Maryse, still in her nightdress and bare feet, stared despairingly out of the window. She felt as if she’d been sculpted from stone, like the marble angel that kept watch over her mother’s grave in the churchyard.
She hoped death would come to claim her, too. Soon, her condition would be discovered and she wouldn’t be able to stand the shame. They would bury her next to her mother. Odd, since the woman was a stranger to her. Would they recognize each other in heaven, she wondered.
Maryse had stopped eating, hoping that the sickness would no longer plague her and the unwanted life growing inside her would die. She felt empty and lightheaded from hunger, but far from being weak, she was attacked by sudden surges of restless energy.
Her glance went from the letter on the mantelpiece to the copse outside the window. She shuddered. There was a slight incline down to the edge of the copse – which at this time of year was a place of shifting shadows, gloomy with rain, bruised and wind-lashed foliage and long, grey, clutching branches.
Beyond the trees, a bank of cloud boiled purple and grey. Now and again, lightning shafted down. A handful of miles across the hills was the sea. The storm would have provided a turbulent surge of seaweedy waves to smash against the cliff face.
Soon, her misery would be over. She could sneak down the back stairs, which hardly anyone ever used. But then she would have to find the courage to pass the spot where she’d been attacked. She managed a faint smile and said aloud, ‘It won’t matter, for they’re long gone. After they used and discarded me they left without a second glance and didn’t give me another thought. Nothing can hurt me now, or ever will again.’
To Maryse’s troubled mind, the solution she’d reached was completely rational, even heroic. Fetching a cloak from the cupboard she drew it around her shoulders and headed towards the door.
She encountered Pansy in the corridor – Pansy who was packing for her visit to Aunt Prudence. It was something Maryse must be excluded from. Victoria was at Pansy’s side, for her dog had turned away from her now, preferring the livelier company of Pansy. Maryse squashed a flicker of remorse as she remembered the jolly times she and her sister had enjoyed at Kylchester House. But it was no good indulging in self-pity.
Pansy smiled tentatively at her. ‘May I borrow that blue gown of yours to wear at Christmas, your second-best one?’
Engulfed by a sudden rush of love for her sister, Maryse stopped to give her a hug, and a smile so brilliant it made her cheeks ache. ‘You can have anything of mine that you wish. Give aunt and uncle and the cousins my love, and beg Aunt Prudence not to think too harshly of me. I love you, Pansy.’
With that she was gone.
Puzzled, Pansy stared after her sister as she headed for the back stairs. Where on earth was she going at this time of morning? She thought about Maryse’s odd behaviour as she entered her room. Her sister had suddenly become a stranger to her, and was definitely no fun to be with.
Pansy was looking forward to Christmas at Kylchester and was eager to see her cousins, especially Alder. But she wished the whole family had been invited. If their father hadn’t been absent, they would have been. She didn’t like Siana and the children to be excluded.
Throwing open her sister’s closet door she pulled the blue dress from the rack, then noticed with bewilderment what lay behind it. Maryse’s best gown, the new pink one that she’d worn to the harvest supper. Taking it down, she stared at it in horror, goosebumps racing up her arms. It had been slashed into ribbons with a sharp knife or a pair of scissors.
Crossing to the window she gazed across the grounds. Maryse was hurrying towards the copse, her nightgown billowing in the wind, her hair hanging loose and streaming out behind her. Discarded, her cloak was a dark huddled shape on the grass.
For a moment, Pansy was so taken aback that she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. Without a cloak, her feet bare, there seemed to be a strength of purpose to Maryse’s stride as she disappeared into the copse. What was her sister about?
Fear clutched at the furthermost reaches of Pansy’s heart when she saw the letter addressed to their father on the mantelpiece. Holding the ruined garment against her, she snatched it up and began to run towards Siana’s room.
‘She wouldn’t have had the time to come this far,’ Rosie said, when they reached the top of the hill. Hand against her chest, the maid was panting with the effort of running.
The sky was dark and ominous, the air vibrating with tension. Lightning sheeted through it, licking the undersides of the clouds with flickering, incandescent tongues.
Siana took off her cloak and tied her skirts into a knot. ‘If she went through the copse she’s heading towards the cove. Go back to the house, Rosie. Fetch some warm boots and a dry cloak for Maryse, for she’s wearing only her nightgown. Wait for us in the shelter of the copse, for I don’t want anyone to see her in the state she must be in. I know these hills and can go faster without you.’ She took off after the girl, running like a fox after a hare.
