Briar Patch Page 4

  The summer house had been built by Roz’s grandfather and was really a folly, shaped to resemble a Roman temple with pinkish marble columns and a domed roof. She sat down on the steps leading to the sitting area, where plush-covered settees had been placed for the convenience of guests.

  Roz did not go inside but sat staring at the way the moonlight turned lawns, bushes and trees to silver. She sighed, feeling lost and hurt without really knowing why. Perhaps she just didn’t like facing the truth about her father.

  ‘You came early. I had to make an excuse to get away.’

  Roz looked up, startled by the sound of Paul’s voice. He must think she had come to meet him.

  ‘I didn’t come here to meet you. I was thinking about something and forgot.’ She rose to her feet and tried to pass him but he caught her upper arm, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh. ‘Please let me go.’

  ‘Don’t be shy, Roz. You know why you came here as well as I do. I’ve seen it in your eyes when you look at me.’

  He pulled her hard against him, bent his head to look down at her for one moment and then kissed her. It wasn’t the kind of kiss some of her admirers had given her in fun but a fierce, demanding possession of her mouth. She placed her hands against his shoulders and pushed, but he wouldn’t let go. Roz kicked at his shin and he cursed, breaking his hold. She ran from him but in a moment he was after her. He caught her about the body and they struggled; then Roz felt his weight bearing her down. She was on the grass and she could feel a stone pressing hard into her right shoulder.

  ‘Stop it. No, please don’t,’ she cried as his hands pulled her skirts up and she felt his hand pushing between her legs. ‘I don’t want you to do this. Please, I beg you, let me go.’

  ‘Bitch,’ he said and bit her neck. ‘Keep still or I’ll hurt you. You’ve been leading me on since I got here. I’m going to have you whether you want it or not.’

  ‘No, please no . . .’ Roz’s sobs were lost as he ravaged her mouth. She fought him for as long as she could but he was too strong and determined. And in the end she just lay there and let him do what he wanted. All the time the thought kept running through her head that this was what her father had done to Carrie Blake.

  ‘Here, give the baby to me,’ Ellen said as her son held the tiny girl up for her to see. The child cried lustily, still covered in its mother’s blood. ‘You’re a fine man, Tom, lad. I’ve not seen a midwife do better than that and I’ve helped at a good many births.’

  ‘I had to turn her. I’ve seen the vet do it for the cows a good many times and once when he didn’t get here in time I did it myself.’

  ‘Well, now you’ve delivered your own niece,’ Ellen said. ‘You should be proud of yourself, Tom.’

  ‘Is she all right, Ma?’ Tom’s gaze was on the tangled sheets, which were heavily stained with blood. ‘I’m not a doctor. I may have hurt her inside.’

  Ellen bent over her daughter and stroked her hair. Carrie gave a little moan and her eyelids flickered.

  ‘The bleeding has stopped. She’s tired out but she’ll sleep for a while and then I’ll give her the baby to feed.’

  ‘Give the bastard to me. I’ll get rid of it same as we do the cat’s brood in a pail of water.’

  ‘John Blake, you should be ashamed of yourself,’ Ellen said, rounding on him. ‘Carrie’s daughter may be a bastard but children bring their own love. You’ll not lay a hand on her while I have breath in my body.’

  ‘Get it out of the house, then. Take it to the workhouse. They’ll know what to do with the brat.’

  ‘How you can stand there and say such things about your own grandchild I don’t know,’ Ellen said. ‘Listen to me, John Blake. If you harm this babe or give her away, I’ll leave you and so will Tom and Carrie. See how you like fending for yourself.’

  ‘I can hire a woman to do for me and men are ten a penny in the yard.’

  ‘Then find yourself someone to work all hours for the pay I get,’ Tom said and put his arm around Ellen’s shoulders.

  ‘You shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you.’ John scowled at his son. ‘You’re brave all of a sudden, ain’t you?’

  ‘I’m not afraid of you, Pa. Dick thought I was a coward but I prefer a quiet life. I don’t want to argue with you, but lift a hand to Ma or Carrie and I’ll make you beg their pardon on your knees.’

