Replenish the Earth (6 page)

As she glanced towards the doorway, she saw the man in the yard scramble to his feet and dive towards Will Pursley, so called out a warning. There was a short scuffle, then Will knocked the man down again and he lay there groaning. When the fellow near her would have gone to his companion’s aid, she jabbed the stool at him again to distract him.

As soon as he had disposed of his opponent, Will Pursley came running back into the kitchen and grabbed the burly man from behind.

When another fight began between the two of them, Sarah didn’t wait to see who would win, but snatched up a wooden platter, waited till the intruder’s back was towards her and hit him hard on the head. He roared in pain, staggered and stopped fighting to clutch his head.

For a minute it was touch and go whether he’d attack Will again, then he glared at them both and began edging sideways towards the door. ‘I won’t forget this, Pursley.’

‘Neither will I, Tensby. You’re trespassing and if I find you here again, disturbing Mistress Bedham, I’ll have you up before the magistrate.’

‘I’m here at Mr Sewell’s behest and
he
won’t forget your behaviour, either!’

‘He has no rights here.’

‘He’s buying the rights - not trying to steal them like she is.’

Breath hissed into Will Pursley’s mouth and his fists clenched again, but he held back. ‘She’s the rightful owner,’ he said.

‘We’ll see about that.’

The man outside got to his feet, clasping his jaw. For a moment, the two bullies stood shoulder to shoulder, and the malevolence on their faces made Sarah shiver. Then they turned and strode off. A minute later there was the sound of horses trotting away.

Will rounded on Sarah and asked angrily, ‘Why did you not wait for me at the inn today?’

She blinked in surprise at his sharp tone. ‘I had no intention of wasting the whole morning - and how did you know I was here, anyway?’

‘I saw you drive past the farm, so finished what I was doing and saddled Dolly.’ He ran a hand through his hair in a vain attempt to smooth it back and brushed some of the dust off his jerkin.

She felt obliged to say, ‘I’m grateful for your intervention.’

For a moment a grin creased his face. ‘I should thank you as well. Not many ladies would have been so – er, resourceful.’

She smiled back, then felt the smile fade as the worries returned. ‘ Who are those men and why do they feel they can just - walk in here and attack people?’

By now, Mary’s son had crawled out from behind the settle. ‘Hit him on the head, the lady did,’ he announced, beaming at Sarah and miming her action. ‘Hit him hard. Bang!’

Will turned to Petey, his voice gentler now. ‘You go and give Dolly a drink, lad. Give Dolly a drink. Clean water, mind.’

Petey nodded and went outside to pick up the horse’s reins and lead it across the yard, talking to it, repeating his tale of, ‘Hit him on the head, she did,’ several times, as if the animal could understand.

‘Let me show you into the front parlour, Mistress Bedham. We’ll be more comfortable talking there - and more private, too. Mary, shout for me if they return.’ Will looked at Sarah as she moved towards the door. ‘I should have told you yesterday about - about the danger you’re facing.’

‘You should indeed.’

He led her along a dark passage, whose only window was smashed and the gap boarded up.

‘Why are so many of the windows broken?’ she wondered aloud.

‘Sewell’s men do it.’ He opened a door and led the way out into a broad hall, which led in turn to the front door she had knocked on in vain. Striding across to the left, he pushed a panelled wooden door open and ushered her into the room behind it. ‘This is the great parlour. Your grandfather always sat here in the evening, so it’s in better condition than some of the other rooms.’ He frowned round. ‘But it still needs attention.’

The place was filled with huge pieces of furniture, many shrouded in coarse sacking and yellowed cloth. It must have been very grand once, Sarah decided. The ceiling was patterned plaster, its white panels outlined in gold, but it was badly stained in one corner where rain had leaked in. As in the rest of the house, the windows were grimy with dirt and festooned with cobwebs. One pane was broken, another cracked. The hangings were deep red in colour, but were stiff with dust, and cobwebs stretched from their top corners to the wall. Over the fireplace hung a portrait of a lady with a sweet smile. Sarah moved over to study it more closely.

‘Your grandmother,’ Will murmured in a hushed, respectful voice. ‘A rare kind lady. She used to give me sugar plums when I was little. Squire adored her and was never the same after she died.’

