A Time Like No Other (16 page)

She took Susan Harper’s thin hand between her own, smiling, then ran across the lane to where she had tethered Merry. She leaped on to her back and with a wave of her hand cantered in the direction of the moorland track that would take her home.

10

They were married three weeks later, the bridegroom insisting on it and though the whole of Moorend was buzzing with it when it became known, the married couple were oblivious to the furore. The bride existed in a state of blind acceptance as she had done for the past three weeks. She felt as though she were under a glass dome, one of those that housed dried flowers and birds and which were so popular on chiffoniers in the best homes. She could see out but though it was made of glass no one could see or hear her.

She was pale and slender, her pregnancy not as yet visible, as she stood beside Harry at the altar of a small church in White Cross, a village where neither of them were known. Harry had arranged for the banns to be called and on a still, fine day at the end of October, accompanied by a bewildered Biddy, they exchanged their vows in a church empty of all but the two of them, the minister and her. A carriage awaited them at the lych gate where it had dropped them before the ceremony and the three of them, in total silence, were driven back to the Priory. There were no celebrations, no toasts, no champagne.

Though Biddy was delighted by the news that her lass was to be safe and cared for by Mr Sinclair she was aghast and suspicious of this sudden decision to marry. After all, Miss Lally had been squired around Moorend and even into Halifax by Mr Sinclair’s own brother, Roly. The talk of the parish, they had been, causing such scandal not one of their previous acquaintances had called at the Priory for weeks. Hours they had spent, laughing and talking in the drawing room, even singing at the piano which Miss Lally could play by ear, ‘Are You Going to Scarborough Fair’, ‘Early One Morning’, ‘Believe Me if all Those Endearing Young Charms’, and many others, their voices reaching the kitchen where Jenny and Clara hummed along with them as they washed up the dinner pots. They had ridden up on to the high moors, taking paths once trodden by packhorses, coming home flushed and smiling, and only the good Lord knew what they got up to. Biddy had been worried to death and even tried to remonstrate with Miss Lally but she had taken no heed, saying that it was wonderful to be with someone who made her laugh for a change.

Now, right out of the blue and only two months after Mr Roly had gone off on his travels, and with no sight nor sound of Mr Sinclair,
Mr Harry
Sinclair, in all that time, Miss Lally comes home and casually announces that she and Harry Sinclair were to be wed.

‘
What!
’ Biddy had sat down heavily in the nearest chair, her hand to her heart and her face like a drift of snow.

‘Harry and I are to be married . . .’

‘Dear God, child, I heard you the first time but I’m so stunned I just can’t believe it. Only a month or two back you were—’

‘I know. Roly and I were . . . good friends but he would not make a good husband or father to my boys so . . .’

‘You’re to marry Mr Harry! Just like that! And what I want to know is how has this come about?’ She shook her head in bewilderment then moved across the room, dragging Lally round to face her. Lally was pacing restlessly about her pretty bedroom. It seemed she could not settle nor could she look Biddy in the eyes.

‘It’s something that . . . that is convenient to us.’

‘
Convenient!
You talk about it as if it was a business arrangement, like . . . like one firm that is going to sell out to another or summat. There’s summat be’ind this.’ As she did when she was upset Biddy lapsed into the northern brogue of her early days. She turned towards the door abruptly. ‘I shall ’ave a word wi’ Mr Sinclair,’ just as though she were to be off this very minute to the Mill House or High Clough, wherever the chap happened to be and get this silly nonsense sorted out!

‘No, you will not, Biddy.’ Lally whirled to face Biddy’s retreating back. ‘This is between Harry and myself. We have . . . have always been fond of one another and have come to believe that marriage between us would be in our best interests. My sons will have a father and a home.’

‘They’ve got a ’ome.’

‘A proper home where money isn’t so damned hard to find. A decent education at a decent school. Ponies of their own to learn to ride, all the things they would have had if Chris hadn’t died.’

‘Mr Chris hadn’t two farthings ter rub tergether.’ Biddy’s voice was savage with fear. ‘What’s be’ind this, my lass? You’ve never bin bothered about brass before, an’ neither was Mr Chris. Now, all of a sudden yer tekken up wi’ the need fer ponies an’ such. So tell me this. D’yer love ’im like ’e loves you?’

