The Poacher's Daughter, page 23
‘What is it? Try to tell me.’
‘Rosie . . .’ he stuttered. ‘I want – to see – Rosie.’
‘Oh my darling,’ she breathed. ‘You know that’s not possible. Rosie would come in a flash, but your father would have her arrested on the spot. She can’t come back here, you know that.’
‘Where – is – she?’
‘She’s safe.’
‘You’ve – seen her?’
‘She’s safe and well and helping to care for the wounded. I’ve been working with her. More than that, I can’t tell you. If your father were to find out . . .’ She paused and then said, ‘But your father has sent for Pearl and Bertie. Won’t that be wonderful?’
But all Byron said was, ‘I want to see Rosie.’
Twenty-Nine
Pearl arrived, bringing Bertie.
‘I’ll stay as long as Byron is here,’ she announced, ‘But then I’m going home.’
‘This is your home,’ William snarled. ‘You should be here doing your duty as a wife and mother. This is where my grandson belongs. He is heir to my estate.’
‘He is also heir to my father’s estate,’ Pearl countered. ‘Which he is likely to inherit long before this one. Besides, why is the Thornsby estate more important than my father’s, might I ask?’
‘It’s bigger,’ William snapped. ‘Albert should be here, learning how to run it.’
Pearl laughed. ‘He’s not even three. Besides, he will be going to boarding school as soon as he is old enough.’
‘There will be no need for that. I will engage the best tutors for him . . .’
Pearl waved her hand dismissively. ‘A boy needs to learn something of the world. He can’t do that in the wilds of north Lincolnshire.’
‘And I suppose south Lincolnshire is so much more civilized,’ William said sarcastically.
Pearl glanced at him disdainfully, but did not condescend to reply. Instead, she held out her hand to her son. ‘Come, Bertie, we’ll go and see your papa.’
The presence of his son did Byron a power of good. Within a week he was eating properly again and taking walks in the grounds with the toddler trotting at his side. He even taught the little boy the rudiments of cricket. But the welcome improvement in his health meant only one thing: Byron would have to report back for duty.
‘Pearl,’ Grace said, when they were alone in the morning room. ‘I want to thank you for bringing Bertie. I don’t think Byron would have recovered so well – or so quickly – if you had not.’
Pearl nodded and was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I heard you’d been away. Nursing, was it?’
Grace smiled. ‘Not exactly – I’m not qualified – but the work I did was useful.’
‘Shall you go back once Byron has gone?’
Grace hesitated. ‘I don’t think so. I’d love to,’ she added, ‘but I can see that my duty is here. Standards have slipped while I’ve been away and I have to remember that years ago I made solemn marriage vows which, of late, I have not kept. As, my dear,’ she added softly, ‘did you. We have tried to be good to you and to give you everything you wanted.’
Pearl was silent for a long time, twisting her fingers in her lap. ‘Mother and I are doing useful war work around Stamford. There’s nothing for me to do here. I get so bored.’
Grace could not argue with that; she’d often felt much the same herself.
‘It’s just that – at home – and I’m sorry if this offends you . . .’
‘It doesn’t worry me, my dear, because I understand. Go on.’
‘At home, Mother and I are doing our bit for the war effort too. We organize fundraising events and hold them in our grounds. We do at least one a month and if it’s cold or wet, we use one of the big barns.’
‘We could do that here. In fact, I think it’s an excellent idea. We could do it together.’
Pearl smiled weakly. ‘We could, I suppose.’
Grace thought quickly. ‘May I make a suggestion? Why don’t you come here for a few months each year and spend the rest at your parents’ home.’
‘Even when Byron comes back for good?’
Grace was heartened to think that the girl believed Byron would survive the war. ‘That would be up to you and him to work out between you. Perhaps he could spend some time at your home with you?’