It had been a long time since she’d been up here, alone. The wild sky filled her eyes. Exhilaration tore through her as the tough coastal grasses bent beneath the hiss of wind to flay at her ankles. She chased through it at a comfortable lope, her breathing fast, but not unpleasantly so.
‘Let Maryse suffer no harm,’ she pleaded, to whoever might be listening. ‘She’s the heart of my heart and has been punished enough.’
More than an hour slipped by before Siana saw the girl up ahead. She narrowed the gap between them. The cliff top sloped steeply towards a drop into the sea, as if a giant had thumbed the edge of a lump of bread dough.
Maryse’s head was bent in despair as she battled against the wind’s resistance. She was spent, staggering as she placed one foot in front of the other. But the sea was so close now, the drop over the cliff sudden. The smell of sea salt lured the girl on as it sharpened in Siana’s nostrils.
All too clearly Siana heard the breakers pounding against the cliff face. Maryse thought she had nobody to turn to, and intended to end her life. Siana’s heightened senses brought mental pictures of Maryse’s body broken on the rocks, with too great a clarity for comfort.
‘Maryse,’ she called out, but her words were snatched up by the wind and thrown mockingly into her face.
Just then, lightning forked down from the sky to stab into the earth. There was a great booming noise. Small rocks were split asunder, the smell of sulphur filled the air and the earth hissed.
Thrown backwards by the blast, Siana’s scalp prickled as she staggered to her feet again. She sucked in a mouthful of heated air and her heart began to pound. Ahead of her, the grasses were scorched and smoking. Her blood ran cold. It was if a barrier had been placed between herself and Maryse. On the other side, her quarry was a slight, curled-up shape huddled against the ground. Her hands pressed over her ears, Maryse was screaming, her voice high-pitched with terror.
There came a pause, all fraught and stretched. Siana’s ears vibrated with the warning of it. Her nerves were a discordant pluck inside her. She hesitated, knowing the danger of ignoring her intuition. She gazed at Maryse, so small, helpless and frightened, caught up in this primitive meeting of elements.
‘You can’t have her,’ she yelled angrily, and stepped forward. The lightning had made a devil’s brew of the earth itself. The heat from the cinders singed her ankles and the leather soles of her boots smouldered, bringing an acrid scent to her nostrils. The air crackled around her, sparking the hairs upright on her arms and neck.
The danger seemed to retreat before her determination. Suddenly she had an ally. The sky opened, sending rain sheeting down to extinguish the fiery coals. The ground hissed and steamed as she ran across it. The smell of soot and burning reminded her of another time, another fire, and of her dead mother. There were forces at work beyond her control, Siana could feel her mother’s protective spirit surround her as she stooped to the troubled girl.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured to all the gods when she heard Maryse give a great, gulping sob. She gathered the trembling girl against her and rocked her gently back and forth. ‘My darling girl, I think I know what ails you. Tell me about it so I can help you through your trouble.’
Maryse sobbed as if her heart was broken for a few moments, then, miserably, she choked out. ‘How can I even speak the words when I feel so soiled. I cannot even stand to look at myself in a mirror because my reflection condemns me.’
Siana brought Maryse’s face round to hers. ‘You can speak them to me. Then they will not hurt so much. And I’ll look after you, Maryse.’
‘Can you take the infant from my womb?’ she cried out in anguish.
Siana shook her head. ‘Would that I could, but such a path is fraught with danger, and your life is precious to those who love you.’
She brushed the wet strand of hair back from Maryse’s face. ‘Will you tell me who fathered the infant and how it came about?’
‘Fathered it? If only I knew, for there were two of them.’ Words of unimaginable horror began to tumble from her mouth as she told of her rape in the copse.
Siana hugged the girl tight as she emptied herself of the horror of it, whilst the rain pounded down to soak them both to the skin. ‘It’s all right, my dearest, you’re not alone any more. We’ll make our plans together. Nobody need know, for I’ll take you away and will help you through this time. Your secret will never be known and the babe can be placed with a foster mother at birth.’
She tipped up the girl’s face and gazed into her wounded eyes, knowing this was not the time to tell Maryse of her own good news. ‘You do know you won’t be able to keep this infant, don’t you?’
Her Matheson eyes hardened and the girl gave a long, drawn-out shudder. ‘I don’t want to even see it, let alone touch it.’
Maryse had been forced into womanhood the hard way, Siana thought, as she helped the girl to her feet. How much this experience would affect her was hard to tell. It might strengthen her, or do exactly the opposite. Only one thing was certain. When Francis returned, his elder daughter would no longer be the child he’d left behind him.