Sarah felt resentful that this stranger knew so much more about her family than she did. She moved across to another door that led out at the rear of the room, opened it and peered inside.

‘The dining-parlour,’ Will said in his abrupt way, not moving from his place near the window. ‘Though it was never used again after your uncle’s death. Your grandfather lived and ate in here. He would see no one once he’d found out about the debts, you see.’

‘Debts?’

‘Your uncle had many debts. No one knew about them until after his death.’

‘To whom was he indebted?’

‘To Sewell mainly, though to a few others as well. Squire was furious. He claimed Sewell must have encouraged his son to gamble. He felt shamed by this and that’s why he wouldn’t receive anyone afterwards, not even Lord Tarnly when he came over from Sawbury.’

He cleared his throat. ‘Look - I need to explain. Even Mr Jamieson doesn’t know all that’s been going on here, because he wouldn’t believe me about Sewell, who puts his best face on when dealing with the gentry.’ He pulled the cover off a chair and gestured to her to sit down.

Reluctantly she abandoned her explorations. ‘Who exactly were those men? And why did they behave so violently?’

‘They’re Sewell’s bullies. Since he’s offered to buy Broadlands and is not used to being denied, he already considers the estate his own and sends those two to keep people away. He also feels, I dare say, that the less attractive the house is, the lower the price he’ll have to pay, so from time to time Hugh and Izzy come over and break windows, or do any other damage that amuses them.’

She sucked in her breath. Mr Jamieson has spoken of the man who wanted to buy her house. ‘This Sewell is - an unscrupulous man, then?’

‘By my lights, yes.’ Will took in a deep breath. ‘But you should perhaps ask someone else about his character. I must confess I have a personal grievance against the man.’

‘Oh? May I ask what?’

‘He bought most of the land your grandfather was selling and built himself a fine new house on it. That included,’ his voice was thin and tight for a moment, ‘buying the farm my family had leased from yours for over a hundred years. Sewell ordered us to quit our farm because he wanted to set out his pleasure gardens where our house stood - but we had a lease on the place still, for as long as my father lived. It was a three lifetimes lease, you see. So we stayed.’

His mouth thinned into a grimace of pain and he lowered his head for a moment, then raised it to continue in a dull voice, ‘One day we found my father hanging dead in the barn. It seemed as if he had taken his own life. Only he would never have done that. Never! Sewell then claimed that debts owed to him were the reason and even produced papers with what looked like my father’s signature on them to prove it. He not only turned us out of our house, but took half our possessions in payment for those so-called debts.’

And Sewell had laughed as he did so, while a group of strangers, hired for the occasion and led by Hugh Tenby, had taken the opportunity to beat the son who had tried to defend his mother from their cruel jokes.

Will closed his eyes as the now familiar pain racked him, but forced himself to finish the tale because Mistress Bedham needed to know what had happened. ‘They - um, beat me senseless. While I was still recovering, Lord Tarnly himself came to Broadhurst to inquire into the matter - Parson had given us shelter, you see, so Sewell couldn’t touch us further.

‘Mr Jamieson found us a place to live - on your home farm - what was left of it. The tenant had died recently and his son wished to move to Bristol. But soon after that, your grandfather also died, this time of natural causes.’ He hesitated, then said bluntly, ‘If you can call an excess of port wine a natural cause.’

He didn’t need to say that his new home was now also at risk, and depended on her good will. He could see in her face that she understood the ramifications. Admiring the intelligence that shone from her fine grey eyes, he stopped talking, watching her,. Sometimes he wondered if he wouldn’t have done better to leave the district entirely - except that he hadn’t given up hope of one day finding proof that his father had indeed been murdered and that the debts were forgeries. He was quite sure of that in his own mind. And anyway, it went against the grain to be chased away like a stray cur.

Sarah stared at the stiff figure, outlined against the window. She couldn’t see his face, but every line of his body spoke of grief as well as anger. She, who had lost a beloved mother so recently, could sympathise with that. And having encountered Sewell’s two bullies, she believed what Will Pursley had told her. She’d have believed it anyway. He was blunt but not devious.

