Briar Patch Page 2

  Seeing a large rambling bush covered by the blooms of wild roses, Roz stopped to admire and to pick a small posy. She held the posy to her nose but the perfume was faint. About to move on, she discovered that her skirt had caught on a thorn. In her efforts to pick the flowers she’d become entangled in the briars.

  ‘Hold still a minute, miss,’ a man’s voice said and she jumped. Intent on her task, she had not noticed his approach. ‘If you pull it the material will tear.’

  ‘Oh . . . thank you.’

  She blushed as her rescuer took hold of her skirt and carefully untangled it. His hands looked brown and there was dirt beneath the fingernails. He was dressed in the clothes of a farm worker, his shabby breeches tucked into long buckled boots and a dark brown waistcoat over his wool shirt. A handsome man, his hair was dark brown and touched his collar, curling slightly in the nape. As he smiled at her she saw his eyes were what some people called hazel.

  ‘There, you’re free now.’

  ‘I’m not sure how I became so entangled. I dare say it was reaching for the best roses.’

  ‘It’s a pity to pick them. ‘They’ll die before you get home.’

  ‘I was going to give them to Mrs Allen at the rectory. Mama sent some pastries – and I thought the roses would be nice as an extra gift.’

  His gaze narrowed, as if he’d just realized who she was. ‘Well, I am sure she will be pleased, but it’s still a pity to pluck them – nature’s bounty is for the pleasure of all who see it and the rose hip is much prized for syrup by the poor folk who gather them.’

  ‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of it like that.’ Roz felt uncomfortable. She was of course on common land but had not given a thought as to who might own the roses. His manner had become cold, accusing. ‘I’m sorry.’

  He continued to stare at her but didn’t answer, merely nodding curtly before he walked away.

  What a rude man! Roz felt her embarrassment fade to be replaced by annoyance as he disappeared round the bend.

  Raising her head defiantly, Roz walked on. She didn’t know who the young man was and she had no wish to find out.

  Tom Blake frowned as he saw Carrie standing in the lane between their land and the common. It bordered the squire’s land and the wild meadow Thornton had coveted. She had her hands on her stomach and was smiling in the vague way she often did.

  ‘What are you doing here? You should be at home helping Ma with the chores.’

  Carrie turned her dreamy eyes on him. She walked towards him, a look of content on her face.

  ‘It’s such a lovely morning, our Tom. I thought I would meet Dick. He’ll be coming home soon, perhaps today.’

  ‘I’ve told you a dozen times, girl. Dick has gone. He won’t be coming back.’

  ‘He will one day. He told me so himself,’ Carrie said. ‘I know you put him in that box in the ground but he won’t stay there for ever. He’ll come for me one day.’

  ‘If he does you’ll be dead.’ Tom hadn’t the heart to be cross with her. Carrie had caused so much trouble but she didn’t understand.

  Carrie walked with him as they crossed the wild meadow. Tom had been to the village and was not sure what had made him take the shortcut across Thornton land after leaving Roz Thornton. Had he been seen by one of the keepers he would undoubtedly have been challenged and perhaps threatened. Following the news of Dick’s death, Tom’s father had gone after the keeper who had shot his son down like a dog. He’d given him a thrashing and, had someone not pulled him off, might have killed Thornton’s man. He’d spent six months in Norwich prison for the assault while Higgins had got off and been praised for saving the lives of other men present when the squire was murdered. The injustice had not improved John Blake’s temper and since his return from prison a month ago he had done little but sit about the house or yard, drinking and cursing.

  Tom didn’t take much notice of his father’s curses, dodging the blows he dished out and keeping out of his way as much as possible. It was easy enough to keep busy since most of the chores fell to him now that Dick was gone. The ache inside him was still deep and he had grieved for his brother, living with the anger and frustration by working until he was exhausted.

