Bitter Inheritance (19 page)

‘Tell me how you met him. Why would he let you into the secret, after all this time?’

So Marcus told his story simply, and Oliver said very little. ‘It’s a shock,’ was all Marcus got out of him. ‘I am going to bed, now.’

The sun was shining the next morning, as Marcus went down to breakfast. He’d hoped for a companionable walk with Oliver round the home farm before going home. But his father was there before him, dressed for church. His face was set in a stern, churchgoing mould.

Oliver got straight to the point. ‘That tale you told me last night makes no difference to us, Marcus. I hope you realize that.’

Marcus felt his heart sink. ‘What do you mean, Father?’

‘Nothing can change the situation between us and the Masons, not now. The rift is too old and too deep, and you should understand that I have very strong feelings about it.’ Oliver paused.

So Marcus was not going to influence Oliver’s thinking by any logical argument, it seemed.

‘I forgot to tell you that I have decided to sell the Badger’s Gill farm at Thorpe. I’m selling it back to the Masons, the solicitors have it in hand. That will put an end to the whole affair, I hope. I should never have bought it in the first place and got involved with them.’

Good! So little Sally had got together enough money to buy
back her farm. Marcus felt a rush of admiration for Sally and saw her in his mind’s eye – her red curls bouncing with energy, clapping her hands because she was going to recover the Mason farm. Then it struck Marcus suddenly that Sally might be going to marry money. The fair-haired, idle rich lad he had seen with her that day in Kirkby, would be about to buy her the farm, as a wedding present. He felt sick at the thought. Marcus realized that Oliver had not finished.

‘I am selling it for two thousand pounds, the current price for a farm that size, in good heart, with a large house.’

Marcus poured himself coffee and took a slice of toast, but he had no appetite. It was quite enough, he thought; in fact at about ten pounds an acre it was the same price as a farm lower down the valley. The old boy was after his pound of flesh. Two thousand! It was a lot of money for Sally to find. The theory of the rich boy was looking more likely.

Oliver smiled thinly as he delivered his final shot. ‘And my condition of sale is that there should be no more communication between them and us.’ His mouth closed with a snap.

Marcus was stunned for a moment. He ran his hand through his thick dark hair. ‘But if you accept that Mason didn’t murder Grandfather, why be so set against them?’

‘I am not going through all that again, Marcus. But I must say that I will be most displeased should you communicate with any of that family again.’

Should he keep quiet, to please the old boy? Should he pretend to agree and then please himself? Marcus thought for a while and then made up his mind. ‘I will explain my position, Father, since you have told me yours. I’m afraid you won’t like it, but I must be honest and I have a right to a point of view.’ He stopped and saw that Oliver was frowning at him. It was very unusual for Marcus to be so defiant.

‘I do realize how you feel about Sally’s mother. But it was long ago. You have lived a lot since then, and you’re going to have a new lease of life with Mrs Russell. You might not want to meet the Masons and I can understand that. But I do.’

‘You are against me, then.’ Oliver’s voice was bleak.

‘Father, this is not personal at all. I happen to disagree with
your opinion. I want to make peace with Samuel Mason, Sally’s uncle, and talk to Sally herself.’

Oliver Radford poured himself more coffee with a hand that shook slightly. ‘I am trying to advise you for your own good. I am much older than you, Marcus, and I don’t want you to be hurt!’

Well, you are doing your best to hurt me, Marcus thought. ‘I have met Sally Mason several times, and I am attracted to her and want to get to know her better. I am not sure whether she may be already engaged to someone else. I might have no chance.’ As Marcus faced this possibility he felt depression settling again. He would have to see her immediately. ‘But I am bound to tell her what I have learned about our families’ history, for her sake. There is no need for a bitter feud between us any more.’

‘Rubbish! Masons don’t care about it,’ Oliver snorted. ‘It wasn’t their father that died.’

‘But Samuel Mason’s life was ruined. He was never the same again and I gather the family’s fortunes started to decline from then on.’ Why couldn’t his father see anyone else’s point of view? Marcus sighed.’And so, whether you like it or not, I am going to see Sally Mason today to tell her the story. After that I am not sure what will happen. I will let you know.’

‘Your grandmother will be bitterly disappointed.’ Oliver turned on the family pressure, but Marcus did not respond. Breakfast proceeded in silence after that.

It’s almost the twentieth century, Marcus thought to himself. Surely a father can’t expect to dictate to his children all their lives? Perhaps he should have stood up to Oliver years ago. But in general he got on well with his father and he’d often kept small differences of opinion to himself. Oliver was inclined to take any opposition personally, even if it were only opposition to one of his ideas.

