The Straw Halter (14 page)

D
aniel had never felt so low. For a week he haunted the fair, sure in his mind that Betsy would be there. Often he could not spend too long looking because of the work on the farm, and when he returned he would get himself something to eat and then work until the light beat him. Jim had been
marvellous,
working extra hours and keeping things going in every area. Daniel had also taken on another girl from the village to work in the dairy with Hannah, the young dairymaid they already employed.

Sometimes he looked at the straw halter, still hanging on the hook and wished he had never made such an issue of it. Betsy had hated it yet it was the only material thing he knew that would keep her with him. Rubbing a hand across his weary eyes he suddenly admitted to himself that it would make no
difference
. She would stay because she loved him as he loved her.

Where was she now? Where would she go? Then, in a sudden flash, it came to him. Back to Wren Court, the place where she had been happy when Mrs Wallasey was alive. If she found a job there again she would have a bed and food. There was only one way to find out and that was to go and see. Sick with
apprehension
he knew he could do no more that night. He must find
out exactly where the house was and in a few days’ time, when things were straighter here, he would pay them a visit.

For the second time in weeks, Daniel slept through the night and woke feeling better. Of course, she might not have done that, but at last he had made a decision that might have results. He refused to think about her not wanting to come home. He was sure she had gone on the spur of the moment and it was all because he had mentioned the fair, but Betsy knew what a temper he had, she must surely know he had not meant it when he said that awful thing about taking her there. He could not even remember exactly what he had said, he had been in such a state, but the image of her shocked face was with him still.

It was the weekend before Daniel could get over to Wren Court. He thought it would be better to go to the tradesmen’s entrance rather than the front door. He took with him some butter and cheese and set off with great hopes. Betsy had told him about the house often and about her special lady. He knew that her son now owned the property, the son whose wife had arranged Betsy’s first marriage to George Hatton. Betsy had glossed over the reasons but Daniel thought he knew them anyway.

He was jealous that he had not been the first with her but all he wanted now was to have her back with him. He missed everything about her. The kitchen seemed unwelcoming and he seldom had time to go into the sitting room. His bed was
desolate
without her, many times he reached across during the night simply to touch her, feel her, know she was there, and when his hand felt the empty space he was devastated as he remembered how it had been. He went to bed each night with the nightdress she had worn the night before she left. It still smelt of Betsy and offered a tiny crumb of comfort to his aching heart.

The woman who came to the kitchen door knew nothing of Betsy. He told her he was looking for a relative who had at one time worked there, and she said the place had recently been sold. ‘We have been here only a few weeks. None of the old staff is left,’ she said, ‘I think some of them went with them.’ She did not know where the Wallaseys had gone, ‘but I think it was somewhere abroad.’

Not that that mattered he thought as he returned home, because it would have been Wren Court that might have attracted her, not the Wallaseys themselves.

He tried to look at the situation dispassionately. She would need to find work and the most likely place would be in one of the bigger houses or farms. Somewhere she could live in. She must have been at the fair the week she left because it was the obvious place and if she had found work on the first day he had probably wasted all that time looking in the wrong area. People came from miles around to the fair and Betsy could be anywhere by now.

Lily and Richard were to be married in the spring. Plans for the wedding were discussed during dinner one evening. After the meal, partaken in the oak panelled dining-room, the family had coffee in the garden. There were three lawns, a great many
interesting
shrubs and trees and a magnificent rose-bed, which in the summer was ablaze with colour and a joy to the nostrils, so sweet was the scent of the flowers there.

The orchard was at the far end of the garden, but this evening the family held their tête-à-tête on the small lawn in front of the drawing-room windows.

‘The marquee will be set up on the big lawn,’ Lady
Aston-Jenkins
said. The discussion went on for some time, then the
chill in the air drove the family back indoors and cook sent Betsy to collect the cups from the garden. Usually the upstairs maids did this, but only one was on duty, the other having been sent off earlier in the evening because she wasn’t well.

‘Go and get the crockery from the tables on the small lawn Betsy,’ cook said, ‘then we can clear up. They won’t be wanting anything else tonight.’

Knowing that Richard had been to dinner again Betsy hoped cook was right in her surmise that the family were safely indoors. She went quickly, pausing beneath a tree for a quick survey of the area. There was no one about. She dashed over to the white table and chairs set out on the lawn. Quickly she piled the cups and saucers on to her tray and hurried back in the direction of the kitchen. To do so she had to cross in front of one of the windows of the house and Richard was standing there. He had his back to the window and she scurried by, praying that he would not turn round and see her. Head down, she turned the corner that would take her along the path towards the kitchen. There was no cover here and she was almost running as she reached the back step, missed it and went sprawling, the tray and fine china clattering to the ground.

