A Wicked Deception (21 page)

“See, it won’t be so bad,” Melanie
lied. “Being organized is the key to our survival. We might be able to buy a cow in the village, even chickens for eggs. I have to see if there is an outhouse. I’ll wet myself otherwise.”

Melanie opened the kitchen door, which led on to
an overgrown courtyard. Ann followed her into what once must have been a herb garden. Outside, the early summer sun shone from a clear blue sky lifting her spirits. A forest of oak trees enclosed the cottage. The interwoven branches formed a green canopy through which slanting sunlight filtered.

The wooden outhouse
listed drunkenly as if it might tumble down any day. Inside a splintered wooden seat covered a yawning hole. She dusted away the cobwebs and dead spiders with a piece of material ripped from her petticoat, while Ann stood with a horrified expression on her face.

The
y made their way to the woodshed which at one time must have been a stable or small barn. A couple of old bridles dangled from a rack on one wall and a large horseshoe hung above the entrance.

“For good luck,” Ann muttered. Melanie bit back on
a hysterical laugh.

Stacks of wood had been
piled up in one corner, probably dead tree branches from the forest floor, the majority of it uncut.

“Can you
use an axe?” Ann asked, staring at the pile of dead tree branches slung in one corner.

“Yes, I often did it at home.”
She had cut wood on a regular basis when James had been away or too busy. Venting her anger and frustration on logs always had a calming effect on her.

“I’m good at growing herbs
,” Ann said. “Geoffrey always told me I had a green thumb.”

They
left the barn and traipsed towards a small orchard. Most of the trees looked dead, lifeless branches reaching skywards as if begging for divine help. Melanie dashed over to an apple tree with Ann a couple of paces behind. Laughing and yelling they grabbed at the fruit and gobbled it down. Never had anything tasted so sweet.

“Once we get a decent fire going, we can stew some of these
,” Melanie said. “I don’t mind cooking, but I hate cleaning up afterwards.”

Ann smiled for the first time in days. The sun must have infused her with its warmth
, bolstered her hope. “I enjoy cooking, but I’ve never had to clean up the mess I made. Geoffrey insisted I at least have a scullery maid. I still miss him.” The light that had infused her eyes only seconds ago was replaced by a desperate sadness.

“Dear Ann.” Melanie took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze
. “I know how you feel. I’ll never forget Robbie.”

They gathered up several of the smaller
branches and carried them inside, eager to organize their bedding and food supplies.

“Do you have any money left?” Melanie asked.

“No. Peter must have gone through my purse before he left this morning. I’ve only got a few pennies.” Ann held her head in her hands and wailed. “How could my brother do such a horrid thing to me?”

“I don’t know
. Desperation and selfishness can turn men into beasts. Look at what Michael did to me, purely out of selfishness and lust.”
Stop being bitter
, she inwardly admonished herself.
You’ll destroy yourself if you keep this up.

“Let’s try and find the nearest village,” Melanie suggested.

Ann
stumbled to her bedroom and her piercing scream rent the air. She rushed out to the kitchen, tears pouring down her cheeks. “Peter took what was left of my jewelry.”

“What!”

“This was my mother’s ring.” Ann sniffed, as she gave Melanie the plain gold wedding band. “He didn’t find this or a few other pieces that belonged to mother. I kept them separate.”

How could a man do this to his sister? How much lower could Peter sink?

Ann swatted the tears away. “Deep down I’m not surprised. I would never have admitted it before, could hardly bear to think about it, but Peter has been a lying thief most of his life.”

“Oh no!”

“Yes. He was expelled from two different boarding schools for theft. Even as a schoolboy he gambled. I wanted to believe he would stop, but deep down I knew he wouldn’t. He’s like Michael Guilford, with a gambling addiction they won’t or can’t control.” She dangled a gold locket in front of Melanie. “My mother told me this had been given to her by an admirer, before she met my father. We’ll sell that first. I hope the village has a pawnshop.”

“It’s awful you having to sell your mother’s things.”

“What else can we do?”

One minute Ann was resolute, the next, a trembling, weeping wreck. Melanie
no longer knew who the real Ann was.

“I wonder whether we could get some kind of work in the village?”
Melanie mused as she closed the front door.

As they
headed towards the road they had driven on yesterday, Anne surprised her by saying. “Maybe I could teach the piano.”

Melanie linked arms with her. “
There could be a rich squire with daughters wanting to learn the piano.”

On the road, a rather generous description as two carriages could barely pass each other,
stood a weathered sign post.
Haverstock – 1 mile.

The
village of Haverstock consisted of a winding cobblestone street, with grey stone cottages on one side and a couple of shops and a small tearoom on the other. Dull, old and somber, even in the sunlight.

A large stone church with a high bell tower reigned over the village. Perched on a hill,
it held a commanding view of the countryside. With her thumb, Melanie stroked the gold wedding band.

They had worked out their story
as they walked along. Melanie would be Mrs. O’Dea, the widow of Ann’s cousin who had been killed on the Australian goldfields.

‘Richard’s Emporium
’, announced the faded letters on the glass shop front. Proprietor: E. Richards Esq. It was a grandiose name for a village store, but at least, numerous foodstuffs crammed every shelf.

Ann led the way to the counter where a thin melancholy young man stood, rigid as a flagpole.

“Good morning, Sir. My cousin and I have recently moved into my grandfather’s cottage near the Haverstock signpost. Do you recall Lord Sebastian Linley?”

