Anna Jacobs (16 page)

He grasped her arm and shook her, making her drop the spoon and cry out in shock. “You’re lying! Where did he go?”

Her son Ben, who was bringing in some more firewood, dropped it to go to her aid, yelling at the top of his voice, “You let go of my mother!”

Which made his father run into the kitchen and place himself between his family and the Squire, hands clenched into fists by his side.

By the time Walter Lawrence had got them all to be quiet, precious minutes had passed and Judith had started sobbing into her handkerchief and asking what the world was coming to when an honest woman was pushed around in her own kitchen.

Walter Lawrence said with savage restraint. “If I find you’ve been sheltering that young man, a brute who attacked me in broad daylight, as my groom here can witness, then you’ll be in serious trouble, woman. It’s a hanging matter, attacking a member of the gentry is.”

“How could I be sheltering him, sir?” Ross asked, adopting a witless look he’d perfected for dealing with the Squire. “I was with you all the time.” He kept silent until the two men had left the inn, accompanying them to the door with a smile on his face and much bowing and scraping.

As he watched them ride off, however, the smile vanished and he muttered, “He’s getting worse, that one is. I won’t stand for anyone treating my wife roughly, damned if I will.”

When he repeated this to his wife in the kitchen, she turned on him sharply. “You can’t do anything about that. He’s the Squire and you aren’t. And what’s a bit of a shake? I’m not even bruised. What I want to know is: what’s that poor young man done to upset Squire?”

“Tried to deliver a message from Miss Deborah to her mother and refused to say what it was.”

There was silence while she wrinkled her brow in puzzlement. “Is that all?” she asked eventually.

“Aye. That’s all.”

“Did he really attack the Squire?”

“No. As I shall bear witness if asked.”

She gasped and seized his arm. “No! You can’t go against Squire.”

“I’m not having my cousin Bessie treated like that, no, nor Miss Isabel, neither. Nor I won’t let them hang a young man as did nothing but try to deliver a message from his master. And nothing you can say will persuade me different.” He walked outside, shoulders hunched and a mighty scowl on his face.

Judith sighed, knowing Ross had reached the sticking point about the situation in the village, which was an unhappy place to live these days. He was easy-going to a fault, her Ross was, and it was only occasionally that something roused his ire. Hurting his family was one thing which would make him see red. He cared a lot about family, did Ross. All the Tuckers did.

And he was right when he said Mr Lawrence had gone from bad to worse lately, ’deed he had. But Mr Lawrence was gentry and they weren’t, so he’d get away with it and they’d land themselves in trouble if they got involved.

She began to weep in earnest as her husband went outside to speak to the young man who had inadvertently brought all this upon them. What had the world come to when a woman wasn’t even safe in her own kitchen, and her husband was threatened in his own inn?

* * * *

Outside, Ross’s anger rose still further when he found Mr Lawrence’s groom searching the inn’s stables. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “You’ve no business in my stables.”

“My master’s orders. I’m to keep watch on the young man’s horse. He’s bound to come back for it. You’ll get about your business and keep your nose out of Squire’s affairs, if you know what’s good for you.”

Swelling massively that a foreigner from London could treat him like this in his own home, Ross strode forward. “No, you get out of my stables and leave me to go about my business,” he roared. He didn’t wait but gave the groom a mighty shove that sent him staggering back. “And don’t you go bullying my wife again, either. Lay one finger on her and I shall be the one laying complaints, not you!”

“You wouldn’t dare!” But the groom backed away from the huge, red-faced man, who followed him step by step.

“I’d dare do anything to protect my family and don’t you forget it. My family have owned this inn for nigh on a hundred years. I live in this village and can get as many witnesses as I need to prove I’ve done no harm. Half the folk round here are related to me. You’re a foreigner. You might be working for Squire, but you have to come and go in the village. We’ll be watching you from now on. You should spare a thought for your own safety.”

“Squire’ll be furious when I tell him what you said.”

Ross looked down at him, arms akimbo. “I’m—furious—already!”

The groom went to wait in the back lane. He’d say nothing of this to his master, he decided. A man couldn’t do the impossible. And he did have to come and go in the village.