  John Blake spat on the floor at his feet. ‘Damn the pair of you. I don’t know what it’s coming to when a man’s no longer master in his own house.’

  He stomped out. For a moment there was silence and then Tom spoke.

  ‘He won’t do anything, Ma. He’s all bluster and threat these days. Pa relies on us to work the farm and not many would work for him. Everyone knows what a temper he’s got on him.’

  ‘Aye, I know it.’ Ellen shook her head over the baby in her arms. ‘I’d best clean her up and Carrie too. Then she’ll need a feed. I can manage here now, Tom. You get off to the milking, lad.’

  He put his arm about her, kissing her cheek. ‘Don’t worry, Ma. I’m here. I’ll protect you all.’

  ‘It would have been better if Dick were here too. There’s too much for one to do. You work all hours.’

  ‘I can manage for the moment.’

  ‘What you need is a wife to help you,’ Ellen said. ‘Choose a strong girl who can give a hand with milking and churning the butter.’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ Tom said to please her and went down the stairs. His father was sitting in his chair by the fire, a mug of home-brewed ale in his hand. He muttered something as Tom went past but he hardly heard. He was thinking about the girl that he had seen earlier that day at the fete.

  Miss Thornton’s first two arrows had been perfect – why had she missed so badly with the third? Tom was almost certain she had let him win. She must have seen Carrie, because she’d hesitated before she fired wide.

  At first he’d toyed with the idea of refusing the prize money, but then he’d remembered what that bastard had done to his sister. The money was owed to Carrie. Dick had brought his fate on himself. He’d been angry and he’d lost his temper; that wasn’t Tom’s way. If Dick had spoken to him first, they might have settled it like gentlemen. They could have had the law on Thornton and made him pay – a lot more than the twenty guineas he’d won at the fete.

  Why had Miss Thornton done it? He’d thought her proud and cold like the rest of her family, but now he wasn’t sure. One thing he was certain of was that she was lovely and he hadn’t been able to put her out of his mind since the day he’d freed her skirt from the thorns. A rueful smile touched his mouth. Miss Rosalind Thornton was way out of his league. If he married at all, it would be best to follow his mother’s advice. A lady like the Thornton girl was too perfect to be brought down to his level.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Philip’s eyes went over Roz, taking in her stained gown, the tear to the lace at her neck and her pale face. ‘What happened? You’ve been crying – Roz, tell me!’

  Roz was trembling, her eyes reflecting horror.

  Philip took hold of her arm, giving her a little shake. ‘For goodness’ sake, tell me. It’s no good just staring at me like that – I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.’

  ‘He raped me,’ she said, her voice breathy and no more than a whisper. ‘I went for a walk to the summer house. He followed me and he . . .’ she choked on a sob and stopped. ‘I fought him, Philip. I promise you I didn’t give in willingly. He was too strong.’

  Philip’s fingers dug into the flesh of her upper arm and she winced. ‘Was it that Blake fellow? Damn you, Roz. You shouldn’t have encouraged him here by letting him win.’

  ‘It wasn’t him.’ She raised her eyes to meet his. ‘It was Paul Richmond. You brought him here – so what are you going to do about it?’

  ‘Richmond? Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure. Do you think I dreamed it up?’

  ‘Damn and blast him to hell. Will he marry you?’


  ‘I wouldn’t have him if he were the last man on earth. Did you hear what I said – he raped me, Philip. He hurt me and humiliated me – just like our father raped Carrie Blake. I want him punished. I’m going to take him to court and see him go to prison for his crime.’

  ‘You can’t.’ Philip stared at her in horror. ‘You can’t say anything about this to anyone, Roz. Think of the scandal. Would you really want to stand up in court and give evidence? You’ll be ruined.’

  ‘I’m ruined now. Can you think of something better? Are you going to kill him the way Dick Blake killed Father? I would rather go to court. I’m not afraid. I did nothing wrong.’