“N
o, I don’t, but I know the place you mean though, surrounded by forest. It’s been empty for years.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Melanie nudged Ann with her elbow and raised her eyes to the
Jewelry
bought and sold
sign hanging above the counter.

“We’d like two ten pound bags of flour, a bag of sugar and salt
.” Ann rattled off the things they needed. “A box of bullets too. And can you tell us where we can buy bales of hay? Three or four should be sufficient. I don’t have any money but….”

“We don’t give credit.”
He snapped the words out like a steel jawed trap.

“I have some jewelry to sell.” Ann dabbed at her eyes with a white lace handkerchief. “I’m Ann Locksley
and this is my cousin’s wife, Melanie O’Dea. We’re both widows, left in distressing circumstances by the sudden deaths of our husbands on the Australian goldfields.”

“Good morning.” He inclined his head. “Theodore Richards at your service.”

Ann showed him the locket.

Mr. Richards
dangled it in his hand, feeling the weight. “I’ll need to check with my father.”

“It’s gold,” Ann said.

He left them at the counter while he disappeared through a side door.

“Distressing circumstance
s?” Melanie grimaced.

“This is so degrading, but I didn’t want him to think we had more
valuables in case they tried to rob us. Two women alone are vulnerable.”

“How clever of you, Ann
, I didn’t think about that. I’m glad we found that shotgun under the bed, and that you know how to use it. Maybe we could say Peter is coming in a day or two?”

“I will.” Ann
plucked at an imaginary crease in her skirt. “I never wanted to learn how to shoot but Geoffrey insisted.”

“Lucky for us he did. The only time I held a gun was at the
Eureka stockade.” Melanie shuddered on remembering the soldier whose horse she stole.

Mr. Richards returned, wearing a smug grin.
“I’ll give you two pounds for it.”

“What! That’s preposterous,” Ann
exclaimed.

“Your groceries, the bullets and I’ll get you four bales of hay, plus delivery this afternoon
. With the two pounds in cash, it’s a generous offer. Take it or leave it.”

Daylight robbery
and they all knew it.

“My brother should arrive in a day or so,” Ann said. “And I know he won’t be happy about this.”

“Then he should have provided you with more money.”

They took it. What else could they do?

Melanie spun on her heel, took Ann’s elbow and deliberately banged the shop door behind them.

“I know we can’t really afford it,” Ann
said, “but I’d love a decent pot of tea and a sticky bun. There’s that little tearoom across the road.”

“Yes, let’s go. We deserve a treat after what we’ve been through.”
What a mean, miserable person that man was.”

“If I ever get my money and social position back, I swear, I’ll never take
either for granted again.”

Did Ann really believe she would regain her wealth?
In Melanie’s experience, the poor usually became poorer.

The tearoom and bakery had
pretty lace curtains fluttering at the window.

“
Oh look, they have pork pies. I’m going to have one,” Melanie decided, “even if we can’t afford it.”

“I will too, and we’ll get a loaf of bread to take with us.”

The girl who took their order wore a black dress covered by a frilly white apron, and a wide band of lace reposed on her auburn curls. Minutes later, she brought their orders and the white china teapot had pink roses around the rim, as did the cups, saucers and plates.

Melanie
wasn’t disappointed, the pie tasted delicious. She savored every mouthful. They squeezed two cups of tea each from the teapot. Well fortified, they started on their return journey to the cottage.

“
If only we could get a cow from somewhere,” Melanie mused. “We could have milk in our tea, and make butter with any left over. Wishful thinking, unless … how many acres is the cottage set on?”

“I’m not sure
, but about twenty I think. The lease belongs to me now. It was originally for ninety nine years and there are still about thirty left.”

“Oh?
Who owns the freehold?”

“I think the freehold is owned by the church.
Before I left for Australia, my mother signed the place over to me, thank goodness. It passed through her family. I’m guessing that it isn’t worth much because of not owning the freehold and the ground being poor. I think towards the end of her life, Mother realized Peter would have eventually gambled it away.”

“
You and it have been a life saver for me. I don’t know where I would have ended up otherwise, probably the poor house.”

Ann shuddered. “You wouldn’t survive there. I’d kill myself before I went to a place like that.”

Melanie liked to think she would do the same. Only the destitute went there. But would she actually kill herself? What of the baby? If something happened to her, the baby
could end up in a foundling home or worse
.
Fear chilled her blood.

“Ann.” She grabbed her friend’s arm. “If something happens to me, swear on your word of
honor. On Geoffrey’s grave, you’ll care for my baby. The circumstances of its conception aren’t the child’s fault.”

Ann stopped dead
, and stood with her hands on her hips glaring at Melanie. “Stop it. You’re tempting fate talking like that.”

“But you promise.”

“Of course.” Near her heart she made the sign of the cross. “I’d bring it up as my own. In fact, I’d tell everyone it was mine. I’ll write to Aunt Helen in Paris, I know she’ll help us.”

“Why would she help someone like me?”

“Because you’re my friend, and she’d be sympathetic. Rumors abounded in the family about her committing some indiscretion with a married man. She was only seventeen when she went to France, got married there and never returned to England, not even for a visit. Come on, let’s get back.”

Away from the village
, moorland rolled to the horizon, studded with scattered farmhouses, rough hedgerows and dry stone walls. Melanie bent over to smell the wild pink roses trailing over a tumbledown wall.

They crossed a small bridge straddling a
gurgling stream. Once they left the main road the countryside changed. Huge trees on both sides of the pathway formed a brooding canopy that only let in filtered sunlight. At night it would be pitch black unless there was a full moon. Melanie shivered and moved closer to Ann.