Betsy’s ankle sustained a sprain that necessitated her doing all jobs in the kitchen sitting down. She managed the stairs to her room that night with help and from the attic to the kitchen the morning after her accident by bumping down each stair on her bottom. Returning in the evening, she was aided by Marie, who reported that her room-mates were both in love with Sir Richard Choicely.

‘Meself though, I can’t see what the fuss is about. He’s only ord’nary, and too old for the likes of Miss Lily.’

‘You’ve changed your mind,’ Betsy said spiritedly. ‘Last time he came you were over the moon about him.’

‘Well, I’ve ’ad time to think, and he’ll be an old, old man when she’s still young and pretty. I wouldn’t want that. I reckon as she’ll look around when she’s wed and find herself someone younger.’ Marie winked. ‘You know, unofficial like.’

Betsy was indignant. ‘Why should she? She’ll have a good life with him. He’s a charming man. And he doesn’t
look
old.’

‘No, not yet, I’ll give you that, but old against her. I mean his hair’s grey for a start, well, more silver really, quite nice – here, how d’you know what he looks like? You haven’t ever seen him.’

Betsy thought quickly. ‘
You
said so, didn’t you, Marie? Last time he came, you told me how young-looking and handsome he was.’

Her smile was radiant as she looked at the other girl, but her heart seemed to be going at double its normal rate. She had given herself away now. But Marie frowned and said, ‘Did I? I don’t remember. Anyhow, he’s not for the likes of us. More likely finish in the market-place, eh? But somehow I’ve never fancied that meself. I mean, having men look you over like. I’d rather be chosen proper, know what I mean? It’s different when you’re just looking for work. That’s all right.’

Betsy, not trusting herself to speak as she realized she had got away with it, said, ‘Yes, I know what you mean. I feel like that too.’

‘With your looks you’d never have to, though,’ was Marie’s parting shot. ‘Can you manage now or d’you want me to get you anything?’

‘No, I’ll be fine, and thanks Marie. See you tomorrow.’

Whew, that was close, she thought. She must be careful.

Although Betsy’s bad ankle inconvenienced her she was extra helpful in the kitchen, doing whatever she could sitting on a stool, and hobbling around when necessary. Marie, who, unlike the girls who had been with her at Wren Court, was not jealous of her beauty, fetched and carried and chattered. Her one taste of working upstairs had been a highlight and she talked about it constantly. What the room was like, what they talked about, ‘mostly the wedding,’ and of course, ‘Miss Lily’s intended.’ That she had only been up there on that one occasion made no difference. Listening to her you would imagine she knew them all well, Betsy thought, and she was more on her guard than ever when Sir Richard Choicely’s name was mentioned.

At night, in her narrow and rather hard bed, it was Daniel and not Richard who occupied her thoughts. During the day she was busy and tried to concentrate on her work, but alone in her tiny room at night she did not try to stop thoughts of him crowding her mind. She pictured him on the farm, with the horses, with the cows, and getting himself a meal when work was over. Closing her eyes she saw their bedroom and felt his arms round her, his caresses and kisses the most real thing of her days and nights now.

Was he missing her? Or had he shrugged the whole thing off? I shall never go back unless he seeks me, she thought one night as she brushed away the tears that had seeped from her closed eyes. That he could have even contemplated ‘selling’ her was the most hurtful thing ever to have happened to her.

Remembering Rosa’s words she thought that
if
he said it in temper, and she admitted to herself this possibility now, then he would try to find her. But how? No one at her mother’s house would know and that was the only place he could try.

She had no idea when she had come to this household as kitchen-maid that it was the home of Sir Richard Choicely’s fiancée. If she had realized that she would not have taken the position.

Her panic at finding Richard upstairs and then trying to conceal herself from him began to take on a new aspect. If she could be sure, as her friend Rosa seemed to be, that it was all a dreadful misunderstanding, then she would return to Daniel. But how could she be sure? And would he want her back.

They loved each other, but they were both stubborn people and, miserable as she was without him, she would not risk the straw halter. After their three years together she knew that his beliefs had not changed, and if he had not been going to hold it over her at some time then he would have taken it down long ago. It was the one thing he had been utterly firm about on the few occasions when it had been mentioned.

Determinedly she lifted her head.
Maybe I am in a better
position
than I expected to be,
she thought.
At all costs I must hold on to this position
. She slept better that night than for some while, in spite of the ache in her injured ankle.

S
ir Richard Choicely’s elder son Benjamin, who was at public school, was visiting for a few days and Lily and her parents came over to Chasebury Manor for a meal one evening. Benjamin had been named for his uncle because all the Choicely boys were named Richard, Benjamin or David, which was confusing when more than one generation was present. In this instance of course there was only one Benjamin and one Richard there.