  ‘He’d say you were willing – that you’d met him there because you wanted to . . . Besides, we can’t do any of this, Roz. If you say one word to anyone else, Mama – anyone – I’ll be finished. Julia has just promised to marry me. If you make a fuss about this she will change her mind. The scandal will ruin my chances of finding another heiress.’

  ‘What about me? What of my feelings?’

  ‘You have to keep quiet. He’ll be leaving in the morning and Julia will go to her aunt’s for a few weeks. Stay in your room until they’ve gone and you won’t have to see him.’

  An icy chill seeped through her. ‘Is that all you can think of – what it means to you? Don’t you understand that I’ve been humiliated? I can’t ever marry – and I might already be carrying his child.’

  ‘Why can’t you marry? Rushden wants you. I’ll send him a note in the morning and he’ll come over and ask you.’

  ‘You really have no idea what I feel, do you?’ Roz said bitterly. ‘You don’t care about anyone but yourself. I pity Julia; she seems lovely and is the complete opposite of her brother. She doesn’t deserve you.’

  ‘You breathe a word of this to her and I’ll kill you.’

  Roz looked into his eyes. ‘Yes, I think you would. Well, I shan’t spoil your plans, Philip – but don’t send for Rushden. I couldn’t face him without throwing up.’

  ‘Please yourself,’ he said and shrugged. ‘Just remember he’s ready to marry you but don’t leave it too late. If you’re carrying a child you’d be best married sooner than later. I shan’t help you if you bring shame on us.’

  ‘I’m not the one who should be ashamed,’ Roz said and moved away from the door. Her hand on the latch, she turned back. ‘You are just like Father – selfish and careless of others. One of these days I’ll pay you back for this, Philip. Not now, not yet – but when the time comes you will know.’

  Four

  Roz looked at herself in the mirror. It was strange that she didn’t look any different. Ten days ago she had been reasonably happy, confident, sure of her place in the world. Now she was someone else: a girl’s whose self-esteem had been taken away by a careless brute. Nights of weeping into her pillow had left her feeling numbed and angry.

  Did Carrie Blake feel this way? Everyone said the girl was not right in the head – but she must have been even more bewildered and hurt, because she didn’t understand what was happening to her. Roz felt sick as she pictured the scene and felt Carrie’s pain; it was the same pain and humiliation that she felt.

  Men like Paul Richmond deserved to be whipped naked in the market square; they should be publicly humiliated, made to do penance for their crimes.

  It wasn’t going to happen. Paul Richmond had got away with it because Philip cared more about saving his own skin than defending her honour.

  What honour? She was ruined, dirty, someone’s cast off. Paul had raped her and then stood over her laughing.

  Roz had risen to her feet. ‘Why?’ she’d asked. ‘What have I done that you should hate me?’

  ‘What makes you think I hate you? You’re no better than any other woman.’

  ‘Was it because I beat you at archery?’

  He hadn’t answered at once but a nerve had flicked at his temple and she’d sensed she was right. She had committed the cardinal sin of making him look foolish, in his own eyes at least – and then she’d deliberately lost to Tom Blake.

  ‘Your brother may have pulled the wool over my sister’s eyes but she has to sell herself because she’s too damned ugly to find anyone who really wants her. I’ve put you in your place, sweet Roz. You’d better marry the country bumpkin who runs after you like a dog with his tongue hanging out. Shed a few tears on your wedding night and he’ll never know the difference.’

  Roz had turned away. He hadn’t tried to stop her as she’d ran towards the house. She had wondered why he’d done nothing to prevent her from telling her brother what had happened, but he’d known Philip would let it go.

  He must have guessed that things were dicey with the estate. Richmond knew what Philip was after and Julia had probably guessed the truth. She wanted a house in the country and a quiet life. Philip must seem kind and gentle to her but she hadn’t yet discovered how selfish he was.

  Roz looked at the small pile of clothes on her bed. She’d heard that Carrie Blake had given birth on the night of the fete. There were some pretty things: lace blouses and underwear that Roz didn’t need and a blue dress that should fit Carrie. She’d added a string of coral beads, a matching pair of earbobs and a paisley shawl.

