The Gentle Wind's Caress (13 page)

‘Thank you.’

He blinked. ‘For what?’

The light died from her eyes and washed away all colour. ‘For answering my question.’ She twisted away and rushed to lithely climb the stile over the stonewall bordering the fields. On the other side she gathered her skirts and ran.

Ethan shook his head as though drunk. Confusion now reigned where lust had been. What the hell had just happened?

***

Isabelle tossed the fork load of straw into the wheelbarrow and paused to wipe her hair out of her eyes. The stench of urine-soaked straw made her eyes water and her throat convulse. Lambs bleated non-stop and their mothers gave her baleful stares. Cleaning out the sheds was a hated task, but necessary to kept disease from claiming her stock. Rain thundered on the roof and she wondered if it would ever stop. For three days, it had tormented them, threatening to ruin her plans of survival.

Once the snow finally thawed, she turned out the sheep into the house field. They feasted on new spring grass for two days and then the rain came, forcing her to bring them all back inside. The weather kept her confined to the house and sheds. She was unable to work in the garden and begin her vegetable bed preparations.

Being trapped in the house gave her the opportunity to clean every room. She overhauled the front room making it ready for her and Hughie to use in the summer. Since this farm was to be her home, then she might as well make it as comfortable as possible. Besides, she wanted her touch in every room. The ghosts of the past had to be replaced with the presence of the future. She only hoped that she had a future here. She tried not to think of the awkward scene with Ethan. She knew so little of him, if he chose to be vindictive it could make an already difficult situation much worse.

As hard as the work was, at least she and Hughie had a roof over their heads and answered to no one but themselves. She couldn’t risk leaving here, hoping to find work and another place to live. Thousands of people walked the roads every day looking for work, sleeping in ditches. She couldn’t risk Hughie to such a life as that.

Hughie clambered into the shed carrying a straw bale and placed it near the door to join three others. ‘That’s the last of the dry stuff. Rain coming in from the roof leak has ruined the rest. That end shed is useless in bad weather. There’s more holes in the roof then I can fix. The whole lot of it needs to be replaced.’

‘Well I’ll put that on the list with everything else, shall I?’ she snapped.

He became defensive. ‘I’m just saying, that’s all.’

She smiled to soften her tone. ‘Yes, I know.’

‘The stream is high, nearly reaching the top of the banks. I bet Hebden Water is a torrent. I might go look later when I check the traps.’

‘Just as long as you don’t go close to the edge.’ Isabelle sighed. ‘Can you finish up in here? I’ll go start dinner.’

He took the fork from her. ‘What are we having?’

‘The chicken I killed this morning.’

‘You killed a chicken again?’ His eyebrows rose. ‘I thought you wanted them kept for laying?’

She paused and wrapped her coat tighter around her, ready to run out into the rain. ‘I do, this is the last one for the pot. Then it is back to eating bread and dripping.’

‘Bread and dripping.’ Hughie shuddered. ‘We’ve had that all week.’

‘And we’ll continue to have it after the chicken has been eaten too. I have no money to buy food, and if we eat all the poultry we’ll have no stock to lay eggs. Until the lambs can be sold, we’ll have to rely on the rabbits you trap and the odd egg the hens lay, but their production has slowed in the last month.’

His eyes widened. ‘We could starve.’

She touched his arm. ‘I’ll try not to let that happened. Once the rain stops, I’ll go to the market with some pies. I have enough ingredients left to make about half a dozen. With the money from that I will buy vegetable seeds. We’ll have vegetables for the summer if nothing else.’

‘What about culling those four ewes, Mr Harrington told you to do?’

Isabelle winced at the mention of his name. ‘Yes, I must arrange for a butcher to come to the farm. I didn’t want to have them slaughtered, as it might not be their fault they didn’t take with the ram. Maybe the ram didn’t do his job?’ She looked out the door. The rain had stopped and the dripping moisture made music of its own. In the distance, blue sky showed between sheets of grey cloud. ‘Don’t take too long in here.’ She called over her shoulder and, head down, ran for the house.

