The dream woke Siana again. The woman was calling her from the darkness, her voice coming from far away. There was an odour of dampness and mould in her nostrils.
‘Who are you?’ she whispered, anguish rising up inside her, for she didn’t want to lose the thread joining her to this woman, ‘Where are you?’
There was no answer. She tried to sleep, tried to escape from the despairing thought that came with each dawn. Ashley was gone from her. Her arms hugged his memory against her as she relived the feel of his skin against her lips and his small boy smell.
Bryn interrupted the moment of grieving. He woke, eager for his breakfast, gloriously alive, his legs kicking in energetic spurts at the blankets and his fists punching the air as he raucously proclaimed his right to attention. He made her laugh, her cuckoo child. Red-faced and gulping noisily at her breast, he took hardly a breath, lest it ran out before he’d taken his fill.
His nursery maid came in just as Siana finished feeding him, when Bryn was lying on his back like a damp, fat puppy, his mouth stretched in a windy grin, totally relaxed. He stared up at her, his slate-coloured gaze stating, All is right with my world when you’re here for me.
‘You stink, but I love you,’ she said softly, grazing her mouth across the warm, satiny skin of his cheek. The child took her mind from Ashley, forcing her to live in the present, as if fate had designed him for exactly that purpose.
Bryn snatched a handful of her hair, then belched milk from the side of his mouth. It ran into the creases of his neck.
Beyond the curtain the sky was pale grey, as if the clouds were full of the grieving tears she’d shed. But at least it was dry, for the rain had been unrelenting of late.
She wondered where Daniel Ayres was. Despite everything, she hated the thought of him being hunted down like a rabid dog. She ought to write to Elizabeth, inform her of her son’s disgrace. She didn’t know where to send such a letter, though. She decided to put off the task until he’d been apprehended and dealt with. Perhaps that would be when spring came, bringing life to the earth to dispel all the sadness.
‘Shall I see to him?’ the nursery maid said, when Bryn began to hiccup. There was a short-lived tug-o’-war for possession of her hair before he was borne away, giving contented coos and chuckles, like a dove in spring.
Siana swung her legs out of bed and went through to the nursery to exchange a hug with the three girls and check on their progress. She was not looking forward to the Sunday service, but she must attend as it was All Souls Day and the reverend was saying a special prayer for Ashley.
She preferred to think of Ashley’s soul as a shining flower that would blossom every spring in the daffodils she’d planted on his grave, like her little Elen, buried high on a Welsh hill.
Grey-faced and defeated-looking, Daniel’s godfather, the Reverend White, stumbled through the service. He looked as though he no longer believed in God.
Afterwards, he accompanied Siana to her mother’s grave, where she was going to place a wreath of ivy and glossy dark green leaves.
‘My name is Skinner and so is Josh’s,’ Daisy suddenly said, and stared up at Siana, her eyes questioning.
Siana didn’t need Josh’s finger in her back to know the time had come. She sighed, hoping the girl would understand. ‘This is our mother’s grave, Daisy. Your papa and baby brother are also buried here.’
‘But you’re my mamma.’ Tears pricked at Daisy’s eyes. ‘I don’t want Megan Skinner to be my mamma. I want you to.’
They were standing on layers of decaying leaf mould with water oozing through from the waterlogged ground underneath. Siana had sturdy boots on, but the hem of her gown was bedraggled and mud-stained.
‘Our mother loved us all, Daisy. She didn’t want to leave us. Before she died, she said, ‘Look after my sweet little Daisy for me. Tell her I love her.’ So I became your mamma for a short time.’ When Josh’s lips twitched at her embroidery of the truth, she elbowed him in the ribs. ‘But now you’re growing up, I hope you’ll like having me for a sister, instead.’
Daisy gazed at Goldie. ‘Only if I can still call you “Mamma”.’
‘Your mother has been watching over you from heaven, I expect,’ Richard White said, wearily.
‘My mamma watches me from heaven, too,’ Goldie said, darting an uncertain look at Siana, ‘and she hasn’t got a name like yours has.’
‘Why hasn’t she got a name?’
Goldie shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘When your mother died, there was nothing on her to say who she was. So I took you home, and when I married, we gave you our name,’ Siana told the girls.
