Honey's Farm (49 page)

Jamie searched the ground outside the farmhouse yet again. There were cart tracks, of course, and marks of the horses' hooves; and here, he crouched lower, it looked as if the earth had been swept or, he thought with dismay, something or somebody had been dragged along the rutted path towards the gate.

He straightened and stared into the blackness. Where could he start to look for his wife?
Fon
, his mind cried,
I love you, my Irfonwy, I can't lose you the way I lost Katherine
.

The silence pressed in around him as he moved towards the gate. The other searchers would be giving up until morning light; nothing could be discovered in the pitch blackness of the night. But he would go on; he couldn't stop, not now, not ever, not until he had his wife home safely with him once more.

‘What are we going to do next then, Price, boy?' Mike the Spud sat in the public, drinking the frothing ale and belching inelegantly.

‘I thought we'd find the bitch in her lodgings,' Price said quietly. ‘She had to be out, didn't she? Well, I won't be defeated; we'll go back later, see if she's back.'

‘What has this woman done to you, then?' Mike leant across the table, his big belly resting on his huge thighs.

‘She's got me the order of the boot, that's what,' Price said fiercely. ‘Done me out of my job.' He shrugged. ‘I gave her a good rogering one night, and because I didn't want her after that, she turned against me, as women will.' He leant back in his chair, scowling. ‘Think they can have what they like from you, then turn nasty; well, no-one makes a fool of me, not twice they don't.'

Mike swallowed hard. There was something about Price Davies that scared him; big and rough though he himself was, Mike would think twice about crossing a man like Price.

‘What will you do with her, then?' Mike said. ‘Ask for some money for her, like I'm going to do with the missis of the high and mighty Jamie O'Conner, is it?'

‘No money to be made out of the bitch, not directly anyway,' Price said. ‘But if I keep her away from the job for long enough, Eline Temple will have to take me back, put me in charge of the place; I'm the most experienced man she's got.'

Mike grinned unpleasantly. ‘That'll be an eye for an eye, all right, won't it?' He supped his ale with a slurping sound and banged the empty glass on the table meaningfully.

‘Get your own soddin' beer,' Price said. ‘You are the one making money, not me.'

‘Yes, ‘course, boy, I'll get the drinks in all right,' Mike said hastily.

When he returned to the table, Price looked up at him, and he was smiling with the strange charm that he could exert whenever he chose.

‘This farmhouse a safe place, then, is it?' he asked. ‘We don't want anyone finding the booty, do we?'

‘Aye, it's safe for a while at least,' Mike said. ‘The land been standing idle since Bob died; I don't think anyone is likely to go there for any reason.'

‘Quiet, is it? Far away from any other houses? I don't want anyone hearing any screams.'

Mike suddenly felt cold. ‘What do you mean, screams?' he asked. ‘You're not going to harm the women, are you?'

‘All depends on what you mean by harm,' Price said easily, still smiling; and the smile brought goosebumps out on Mike's skin.

‘I'll just have a bit of fun with them,' he said. ‘I quite fancy that farm girl with her lovely skin and her soft little mouth.' He stretched his legs beneath the table. ‘I think I'll have her for dinner, and then Miss high and mighty Arian Smale for afters.'

Mike's mouth was suddenly dry. Arian, his brother's girl – a right little minx, if ever there was one, but could he stand by and watch one of his kinsfolk being hurt by the sadistic man sitting before him?

He glanced at Price; he was drinking his beer and hadn't noticed Mike's sudden silence. Mike realized with a prickling of fear that he would have to play along with the man for the moment at least; he knew little about Price Davies except that they had got drunk together one night in the public bar and had slept together like friends on the bed in Mike's shabby lodgings.

Foolishly Mike had told Price of the plan to take Fon O'Conner and hold her till her husband paid up. Now Price had a game of his own to play, and Mike wasn't sure just where it would lead.

‘Come on.' Price rose as if suddenly restless. ‘The bitch must be home by now. Let's go and show her what we're made of, shall we?'