  His mother kept the house as spick and span as ever, cooking and cleaning as she too fought her grief. She and Carrie fed the chickens, collected eggs and took the scraps to the pigs. However, Ellen was too busy to help with the milking and Carrie was so big that she normally only pottered about the house and yard with her hands over her stomach and that foolish look on her face.

  Tom turned his head to glance at his sister. What had made her walk this far? By the size of her she might give birth any day now. If she gave birth before another month was out it would mean – Tom’s thoughts veered away from the unthinkable. If Carrie had lied to them about the squire raping her, Dick had died for nothing!

  John Blake had slapped the girl about the face a few times when the news broke that terrible day, but Tom’s mother had surprised him by standing up for the girl. He knew she loved Carrie, as he did, but she had too much to do and snapped at the girl too often these days. Yet she’d protected her from her father.

  ‘You leave her alone, John. She didn’t know what she was doing. It was that devil up at the hall that shamed her – and his keeper that killed our Dick. If you want to take your temper out on someone, go after them up there.’

  For perhaps the first time in his life John Blake had done what his wife suggested and spent six months in prison for his pains. Since his return he had not ceased to remind her that she’d goaded him into going after the keeper. Whenever she said it was time he did some work he coughed and blamed his illness on his treatment in prison.

  Tom thought of the girl who’d caught herself in the briar patch.

  He knew Roz, of course. There couldn’t be a man in the county that hadn’t noticed Squire Thornton’s daughter. She had been pretty enough when she was a girl, but seeing her close to for the first time in years, Tom thought her beautiful. Her complexion of cream and roses was something only a girl who had been delicately reared would have and her eyes were the colour of a summer sky. Her hair had a silken sheen and there was something fine about her that proclaimed her a lady. Girls of his class had fresh, sun-kissed skin and Mary Jane Forrest had freckles across her nose and cheeks.

  Mary Jane had been making eyes at him of late. He’d thought once that she was after Dick but recently she had smiled at him in church. Tom knew he had only to ask and she would let him kiss her, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to settle.

  Besides, the anger and bitterness inside him was too sharp for him to go courting just yet.

  The thought had come to him when he was freeing Miss Thornton’s skirt that he could push her down on the earth and do to her what her father had done to Carrie. It would humble her pride and serve the family right if she got caught with his bastard. Yet even as he’d thought of it, he had been angry at himself. He was not going to stoop to the old squire’s level. The girl hadn’t done anything wrong; there was no crime in picking a few wild roses, even though he’d implied otherwise.

  ‘Don’t tell Ma where I went this morning.’

  Carrie’s plea made Tom turn his head to look at her.

  ‘Why not? What have you been up to?’

  ‘I just went for a walk – but Ma told me to stay in the yard. She’ll be cross if you tell her.’

  ‘I’ll not split on you, Carrie, lass.’

  She smiled, and Tom felt a moment of doubt. They were all used to thinking of Carrie as being simple but the look in her eyes made him suspicious. Had she been fooling them all this time? Where did she go on her walks, and was she always alone?

  ‘You’re good to me,’ Carrie said and reached for his hand, her fingers curling about his. ‘You and Dick are always kind to me – not like Pa. Ma gets cross but she loves me. Pa hates me.’ Her wide eyes opened, innocent and free of guile. ‘What have I done to make Pa hate me, Tom?’

  ‘I
t isn’t your fault, Carrie. Ma and me will protect you from Pa – but he’s not a bad man, except when the drink is in him. Just do as Ma tells you and everything will be fine.’

  Two

  The hall was overflowing with people and all the activity made Roz feel more alive than she had since her father’s funeral.

  The family had been in mourning for months but now they were going to celebrate Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee. All over the country people had been putting up the flags and holding street parties; the potteries had been turning out commemorative ware as fast as they could for weeks. Having purchased quite a few mugs, plates and jugs showing the Queen’s portrait, Philip had given them as prizes for the games the vicar was organizing the next day.