As soon as the meal was over Oliver went off to church, as Marcus saddled his horse and rode out of Nidd Grange to visit Thorpe against his father’s wishes. It was a strange feeling; he’d never really quarrelled with Oliver in his life. But he’d had to speak the truth. As he rode over the moor and past the Drovers’ Inn Marcus recalled the day when he’d rescued Sally from the snow. That day, he’d wanted to stay with her for ever. How hard
it had been that night for him to ride away! Now it could be too late; the fair-haired boy had probably taken over. Marcus realized that if Sally were now out of reach it was probably his own fault. He hadn’t tried to see her for so long, he’d been kept busy by Oliver – probably on purpose, to keep him out of the way. But, Marcus thought as he trotted over the short moorland turf, if he’d lost Sally, there was no point in upsetting the old boy. It might have been all for nothing. There was an insistent drumming in his head as the horse’s hoofs drummed on the turf. He had to know whether Sally was still free. He was afraid of what the answer would be.

As he neared Thorpe Marcus began to feel peculiarly hollow inside. He thought it might be love – could people actually become lovesick? But then he remembered the uncomfortable breakfast with Oliver, when he’d eaten very little. So the pangs might be hunger after all. He decided to call at the Crown for a bite to eat. The Crown would be closed as it was Sunday, but Mrs Bartram would find him something. He urged Odin on to a faster pace.

‘Now we’ve got the harvest in we can think about other things. Let’s go on a trip to Fountains Abbey on Sunday! Will you come, both of you? Ma’ll be coming too, when she hears about it.’ Robin looked at Emma and Sally, eager to be off, to get out of Thorpe for an afternoon.

Sally was still quite tired after the effort of harvesting. All the stooks of oats were safely stacked in the barn, to be threshed out later. It was satisfying to look round the yard and see the corn and the hay, evidence of prosperity and hard work completed. But her arms still ached from throwing the sheaves up to the stacker and when she closed her eyes at night, she still saw the flying sheaves of golden grain.

‘I’ll stay at home just for once, but Emma should go. You’ll enjoy the ride, Emma. And the beautiful old ruins by the river, they’re full of history.’ Sally was also thinking that Emma, although much braver than before, tended to shyness in company. It would be good for the girl to go out with the Scotts without Sally to hide behind. And it would be good to have a day to herself for a change.

As Marcus was riding down to Thorpe on that bright Sunday morning Sally was getting on with the farm work, still wondering about Oliver Radford’s letter. What would Marcus think of the ban on further communication between them? Perhaps he would accept what Oliver told him. Thinking it over, it seemed to Sally that Marcus had a rather sad outlook on life at times. She’d seen it that day when they met in Kirkby. Perhaps he needed someone to remind him to look on the bright side? Even on that day, he’d
seemed much more relaxed after he’d talked to her for a while.

Sunday was Joe’s day off and so Sally had to milk the cows and do all the chores by herself. Emma had gone off to lunch at the Scotts before the trip to Fountains. It wasn’t often that Sally was alone on the farm these days. With Joe and Emma as permanent helpers life was much easier. And she’d also been able to hire other workers when they needed them, such as a man and a wagon to help to lead in the sheaves of corn.

For most of the morning she was busy with the cows, feeding the hens and collecting the eggs and doing all the other small jobs round the yard. It was a reminder of just how hard her life had been when she had tried to farm all alone. Thank goodness that was over.

Once the work was done Sally sat down in the kitchen for a cup of tea and a slice of teacake and cheese. It was very quiet; the village of Thorpe was enjoying its day of rest. The ticking of the old clock was loud in the silence and from the yard she could hear the loud call of a hen that had just laid an egg and wanted the world to know. What now? There was always a job to do on a farm, but most of them could wait another day or two. She had two or three hours before the evening chores would begin. Going out into the garden, Sally picked some of the last of the summer roses. She arranged a bowl of roses in the hall and then decided to take the rest of the flowers to her parents’ grave. Sally often thought of her parents, but she’d had little time to visit their grave since her father died. Today was her first taste of leisure for weeks. But she couldn’t walk up through Thorpe on a Sunday in her farm clothes.

Half an hour later, neat and wearing a pretty print dress, Sally put on her straw hat and walked sedately up the village street to the church. The morning service was over and people had dispersed to their homes. The Crown Inn was next to the church and as she passed, Sally looked through the stone arch beside the inn. And there tied up to a rail she saw the horse that Marcus rode, Odin. It was the same chestnut, elegant head that had come between them while they were talking in Kirkby. Sally had a good eye for a horse and she certainly remembered this one. Sally’s heart went down. Marcus was in Thorpe, and hadn’t come near her. Marcus didn’t care about her, or he was so afraid of his father
that he dare not disobey him. Or – was she in danger of being as negative as he was? Sometimes, it was hard to work out the truth, especially of complex relationships. She wasn’t sure what their relationship might have been, but no doubt it was over.