‘We could give your mamma a name.’ Such a suggestion when coming from Daisy startled Siana, especially when she added, ‘We could call her Mary Joseph after Jesus’s mamma and papa.’
Hands on hips, Goldie slanted her a superior glance. ‘Don’t you know anything? Jesus’s papa was called God.’
‘Well, we could call your mamma Mary God, then.’
Head to one side, Goldie was clearly considering the idea. Siana tried not to grin. ‘I think that’s a lovely idea, but Mary Matheson might be better, then she’ll have the same name as Goldie.’
Daisy aimed a cool look her way. ‘I want to be called Daisy Matheson then, otherwise it’s not fair.’
Siana hastily gazed at Richard, who’d made a strangled sound in his throat, and now had a suggestion of a smile on his lips. ‘There’s nothing like a child to restore one’s faith in the almighty,’ Richard said, although there was sadness in his tone.
Far too many souls had been harvested of late as far as Siana was concerned. Her glance strayed to the left, where her son’s resting place was marked with a new, bright angel. The Forbes garden was full. Her son, the last of the true Forbes, had taken his place beside his father. Odd how the fenced-off Forbes area had been calculated to the exact number, as if someone had known the dynasty would end with Ashley.
There was no room for Daniel there. He would be alone in death, set apart by his illegitimacy, his envy and intrigues come to nothing. She couldn’t find it in her heart to despise him now. He was ill. She only had room for compassion, despite the horrible crime he’d committed.
With a tiny sigh she wondered where her Francis was. If he were alive, surely he’d be home by now? But she couldn’t imagine him dead and drowned, for every time she tried to believe it she could feel the living thread between them, strong, taut and pulsing with her heartbeat.
And where was Esmé, she thought. Something began to niggle in her head. What if the rumours she’d heard were true? Daniel’s behaviour had been strange of late. She tried to dismiss the thought but, as the prayers proceeded, unease grew in her to such an extent that she knew she could afford to ignore it no longer.
When they reached the church gate, she turned to Josh. ‘I feel uneasy about Esmé not being here. I’m going to stop off at the manor just in case there was any truth in those rumours.’
‘Perhaps you’d allow me to accompany you, Mrs Matheson,’ offered Noah Baines, who was standing nearby, talking to Oswald Slessor. ‘I understand the place has been abandoned by the servants.’
Oswald Slessor had also overheard. ‘You shouldn’t go there alone in case someone has taken advantage of the situation to force an entry.’ That someone being Daniel, she supposed. ‘Perhaps you’d allow me to accompany you, as well. And I’d like to represent you in the other matter.’ His eyes assumed a shamed look. ‘At no charge, of course, since I was wrong about the suitability of Mr Ayres.’
She smiled a little, for a man who could apologize when his pride had been dented was rare. ‘That matter has settled itself, I think, Sir Oswald. The trustees would not dare back his cause now.’
‘In one respect, but I believe you’ll find that the estate capital has been depleted by extravagant expenditures. Mr Ayres has run up certain debts.’
Alarm pricked her. ‘I’m not responsible for Mr Ayres’s debts.’
‘Many of them were charged against the estate, I believe.’
‘And the trustees sanctioned them.’ She drew in a deep breath, but remained calm. It was no use panicking until she knew the worst. ‘Very well, Sir Oswald, you may act on my behalf. My brother’s partner, Giles Dennings, has offered to examine the books and receipts. I’d be grateful if you’d consult with him in this matter. Excuse me for a moment.’ She turned to the Reverend White. ‘I’m so sorry things turned out this way, Reverend.’
‘Daniel isn’t bad, Siana. He’s ill. Esmé told me in confidence that he had tumours growing in his brain. She thought it better not to tell him, or his mother, and intended to nurse him at Cheverton Manor. She wouldn’t have abandoned her husband, whatever the circumstances.’
There was an involuntary, sceptical snort from Noah Baines, but his eyes gave nothing away.
‘I realize Daniel is ill, but we must bear in mind that he’s killed someone, Reverend,’ Siana reminded him as gently as possible. ‘There have been rumours. I hope they are nonsense, but we’re going to Cheverton Manor on the way home to look around. Will you come with us?’
He nodded. ‘I’ll fetch my horse and follow you. It’s a large house to search. By the way, a young man from London has been enquiring about you.’