Judith, who had heard her husband’s voice booming out, wept still harder, sure that they’d all be clapped into jail for upsetting Squire.

But Ross set his son Ben to sweep the inn yard and keep watch for anyone approaching, then went whistling into the stables. “You there, young fellow?” he called softly.

There was a rustling in the hay loft and a head poked out. “Yes, I am. Thank you for hiding me.”

“I’ll do more than hide you. I’ll get you away tonight. The groom is outside keeping watch, but we’ll outfox him, don’t you worry. He isn’t one of us. Bessie and Mrs Jannvier are.”

He grinned as he walked back to the kitchen. It’d be a poor lookout when a man from Lancashire couldn’t best a soft-arsed foreigner from the south, by hell it would!

Chapter 8

Ross went out into the stable yard of the inn after dark, taking care that no light showed as he opened the little-used side door. He knew his way well enough to make no noise and entered via the tack room. He called softly and when George peered over the edge, beckoned him down. “Here. I’ve brought you some food and while you eat it I’ll saddle your horse.”

“Haven’t they got someone watching the inn?”

Ross grinned. “Aye, but I’ll make sure he’s distracted while you get away. He’s allus hungry, that one is. You’ll have to walk the horse for the first bit, keeping to soft ground. I’ve a man who’ll guide you but it’ll cost you a shilling or two. That all right?”

“Yes, of course. Guide me where? I still have to find Mrs Jannvier and her maid.” George was determined not to go home without them.

“The guide will take you to the first place they stayed after they left the cottage and you can ask where they went from there. That’s all anyone knows. Crying shame them two having to run away like that at their age—and one of ’em Squire’s sister, too. You be careful of him.”

“I will. But I’ll not let my master down, if I can help it.”

Ross clapped him on the back. “That’s the way, young fellow. And give the old ladies my best regards if you find ’em.”

I will find them, George vowed to himself as he strode off into the night. I’m not going back till I do.

* * * *

Bessie and Isabel eased their weary bodies off the pack horses near the ford in the centre of Rochdale, thanking the packman and his wife for their help. The string of horses splashed across the shallow river, heading uphill towards St Chad’s Parish Church and the Pack Horse Inn, which was where they always stayed on their visits to town.

The two women picked up their bundles and looked at one another.

“What now?” Bessie asked, for to her surprise her mistress had shown more decisiveness on this journey than she had since her husband died, whereas Bessie felt overwhelmed by having to run away like thieves in the night and live so roughly.

“We’ll have to ask directions to Marymoor, of course,” Isabel said serenely. “But for tonight, if you have enough money, I think we’ll find an inn and sleep in a proper bed. I want to wash myself and change into my other clothes. I don’t want to shame my daughter by turning up looking like a dirty old beggarwoman.”

“Dare we risk it?” Bessie worried. “What if your brother has sent people to look for us? What if he’s carried out his threat to . . . ” Her voice faltered and she looked at her mistress and friend because she was secretly terrified of what would happen to them if Walter Lawrence caught them. She had seen examples of his revenge in Newgarth, families destroyed, men thrown in prison on Walter’s word of their misdeeds to a magistrate friend.

“Not even Walter would do that to his own sister,” Isabel said, though less confidently. “It’s just a threat he uses to frighten me.” And the thought of being locked away in an asylum did frighten her. Very much.

But Bessie wasn’t so sure it was only a threat, not when you were dealing with Walter Lawrence. However, she too was feeling exhausted and longing for a wash, so she allowed herself to be persuaded and they found themselves a room in The Peacock, a small inn near the centre of the thriving, grey-stone town. There they ordered warm water to be brought up to their room, a request which seemed to surprise the landlady, and then enjoyed the luxury of a thorough wash.

When the chambermaid took the dirty water down again she slipped out to empty it into the drain then carried the town constable’s supper along the street to him, a regular task. She’d been waiting impatiently to do this because she’d heard there had been a reward posted that very day for information on two older women.

At the constable’s Jane set down the tray of food, then went to look at the new poster carefully, studying the sketch and asking him to read her the details.

