‘If you see Betsy would you tell her Lord Lampney was enquiring after her. I am not Lord Lampney,’ he added quickly as Jack Salden’s eyes glinted at him, ‘but I am close to him.’ He moved to the door and opened it at the precise moment that Daniel Forrester’s clenched fist was raised to knock on it. Instead of hitting the door the blow connected with Richard’s chin.

Richard reeled backwards, almost into Jack’s Salden’s arms. ‘Hells bells!’ he said.

On recognizing each other the two men immediately guessed why each was here. For Daniel was the thought that Betsy had gone to Richard Choicely – why hadn’t he thought of that, and the thought occurred to Richard that Betsy truly was missing, or Daniel would not be here and looking so worried.

‘I’m sorry,’ Daniel said. ‘Are you all right?’

Richard touched his nose carefully. ‘Yes I think so. Bit of a shock though, but it was an accident. No hard feelings.’ He held out his hand.

Jack Salden watched this with a sulky expression on his face. ‘Your precious wife’s not here,’ he said to Daniel. ‘Left you, has she? Gone off with someone?’

‘Not at all,’ Daniel said. ‘I came to see her Aunt Agnes.’

‘She’s not here. Don’t know when she’s coming back.’

Richard joined Daniel outside.

‘Just a minute,’ he said. ‘Where is she?’

‘She don’t live ’ere.’ Jack closed the door.

‘Would she be likely to be with her aunt?’ Richard asked Daniel.

‘Who – my wife? Of course not. It was Aunt Agnes I was looking for but you heard him say he didn’t know when she would be there.’

They had reached the trap standing in the lane now and Richard said quietly, ‘I saw your wife not long ago when I was visiting in Graceden village.’

Daniel looked up sharply, ‘You did?’

‘Yes.’

‘She does go into Graceden sometimes.’

‘It is worrying when someone is missing,’ Richard Choicely said quietly. He studied the other man’s face.

Daniel looked up sharply. ‘What makes you think she is missing Sir Richard?’ He hated asking but obviously Richard Choicely had some knowledge or he would not be visiting this cottage now. Had Betsy gone to Chasebury Manor and tried to find her father? He realized that the other man was speaking. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

‘I said perhaps we should combine our efforts to find Betsy. Something is obviously wrong.’ Daniel was silent. After a moment or so Richard said, ‘When I saw her she was looking for a boy who lives in the village.’

‘I know. She found him. He – he caused some trouble at the farm and now Betsy has left.’

‘I also saw her at the fair a few days since.’ Richard
volunteered
the information tentatively.

‘You did? I was there several days and never saw her.’ There was no pretence on Daniel’s side now. All he wanted was to find his beloved wife. He no longer cared that Sir Richard, or anybody else, knew she had disappeared. If telling them would help lead to her that was all he wanted. Richard felt for the farmer. If Betsy was missing and no one knew where she was no wonder he was worried.

A slight movement from the window of the cottage made them move away. Jack was obviously watching and wondering.