  However, the dance was this evening. Roz was looking forward to wearing a pretty new gown and flirting with the gentlemen her brother had invited for the occasion. A party of men and women had come down from London for a few days, and it was this that had lent excitement to the evening ahead. Roz thought that two of the young men were attractive. Philip had said they were both wealthy and single.

  ‘You should grab one of them while you have the chance,’ he’d told her.

  ‘Please do not be vulgar,’ she’d replied, but she was excited about the dance.

  ‘Have you finished the flowers?’

  Roz turned to look as her mother came into the small back parlour. ‘Yes, Mama. The gardeners sent them early. Philip said his friends from London were to have breakfast in their rooms. They won’t show themselves before noon.’

  ‘Well, we were all quite late last night,’ Lady Thornton said, her gaze going over the arrangement on the small table in the window. ‘You have just the right touch with flowers.’ Her expression was expectant. ‘Now, tell me, what did you think of Mr Harcourt? I thought him charming.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Harcourt is charming, Mama. I liked him – but Captain Richmond is so amusing.’

  ‘His eyes are too bold. You could not trust him. Since your brother insists that you marry sooner rather than later, my advice would be to get Mr Harcourt if you can.’

  ‘Mama, please do not seek to influence my choice. I hardly know either of them. They are Philip’s friends. Mr Harcourt is certainly kind but I have had no occasion to think he is interested in me.’

  ‘Well, you know the alternative. I should not have wished you to marry just yet but we shall not be able to entertain often at the dower house – and if Philip cannot persuade Miss Richmond to marry him, he might lose everything.’

  ‘Hush, Mama,’ Roz said and glanced over her shoulder. ‘Supposing someone heard you? Besides, how can you be sure that Philip means to ask her?’

  ‘Use your intelligence, Roz. She’s not the most beautiful girl in the world but she is the only heiress your brother has invited. I know for a fact that she has ten thousand of her own and her aunt is rich and may give her something when she marries. Philip showed her some attention last night, and I think you will see that he is in earnest this evening.’

  ‘If he truly loves her I suppose . . .’

  ‘What has love got to do with it? Your brother has responsibilities.’

  ‘Yes, I know. Poor Philip. I like her but she is rather . . . homely, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘She will make him an excellent wife. I hope you will be as sensible when the time comes.’

  ‘Yes, Mama.’

  ‘Well, go up and change into something pretty. I need to speak to Cook about supper for this evening.’

  Roz left the room. Sometimes her mama made her want to scream but she was a well brought-up girl and thus far her rebellions had been small.

  Looking out of the landing window, she sighed. It was a pleasant morning and she would rather be out riding than making conversation with Miss Richmond. Roz wondered what kind of a life her brother would have if he married her, but he seemed to know what he was doing and Julia seemed nice enough – if a little dull.

  Roz supposed that she was what this house party was all about really. If Julia Richmond hadn’t consented to come her brother might not even have bothered to hold the dance this evening – and that would have been a shame, because Roz was looking forward to it.

  ‘You look charming this evening, Miss Thornton,’ the tall, fair-haired gentleman smiled down at her. ‘Beautiful might be a better word – and you dance delightfully.’

  Roz gazed up at Robert Harcourt as their dance ended. He was attractive enough in a pale, slightly insipid way, with a gentle manner that might have drawn her to him had she not seen Captain Richmond.

  ‘You flatter me too much, sir. I do not think I am beautiful, though Mama says I am pretty.’

  ‘You’re too modest. Yet your mirror must tell you the truth every time you use it.’

  ‘We shall not argue over it, sir. I thank you for the dance. I enjoyed myself – but now I see my next partner approaching.’

  ‘Ah yes, Richmond – all the ladies adore him. Be a little wary, Miss Thornton.’

  Roz hardly listened. Her eyes were on Paul Richmond and her heart was racing. He was so handsome with his lean, chiselled features, black hair and dark eyes that looked silver sometimes in the candlelight. She wouldn’t have dared to tell her mother, but she had been drawn to him from the moment they had met. Marriage had seemed distant, something she must do eventually if her brother had his way, but now she felt breathless, on fire with the need to be in his arms.