‘Oh, I don’t think that would be a very good idea,’ Pearl said swiftly. A little too swiftly. Grace wondered if there was a reason behind it. She sighed inwardly. Instead, she suggested, ‘Think about it. You could come here in the spring, say March or April and stay here until August or September. That way, you could be at home for Christmas.’ Grace knew William wouldn’t be happy with the arrangement, but surely to have Bertie at Thornsby for part of the year was better than nothing.
‘I’ll think about it,’ was all Pearl would promise and, with that, Grace had to be content – for the moment. Grace was no fool and she was beginning to suspect that perhaps Pearl had formed a romantic attachment to someone in Stamford.
A week later, Byron was well enough to return to his unit and Pearl insisted on leaving on the same day. Byron hugged his son hard and the little boy wound his chubby arms around Byron’s neck and rained kisses on this cheek. ‘Bye, bye, Papa.’
Byron set him down and turned to Pearl and kissed her on her cheek. ‘Thank you for coming, Pearl, and for bringing Bertie. Please come again, won’t you, even if – even if I’m not here? Mother and Father would so love to see more of him – of both of you.’
‘Yes, I will. I promise,’ Pearl said.
They left in a flurry of goodbyes. William, Grace and Byron stood on the top step to see them off. They watched until they could no longer see Bertie’s little hand waving.
‘What a lovely child he is,’ Grace said. ‘I have to hand it to Pearl. She is certainly bringing him up well.’
‘He should be here with us,’ William growled and then turned to his own son. ‘Can’t you control your wife, Byron?’
Byron only smiled sardonically as if to say, ‘it seems you can no longer control yours’. Instead, he said, ‘And now, I’d best be on my way to Lincoln. I have to report back by noon.’
‘I’ve already arranged for Monty to take you in the carriage,’ William said and then glanced towards his wife, fully expecting her to say she was leaving too.
Guessing his thoughts, she turned to him. ‘I will be staying at least for the time being. There is much I can do here now that many of our villagers are being affected by the war one way or another. I intend to do what I can to help them. And I shall expect your support, William. They are, after all, your tenants.’
William struggled to control the retort that sprang naturally to his lips. He had missed his wife more than he would ever openly admit and would do anything to keep her at home. If playing the philanthropist was what it took to keep her with him, then he would do it.
‘Of course, my dear,’ he said smoothly. ‘I will help you in any way I can. What have you in mind?’
‘My plans are not fully formed yet, William, but I will, of course, discuss everything with you before I take any action.’ Grace smiled at him. For the first time in her life she had the upper hand. It was not a feeling she was used to, but she would make the most of the moment. As the carriage drew up in front of them, Byron put his arms round her and held her close for a moment.
‘She’s working at the Lincoln military hospital,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘But your father must not find out.’ Louder she said, ‘Take care of yourself, my darling boy, and come back safely to us.’
He drew back from her and although all he said aloud was, ‘Thank you, Mother, I’ll do my best,’ the gratitude for her whispered words was in his eyes.
‘Rosie,’ Anna called. ‘There’s someone here to see you.’
Fear flashed in Rosie’s eyes. ‘To – to see me?’
‘Yes. A man. A very handsome man in uniform, I might add.’ Anna was smiling. The little orphan from the workhouse had blossomed into a pretty girl, despite all the long hours and the hard, often distressing, work. Half the soldiers were in love with her and one of them, it seemed, was Nathan. Rosie had watched the growing fondness between them with indulgence and took every opportunity to allow Anna to attend to his needs.
‘Are you sure,’ Anna had asked her worriedly in the privacy of the bedroom they shared, ‘that Nathan’s not your young man?’
‘I promise you he’s not. Never has been and never will be.’
‘But – but you seem awfully fond of each other.’
‘We are. Brothers and sisters usually are. Except,’ she added, with a giggle, ‘those who can’t stand the sight of each other.’
‘But you’re not brother and sister, are you?’
‘No, we’re not, but that’s the sort of relationship we have. I promise you, Anna. That’s the truth. Ask him, if you don’t believe me.’