Lally caught Biddy’s arm as she opened the door. Her face was a picture of astonishment. ‘What the devil d’you mean by that?’ Her hand was cruel on Biddy’s flesh and Biddy winced.

‘D’yer meant ter say yer don’t know what that chap really feels for yer? I’ve sin it as clear as day though I’ll grant yer he does his best to ’ide it. So ’appen he’s caught yer on the rebound like, though who from I don’t know. Chris Fraser or Roly Sinclair. As like as two peas in a pod they were, harum-scarum pair, and I reckon that’s why yer took up wi’ Mr Roly ’cos he was so like Mr Chris, but Mr Sinclair’s a different kettle of fish altogether so think on. There’s more to this than meets the eye, lady, an’ I mean ter find out what it is. Now, let go of me arm fer I’ve things to attend to. Just let me know when the bridegroom’s coming over to inspect his new home because if I know Mr Sinclair he’ll want to change things to his own satisfaction. He’s used to living in luxury is Mr Sinclair and when he moves in here he’ll want the very best.’

Biddy swept from the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

And so here they were, Harry moving about the drawing room picking up objects as though debating whether to keep them or chuck them away as rubbish, evidently inspecting what was to be his new home and deciding what was to be altered while the fascinated Jenny, who was serving the hot chocolate her new master had ordered, watched closely so that she might report back to the kitchen. They had all been open-mouthed with astonishment when it had been announced that their little mistress was to wed the wealthy Mr Sinclair, Mr
Harry
Sinclair, with Mr Chris hardly cold in his grave, but then their mistress really did need looking after what with them boys and the farms and that. She looked like death, poor little thing, Jenny was to tell the others in the kitchen when Mrs Stevens had left the room, though her frock was lovely. The colour of apple blossom, floating about her with a short train and in her hair, which curled about it, was a little cap the same colour as her frock, decorated with pale pink petals. She had a small bouquet attached by satin ribbons to her wrist.

‘Will that be all, madam?’ Jenny bobbed a small curtsey.

‘Thank you, Jenny. It
is
Jenny, I believe?’ her new master said.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Yes, well that will be all, thank you. We will ring if we need anything.’ He was already in command. Jenny scurried from the room, eager to get back to the others, hoping that Mrs Stevens had not yet returned from wherever it was she had gone. The new Mrs Sinclair and her husband did not look like newly weds, at least not in Jenny’s understanding though she had not been married herself. But one of her sisters had and the bridegroom had hardly been able to keep his hands from her and was obviously longing to get her to himself! Mr Sinclair’s groom had delivered a trunk only yesterday which had been placed in the bedroom that Miss Lally had once shared with her dead husband and they were apparently to share the bed, which Jenny had made up this morning while Miss Lally was at the church.

‘Perhaps we should order dinner,’ Harry said when Jenny had left the room. ‘You must be tired and an early meal will suit me.’ He was scrupulously polite as he had been for the past three weeks ever since he had told her they must be married. His face was expressionless, as had been Biddy’s when told of it just as though they were arranging some business affair.

He had ridden over to the Priory the day after his proposal and with cool dignity told Lally what he had planned for them, for her servants, her children and for the Priory itself. He would, of course, live at the Priory since there was no room at Mill House for them all, especially with two lively boys and then, naturally, a space must be made for the child who was coming. When the time came he might build a house, his own house, in which they would live, for the Priory was her sons’ inheritance and would come to one of them when they were older. And, of course, Mill House must be kept for the return of Roly whose home it was.

In the meanwhile changes at the Priory must be made which he would explain to her when he had moved in. If she had any objections to anything he suggested she had only to say. She would be given an allowance to spend as she liked and naturally things she needed for the boys and the child yet to be born she had only to ask. He thought it might be wise, he told her coolly, if they were to share a room though she might find it distasteful, in view of the . . . the coming child. Servants were known to gossip and after all the baby was to be passed off as his! A ripple of distaste crossed his face. It would look strange if it were to get out that the newly married Mr and Mrs Sinclair were sleeping apart. Did she agree? She did.

