Daughter of Dark River Farm (49 page)

It was an odd thing to say, but he didn’t elaborate. ‘Anyway, I liked her,’ I said to Mother, ‘and you told me to choose carefully. Well, I have.’

Mother was, thankfully, too distracted with other things to argue. ‘Very well, if you insist. I will speak to her on Saturday morning.’

Our attention was drawn to the quiet click of the tall wooden gate that led into the kitchen gardens, and Will nodded respectfully before striding off down the drive. My brother rounded the corner of the house, calling out to his new hero, and that envy flickered again as Will turned, smiled at Lawrence, and waited for him to catch up. Mother frowned and started to protest at the way her son was behaving with the tradesman, and I hurriedly kissed Uncle Jack goodbye and went back indoors, wondering how long it would be before that breathtaking smile was once more directed at me. Wondering, too, about what Will had been about to say before Lawrence’s arrival had stopped him.

My birthday party, and Lizzy’s first day as my maid, blurred into a mess of riding, dressing, catching the envious eyes of family members – particularly the Wingfields – as they watched Uncle Jack hang the wretched blue diamond around my neck, and the relief that I had, without doubt, made the right choice in Lizzy. She was attentive, gentle and funny, and with a sharp intelligence that I already knew would question everything, weigh up the answers, and then reach her own conclusions anyway. A girl after my own heart, and, despite what Mother had said, I knew she would be a good friend.

Shortly afterwards, when all the fuss had died down, my thoughts turned once again to the man who had laughingly dubbed himself “Lord William”. I tried to convince myself I’d been wrong about that path we were to travel, that he was a distraction, nothing more, but even as I acknowledged it I felt my heart squeeze a little at the thought of his hand on my wrist, his breath on my skin, and his voice, low and soft, speaking my name. Distraction or otherwise, the need to see him again was growing, and it was something I could not ignore.

It was market day in Breckenhall.Sitting in my room, looking out at the sunshine and at Lawrence larking about with our cousins on the tennis court, I knew I couldn’t wait a moment longer, and changed into the plainest of my dresses, left a note for Lizzy and, unable to find anyone to drive me, I walked into town.

Despite my eagerness I moderated my pace, deliberately keeping my mind on banal things; diary appointments, the next time I might ride to hounds, and what to buy Lawrence for his birthday. As I drew closer to town, however, my feet began to overtake my patience, and when I began hearing the sounds of the busy market drifting down the road it was all I could do not to break into a run. Once in the square I steadied myself, feeling the heat in my skin that I tried to tell myself was just a result of my fast walk. Will was manning Mr Markham’s stall, urging customers to go across to the shop before all the best cuts were sold, and after the first lurch of excitement at seeing him I held back and watched him. I enjoyed hearing the laughter of the crowds as he kept up a running line of banter, folding small bits of paper into intriguing shapes to give to the children. Word had spread from the delighted recipients to their friends, and there was a small queue waiting; I watched his hands, busy at work as he spoke to his customers, hardly sparing a glance downwards, utterly confident in his creations.

Eventually he looked around and saw me, and the look on his face jolted me severely. I had hoped for a smile, one of those grins that lit up his face, but he looked as if someone had reached into his chest and stolen his breath. His words faltered and he gave the crowd a distracted smile, but his eyes were pulled back to mine again immediately. I felt my own heart stuttering, and couldn’t look away, no matter what propriety dictated. His patter faded and the small group dispersed, so I made my way over to the stall and, making sure he was still looking, stepped between the backdrop and the high wall of the town hall. A moment later he was there and before I had time to blink I was in his arms.
I’m no boy, Evie
…I knew it for certain when he held me, and the way he breathed my name made me tremble.

‘Lord William,’ I murmured in return, and felt him laugh. I pulled back and looked up into his face, suddenly shy. ‘I didn’t know if you…I mean –’

‘Does this reassure you?’ He lowered his face to kiss me, and the rest of the world slipped away to become nothing more than a background hum and a vague awareness of a breeze in my hair. Will’s lips were gentle but firm as they moved over mine, and my mouth opened without any conscious decision on my part. Our hands moved restlessly as they sought a closer hold, and as the kiss deepened I felt the sharp, hard nip of his teeth and returned it.

When we finally broke apart, both more than a little shaken by the intensity of the moment, he stepped back and raised a questioning eyebrow. With an effort, I remembered the question.

‘Well, yes,’ I said, a little breathlessly. ‘That was very reassuring indeed.’

He smiled and leaned in for another kiss, a softer one this time, our lips barely brushing. ‘Good.’ Then he made a small sound of annoyance and glanced at his pocket watch. ‘Frank will be over in a moment. Quick, when can I see you again?’

He peeked out from our hiding place to check both the stall and the imminent arrival of his employer, and I thought fast. ‘I ride alone when I can. Up behind Oaklands and towards the quarry. I try to go out on Sundays, usually as soon as I’ve changed after church, and stay out until teatime if the weather’s dry.’

Will touched my cheek and I leaned into his hand. ‘Well, there’s a rare bit of luck; Sundays are my afternoons off. I’ll be waiting by the quarry after lunch.’ He frowned slightly, but it was a happy kind of puzzlement. ‘I know this is ridiculous, but I have the vague suspicion I might have fallen for you.’

‘Ridiculous,’ I agreed, but my eyes stayed on his and I felt the pull between us, impossible to ignore. I daren’t press my lips to his again, for fear we’d become lost in time, so I let them linger against his jaw instead. It was almost as hard to break away. ‘This has to be our secret, for a while at least.’

He nodded. ‘It’s not that I’m ashamed of you,’ he said solemnly, ‘but, you know, a man of my social position has his reputation to consider.’ I cuffed his arm and he smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul.’

‘One day we’re going to be able to tell everyone and not think for one minute they wouldn’t approve,’ I said. ‘Things are definitely changing.’

He studied me for a moment. ‘I hope you’re right, I honestly do. In the meantime, not a word, I promise.’

‘Not a word,’ I repeated, and he drew me close again, his hands locked in the small of my back, only the contented sigh stirring my hair telling me his happiness matched my own.

Five months later he was holding me again, but neither of us was happy.

My thanks to everyone whose brains I have picked, stories I have read, and opinions I have solicited during the writing of this book. Also, to those who have told me they enjoyed the previous books in the series, giving me the confidence and impetus to continue.

A massive ‘thank you’ to Sarah Tweedle, for allowing me to use her ancestor Frances Jessie Goulding as a character, and for providing me with all the biographical information and research material to build on her tragic history and to give her a life she never had.

I would especially like to thank everyone who has smiled and nodded, and patted me on the head when I’ve gone into the twilight zone, and has waited patiently for my return to some kind of normality. I hope it’s been worth it!