Anna blushed. ‘Oh, I couldn’t. He – he might guess, then, how I feel about him.’
‘Would that be so bad?’
Anna hung her head. ‘Yes, it would, if he doesn’t feel the same way.’
Rosie did not reply, but she understood how the girl felt. Perhaps . . .
‘Well,’ Anna was saying now, ‘are you going to see the young man who’s asking for you, or not? He’s waiting in the front entrance.’
Rosie bit her lip, so afraid it was someone sent by Mr Ramsey. As she walked through the corridors to the front entrance, her knees were trembling and she felt as if her heart was in her mouth. When she saw him standing there, silhouetted against the light, her legs nearly gave way.
‘Byron!’ she breathed. ‘Oh Byron.’
He turned and saw her. He held out his arms and, without a moment’s hesitation, she ran into them and was enfolded into his embrace.
‘Rosie, my darling Rosie.’ He touched her cheek with gentle fingers. ‘How I’ve missed you all these years.’
She pulled back a little to look up into his face, but she did not leave the circle of his arms.
‘Are you well again?’
He nodded. ‘I don’t know whether to be pleased or sorry, because now I have to go back to the horror.’
She nodded. ‘I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like, but we see so much suffering here.’
‘I can’t stay long.’ His tone was urgent. ‘We leave tonight . . .’
‘Nathan’s still here. Have you time to see him?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘He’ll be going home soon, but I don’t think he’ll ever go back to the front. The wound on his leg is taking a long time to heal. I’ll take you to the ward, but I won’t come in. I think it’s best if we’re not seen together.’
Byron nodded, understanding, but the thought saddened him. ‘I’ll go when I’ve seen him, but first there is something I must say to you, Rosie, just in case – in case I don’t come back.’
She put her finger against his lips to still such words, but he was not going to be put off. Not this time. He caught and held her hand, holding it against his chest. ‘I love you, Rosie. I think I always have done ever since I caught you poaching fish from my father’s stream.’
‘And I love you, Byron, but you know it was always impossible. We are from such different worlds. We could never have been together.’
‘This war will alter things. It will be a great leveller . . .’
Rosie laughed ruefully. ‘Not that much. Besides, you’re married now.’
‘Yes, and that was a great mistake for both Pearl and me. The only good thing to come out of that is little Albert – or Bertie, as we call him. I will never regret having him, not for a moment, but’ – he groaned – ‘if only he had been our child – yours and mine.’
‘Just promise me you will come back,’ Rosie whispered.
He smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. ‘My mother asked me to promise the same thing, but all I can say to both of you is, I’ll do my very best.’
‘Your mother is a lovely person. We’ve been working here together. She was one of us.’
‘There you are, then. It can work, you see. Our two worlds are not so far apart.’
‘Oh Byron,’ she said, her tone was sad and not without a little exasperation. Did all men think they could change the world to fit what they wanted? ‘Now, come. I’ll take you to see Nathan.’ For a brief moment she held his face between her hands and kissed his lips. Just once and then she turned from him and led the way to Ward Four. As he approached Nathan’s bedside and heard Byron say, ‘Now then, old chap . . .’ Rosie slipped away. She would not see him again before he left – she would make sure of that – but she would carry his loving words in her heart for ever.
Thirty
‘So, my dear, what are these grandiose ideas you have?’
William, feeling secure in the thought that his wife had ‘come to her senses’ and had returned home for good, was beginning to allow his natural sarcasm and superiority over her to reassert itself.
Grace regarded him through narrowed eyes down the length of the dinner table. For the moment she said nothing, but he would soon find he could no longer control her every move.
‘The sons of a few of your tenants volunteered at the beginning of hostilities and more have gone since.’
William grunted disapprovingly. ‘Caught up in the wave of misguided patriotism that swept through the country. Our own son among them.’
‘Sadly,’ Grace went on as if he hadn’t spoken, ‘some will never return, but there are several who are coming back badly injured. They may be maimed for life.’
