Anna Jacobs (21 page)

Denise stared at her, then clapped one hand to her mouth and glanced towards the bed. “You know, don’t you?” she asked in a low voice.

“About your mistress’s son deliberately making her ill? Yes.”

The maid started wringing her hands together. “He’ll kill me if he finds out I’ve been talking to you. Or turn me off without a character and then what will my poor mistress do?”

“Has he—done this sort of thing before?”

Words poured out. “He uses her all the time, whether she’s well or not, but for all she’s afraid of him, she won’t hear a word against him. And yes, she fell ill unexpectedly at a cousin’s house two years ago. It bought us a few days of comfort when we didn’t know where to turn for our next meal.”

Deborah made a soothing murmur but didn’t interrupt the flow of confidences. She hadn’t realised Elkin had been so short of money—and so recently, too. He didn’t seem short now. The maid’s next words echoed her thoughts.

“All that one cares about is himself. He’s got money from somewhere now, probably from his gambling. Well, just look at those clothes he’s wearing! But he won’t spend it on making the house more comfortable, will he? No, he just leaves us there and it’s like to fall down about our ears. The roof leaks, there isn’t enough wood to last the winter and I’m at my wits’ end how to look after her properly, I am that.” She began sobbing, muffling the sound in her apron.

Deborah patted her on the shoulder, thinking furiously. “If you should happen to have any useful information about what he’s planning, my husband and I would make sure you were all right afterwards, give you a place here if he turned you off.”

Denise pulled away. “I wish I could. Oh, I do wish I could tell you everything. But he’d do more than turn me off. He’d kill me if he found out I’d been talking about him.” She turned away, blowing her nose and making obvious efforts to stop weeping. “I’m sorry, Mrs Pascoe. I daren’t talk to you any more.”

She moved across to the door as a signal that Deborah should leave, but didn’t open it immediately. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you ought to be very careful of crossing him. He’s ruthless. And more than that I dare not say, for my life I dare not.”

* * * *

When Matthew returned from the village he went to find his wife, marvelling at how even the thought of seeing her made his spirits lift. He found her in the small linen room and stopped in the doorway for a moment, enjoying the sight of her with a pinafore tied round her slender body and a slight flush on her cheeks. He’d have hated to marry a woman who was too fine to apply herself to honest toil. He smiled at the thought. A funny thing to find attractive, wasn’t it? But his money had been too hard won to idle around as Elkin did, and he didn’t want a wife who just sat around primping and being a burden to him.

She was going through the yellowed linen, muttering to herself as she moved things to various piles.

“The linen doesn’t please you?” he asked with a smile. “Do we need new sheets?”

She jumped in shock, then relaxed and smiled at him.

“Everything is in such a muddle, I don’t know what we need. Mrs Simley has been a terrible housekeeper. Wait till Bessie takes over here. She’ll turn the house upside down and have us all running to do her bidding till it’s to her liking.”

He smiled as he remembered the suspicious old woman who had opened the door to him in Newgarth. He hadn’t had time to be polite, so would probably have to mend his fences with her when she came to live here. “You’re very fond of your maid.”

“Yes. Bessie’s stayed with us through good times and bad, and she’s more like family than a servant. I don’t know what my mother would do without her and since my father’s death we haven’t been able to pay her a penny piece in wages.”

The maid rose still further in his esteem. That was another thing he valued highly, loyalty. “You can remedy that when she comes here.” He frowned. “I’d expected to hear from young George by now. He’s had time enough to find them.”

Deborah’s smile faded. “You think—something might be wrong?”

“I wondered if your uncle might have stopped your mother leaving. Would he do such a thing?”

“If he saw a profit in it for himself.”

“Then as soon as we’ve dealt with Elkin, we’ll go and fetch them ourselves.”

She beamed at him, clutching a pile of linen to her breast. She was caught in a stray sunbeam that lit up the glory of that beautiful hair which was already escaping from the confines of the cap and hair pins.