Removing her boots, she bade Maryse slide her feet into their warm depths. Her toes curled into the wet blades of grass. It had been a long time since she’d gone barefoot and, although it was cold, she enjoyed the feel of the earth under her feet.
She jumped when a cloak was dropped around Maryse’s shoulders, intruding on their privacy. Siana pushed in front of her stepdaughter to offer protection as she turned.
The intruder stood before them now.
Of medium height and build, he was well-muscled. He wore a robe of coarse brown material of the type worn by men of holy brotherhood. An abundance of loosely curled dark hair fell to his shoulders. His fine-boned face was slightly gaunt, as if he’d known hunger. It would have been unremarkable had it not been for a pair of dark, enigmatic eyes that revealed the very essence of him to her.
Siana had neither seen nor heard him approach, and she wondered how much he’d overheard. He was not from these parts, yet, although they’d never met, she knew him. As the danger in her mind receded, she offered him a smile. ‘You’re Marcus Ibsen, are you not?’
‘That’s my name.’
‘Thank you for bringing me news of my father.’
‘I’m only sorry it had to be sad news, Lady Forbes.’ Inclining his head to one side, he chuckled. ‘Your father said I’d find you running like a hare with the wind. He was right.’
She smiled. ‘It’s Siana Matheson, now. I’ve been widowed and have married again.’
‘Ah, a conundrum. I don’t know whether to offer condolences, or congratulations.’
‘We will take them as said.’
The rain eased to a drifting, fine drizzle as they gazed at each other in silent contemplation. Maryse came to her side and Siana slid a comforting arm around her when she plucked restlessly at her sleeve. She gave no explanation for her stepdaughter’s odd attire.
‘This is my stepdaughter, Maryse. I must get her back home. Will you come back and take refreshment with us, Marcus Ibsen?’
‘I will, for I was on my way to visit you.’ He offered Maryse his arm. ‘You’re too young to be tired of living, so I can only think you lost your way, for the sea makes a restless bed. Here, lean on me. When you tire I’ll change into a donkey and carry you on my back.’
After a moment of hesitation, Maryse gave him a faint smile, and Siana was pleased that she sounded calmer now. ‘Yes, I did lose my way, and I think you would make a nice donkey. Thank you, Mr Ibsen.’
As if it had been thwarted of its prey, the storm passed out to sea and rumbled away into the distance.
The three of them headed slowly back towards the copse, where Rosie waited for them.
By Christmas, Jed Hawkins had gone, leaving a big gap in Siana’s life.
Peggy Hastings, secure in her new position as midwife in training, had been offered accommodation in Francis’s former residence, by Dr Noah Baines. There, Peggy would be given the opportunity to learn the business of attending to wounds and dispensing medicines.
‘Mrs Hastings will sleep in an attic bedroom and will share the housekeeper’s sitting-room and chores when she’s not kept busy assisting the midwife,’ Noah Baines explained carefully. Siana thought the arrangement might develop into something more, for the pair had a way of looking at each other, as if each was taking the measure of the other – and it would certainly solve the problem of where Peggy would live when Daniel and Esmé moved into the manor.
Christmas was celebrated with a church service. The Reverend White delivered the same sermon he’d preached the previous two years. He looked flushed and tired. From habit, Siana seated herself in the Forbes pew. Daniel and Esmé sat beside her, suitably attired for their new role as master and mistress of the manor.
On the other side of her, the children were arranged, with Ashley and Susannah in the charge of their nurses. Maryse sat between Daisy and Goldie to stop them arguing with each other, as they were wont to do at the least provocation. The household staff took up the seats behind them.
Siana inspected Edward’s memorial window. It was a splendid affair with Saint George, clad in his shining armour, lancing a fearsome dragon through the heart. A long, red flame curled from the dragon’s mouth and stopped within an inch of a maiden’s breast. Looking suitably virginal, the maiden’s eyes turned upwards towards heaven. Idly, as the sermon droned on, Siana wondered how the dragon had managed to tie the knots in her bindings. Then she noticed Maryse was looking at it too, and her sad expression stated exactly what was going through her mind.
Although Marcus’s presence wasn’t obvious, Siana could sense him nearby. Her glance moved around the church, seeking him out. Her search stopped at a stone pillar supporting the roof. He was standing behind it, partially concealed. Their eyes met and she felt like laughing out loud when he winked at her.
Afterwards, she invited him back to the manor for the Christmas feast, for he was good company. He explained that Richard White was unwell, and needed him to stay a while longer. Indeed, it turned out that the reverend did, for he was taken ill with a fever and was confined to his bed that very same evening.