‘What was his name? Did he say why he wanted to see me?’
‘Sebastian Groves. He seemed a nice young man, but didn’t elaborate. I directed him to Josh at the coach company.’
She wanted to grin as Richard White walked away, thinking it funny that her younger brother was now regarded as head of the household by these men. As if she didn’t have any sense of her own.
The carriage containing the children was sent off home, for Oswald Slessor had offered her the use of his.
They searched barn and stable first. Someone had fed the horses, and they had fresh straw. ‘The stable boy is still here, I imagine,’ Siana told them. ‘He was an orphan and would have had nowhere else to go except the workhouse.’
As they walked towards the house Siana glanced up at the attics. For a moment she was puzzled, then she saw that someone had removed the portrait of Patricia Forbes, Edward’s first wife, from the window. It struck her as an odd thing to do.
Cheverton was a big house. It took over two hours to search Siana’s former home. It was cold and gloomy without the servants, as well as being dirty, bitterly cold and very empty in the main living areas. Liquor bottles and empty glasses littered the drawing room. The grates were full of cold ashes. Dust coated every surface and mouldy food was strewn over the kitchen. Esmé’s room had been ransacked, her clothes thrown about. Her jewellery case stood open and empty.
There was no sign of recent occupancy. In fact, the place looked neglected, and rather sad. Fear gripped Siana. ‘Esmé wouldn’t have allowed the house to get into this state. And she wouldn’t have left Daniel whilst he was ill,’ she mused. ‘Also, wouldn’t she have taken the jewellery case as well as her jewellery?’
‘So, where is she?’ Noah said.
Closing her eyes, Siana reached into her mind to recall the details of her vivid dream. ‘Where are you?’ she murmured, and a strong stench of slime and mould filled her nostrils. Bottles came into her mind, rows of them. The cellar! Her eyelids snapped open. ‘We haven’t looked in the cellar,’ she cried, and she picked up her skirts and hurried downstairs.
There were two ways down. A door from the outside, and the one that led from the scullery. The internal door was locked but the key was still in the door. Water and debris reached halfway up the stairs, blocking their way. Siana had never seen the water so high.
They found the outside key hanging on a nail. Water gushed over the door sill when Josh pushed it open and wet-slicked rats scurried over their feet. Fetid air enveloped them, causing an involuntary movement of hands over pinched nostrils. A thick film of slime and grey mould lay over everything. The movement of the water set the table rocking. There was a bundle of mildewed rags on it. It gave a faint groan.
‘Oh God!’ Siana breathed, horrified when she realized what it was. ‘How could he have been so cruel.’ Turning away, she strove to compose herself when Noah Baines wedged himself down the steps and strode, chest deep, into the water. Now was not the time to break down.
‘See if you can find the stable boy,’ she said to Josh. ‘He must be around somewhere.’
They took Esmé into the house, where Siana helped Noah strip the clothes from her body. They wrapped her in a warm blanket. She was so emaciated, her bones were clearly visible, her skin was wrinkled like that of an old woman and she was covered in festering sores and mould. Noah Baines doubted if she’d survive the ordeal she’d been through and said dolefully, ‘The infirmary is already overcrowded.’
‘She’s survived so far,’ Siana told him fiercely. ‘If she can be removed to my house in Poole, I’ll look after her myself. I can put her in the little sitting room downstairs; it’s warmed by the afternoon sun. She will be given constant attention and all the nourishment she needs.’
‘She’ll be unable to swallow solid food, if anything at all. Her lungs are congested. It’s hard to tell whether it’s consumption or pneumonia.’
‘Then I’ll feed her nourishing broth, a spoonful at a time until her stomach will hold solid food. I’ll try and make her live, Dr Baines.’
He nodded. ‘It will be better if she’s kept isolated until we see how her condition develops. Wear a scarf over your nose and mouth as a precaution. I’ll brief Dr Pelham, and he can keep an eye on her on a daily basis between my visits. He’s a good physician and I’m thinking of forming a partnership with him as soon as your husband’s estate is settled. I would like to buy the house I rent, if possible, for when Peggy and I wed.’
Siana opened her mouth, then shut it again, thinking it might be wiser to keep to herself her belief in Francis’s survival. If her husband did prove to be dead, then his house would belong to his daughters, and she intended to advise them not to sell it.