It was a pleasant evening and after dinner they had coffee on the terrace. Benjamin had met Lily before but not her parents, and it was quite a jolly family party who watched night descend over the garden. The moon shone on the shrubs and trees which stretched into the distance, making them glow both
romantically
and eerily.

‘This is such a beautiful place,’ Lily said quietly to Richard, ‘it’s exactly right, big enough to entertain yet not too large to be homely.’

‘You will be happy here, won’t you, Lily?’

‘Of course. If I am with you I will be happy wherever we are, Richard.’

He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. ‘What a lucky
man I am,’ he said softly in her ear, then, turning to the others, ‘Shall we go inside, the air becomes more chilly about now.’

When they had left in their carriage after Lily lingered for a last goodnight kiss, Richard went indoors, but did not go straight to bed. Instead he went into his study and took from the desk the drawing he had done of Betsy Forrester. Why did that woman’s face haunt him? Was it those eyes that he knew he had not quite captured in his sketch? Eyes that had depths and colour such as he had seldom seen. His mother and brother Benjamin had both been blessed with expressive eyes, but Betsy’s made you catch your breath. He wondered what it would be like to hold her in his arms and lose himself in the sea of changing shades of blue. What it would be like to let his hands stroke her long black hair, to kiss those lips, to undress her and … Angrily he thrust the drawing from him and strode round the room, his body on fire.

After a restless night Richard decided to try and see Betsy’s aunt, the one they met on their way out from the village the other week. Aunt Agnes, Daniel had said her name was. She had refused to talk to Daniel that day but it was possible she hadn’t noticed another man in the trap. Not enough to
recognize
him from that distance, anyway. If he judged that family correctly she would see him if she thought there were money or titles involved. It was certainly worth a try.

The following day he took his son back to school, then he thought about how he would tackle Betsy Forrester’s Aunt Agnes.

There were two items on his agenda. The first was to endeavour to trace Betsy’s whereabouts, although he suspected from what Daniel had told him of the background there that Agnes genuinely did not know, because neither Betsy nor he had had anything to do with her family after her mother’s
death. Yet Aunt Agnes might come up with a name or
connection
if he could persuade her to talk to him.

Number two was to sound her out about the events of twenty-one years and more ago. He decided he would be Lord Lampney, the name he had used when he spoke to Betsy’s Uncle Jack. If his enquiries over the past few months had been on the right lines then Agnes Salden, or whatever her name was now, should be able to reassure him. Not that he expected her to do so, not if it
had been
her sister who tied the rope between the trees to kill Ben. But if he saw her and spoke to her himself it would give him the opportunity to see whether it was a realistic possibility.

He had no doubts that the old gamekeeper Pike had been telling the truth when he told his son about the rope and the woman he had seen later. Richard drew two trees on the pad in front of him and stretched a rope between them. He made another drawing of a hooded woman taking the rope down and lastly he drew a final picture of the back of her disappearing through the trees. The rope was probably coiled up and held beneath her cloak.

If only Pike had mentioned the incident at the time. Yet what good would it have done, he thought? Young Ben had had liaisons all over the county. There were many women who might have sought revenge. It might not have been Betsy’s mother after all. Nevertheless he wanted to pursue the thought. There was not much chance of proving anything after all this time, and in any case the woman herself was dead now, but his tidy mind wanted to sort the matter out for his own satisfaction. It would establish for him whether Betsy was a blood-relation of the Choicelys.

Two things happened to prevent Richard carrying out his
plan immediately. Lily’s mother was taken ill and a week later her father was out with the shoot and had an accident with a gun. It was not too serious, resulting in a nasty but not
life-threatening
wound to his leg. He too was confined for a while and Lily was fully occupied in running the household.

Richard rode over to Clover Court most days or evenings and once he thought he caught a glimpse of long glossy black hair and a shapely Betsy-like figure. Then he told himself he must be dreaming, that the girl was haunting him and he was seeing what wasn’t there.

The woman he saw had been coming from the stables and he was too far in the distance to see more than a general outline. It had been such a fleeting sighting. She had turned the opposite way to the drive and then disappeared, so she was obviously not staying in the house. From where he was he could not be sure how she was dressed, but her clothes were dark and her hair gleamed in the half-light of the early evening. He had already stabled his horse and been walking over to the house. He stood for a moment in case she reappeared, then he chided himself for his fancifulness. Probably one of the servants been sent over to the stables for something.

As Lord and Lady Aston-Jenkins recovered Richard’s visits stopped being daily, although he still went several times a week. Lady Aston-Jenkins looked fragile but the doctor was pleased with her progress. She was able to leave her bed for several hours now and Lord Aston-Jenkins sat with her most afternoons. ‘It is quite sweet really,’ Lily said to Richard one day. ‘I believe it frightened Daddy tremendously when he thought he might lose her. For all his blustering ways he relies on Mummy’s judgement in so many things.’