‘Well, Sewell won’t drive me away,’ she declared at last.

‘How can you possibly stay?’ he burst out, gesturing around him, for seeing the bullies attacking her so openly had made him realise the futility of his hopes. ‘Look at the state things are in. Can
you
repair all this? Of course you can’t. You’re a woman alone, and you won’t even be able to keep those louts from attacking you, unless you can afford to hire your own guards.’

It took a great deal of vigilance on Will’s part to protect his own mother and their farm. He didn’t always succeed where the property was concerned, but he’d kept his mother safe.

‘I’ll find a way. Perhaps Lord Tarnly can help me? I believe he’s the chief magistrate hereabouts?’

‘He is. And an honest gentleman, too. But he lives over in Sawbury. Too far away to ask for help if you’re attacked like you were today, and I can’t always be on hand to drive them away.’ He shook his head, bitterness roiling within him in a greasy, acid tide. ‘You’ll not manage it, Mistress Bedham. If you had a husband and servants about the place, then maybe you could do something. There
is
some land on the estate which could be farmed to increase your revenue, and you do still own a few small properties. Most of the house is habitable, or could be made so.’

After a pause, he added quietly, ‘But you haven’t got a husband. And you told me yesterday that you haven’t got much money, either.’

She knew he was only speaking the truth as he saw it, not trying to anger her. But she was angry at the thought that someone wanted to drive her away from her inheritance. Well, she wouldn’t give in so easily, not when her mother’s home had already touched her heart, not when she was longing to live here. She opened her mouth to speak, but he got in first.

‘Face the truth, Mistress Bedham. For you, the most sensible thing would be to sell to Sewell - or,’ and this was the best Will could hope for personally, ‘to someone else.’
If
she could find anyone willing to buy.
If
Sewell’s bullies didn’t burn the place around her ears while she was trying to sell it.

Sarah took a deep breath. That was exactly what both lawyers had said to her in London. And she’d defied them to come here. Selling might be the easy way out of her troubles, but her heart told her to stay. It told her also that she was a Bedham and had a right to live here. She drew herself up and looked him straight in the eyes. ‘Mr Pursley, I’ve never had a home of my own before and now that I’ve been given one, I’m not going to let anyone take it away from me.’

His voice was weary. ‘It’s a valiant thought.’ If Sewell could kill his father, the man wouldn’t balk at killing this lady. That thought sent chills shivering in his belly which surprised him. Something about her continued to touch him. Her courage, perhaps, or her clear, direct gaze. And he could understand her longing for a home. Oh yes, he could understand that completely. Feeling as if someone was pulling him to pieces, too, he’d stood in a nearby copse and watched as the farmhouse he’d been born in was torn down, stone by stone.

He glanced sideways at Mistress Bedham. She was thoughtful now, frowning into space. He remembered how she’d limped along the lane beside him, making no complaint, though her hip had obviously been paining her greatly. Even in the dimness of this gloomy chamber, he couldn’t help thinking how pretty her hair was, just the colour of his mother’s best honey.

‘You could try to find another buyer?’ he suggested as she continued to stand there with that stubborn look on her face.

‘I’m not selling. I’m staying.’

‘Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?’ he shouted suddenly, unable to bear the thought of Sewell hurting her - or worse.

She drew herself up. ‘Yes. I’ve heard everything you’ve said - but it hasn’t changed my mind.’

Silence hung between them for a few more minutes, then he threw out his hands in a gesture of despair. ‘For your own sake, I can only hope that after you’ve thought it through more carefully, you’ll change your mind. In the meantime, I’ll do my best to help you.’ He cast a glance through the window. The day was passing and he had work to do. ‘When shall I come to take you back to the village?’

‘Are you sure you can spare the time?’

‘I’ll make the time.’

‘In two hours, then, if that’s all right.’

‘Don’t try to go back on your own.’

‘No. I won’t do that.’

He rode off across the meadows and through the woods, feeling angry and worried. All over a woman he’d only met for the first time the day before.

But he didn’t forget to keep an eye open, and he decided to enlist the help of the other villagers in keeping a watch on the comings and goings of Sewell and his two bullies. Surely between them they would be able to keep her safe?