‘I’d prefer to discuss this at another time, Noah. I’m not ready to dispose of my husband’s assets.’
Noah nodded, resignation in his eyes, for he’d raised the issue several times before. ‘Don’t allow your children near Mrs Ayres until a proper examination has been made and a diagnosis reached.’
‘How could Daniel do something terrible like this? Can’t the brain tumours be cured?’
‘I’ve consulted the patient records your husband left in my care. I believe Mr Ayres was misdiagnosed by the London doctor and is suffering from a disease commonly associated with low morals. It is incurable, and often leads to insanity.’
‘You mean he has syphilis of the brain?’
Noah looked slightly taken aback. ‘Ah . . . you’ve heard of it, then?’
‘I’m not some drawing-room flower,’ she retorted, then chuckled, ‘though I try to be on occasion.’
‘And succeed most admirably, Mrs Matheson.’
‘What about Mrs Ayres?’ Despite her assertion, she went slightly pink. ‘Would she have caught the infection from her husband?’
‘Quite possibly. It’s hard to diagnose at the moment. If she recovers I will certainly raise the issue with her. Sometimes the disease takes a little while to make its presence known.’
Josh knocked at the door, to tell her the stable boy had been found hiding in the loft. The boy was trembling when he was brought before her.
‘Where are the servants?’ she asked him.
‘Gone, the master kicked them all out long afore he fell off his horse. He rode that gelding too hard, that he did, for the beast was gettin’ on in years and was all of a lather when he died. That Florrie. Her who said she was goin’ to be the mistress of the house, found the master after his accident. They packed their bags and left real quick before the constables came lookin’ for him. Tole me not to go to the house because it be haunted by a ghost.’
‘There’s no ghost.’
His eyes grew large and fearful. ‘There do be a ghost, missus, I hears it moaning in the cellar sometimes. It gives me a right fright.’
‘But you didn’t run away.’ She ruffled his tawny hair. ‘You’re a good lad, thank you for staying to look after the horses. What have you been eating?’
‘Same as the horses, missus. A bit of hay, some oats and some chestnuts I picked in autumn. But I fetches meself some eggs from the hen house sometimes and boils them in a kettle over the fire, and I tickled a trout from the stream and necked one of they hens. I didn’t mean to steal them, though, missus. But I was right hungry and the hen were the old scrawny one. ’Twas hard to chew on her, right enough.’
Siana managed a smile. ‘It’s all right, you won’t get into trouble.’ She gazed at Josh. ‘Can you find room for the horses until I sort something out?’
‘If I can be so bold, missus, there be no need to take them away,’ the lad said in alarm.
‘I can stay here with them and look after them, if that be a proper respectful way to ask, and I can keep an eye on the place. ’Tis better than the workhouse here. I have a nice warm blanket to sleep in, and the coachman gave me some boots to wear and a coat. He said he be over Wareham way with his sister until the Candlemas hiring fair comes along, but if the horses be taken sick I must fetch him.’
Siana exchanged a glance with Josh, who nodded. ‘I’ll see if I can persuade the coachman to return here in the meantime.’
‘The horses miss him, though they be right good company even if they do fart a lot. And that there ghost doesn’t bother me none, as long as I don’t go near the house. Then it groans and gives me such frights I be fair mazed, so I have to run away and hide, all of a tremble.’
‘The ghost has been sent on its way, so you needn’t worry any more on that score again,’ the Reverend White said. ‘And you must allow me to give you a meal each day. All you need do is present yourself at the kitchen door. I’ll tell my housekeeper to expect you.’
‘Thank you kindly,’ the boy said gratefully. ‘And if you wants anything done in return I be happy to oblige thee, sir.’
They lifted the skeletal Esmé into Oswald Slessor’s carriage. The magistrate promised to swear out a warrant against the maid, Florrie. When they reached Poole, Noah Baines left them briefly to alert the local doctor to the situation.
By the time the two physicians returned, Esmé had been washed and put to bed. Siana had been tempted to wash her lank locks, as well, but had decided to wait until she was stronger.
Her eyes had opened for a couple of seconds, but they’d been unfocussed and she’d just groaned.