  ‘Miss Thornton – or may I call you Roz? At last we can dance together. You have been doing your duty as the hostess and I have been passing time.’

  ‘I saw you dancing with Miss James. Polly is a very pretty girl.’

  ‘Pretty, yes.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Pretty girls are two a penny. You are something more . . .’

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘Surely you know it? Philip told me half the men in the county have been after you for ages.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I do not care for any of them; they are dull and have no conversation but hunting, shooting or the land.’

  ‘We are all predators at heart.’

  Paul’s laughter was husky. The way he looked at her was hungry, speculative; almost as if he saw her as his prey – something to be hunted. Then his hand clasped hers in a masterful grip as he led her towards the dance floor and her heart seemed to slam against her chest.

  It was a dream. Surely she could not feel this wonderful. Nothing on earth could ever feel as good as dancing with Paul Richmond. His hold was firm and yet light as he guided her round and round in a dizzying succession of circles.

  He pressed her hand as their dance ended. ‘I want to talk to you alone – not tonight; we should be missed. Perhaps tomorrow.’

  She inclined her head. Excitement curled through her and she gave her hand reluctantly to the next man to claim her. She was so lost in her dreams that she hardly knew she was dancing with Harold Rushden until he spoke.

  ‘Our families have been close for many years.’ His deep voice recalled her from her dreams. ‘Because of that I believe you will not be offended if I drop a word of warning in your ear, Miss Thornton. That fellow Richmond is not to be trusted. I should not approve of a man like that being in company with my sister.’

  ‘Jane has been married for a year.’

  ‘So she has,’ Rushden agreed and looked pleased with himself. ‘I arranged a suitable match for her and she was grateful to me. She is very happy and settled in Yorkshire with her husband.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it, sir.’

  Roz held her tongue on the matter of Captain Richmond. She did not wish to argue with her partner in the middle of the dance floor.

  Her reticence left him with nothing more to say on the subject and he proceeded to tell her about the new wing he was building at Rushden Towers. Since he had spoken of little else for months, Roz was able to listen, smile and transfer her thoughts back to Captain Richmond’s intriguing remark.

  He wished to speak to her alone. Just what did he mean?
Surely a gentleman would not say such a thing to a lady unless he had marriage in mind?

  ‘Will you enter the archery contest tomorrow?’

  Roz recalled her wandering thoughts as the dance ended.

  ‘Oh . . . I’m not sure,’ she replied and glanced up at him. ‘I hadn’t considered it. After all, I’ve won for two years in a row and it seems fair to let others have a chance.’

  ‘It would be a pity not to show off your skill. Jane always admired you. She had no talent in that direction at all.’

  ‘It is hardly a requirement for marriage or running a home. I dare say I should have done better to work at my sewing or my music.’

  Rushden murmured a denial, bowed his head and left as yet another partner approached Roz. She took his hand, allowing him to lead her back to the dance floor, but her thoughts remained with Paul Richmond. Her gaze moved round the room, seeking him out.

  He seemed to have left the ballroom, and it was not until Roz went upstairs to tidy her gown an hour or so later that she chanced to see him leaving the room of one of their married guests. The lady was in her mid-thirties, a friend of Lady Thornton’s and staying without her husband. Paul was pulling at his waistcoat and she noticed that his cravat was not as pristine as it had been earlier.

  He did not notice Roz because he turned away to the right as she approached from the left, heading for the wing occupied by single gentlemen. He’d had no business to be here on this landing at all. Feeling shocked, she remembered Mr Rushden’s warning earlier. Now she understood what was implied.

  Roz hurried to her own room and washed her face in some cool water left in the jug on her washstand. Seeing Paul come from the lady’s room had made her feel hot all over. She was not such an innocent that she could not guess why he had gone there. Similar things had happened during house parties on more than one occasion in the past. Mama had instructed her to ignore what went on.