  Would Carrie accept them from her? The gift was late and perhaps too little, but it was all she could do to show how sorry she was. Roz hadn’t understood until now. All the shock and anger had been against Dick Blake for killing her father. Now Roz understood her ordeal only too well.

  Roz could hear a meadowlark trilling in the sky above her head and caught sight of rabbits munching on the lush grass. A herd of Herefords was out in the pasture, enjoying the spell of good weather rather than huddling together in the pen as they did throughout the winter. She’d never had much to do with the home farm as a girl because her mother said that ladies didn’t, but she’d enjoyed seeing the young calves and the lambs in spring. She hadn’t wanted to know what happened to them when they were taken off to market.

  She’d been too sheltered, too pampered. Had she not been so shocked by Mr Harcourt’s remarks about her father’s behaviour she would not have gone walking alone that night. Well, she’d had a rude awakening. The reality of life had jumped up and smacked her in the face.

  What was the good of weeping over spilled milk? She couldn’t undo what had happened. She was what her mother would call a fallen woman. It was unlikely that she would make a good marriage now because any man that asked her must be told the truth.

  Roz suddenly saw the huddle of buildings ahead of her and realized that she’d reached the Blakes’ farm. The house was so much smaller than the hall, though it looked to have several bedrooms and was substantial. The farmyard was at the back. She could hear a cock crowing and other animal noises coming from the rear and there was a strong smell from the cowshed. At the front was a small garden where vegetables grew amongst a variety of herbs and roses. Someone liked flowers, but the garden had mainly been used to grow food.

  Roz walked up the path to the front door and knocked. The answer was a while in coming. When she heard the sound of a bolt being drawn, she realized that the family probably used the back entrance. The door was drawn back warily and a woman’s face appeared round the side.

  ‘Mrs Blake? You don’t know me. I’m Roz Thornton and I’ve brought some things for Carrie – just a few clothes and a string of coral. I wanted to say . . .’

  ‘Who asked you to come here? Take your charity and go back where you belong, Miss Thornton. My Carrie doesn’t need your cast-offs.’

  ‘Of course you’re angry. I am very sorry for what happened to your daughter. If my father did what Carrie claimed, he deserved to be punished – though it was a pity your son didn’t go to the magistrate instead of killing him.’

  ‘A pity, was it? The pity of it was my Dick was daft enough to go after him in front of everyone and get shot for doing something that needed to be done. Your father was a disgrace to his name. My Carrie wasn’t the on
ly one to suffer at his hands.’

  ‘I understand your bitterness. If I could I would do more but most of these things are unworn. I thought Carrie might like them.’

  ‘You thought wrong. Get off my land and take your blood money with you.’

  Roz flinched as the door was slammed in her face. She ought to have expected something of the sort but that didn’t stop her feeling humiliated. She turned back the way she had come, smarting at the injustice of the way she had been treated. It wasn’t her fault Carrie had been raped and given birth to an illegitimate baby.

  ‘Miss . . . wait a bit . . .’

  At first Roz ignored the cry and kept walking, but when it was repeated she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. She was surprised to see that Carrie Blake was running towards her, her long hair streaming in the breeze. Now that her body was no longer big with child, Roz could see how lovely she was – and how young. How could her father have raped her? Her eyes closed as she recalled her own humiliation. What must this girl have felt?

  ‘Miss . . .’ Carrie gasped. ‘Ma shouldn’t have spoken like that to you.’ Her gaze went to the bundle Roz had wrapped in the paisley shawl. ‘That’s pretty – is it for me?’

  ‘Yes. I brought you several things, including this shawl – but your mama would not allow me to give them to you.’

  ‘Ma’s sharp sometimes.’ Carrie’s eyes lit up like a child’s in a sweet shop. ‘Will you still give me them things, miss? You ain’t mad at me, are you?’

  ‘No, of course not. I’m sorry my father did that to you – and that you had a baby. I know these things don’t make up for what he did, but I thought you might like them?’

  Roz handed Carrie the bundle. The girl dropped to her knees and untied the knot, examining the contents with cries of pleasure. She looked up at Roz.