‘Isabelle!’

On hearing her name called, she skidded to a halt and splashed dirty puddle water across her boots and up her stockings.
Damn!

Ethan Harrington rode further into the yard and dismounted. ‘How are you?’

Her heart hammered as though a blacksmith lived in her chest. She swallowed and drank in the sight of him. His lack of hat always surprised her, even more so today as the rain had plastered his hair to his scalp. ‘This is hardly the weather to be out riding.’
Now why did I say that?
She shook her head.

His gaze pierced her soul. ‘It is not enough to keep me from you.’

Isabelle darted a look at the shed, but Hughie wasn’t yet aware of their visitor. ‘You have no right to say such things.’

‘I speak the truth.’ He stepped closer.

‘We are both married. Had that escaped your notice?’

‘Nothing about you escapes me.’

She held up her hand as if to ward him off. ‘Please don’t.’

‘May I be invited in?’ He indicated towards the house.

‘No.’ Isabelle’s legs threatened to give way. Memories of his kiss, his touch consumed her until she could barely think. ‘Go away, please.’

‘I want to be your friend. Let me look after you.’

She was so tempted. For a moment she wanted to lay her head on his shoulder and let him take her worries from her, but at what cost? It would lead to further problems and she didn’t have the strength to deal with more. ‘What would your wife say about it?’

He took a step closer. ‘My wife has nothing to do with it. We are married in name only. What I do with my time is my business.’ His hand cupped her cheek, the leather glove cold against her skin. ‘I will promise to simply be a friend and nothing more, if that will convince you to agree.’

‘Just a friend?’ Her stomach fluttered. ‘A landlord type friend?’

He nodded. ‘If that is what you wish.’

‘It is all it can be.’ She gripped his hand and jerked it away from her face. ‘Don’t you understand? If the gossips find out about your visits here they will taint me as your mistress. I won’t have Hughie made miserable or my reputation ruined.’

‘I promise you it won’t happen.’

She turned from him. ‘You can’t promise any such thing,’ she scoffed.

‘Isabelle, look at me.’

Shaking her head, she walked into the house and closed the door.

Ethan swore and spun back to his horse. Hughie stood in the shed’s doorway. Startled, Ethan forced a smile to his lips. ‘Good day, Hughie.’

‘And you, sir.’

‘How are you managing?’

Hughie shrugged. ‘We’re getting by. Belle worries a lot. We have no money and not much food.’

‘Did you cull the barren ewes?’

‘Not yet. Belle isn’t so sure.’

‘You are the man around here now.’ Ethan glanced at the house then took a deep breath. He stepped towards Hughie. ‘Shall we go into the shed and talk business?’

***

‘You did what?’ Isabelle stared at Hughie as if he’d lost his mind. ‘How could you go behind my back like that?’

Hughie squirmed in his chair. ‘Mr Harrington said I was the man around here now and wanted to discuss things.’

‘You are not in charge!’ She stamped her foot in exasperation. ‘He had no right to do that. He took advantage of you because he knew I wouldn’t let him do as he pleased.’

Hughie straightened his shoulders. ‘Why can’t I be involved in what happens here? I work as hard as you.’ His defiant look reminded her that he was no longer a boy but quickly becoming a young man.

‘I’m not denying how hard you work, and I will always consult you on my decisions regarding the farm. I’m angry at Harrington.’

‘He wanted to help. What’s so wrong about that?’

Isabelle leaned over the table at him. ‘I don’t need his help. We can manage on our own until Farrell returns.’

Hughie snorted in disgust. ‘He’ll not come back and I hope he doesn’t. I’d much rather have Mr Harrington helping us than Farrell, who was useless to us anyway.’

Water boiled over the pot and sizzled on the hotplate. Isabelle gave her attention to it, but seethed inside. How dare Ethan Harrington. How dare he!

‘I don’t see what you’re so angry about, Belle. Mr Harrington’s butcher is coming at no cost to us. I thought you would be pleased.’