For a moment they stood there staring at one another. The man she’d married, Deborah thought, might appear stern to others, but he had a way of smiling at her that made something inside her melt. She wished they had time to get to know one another properly, instead of having to deal with one crisis after another. Still, at least they’d been able to snatch precious moments like these every now and then. That helped bring them closer.

“Did they tell you in the stables that Elkin’s man came to find him this morning and they left together?” she asked.

“Aye.”

“He came running across to the house, so it must have been something important. And the two of them rode out together soon after.”

Reluctantly Matthew dragged his thoughts back from contemplation of last night’s pleasures to the present crisis. “Did you see where they went?”

“They rode across the moors. I didn’t think there was anything in that direction.”

She put down the linen and would have moved past him but he caught her in his arms and pulled her close, bending his head to kiss her.

She didn’t even try to pull away, giving him back kiss for kiss and twining her arms round his neck.

Only the knowledge that he had important things to do made him end the embrace, but he couldn’t help smiling down at her and lingering for long enough to say huskily, “Once we have got rid of Elkin . . ”

“Yes.” Her voice was a breath only but her eyes were full of smiling promise.

“I had a message from John only a few minutes ago that Seth had been speaking to Chadding, after which the fellow rode out along the main road to Rochdale. He’s left his things at the inn, though, so he’s coming back.”

“Do you think the groom who came back to speak to Chadding had discovered something about my mother? Why else should he return here so quickly? He didn’t have time to get back to Newgarth or see my uncle.” She shook her head in bewilderment. “I can’t work out what’s happening. I only know I’m worried sick about my mother and Bessie.”

Matthew paused for a wary glance sideways, then risked saying, “I think it’s time to set a trap for Elkin.”

“How shall you do that?”

“What better bait than myself?”

“No! Matthew, no, I forbid it!”

“It’s the only bait he’ll take, Deborah.”

“But you may get hurt.”

“If I do nothing, someone will definitely get hurt.” He pulled her into his arms and said into the warmth of her neck, “I shall take the greatest care of myself, I promise you. I have a lot to live for.” But he pushed her aside quickly before he lost himself in kissing her. He needed all his concentration if he was to come out of this alive.

After he’d gone back outside she tried to settle to work again, but couldn’t. The thought of Matthew deliberately putting himself in danger terrified her. She’d only just found him, couldn’t bear to lose him now.

* * * *

As the cart drew up with a jangling of harness and much snorting from the horse, Bessie woke with a start and looked around. They’d stopped in front of a tiny, tumble-down cottage which stood alone in a dip in the slope leading up to the moors. Wind whistled around them and no other habitation was in sight. This place definitely wasn’t a farm. She nudged her mistress, feeling suddenly anxious, and when Isabel woke with a start, helped her sit up

“I don’t know where we are, but it doesn’t feel right,” she whispered. “Oh, why did I let myself fall asleep?”

The driver jumped down and came round to the back of the cart. “Why don’t you come inside, ladies.”

“I think we’ll wait here,” Bessie said quickly, feeling more nervous by the minute, she couldn’t understand why. “You see to your business and we’ll just sit here quietly.”

“How can I load the cart with you on it?” He held out one hand imperatively just as a horseman came riding along the track.

The fine gentleman who had passed them earlier reined in his horse and sat staring down at them. “Are you Deborah’s mother?” he asked Isabel.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Good. If you’ll come inside, I’ll send her a message to say you’ve arrived. She’ll want to come and see you.”

But Bessie didn’t trust him any more than the driver, for the look in his eyes was cold and he was staring at them in a way that was insulting, as if they were of no account, dirt beneath his feet. He might dress like a gentleman, but he didn’t act like one in her opinion.

Isabel looked at her uncertainly, then back at the rider. “Can we not go to her? This man promised us a ride to Marymoor.”

“You can’t see her quite yet.” Elkin dismounted and left the reins dangling as he strode across to offer them a hand down and say imperatively, “Come!”

Isabel edged forward and took the help he offered. When she was down, he led her off towards the house.

The driver of the cart came to help Bessie down.

“Who is that man and how did he know Mrs Isabel was Miss Deborah’s mother?” she asked.

“You’ll find out when you’re inside.”