‘Everything will be all right now, Esmé,’ Siana had soothed. ‘I’ll look after you and soon you will be strong again.’ The milk she trickled into the woman’s mouth had been accepted and swallowed. To Siana’s relief she managed to hold down the liquid.
‘Good,’ Noah muttered when she told him. ‘Give her a few spoonfuls every hour.’ He shook his head. ‘A bad business, this.’
To Siana’s relief, Esmé regained consciousness the next day, although she was too weak to feed herself, and slept for most of the time. Within a few days, however, the colour began to creep into her cheeks and her skin showed signs of improvement.
One day, Siana was spooning broth into her mouth when Esmé’s hand touched her wrist. Painfully, she whispered, ‘Where’s Daniel?’
‘I don’t know. He’s being sought by the authorities.’ Briefly, Siana told her why, for the woman deserved to know the truth after what she’d been through. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Tears squeezed from the corners of Esmé’s eyes. ‘Daniel’s ill. It’s not his fault and I don’t want to live without him.’
Bitterness filled Siana’s heart and, although she struggled to keep it under control, she couldn’t quite manage it. ‘Stop being a martyr. Your husband violated and killed a young girl. He also tried to kill you. He’s gone off with the maid, taking your jewellery with them. Daniel is a greedy, shallow man, who doesn’t deserve your devotion. If you intended to sacrifice yourself for him, you should have done so in the cellar. I refuse to let you die whilst you’re under my roof. Do you understand?’
Esmé didn’t speak to her for two days, then on the third day she squeezed her hand. ‘I don’t really want to die. What will happen to Daniel when he’s caught?’
‘Noah Baines will probably certify him as insane and he’ll be sent to a mental institution.’ She kissed Esmé gently on her cheek. ‘Now, do you feel strong enough to leave your bed and get into a bath tub? It will make you feel better, and Rosie will wash your hair for you. I’ve received word that your parents and sister are coming to visit you as soon as they can get here.’
‘But they’re in the villa in Italy.’
‘When they were informed of your plight they decided to return to England. When you are fit to travel they will take you home with them, for you cannot return to the manor.’
Thankfully, Esmé’s chest infection proved not to be as dire as Noah Baines had feared. Her cough lasted for five weeks, but eventually the infection subsided and she gained a little weight. She had developed a craving for brandy, though, and although Siana often found the decanter empty when she rose in the morning, she didn’t begrudge the woman the comfort of it after all she’d been through.
‘You’ll have to be careful in the damp weather, for the lung infection could flare up again,’ Noah told Esmé three weeks later, ‘and I have explained about the other malady, although you show no signs of infection at the moment. Both Dr Pelham and I are in agreement. You can be discharged into the care of your parents now. They have hired someone to look after you, and intend to take you to Italy in the spring. In time, you should recuperate fully.’
For several reasons, Christmas and the start of the new year had not been celebrated as well as they should have been. It was nearing the end of January when Esmé departed. Siana wasn’t sorry to see her go. They would never be friends. But she was glad the woman’s life had been saved, and Siana wished her well.
Then Giles Dennings visited her with more bad news.
‘I’ve inspected the account books. I’m sorry to be the bearer of ill tidings, but in my opinion, unless Cheverton Estate is placed into a productive situation almost immediately, within a year it will be bankrupt.’
The next season’s crop would be lost if she was not careful.
Siana had no choice but to visit Rudd Ponsonby and ask for his assistance.
‘I’m sorry to intrude on your grief, Rudd, but could you manage Cheverton Estate, as well as Croxley Farm, until I can employ a steward?’
‘You’ve been grieving yourself, lass, and the land and season gives no quarter. I’ve allus been willin’ to offer a helpin’ hand to a body in need. Nothing you did was responsible for the tragedy that visited upon my home, so don’t you fret none about that.’
‘’Twas the Lord’s will,’ Abbie said. ‘He’ll make that man pay for his sins. Aye, my Rudd will give you a hand. The men will listen to him.’
‘Best you address them yourself as owner of the manor, though,’ said Rudd. ‘Tell them the truth. They’ll respect that, even from a woman.’
So a meeting was called for the next day in the grounds of the manor. The workers were slightly shamefaced, but truculent all the same. Arms folded over their chests to keep the cold at bay, their mouths steaming as they talked loudly in their rich, rolling dialects, they stamped their feet up and down like a herd of skittish horses huddled together for warmth.