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled. ‘She'll be pleased to see me, I'm sure; and, as for me, I can't wait to see
her
.' He moved to the door. ‘Arian Smale,' he said softly, ‘you are about to get everything you've been asking for.'

Standing behind him, Mike shuddered. There was something within this man that frightened him, something beyond evil. It was as if Mike had set in motion a series of events over which he now had very little, if any, control. For a moment, Mike was tempted to run, to put as much distance between Price Davies and himself as he could. Then his big shoulders slumped. It was no good running from such a man; he would just have to go along with whatever it was Price Davies had planned.

‘Don't you think it's a little chilly to take the baby out today, Eline?' Calvin's voice was solicitous, and Eline bit her lip on the irritable answer that she'd been about to make.

‘He's well wrapped up.' She hoped her voice sounded reasonable; she needed to get outdoors, away from Calvin's almost constant presence. Ever since the baby had been born, Calvin had been at her side, pampering her, indulging her and crooning over the baby.

He meant well, Eline knew that better than anyone; but Calvin's pride in the boy he believed was his son twisted like a knife in her heart. His joy shone in his face, and Eline knew in her heart that one day she had to destroy that joy with just a few words of truth.

‘In any case,' Calvin continued, ‘the baby has a nurse to take him out. It's not seemly for you to be carrying the boy in the shawl, Welsh-fashion, in the manner of the poor people.'

‘It may not be seemly, but it's what I want to do,' Eline said, ‘and since when have you been such a snob?' This time her voice was edged with an impatience she couldn't conceal. ‘I came from the “poor people”, if you remember.'

‘All right!' Calvin held up his hands in a gesture of mock defeat, his good humour unshaken. ‘I realize my lady wife is not like other women but is an independent soul with a string of successes to her credit.'

He came to her and held her in his arms, kissing her neck and then her lips. ‘I love you very much, my darling,' he said. ‘Never forget that.'

As if she could; his attentions were cloying at times, and, although Eline knew she was being unreasonable, she could not help resenting the constant pressure on her to play the role of a good and loving wife.

It was with a sense of relief that she said goodbye to Calvin as he stood in the doorway of the grand house. He watched as she walked down the drive, and, turning, she gave him a perfunctory wave.

She breathed deeply and looked around her, glad to be out of the house and in the real world again. Anything was preferable at this moment to remaining in the house; any diversion that served to take her mind away from Calvin and his devotion was more than welcome.

The trees were bare now, the earth hard with frost, but soon the spring flowers would burst through the soil, thrusting shoots upwards, heralding a new beginning. But not for her. Eline sighed heavily, wondering how long she could keep up the pretence of being a good and loyal wife.

She paused and drew back the checked woollen shawl, staring down at the baby's sleeping face. He was more like Will than ever, with a slight frown on his tiny forehead as he struggled against the sudden intrusion of the light into his comfortable sleep.

Already, a lick of dark hair hung forward over his brow, giving him an earnest, scholarly appearance. A smile softened Eline's features. How she loved her son; she could, she vowed, endure anything so long as her child grew up in a secure background. And what, she reasoned, could be more secure than being heir to Calvin Temple?

Doubts assailed her on the other hand. Could
she
survive the long years ahead, years of Calvin's cloying attention, years of living a lie? For the fact that her son was not Calvin's child was becoming more and more apparent to her as every day passed.

The streets of the town were crowded, and Eline mingled with the crowds, glad to be anonymous, unnoticed. She would call at the workshop, she decided, see how Arian was coping.

Eline allowed herself a small sense of triumph; she would help Arian Smale the way she herself had been helped by Hari Grenfell. Arian had the wits and the courage to rise high in the leather business; she learned quickly and had a forcefulness that commanded attention.

A ragged boy edged past Eline without even looking at her, a strange feeling indeed; she realized that, with the Welsh shawl wrapped around her, she looked just like any other working woman of the town.

When she reached the workshop, she pushed open the door and heard the hum of machinery from the back room with a feeling of satisfaction. The smell of leather permeated the air, and on the bench lay a half-finished remedial boot, one she herself had designed.