William shrugged as if he didn’t care.
‘I want to do something to help them.’
Now his head shot up. ‘How?’
‘I want to arrange fundraising events. We have large grounds and, if it’s well advertised, I’m sure people will come from all around north Lincolnshire at the very least. And perhaps we could join forces with Pearl and her mother. They are already doing such work in south Lincolnshire.’
‘Well, that would be all right, my dear. I thought for one dreadful moment you were going to suggest opening up Thornsby Manor as some sort of nursing home.’
‘Oh William’ – Grace clapped her hands – ‘what a splendid idea. Now, why didn’t I think of that?’
William gaped at her, scandalized, as Grace rose from her seat, walked the full length of the table to kiss his forehead, then left the room saying, ‘If you need me, I’ll be in the morning room. I have plans to make . . .’
William was left sitting at the table with his mouth open, staring at the closed door.
‘What have I done?’ he murmured.
As it happened, Grace was only teasing him. She didn’t think Thornsby Manor would be a suitable location for a nursing home – although, the more she thought about it, she began to wonder if they could offer convalescence to one or two men at a time who no longer needed actual nursing care but just a peaceful place to recuperate.
‘Is my horse ready, Monty?’
‘Yes, Mr Ramsey. Ready and waiting. A good gallop will do him good.’
‘Haven’t you been exercising him?’
‘Of course, sir, but with Mr Byron’s horse and the other two to manage—’
‘It’s what I pay your wages for, boy, and why I give you a home. Where would you be now if I hadn’t taken you out of the workhouse?’
Monty felt the colour rise in his face. Looking after the stables at Thornsby Manor almost singlehandedly, for Lucas Brown did as little work as possible, was a huge responsibility for the young man. And always, the threat of being returned to the workhouse loomed large. William Ramsey would not hesitate to send him back to that awful place if he was displeased. Monty lamented the fact that now there was no Sam Waterhouse – or even Rosie – to help those who fell on hard times.
‘I trust you delivered Byron safely to the barracks or wherever he needed to be?’ William said as Monty cupped his hands to let his master mount his horse.
‘I took him to Lincoln, sir, but not to the barracks.’
‘Really. Why not?’ William sat on his horse, looking down at Monty’s upturned face.
‘He asked me to take him to the hospital. I think he wanted to see his friend, Nathan Tranter.’
William nodded, but as he rode away, he was thoughtful. How had his son known where Nathan was? He knew that was where Grace had been working. No doubt she had told Byron that his friend was there. It fitted in with the trips that he knew Monty had been taking with the carriage at Sarah’s instigation. They all thought they had kept him in ignorance, but William was more astute than they gave him credit for. He could see a lot more of the comings and goings from his study windows than they guessed. William Ramsey missed very little about what was going on in his house or on his estate, for that matter. But until now he hadn’t been aware of exactly where the carriage had been going. Now, he thought he knew.
But there was still one person whom he couldn’t find. The one person still escaping his clutches.
Rosie Waterhouse. Now where could the girl be?
‘Nathan.’
He opened his eyes and they lit up when he saw who it was. ‘Anna.’
‘You’re going home tomorrow. Matron has written to your mother and to Mrs Ramsey and she is sending the carriage for you.’
‘How kind of her. It will be good to get home, but’ – he reached for her hand – ‘I will miss you.’
Anna smiled but her mouth trembled and tears filled her eyes. ‘I – I will miss you too. You’ve been a model patient.’
‘Will you come and see me?’
‘I – I’d like to. Where d’you live?’
‘A little village called Thornsby, but it’s a long way for you to travel, especially in just one day. If you could get a few days off sometime, you could come and stay with us. I’m sure Mam wouldn’t mind.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘But we could write to each other.’
‘All right,’ Anna said shyly, ‘although I’m not very good at letter writing.’
‘Neither am I,’ he grinned, ‘but I just want to know you’re all right.’