Richard had grown fond of them both. His relationship with his own parents had been overshadowed by his brother’s
preferential
treatment, although he had not discussed this with Lily.

His own feelings for his brother had been of admiration as well as envy. Looking back he supposed there had been a little jealousy but in truth not a great deal. Ben was the eldest, the heir to the estate and as such he had certain privileges. Richard accepted these as right.

What he
had
yearned for had been the magnetism his brother possessed. He could see from this distance in time that Ben had charm but not integrity. When they were both young he had longed to be blessed with even just a little of this attractiveness, but for many years now he had realized how shallow his brother was. Richard was happy with himself now that he was older and he owed a great part of this feeling to Anne, his first wife and mother of his sons. When she died he was devastated.

His feelings for the farmer’s wife were something he must keep to himself. They were the normal urges a man feels for a woman, he told himself, nothing more, nothing less. Just thinking about her gave him an erection. The fact that she could also be his niece made him feel guilty and he remembered Ben saying to him one day years ago, ‘The trouble with you, Richard, is that you are too pure to have fun – well, that will never be said about me. Take what you can while you can is my way.’

We were total opposites, Richard thought, and while I longed to be like him, deep inside me I knew, even then, that I could not. You cannot go against your nature and be happy. And he had been happy until he lost Anne.

When he thought about Lily, the young lady he was going to marry in the spring he knew that he
did
love her. Differently
from the manner of his love for his first wife, but he wanted to share the rest of his life with her and it was a good feeling. His desire now was to make her happy. He recognized that part in himself that wanted to be needed, and felt that he was indeed a fortunate man because Lily was young, pretty and she loved him. He hoped and believed they would be happy together.

Or is this all sentimental nonsense? he thought. It is I who needs someone permanent in my social life, someone to grace my table at dinner parties, someone to have in my bed at night, someone to relate to as a friend as well as a lover. Lily has the same beliefs and background as I do and our marriage will be good. I shall make sure it is. After all the Choicely coat of arms was,
Duty first, all else shall follow.

Betsy was torn between keeping out of Richard Choicely’s way and making herself known to him. During the normal running of the household she need never see him because she was based in the kitchen, but if she wanted to she could slip out and be waiting somewhere. She knew he would stop the carriage if he saw her; he seemed the perfect gentleman. A man she would be proud to have for a father.

While acknowledging at last that the story Aunt Agnes told her
might
not have been the truth she still thought that it was. She had never really belonged in that family, never been part of the fabric as her brothers and sister were. As a small girl she
remembered
being bewildered when she tried to please and had been cussed for it. She had recognized the resentment among them all against her, but her childish mind didn’t know or understand what it was. She only realized that everyone else was together and she was an outsider. Now, knowing that she had a different father from the rest of them did not seem surprising.

Aunt Agnes said he was the son of Sir Benjamin Choicely of Eccleton. Sir Richard Choicely was the son of Sir Benjamin Choicely of Eccleton. There could be no mistake. She could not afford to be wrong. Before she confronted him as his daughter, though, she had to be sure, doubly sure. And she would not go to him for shelter in any case because she knew she could make her own way. That she wanted the acknowledgement of her birth did not detract from the independence which was vital to her and which she had been fighting for most of her life.

Daniel had fought with her. He believed in this as she did, and although she had done nothing to further her cause since living here, it had not gone away. The fact that there was nothing to complain about here was not the issue, she thought. There were many households which were not as good as the Aston-Jenkins home and estate.

Her yearning for Daniel grew worse rather than better but no man would ever own her again. No man would ever buy or sell her in the market-place or anywhere else. She was Betsy Forrester, a woman who had a brain and a heart and who could read and write and was equal to anyone, man or woman.

She loved Daniel, loved him beyond anything she could ever have envisaged for herself, but even he would never have the opportunity to threaten her with the straw halter a second time. She would live her life feeling half-alive without him as she did now, rather than risk that again.

Betsy began to plan her career. Certainly she did not intend to stay a kitchen-maid for the rest of her life. She could work her way through until she was a housekeeper or cook. She would be in charge of some part of a house, even as she had been at her beloved Redwood Farm with Daniel.

Always when these thoughts threatened to engulf her she
remembered her special lady, Mrs Wallasey, and sat quietly for a while to think what she would advise. She knew how fortunate she had been when she was a child of ten to have met and worked for a true lady. One who, although her own status was assured, had seen and helped those who were not in that position.

‘Not everyone will, or even can, aspire to do great things,’ she used to say, ‘but if you believe you can, then you will, Betsy. Learn all you can, watch and listen and work out how you see things in your own mind, no matter what others tell you.’

Although it was so long ago when Mrs Wallasey died and Betsy’s world fell apart for the first time, some of the tears she shed now were for her special lady as well as for her beloved Daniel.