When she didn’t move, he dragged her off the cart, taking no care about whether he bumped her or not. That proved her suspicions were not groundless and something was very wrong indeed. Miss Deborah wouldn’t associate with men who hurt folk like that. Nor would she want to keep her mother hidden in a lonely cottage on the moors. So who were these people and why had they brought them here?

But Bessie knew better than to shout out her suspicions. As she stumbled along by his side, the man kept hold of her arm. A cold wind whistled about her ears and she could see no other habitations. She didn’t protest about what was happening. What was the use? Two strong men could do as they wanted with two old women like her and Mrs Isabel. No, she must keep her wits about her and pretend to be weaker and more stupid than she was.

No one knew they were here, so no one else could come and rescue them. They would have to help themselves. If they could.

And if there was a way, any way at all, she’d find it.

* * * *

George rode along the moorland track only an hour after the two women had been abducted. He had spoken to a woman weeding a field, who had definitely seen them, and knew he was getting close. He touched the butt of his pistol, which he had ready loaded, praying he might find them before others did.

When he passed a cottage, he knocked on the door. “I’m sorry to disturb you, mistress, but I’m seeking two old women who have been travelling across the moors towards Marymoor. Have you seen them today?”

The woman shook her head. “No women have passed this way, only two riders heading in the other direction.”

“Are you sure of that?”

She nodded. “Very sure. I was out working in the garden all morning. It’s near the road and I’d have seen anyone who passed by.” She laughed. “There are so few travellers along this road we watch for them and call out for news if they look friendly. I didn’t call out to Mr Elkin, though.”

“Elkin? He was one of the riders?”

“Yes. He lives a few miles away now in the old bailiff’s house, but he used to live closer before the family lost all their money.” She eased her back with both hands, then repeated, “No, I’d definitely have seen your old ladies if they’d passed by today.”

George frowned at her, then looked back along the track, shaking his head. “Thank you for your help.” He rode a short distance along the track in the direction of Marymoor, then turned back. He believed the woman.

But where could Mrs Jannvier and her maid have gone? He had grown up on the other side of Marymoor and only recently started working for Mr Pascoe, so he didn’t know this side of the village very well at all. There didn’t seem to be many farms round here, just the moors and a few fields on the higher side of the road and who knew what on the downhill slopes, which had more trees growing on them.

In the end he decided, with great reluctance, that it was time to return to Marymoor and tell Mr Pascoe all he knew. He hated to admit that he hadn’t found the old ladies, wanted Jem to think well of him, wanted to keep his job at Marymoor. But he’d done all he could on his own, especially if Mr Elkin were involved. Jem knew the district far better than he did and would work out what to do next. And George would be right next to him, helping.

Chapter 11

When the man who called himself Chadding rode out of Marymoor village, he searched for a place to tie up his horse, so that he could keep watch for travellers without being seen. He found a perfect place, a small grove of windswept trees, behind which the ground sloped down so that he could tether the horse out of sight. As long as it didn’t rain, he could sit on the ground with his back against a tree and watch who passed by.

He settled down to wait, getting quickly bored because there were so few travellers, mainly farm carts going from one field to another. Easy enough to see who was driving them. The only trouble would be if the old ladies were inside a vehicle or hidden under something. From the way they’d fled from Rochdale, they must know that Mr Lawrence was pursuing them.

He grinned as he wriggled into a more comfortable position. Things couldn’t have suited him and his master better. Mr Elkin intended to kill Pascoe, then a widowed Deborah would have land and money. He was quite sure the master would find a way to get hold of it and that some of it would fall his way. Mr Lawrence wasn’t a generous man, but knew to a nicety how much he needed to pay to keep the loyalty of those who served him in special ways.

Elkin thought Frank was going to deliver his master’s niece and the estate she’d inherited into his hands, which just showed how stupid the man was.

Frank kept watch all day, though at one point he rode to a nearby inn for a quick sup of ale and a bite to eat, making sure he sat where he could keep an eye on the road. The innkeeper tried to find out his business, but he knew how to keep his mouth shut. Good ale, it was, though.