Siana stood on the top step where she could be seen, Rudd Ponsonby and Josh beside her. Rudd shouted for silence. ‘Hush, you lot. The missus wants to talk to yer.’
‘The corn harvest was ruined last season,’ she said. The men hunched into their shoulders and shuffled their feet, but they were listening. ‘I’ve known hunger myself. How will you feed your children if the estate is allowed to fail? I cannot afford to give you what you haven’t earned. You took your wages, gave little in return and still you do nothing. You must return to work. The roads and drainage systems need attention and the fields must be prepared for this year’s crop. The stream needs to be cleared of debris, for already it has flooded the manor cellars and will waterlog the fields if we’re not careful.’
‘Why should we work when there’s no squire to work for?’ somebody shouted out.
Her hands went to her hips, her chin lifted. ‘Because I own the estate and am telling you to.’
‘You’re no better’n us for all your airs and graces,’ somebody else shouted out. ‘Why should we take orders from thee, woman?’
‘I’m the one paying your wages. If you prefer not to work for me you can leave and go elsewhere – and you can do it now.’ She gazed a challenge at them. ‘Those who intend to stay can give their names to Rudd Ponsonby, who has agreed to oversee the estate until I can hire someone with suitable qualifications.’
The men muttered amongst themselves for a few moments.
‘Cheverton Estate is in trouble, for Daniel Ayres and the estate trustees nearly ruined it with their incompetence.’ She saw no reason not to lie a little, for what she forecast would soon come to pass as the flies gathered over the corpse. ‘I’ve had several offers to buy the land – from gentlemen who seek to pay me far less than its worth, and who would use their own labourers to work it.’
The men gazed at each other in consternation and began to mumble again.
‘If I’m forced to sell it cheaply to them, you, your wives and your children will be knocking on the door of the workhouse.’ She looked around, reminding them softly, ‘Being poor and homeless in winter is not an enjoyable experience I promise you, for I’ve suffered it myself.’
‘What if we goes back to work and you sells Cheverton? What happens to our jobs, then?’
‘There is more likelihood of you retaining your employment if the estate is being worked. If the land remains neglected you’ll surely be dismissed by a new owner, for he’d not employ workers who have proved they are idle. Nobody would.’ She exchanged a glance with Rudd when mutterings of consternation reached their ears. ‘The choice is yours. If you wish to start work and earn your wage, inform Rudd Ponsonby. If you intend to leave, vacate your cottages and be off my land by the end of the week, please. And a sorry day it will be to see any of you go. Good day to you all.’
She nodded to Josh, who had become her permanent escort whilst Daniel was still at large. Though Daniel would be long gone from the district if he had any sense left. As they headed towards the carriage, the men began to gather around Rudd.
When Siana and Josh arrived home, it was to find Ben Collins waiting for them, cap in hand.
‘How can I help you, Ben?’
‘ ’Tis like this, missus. I went to see a lawyer fella. He tells me that folks is against Isabelle because of the shop fire business.’
‘My sister has done nothing to encourage such talk,’ Josh said.
Ben nodded at Josh. ‘Isabelle said that Hannah’s death were an accident. Hannah came at her with a knife, and she slipped under the wheel of the cart. Isabelle got in a fair maze, and took the fright.’ He looked troubled. ‘The lawyer fella said it be a hanging offence if she be found guilty.’
‘I don’t see how we can help,’ Siana told him.
‘You knows the magistrate. Isabelle wants you to tell him that she’ll make it worth his while if he sentences her to transportation instead of hanging.’
‘We can’t do that, Ben. It would be dishonest to try and bribe a magistrate.’
‘Josh Skinner, you’ve done many a dishonest deed in your life. I remembers a time when you used to run messages for the dissenters. What about the squire’s trout, and the smuggling? My son George be your own kin. D’you want to see him motherless?’
‘He survived losing Hannah, didn’t he? ‘Sides, poaching a few trout ain’t the same as killing someone. You’d have a hard time proving I’d done anything wrong.’
Ben stood his ground. ‘Hannah was a slattern who was no bleddy good at being a wife or a mother. I should know, I was married to her.’