Price Davies came forward and smiled his charming smile, drawing a stool from under the bench for Eline to sit on.

‘Where's Arian?' Eline asked, aware of the quiet that had descended on the workers. There was a feeling of tension in the air, as though something untoward had happened.

‘I'm sorry, Lady Temple,' he said, with just the right touch of deference. ‘No-one seems to know; she hasn't been in to work for several days.'

Eline frowned. ‘Why didn't someone inform me of the situation?' she asked, and she saw Price hesitate before answering. Eline was puzzled. She'd believed Arian was going to get rid of the man, and yet here was Price Davies running the place.

‘Well, no-one felt it was right to tell tales out of school, if you'll pardon me saying. We just thought she needed a few days off and we were sort of covering her tracks, so to speak.'

Eline considered his words in silence, biting her lip. Workers stuck together against bosses, that much was true; she hadn't forgotten that, had she?

‘I suggest you send someone round to her lodgings,'

Eline said more easily, ‘find out if Arian is sick.'

‘I'll go myself,' Price offered. ‘It's not far; it will only take me a few minutes.'

‘On second thoughts,' Eline said, ‘I'll come with you.' She felt uneasy; it wasn't like Arian to abdicate her responsibilities, not without very good reason.

In the street, Price measured his step with hers. He was deferential and charming, and Eline wondered why she couldn't quite trust the man.

‘Did Arian seem all right last time you saw her?' Eline asked, frowning, and she saw Price smile.

‘She was in fine fettle,' he said. ‘Talking about some young man who seemed to have taken her fancy, she was.'

Strange, Arian didn't seem the sort of girl to let her heart rule her head, Eline thought; but then, who was to tell what a woman in love might do? Look at her own tangled life.

The landlady at the boarding house sniffed as Eline enquired about Arian's health and invited her into the parlour with due deference.

‘Gone, she is, without a word,' Mrs Maitland said when Eline was seated in one of the uncomfortable horse-hair chairs. ‘Wouldn't have thought it, mind, of a young lady like that.'

‘What wouldn't you have thought?' Eline asked, a little impatiently.

‘Well, it's not my place to gossip about my ladies, but Miss Smale had a
man
in here, against all the rules. Saw her from the window, I did, leaving, leaning all over this . . . this
person.
If you ask me, both of them were worse for liquor.'

‘I don't believe it!' Eline exclaimed.

Mrs Maitland sniffed again. ‘I'm not in the habit of telling falsehoods, my lady, with all due respects,' she said.

‘No, I'm sure,' Eline replied. ‘It's just that it seems so out of character for Arian to behave in that way.'

‘I know,' Mrs Maitland said, ‘but then who's to tell what can happen when a man charms his way into a woman's heart?'

‘Did you get a look at this man?' Eline asked, and she sensed Price moving impatiently beside her. She looked up at him, but his expression was bland.

Mrs Maitland shook her head. ‘Only the back side of him; rough chap, big, with shoulders like a barn door. Looked too old for a young lady like Miss Smale, I'd have thought.'

Eline felt defeated. There was not a great deal she could do at the moment; it was clear the landlady knew very little about Arian's disappareance.

‘I shall see that the room is paid for,' Eline said, ‘and please keep it free for Miss Smale. I'm sure there's some perfectly good reason for all this mystery.'

Mrs Maitland's expression suggested that she knew the reason and didn't much like it; but she inclined her head in agreement. Lady Temple was a force to be reckoned with.

‘What shall we do now?' Price asked when he and Eline were in the street once more.

She shrugged. ‘I don't know, I'm completely at a loss.'

‘Perhaps she
has
run off. What about that fellow she had who went off to London to be a doctor; might he have sent for her?'

Eline shook her head. She doubted it, but it was a possibility; Arian was young and impressionable – but
not
irresponsible, her mind insisted.

‘What about the workshop?' Price asked, with seeming innocence. ‘Would you like me to take charge, just until Arian comes back?'