She knew he humoured her in this, but she dreamed of one day earning one of these rewards and then finding herself a good, hard-working husband with the proceeds. As he described the two women who were wanted, she thought of the old ladies in the back bedroom and her excitement rose, for they answered the description of the latest poster perfectly. The thin one was better spoken than the fat one. The poster said she was the poor mad sister of a landowner. She didn’t seem mad, but you could never tell. And they were finicky about washing, weren’t they? So they must be gentry.

The constable listened gravely to her claim to have seen them. “I’ll come and look at them after I’ve eaten.”

“But what if they run away?”

“Why should they do that? They’ve hired a room for the night, haven’t they?” He picked up his knife and fork and cut himself a chunk of roast lamb.

The girl hurried back to the Peacock, but couldn’t resist boasting to the landlady of what she’d done and the reward she’d earn if these were indeed the right women.

Furious that the wench hadn’t shared the information with her, the landlady went into the big common room to stare at the two women eating their supper. They were the same age as herself and both looked deep down weary. She felt sorry for them if the information was true, for who would want to be shut away in a lunatic asylum? Was the thin one really mad, as the poster said? She had such a gentle smile it was hard to believe. Edging closer, the landlady tried to listen to what they were saying, pretending to wipe clean the next table.

Bessie couldn’t afterwards have said why she felt suspicious of the way the landlady was staring at them, but she did. When the woman had gone back into the kitchen, Bessie followed her. The landlady and maid had their backs to the door and were arguing furiously. What Bessie heard made her insist Isabel abandon eating and come up to their room.

“They know about us. Your brother’s put out a poster saying you’re mad and offering a reward. That chambermaid has reported our presence to the constable.”

Isabel’s bright new confidence faltered. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

They looked at one another in dismay.

“I’d never have believed Walter would . . . ” Isabel’s voice trailed away.

“I know he’s your brother, but he’d do anything to get his own way. He’s worse than your father ever was. We’ll have to slip out quietly, as if we’re going for a walk. We’ll put on as many of our clothes as we can and we’ll leave the rest, because if we took our bundles it would give us away. Quick! The constable may be on his way already. Perhaps we can slip out the back way while they’re still busy with that crowd of customers? They won’t expect us to do that.”

They went upstairs and put on every piece of clothing they could squeeze into.

“I’ll leave the money for the room on the mantelpiece,” Bessie decided. “Then they can’t accuse us of theft.”

When she turned round she saw the vague, distant look on Isabel’s face again and couldn’t bear it. Without thinking she shook her friend hard. “Keep your wits about you. We can escape!”

Isabel swallowed and nodded.

The two of them crept down the back stairs, watching from the dimly-lit landing as the maid rushed past in the corridor below carrying platters of food.

“That door leads into the back yard,” Bessie whispered. “You go first. I can’t move as quickly as you, so if they catch me, you run for your life.”

They both froze as the door to the dining room swung open again and the maid returned, but she was too intent on her task and she didn’t glance up.

As soon as the kitchen door had shut behind her, Bessie hissed, “Now!” and they picked up their skirts and ran.

* * * *

When Elkin returned to Marymoor for dinner at two o’clock, he was unshakably affable. The food was plain and plentiful, but neither Matthew nor his wife spoke unless addressed and even Elkin’s conversation faltered after a while before this wall of determined silence.

“I must go and look in on your mother, Mr Elkin,” Deborah said as soon as she could politely leave the table.

He gave her one of his cat-like smiles. “That’s very kind of you, but I looked in on her myself just before dinner and she was sleeping. The draught your good doctor sent seems to have done her a great deal of good.

“Oh. Yes, well, all right then. I’ll wait until later. Perhaps she’ll be well enough to travel tomorrow?”

“She’s a frail old woman and I don’t want to risk her life by rushing her away. I trust you’re not going to turn us out?” He raised one eyebrow at her.

“I wouldn’t send anyone away who was ill,” she said obliquely.

“The minute she’s fit to travel, you can leave,” Matthew said, tired of this mock civility. “And I’ll thank you not to come back again.”