The churchyard was peaceful, with a pigeon cooing in the trees and Sally felt gradually calmer. She placed the flowers and then took off her bonnet and sat on a seat near the graves. What would Mother and Father have thought about Radford’s condition of sale? Her father in particular would have been delighted that the farm was coming back to the Mason family. And a lack of communication with Radfords wouldn’t have worried him. But what if I told him I wanted to see Marcus Radford? What would my father have said? Sally couldn’t find the answer. Neither could she decide what she would have done if her father had forbidden her to see Marcus again. She had loved her father and wouldn’t have wanted to cause him grief.

Sally sighed and went slowly to the churchyard gate. It was all too difficult and probably always would be. She looked across the wall to the inn; there was Marcus, leading his horse through the arch. Although she felt like hiding behind a gravestone Sally stood still, with her hand on the churchyard gate. Her heart was hammering and she felt herself turning bright red. I hope he doesn’t see me….

‘Sally!’ Marcus called, and ran the short distance between them, with Odin trotting behind. ‘I came to Thorpe to see you.’

His arms went round her out there in the sunshine, and Sally’s heart experienced a surge of joy. This wasn’t the gloomy man she’d seen in Kirkby! ‘I-I didn’t think you’d see me,’ she stammered.

‘Of course I saw you! You can’t hide that hair!’ Marcus was laughing with sheer lightness of heart himself. But suddenly a grave look came over his face as he looked down at her. ‘Tell me quickly … we have so much to talk about … but – are you engaged, or promised to anyone else?’ His voice was urgent.

Sally was puzzled for a moment and then she saw the problem. ‘You mean my paying guest! Poor Simon. He was here for his health and he died not long ago. But I told you the last time we met, he was just a guest, Marcus.’ She paused, considering what a
real lady should say. And she could see that Marcus was still waiting. Sally was used to taking the lead and making up her mind; she knew she was sometimes seen as unfeminine, especially by Aunt Bertha. And she didn’t want to appear forward and unfeminine with Marcus. She was not yet sure of him, however pleased he seemed to see her.

‘I have no engagement, or involvement with anyone at all.’ It came out primly, but it was probably the correct thing to say even though Sally felt like shouting, ‘It’s you I want, you idiot!’ That would have been nearer the mark.

Marcus let out a long sigh. ‘So that’s it, that’s the main thing. I was hoping, but I wasn’t sure until I saw you!’ He beamed at her. ‘May I walk home with you?’ He offered his free arm, the one that wasn’t holding the horse.

‘What if Sol sees us and tells your father? We’re not supposed to communicate, ever again. It’s a condition of sale for the farm.’ Sally drew back.

Marcus looked grim. ‘Come on, we’ll walk down the street together.’ So Marcus led the horse down the street, with Sally on his other side. There was still nobody about except a few ducks on the green, lazing in the afternoon sun and not in the least interested in whether Sally was walking close to Marcus or not.

‘It doesn’t matter, Sally. I can’t be dictated to all my life. I have just been told of his “conditions” this morning. And I told my father that I was coming to see you today. I stopped at the Crown for a bite to eat, that was all.’

So Marcus had defied his revered father, to come to see her.

‘I’ll tell you more when we get to Badger’s Gill.’

At the farm Marcus put his horse in the stable and they sat together in the garden, on an old stone bench. Bees were humming in the Michael daisies and the scent of the fading roses rose up in the warm air. Sally brought out a jug of lemonade.’ When I got the letter with that condition, I thought it was the end—’ Sally began.

The last words of this speech were smothered because Marcus leaned over and kissed her. ‘All right, I should have come before, I know. But it seemed so hopeless and I thought you were set with that fair-haired boy, too. And then I had this idea of getting to the
bottom of the murder. I thought that would end the quarrel for Father. But it didn’t, of course.’

Sally took his hands in hers. ‘Start at the beginning, Marcus. Did you get to the bottom of the mystery? What have you found?’

Sitting there in the sunshine, Marcus told Sally the story of Foxholes Wood and what had happened there fifty years ago.

‘The poor things! Marcus, it sounds so likely. People often said that my grandfather couldn’t remember anything. His memory was bad, we all knew it. I suppose that’s why they didn’t bring a case against him. Most people believed him when he said he couldn’t remember what happened.’ Sally sat quiet for a while, thinking about her grandfather. ‘But it was worse for your family … Mr Radford was left without a father, at a young age. It probably changed him, Marcus.’ That strong, determined, ruthless face, Sally thought, had perhaps been formed as a result of the tragedy.