She stirred the chicken stew, the aroma made her stomach growl. She hadn’t eaten all day. Cutting back on food to make it last longer seemed sensible in theory, yet in reality she was always hungry, which in turn made her cranky and irritable.

‘Belle?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it, Hughie.’ She sighed and then faced him. ‘We only have each other to rely on. We can’t afford to look elsewhere for help.’

‘Why?’

‘Because we haven’t anything to give back when they ask for help in return.’

‘Mr Harrington won’t ask for anything, Belle. What could he possibly want from us?’

Isabella had the desire to laugh but hastily squashed it. Ethan Harrington would ask and expect something in return. She had no doubt about that.

Chapter Eight

Isabelle slashed at the mammoth climbing rose at the front of the house. Behind her a small fire smouldered after devouring her last toss of thorny vines. She stood back and surveyed her morning’s work. She glanced at the pitiful few remaining geese, ducks and chickens that flittered about the front yard fighting over the insects and worms she had uncovered in her task of making the entrance to the house more presentable.

She raked more clippings into a pile and the poultry ran for the pickings she revealed. ‘Aren’t you the lucky ones?’ She smiled at them as they squawked and jabbed at each other. ‘You survived the winter. So now you must behave and lay a dozen eggs a day and in return, I’ll let you sit on some of them to hatch fine chicks.’

Weak sunshine crept from behind a cloud and brightened the house’s brick walls, bare now from the thick covering of the climbing rose. Gardening gave her much satisfaction. She had always enjoyed helping her grandfather in his small garden between the rectory and the church. Now, as she continued to rake the rose trimmings into the fire, she took pleasure in her achievement. After trampling down the long grass, narrow garden beds had emerged, lining the curved path from the drive to front door. Daffodils and snowdrops materialized once she had removed the choking weeds from the beds. She pruned the old rose bushes into some semblance of order and dug manure into the soil between clumps of wild purple violets. The former mistress of Meadow Farm must have found some time to take pleasure from gardening. Isabelle knew that in the summer the roses would be a welcome delight after winter’s bleakness.

‘Here she is, Belle.’ Hughie came around from the side of the house leading Mayflower. ‘She’ll benefit from cropping this down to a manageable lawn.’ He let her loose on the grass amidst the poultry.

Isabelle patted the cow’s large rump. ‘If the other cows were as easy to lead as her, I’d like to have more in here to get it down sooner.’

‘Mr Harrington said that the rest of the herd should go to market. They aren’t milkers and are just eating grass that the lambs need.’ He averted his gaze from Isabelle to Mayflower, the mention of their landlord was a sore point between them. ‘Well, it does make sense. With the money we can buy more ewes or fix up the sheds, maybe buy-’

‘Yes, I will think about it.’ At the mention of Harrington, Isabelle raked furiously. She clenched her teeth, tired of hearing Hughie praise over Ethan Harrington’s every word. ‘I feel uneasy about selling Farrell’s animals without his consent.’

‘It’s not as if he cares.’

She shrugged. ‘Even so.’

‘Right, well, I’d better get back to chopping the wood.’ After a last look at her from under his lashes, he left.

Isabelle nodded with a sigh. She was losing her sanity over Ethan. In the last two weeks he had arrived nearly every day on some pretext or another. The butcher slaughtered the four ewes at no cost to her and what meat she didn’t want the butcher bought from her, providing welcome funds. Ethan also arranged for the piglets to be sold at market, dropped off a cartload of vegetable seedlings, plus new hoes and spades. Whenever he arrived, he brought a hamper of food and small tokens of friendship like a wooden case filled with needles and thread, newspapers, books from his own library and clothes for Hughie which were once his own but no longer fitted.

At first, she had been mortified by his charity. Her pride tempted her to refuse his gifts, but one look at Hughie’s delighted face quickly dampened her self-righteousness. How could she deny her darling brother all the things she would have liked to buy for him? Things he had earned through hard work. She couldn’t deny that Ethan’s help eased their lot considerably. So, biting back her urge to tell Ethan she would rather swim in the midden than accept his gifts, she let Hughie bask in his attention.