Siana vacated the manor a week later. Daniel and Esmé moved in as tenants on the same day.
Daniel was unable to hide his jubilation as he swaggered up the front steps.
Siana called the staff together to introduce them to their new master and mistress. Most of them, like Maisie Roberts, the head housekeeper, knew Daniel from the past.
Esmé, assuming a regal bearing, gazed critically over each member of staff and talked in a high-pitched, carping voice, about expecting service and cleanliness from them. Afterwards, she looked the place over, her mouth pursed and spidery as she made pointed comments about refurbishing it.
To Siana, handing Cheverton Manor over to another mistress – no matter that she didn’t entirely like living in the place herself – rankled. She tried not to sound sharp when she said, ‘The house is perfectly comfortable as it is, Esmé. Kindly remember that the estate belongs to my son. I will not permit you to change it in any way.’
Daniel smiled slightly as he engaged her glance, a suggestion of hauteur in his eyes. ‘Cheverton Manor will not change. It will remain as I remember it from my childhood days.’
The altogether specious statement served to place Siana as an outsider. She gazed dispassionately at him. Daniel was beginning to run to fat in a way his father had never done.
The pair had not offered to care for his sister, and made no comment when Susannah came downstairs with her nurse. When Susannah smiled at the sight of him, he kissed the child’s cheek in a perfunctory manner. ‘I’ll visit you and Ashley often,’ he promised.
Not too often, Siana thought. Inclining her head, she said firmly, ‘I’ll be pleased to entertain you and your wife on occasion, Daniel. We must set a day in advance, so neither party will be inconvenienced.’
His forehead crinkled into a slight frown. ‘We’ll meet often over estate manners, will we not?’
‘On recommendation, I’ve decided to engage an agent to convey my instructions to you until my husband returns. The agent will also bill you for expenses incurred on Susannah’s behalf, such as wages for her nursery maid.’
‘Susannah’s expenses?’
‘Why yes. You do have power of attorney over your mother’s account, I believe. Elizabeth would not want her daughter to go without.’
His face mottled red as he mumbled, ‘Of course, but the insurance company is pursuing me for damages incurred by my mother for setting the fire. You could always dismiss one of the nursery maids. I’m sure the other one could manage both children by herself.’
But Siana knew she’d need the nursery staff when she took Maryse to Wales, so she gently shook her head.
Esmé stepped forward and took Daniel’s arm in hers. ‘You mustn’t worry about your mother’s debt, Daniel. You’re not liable.’ Smiling falsely, Esmé turned towards Siana and said firmly, ‘Mrs Skinner’s assets were tied up in stock, which was burnt to ashes in the fire. There was very little in her bank account. One would have thought, when you agreed to foster Susannah, you would be taking the burden of her expenses on your own shoulders.’
So the woman was tight-fisted. Siana didn’t insist, for she was well able to support Susannah. And she had enough on her mind, with Maryse, without absorbing any more of Elizabeth’s problems. Gathering her flock of children together, she inclined her head and shepherded them out to where Josh waited with the coach.
With them came Rosie, the children’s nurses and Miss Edgar, the governess. Their riding horses and baggage had been sent over earlier.
Siana didn’t look back as they bowled down the drive. Perhaps, now, she wouldn’t be reminded of Edward Forbes at every turn. But with the handsome little squire seated on her lap, she knew she could never forget his father. She smiled a little as she kissed the top of her son’s head.
The interior of the coach smelled peculiar, a mixture of leather, polish and body odours. It wasn’t as comfortable as the Cheverton carriage. When they reached the road, pitted as it was with potholes and slicked with mud from the recent rain, it dipped and swayed alarmingly, making the children shriek with laughter and cling to their nurses. They, in turn, gritted their teeth and clung to the straps.
The journey to Poole didn’t take long. Although Daisy and Goldie had been there before, the sight of the harbour and ships still made their eyes widen. Ashley stared at the bustle through solemn eyes, absorbing the new sights and sounds, his thumb jammed firmly in his mouth. Susannah bounced up and down excitedly when she saw the house, as if she’d remembered it was her home, and she expected her mother to be there, waiting for her.
She was to be disappointed.
Still, the house was beautiful, set as it was halfway up the hill with a view over the backwaters of the harbour. Here, at Poole, Siana intended to turn this house into a comfortable and loving home for her husband to return to.
When Maryse slid her hand into hers, she turned to smile reassuringly at her. But first, she must help this beautiful stepdaughter of hers through the traumatic times ahead.