They ate a silent meal, Lally still dressed in her lovely wedding gown, the one Miss Hockley in Market Square had been astonished but delighted to design and make for her. Like the rest of Moorend she had been aware of Mrs Fraser’s relationship with Mr Roly Sinclair and to be told that she was to wed Mr Harry Sinclair and in three weeks’ time caused a ripple of whispers to flow from floor to floor in her busy establishment, and from there to spread quickly through the parish.

At last Lally, fiddling with a butter knife, could stand the silence no longer. ‘Are we never to speak, Harry?’ she said abruptly. ‘Are we to live in this silently polite world for ever? We once were friends. You helped me enormously after Chris died. I have made a terrible mistake and again you are protecting me but if we are to have any sort of life together . . .’ Her voice trailed away and Harry felt the pain of it,
her
pain disintegrate something in the region of his heart. She looked fragile, vulnerable, defenceless against what she saw as his careless indifference to her misery. She had not wanted to marry him. She had been forced into it by circumstances, admittedly brought about by her own foolishness, but still it was not all her fault. Who better than him knew Roly’s charm?

‘Lally, speak, my dear. Whatever you wish to say, please feel free to say it.’ He leaned across the table and cut himself a piece of cheese. The table looked elegant, with bowls of flowers, fruit, cheese, wine, savoury biscuits baked by Biddy who he had ascertained was an excellent cook and for the time being, he had told Lally loftily, he would keep her on. Oh, he realised she was more than a cook to Lally and she would not be turned away. She was a decent housekeeper and with the money he was prepared to pour into the household purse would do very well. For the moment! Mrs Cannon would stay on at Mill House with her staff but the grooms would be needed here at the Priory since he meant to purchase thoroughbred stock. Ponies for the boys and the children he would have with Lally, a son of his own . . . Dear sweet Lord – a son of his own!

‘I have nothing in particular that I wish to speak of but . . . well, there must be something we have in common. Once upon a time we used to . . . Oh, Harry, this is . . . we are married and I for one would like to make a success of it, a life for—’

‘A success of it. Would you indeed, when you carry my brother’s child.’ His face twisted with what looked strangely like anguish though Lally did not recognise it.

‘Yes.’ Her voice was passionate. ‘I came to you, not for this . . .’ indicating the pair of them sitting at the table, the expensive setting of cut-crystal wine glasses, the flowers, the scented candles, ‘though it is very pleasing.’

‘What did you come for?’ he asked her coldly.

‘I don’t know. You were my friend and as such I somehow found myself admitting my . . . my sin, I suppose you would call it. That’s what Moorend would call it. But when you offered me marriage I found myself liking the idea. We have not spoken of it during the past three weeks. I have travelled the days in a dream world, led along by some mysterious compulsion.’

‘You mean you were made to marry me?’ His voice was cold, that of a stranger, polite but uncaring.

‘No, no. I . . . for the sake of my boys . . . the scandal would have ruined their chance of a decent life among their own kind . . . and for myself . . .’

‘You would rather live a lie than be ostracised by society, you are saying?’

He smiled cruelly and Lally wondered why she had never seen this side of his nature before. He had always been kind, gentle, helpful, ready to give freely of advice. He had shown a humorous depth to his nature, making her laugh, lightening a part of her life that had been cheerless after the accident that had killed Chris. Now he was this cold stranger who seemed intent on humiliating her. And yet she remembered the strange words Biddy had spoken when she had been told that Lally was to marry Harry. She had implied that Harry loved her but that was totally ridiculous, for she had seen no sign of it. In the past he had been friendly, trustworthy and understanding, unstinting with his advice and help and certainly not at all lover-like.

She sighed deeply, catching the eye of Jenny who had just entered the room and was at the ancient sideboard ready to pour more coffee should it be needed but it seemed Harry was ready to start on something stronger. He had already drunk a full bottle of wine, Lally having merely a sip or two, and turning to Jenny, smiling politely, he told her she might go.