‘That doesn’t mean Isabelle had the right to kill her, Ben.’
‘It were an accident, I tell thee.’ He stood up, his face sad. ‘Isabelle is a fine woman, and clever with it. She be a real woman, she be. Though she was wrong in what she did, I can’t let her hang, especially since she be with child. It ain’t right to punish the child inside the mother as well. It ain’t right at all when the infant be partly mine.’
‘I’m sure they won’t do that, Ben,’ Siana told him, for Josh was looking a bit fierce. ‘They’ll probably postpone the sentencing until the child has been born. I’ll write a note to Sir Oswald Slessor asking for leniency, and explaining the reason why. That’s all I can do.’
‘Thank you, missus,’ he said humbly, ‘and if I can persuade Isabelle to own up to the fire, then perhaps Mrs Ayres can be pardoned and set free. Though Isabelle can be mighty stubborn when she wants.’
But that didn’t come about, despite Ben’s efforts.
Isabelle worked herself up into a fury and Ben found himself on the wrong end of a tongue lashing. ‘If it wasn’t for the likes of Siana Matheson and Elizabeth Skinner, I’d have wed Edward Forbes and become the owner of Cheverton Estate. Instead, I got a worthless dolt like you. I’d rather die than accept help from that damned peasant woman, you fool. The fire is over and done with, so don’t you dare mention it again. Nothing can be proved because all the evidence was burnt. Anyway, do you think them magistrates are going to make donkeys of themselves by saying they was wrong in the first place?’
Ben gazed at her through wounded eyes. ‘What about our baby, Isabelle?’
‘It’ll bring me some sympathy from the jury, I suppose, and the only witness they’ve got is that Sam Saynuthin. He can’t talk and is so ugly nobody will believe him. Besides, everyone knows he’s a friend of Josh Skinner. He’ll do anything Josh tells him. And once I gets free I’ll find some way of making them all pay, just see if I don’t.’
Everything Ben had ever felt for Isabelle fled. He was forced to face the uncomfortable truth. Her heart was black with scheming and she didn’t care for anyone but herself.
But Isabelle’s plan miscarried. Oswald Slessor ordered a physician to examine her. There was no pregnancy evident.
The jury, put off by her aggressive manner, her interruptions and her attempts to discredit the mute witness, who had produced an amusing set of caricatures showing exactly what had occurred, pronounced her guilty.
Oswald Slessor didn’t like handing down the death sentence, even when it was justified. He deliberated for a moment, remembering the letter Siana Matheson had sent him. She was a pretty little thing, and compassionate. He approved of the way she’d taken Daniel’s wife in, when the man had robbed her blind.
He’d lost his own wife several years previously and had never thought of remarrying, until now. Perhaps when she’d finished mourning her husband . . . ? In the meantime, he could make himself useful to her.
His thoughts came back to the present as he gazed at the sullen face of Isabelle Collins, a woman he heartily disliked. But he couldn’t let that influence his judgement.
Her husband was sitting in the court, a simple, but honest fellow. There was another woman with him, an older relative to judge from her resemblance to the accused. Two children nudged against her sides.
Obviously, they’d been produced to evoke the jury’s sympathy. It hadn’t worked on them because of the rumours concerning the shop fire and Elizabeth Skinner. Oswald had never believed in Elizabeth’s guilt, but Daniel’s ineptitude had ensured that his mother had been found guilty. That couldn’t be undone. He could make sure the Collins woman didn’t profit from her maliciousness, though.
Should she be sentenced to death? She certainly deserved to be dealt with harshly. But the children did weigh on his conscience. How could he be responsible for her death, especially since Siana Matheson’s plea had been couched in such pretty terms?
The children would have someone to care for them, though. The female relative was holding a comforting arm around each of them. He was glad of that, for the doctor’s report would remain confidential.
He cleared his throat and banged his gavel on the bench. Before he could change his mind, he said, ‘Isabelle Collins, you have been found guilty of the crime of murder. You will be taken to the house of corrections, and there you will remain for the term of your natural life.’
Isabelle Collins hurled threats and abuse at him as she was led away. The onlookers began to clap and cheer.
They were not to know the woman was already under a death sentence from the tumour growing inside her womb, and her natural life would be over in a few weeks.