‘You’re right. But he’s very – inflexible. I’d hoped that the truth would put an end to the hatred, Sally. But he said this morning that nothing had changed for him.’

Marcus stretched and looked across at Sally. ‘Now that our grandfathers have been laid to rest, you and I at least have nothing to come between us. What do you say, little Bo-Peep?’

Sally looked down modestly. ‘I don’t want to come between you and your father. And I don’t really know what will happen if I break the condition of sale, for Badger’s Gill. But….’

Marcus smiled, and Sally thought his face was thinner than she remembered it. ‘So there is a but, is there? I love you, Sally. And I am prepared to upset all the Radfords at once, if necessary, so long as you want me with you.’ There was a long interval, with Marcus and Sally very close together. ‘My little Bo-Peep!’ he murmured into her hair.

‘Marcus, I have missed you more than I can tell. I want to be with you!’ Sally felt her face flushing again, but she didn’t care. This was happiness. ‘I am so happy that you feel the same way! But I think we can be generous. Let’s take things gently and hope that your father will change his mind about me. Give him time.’

In one way, Sally thought, Oliver’s opposition was a good thing. Marcus had shown that he was prepared to stand on his own feet,
make his mind up. She admired him for his independence, knowing how hard it was to achieve in a farming family. Marcus was his own man, thank goodness.

‘I believe I know some of the problem: my grandmother. She’s the one who is most implacable. The death soured her, poor thing. But there’s something else.’ Marcus was looking at her closely. ‘It’s only right that you should know the whole truth about my father. I know that judging by his letters he would seem to be an ogre to you. He’s told me what went into them! I think he enjoys dreaming up scorchers, to tell you the truth. He likes words, he writes all his own business letters, doesn’t trust it to Hill. I’m afraid he polishes up the insults as a hobby!’

Sally laughed. ‘I rather wondered … they were so very rude!’ But I was just as bad, she thought guiltily. That first letter … I hope Marcus didn’t see it.

‘Well, one night I got it out of him. My father refuses to see you, won’t visit Thorpe – because you’re too much like your mother, Sally.’

Sally’s eyes widened. ‘But he didn’t know my mother – did he? She never mentioned him!’

‘He was in love with your mother, but she married your father instead. I don’t know how well they knew each other, though. And there was no suggestion of betrayal, or of going back on a promise. She just chose Robert Mason. I don’t even know whether she knew of Father’s feelings. He told me he’d been very serious and devoted to business, as a youth.’

In the silence of the garden, the humming of bees was loud.

‘And my father was – devastated.’ Marcus took her hand. ‘I can imagine how he felt.’

Sally sat quiet, digesting this thought. ‘Poor Oliver! So it wasn’t exactly hatred, after all.’ She shook her head.

‘Far from it. That’s why he bought the farm, you see. Not out of revenge, but to help your parents without appearing to. Nobody else offered a bid and no doubt the auctioneer told him, knowing my father could afford to buy it.’ Marcus took another sip of his drink. ‘I learned quite a lot about Father that night. He’s not as ruthless and hard as he pretends to be. But he cares what people think of him, more than I do. That’s why he dresses so
well. And he likes people, especially tenants, to see him as a tough businessman.’

‘But later, he was happy with your mother? What was she like, Marcus?’ There was a great deal that she didn’t know about Marcus. And Oliver Radford was emerging as almost likeable! Sally couldn’t quite believe it.

‘Mother was calm, practical and warm-hearted. Just like me!’ He laughed. ‘Yes, they were happy. But I have a feeling that since she died, the past has come to mean more to him. He gets very agitated if I ask him to come to Thorpe.’

The shadows were lengthening across the green as they talked on, absorbed in learning about each other. At length Marcus looked at the sky and then across at the farmyard. Sally’s cows were assembled round the gate, staring reproachfully over the wall into the garden. They knew it was milking time, even if those silly humans had forgotten.

‘We may be trying to follow our destiny, but the cows still have to be milked! I’ll give you a hand, lass – I suppose there’s no one else to help on a Sunday?’

Sally and Marcus tied up the cows and then under Sally’s direction, Marcus helped with the evening chores. The sun was setting by the time they finished and turned the cows out again.

‘That’s a fine animal!’ Marcus watched Primrose walking proudly out of the shed.

‘She’s to be shown at Kirkby, next week. We’ve decided to have a go at the championship.’

‘Good, I’ll hope to see you there. We’re tied up with the show, of course.’