Whispers in the Wind Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Recent Titles by Janet Woods from Severn House

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Recent Titles by Janet Woods from Severn House

  THE STONECUTTER’S DAUGHTER

  AMARANTH MOON

  MORE THAN A PROMISE

  CINNAMON SKY

  BROKEN JOURNEY

  THE COAL GATHERER

  EDGE OF REGRET

  WITHOUT REPROACH

  HEARTS OF GOLD

  SALTING THE WOUND

  STRAW IN THE WIND

  PAPER DOLL

  LADY LIGHTFINGERS

  MOON CUTTERS

  DIFFERENT TIDES

  FOXING THE GEESE

  WHISPERS IN THE WIND

  The Tall Poppies Series

  TALL POPPIES

  SECRETS AND LIES

  I’LL GET BY

  WHISPERS IN THE WIND

  Janet Woods

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  First published in Great Britain and the USA 2017 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  19 Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM2 5DA.

  This eBook edition first published in 2017 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

  Trade paperback edition first published

  in Great Britain and the USA 2017 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD

  Copyright © 2017 by Janet Woods.

  The right of Janet Woods to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8692-7 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-796-8 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-863-6 (e-book)

  Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

  Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland

  One

  December 1816 – Winter.

  Adele was hot and sticky. Her body ached, her throat felt raw and pain throbbed inside her head.

  She struggled to breathe as she tried to rid herself of the remaining shreds of her dream. Somewhere below her a man emptied his last breath into the sea … a lone cry of despair encased in a bubble. She slid into the deep, fighting for her life – her hair tangled like seaweed between his fingers. A net of rope captured her body, tore them apart and pulled her into the light. Hauled over the side of the ship she flopped, face down, on the hard wooden deck. There was a shadow, hunched down low. Air swooped harshly into her lungs as the sea was pumped out by a strong span of hands.

  The ship’s watchman gazed down at her. ‘You’ll be all right now, missus, but the sea has taken your man.’

  Gone! Edgar was gone. The pitch and toss of the sea calmed. The shadow had gone too. She was saved … but what would she do with such freedom?

  A light was burning. Adele turned her head towards it to encounter the soft, uncertain sputter of a solitary candle.

  Beneath her the bed was as soft as a baby’s cradle. Four posts supported dusty-smelling hangings. Beyond, a fireplace cradled the remains of a fire that coiled ashy breath into the maw of the chimney. A clock measured the seconds on the mantelpiece with a muted tick. Adele couldn’t see the hands mark the passage of time but she could hear it, each second unable to be retrieved. There were few ornaments, the most noticeable being a heroic bronze – a man on a horse, its mane flowing in the wind. She had seen one like it before and it struck her that the room had a mannish feel to it with its leather chair.

  She was safe. Edgar was drowned. She drew in a breath, whispered, ‘Where am I?’

  A prolonged sigh drew her attention to the chair. A man occupied it, if the pair of long legs stretched to their limit was any indication. The wing of the chair concealed half of his face and the other half was hidden under an untidy abundance of hair.

  Perhaps he was a doctor. She tried to attract his attention with a greeting, but it was quiet and unintelligible … more like a squeak from a mouse than a sensible word from a fellow human. As quiet as it was, the murmur of sound registered in his ears, and he woke.

  Head now withdrawn from her sight he stood, enclosed within his own shadow, blending into his background and perfectly still. Not a noise could be heard as he waited for a second confirmation of life within the tension she’d created.

  Who was he … where was she? She could hold her breath no longer and it huffed painfully from her.

  ‘Ah …’

  Splaying his hands against his back he stretched his spine, giving such a pleasurable and prolonged groan that Adele almost experienced it with him. Then he pushed a log from the hearthstone into the grate with his foot. The ashes glowed red and spat aggressive sparks. Tiny blue flames licked around the log and he gave a satisfied grunt. Only then did he turn his attention her way.

  Adele recalled being on a horse, held intimately against his body so they were almost one. His horse? Then she remembered Sarah, and with some alarm. What if she was lost on the heath! ‘Sarah … she went to find help.’

  ‘Rest easy. The girl is safe. Reverend Bryson has taken her under his roof. He lives in Brackenhurst.’

  Relief rushed through her, leaving a yawning hole in her stomach. Reverend Bryson. She knew that name, knew him to be trustworthy. He was a church cleric, after all. ‘Where am I, sir? How did I get here?’

  He came to stand at the end of the bed. His face was dark, shadowed with several days’ beard. The log flared up and the fire began to crackle, causing his shadow to dance on the wall in a rather menacing manner.

  After a short silence he said, ‘A young lady raised the alarm and I came to look for you. The snow became too heavy to take you back into town, so I brought you to my home, which was the closest shelter. I was the only one in the tavern prepared to look for you in this weather and I found you on the heath, frozen to the bone and half-dead.’

  Fatigue filled her body. ‘I’m grateful for your assistance. I feel … unwell, and I’m thirsty.’

  ‘You’ve caught a chill and you’re suffering from a fever and a cough, I believe.’ He crossed to the dresser. Taking the cover from a stone jug he poured liquid into a tumbler and brought it to where she lay. He slid his arm behind her shoulders and gently lifted her from the pillows, holding the tumbler to her mout
h. ‘It’s a tot of brandy mixed with water, and has honey to sweeten it … a concoction guaranteed to cure any cough. After you’ve finished it you must try to get some more rest. What’s your name?’

  After a moment of hesitation she murmured, ‘Mrs Pelham.’

  ‘And the girl who was with you?’

  ‘Sarah is my … stepdaughter.’ She took a sip of the liquid and shuddered, though it was soothing. ‘Are you a physician?’

  ‘I’m no physician, Mrs Pelham, but out of necessity I’ve done some doctoring in my time. It looks as though you must trust yourself to my soldierly medical skills for the time being.’

  His heart beat against her shoulder and there was a moment when she felt as though they’d known each other in another life. ‘I remember that.’

  ‘Remember what?’

  ‘Your heartbeat … we were on a horse and it beat against my ear, keeping me alive. I was counting the beats and when I could no longer hear them I thought I’d died.’

  ‘Your mind is wandering, Mrs Pelham. It was not that romantic an event. You were a dead weight and my horse grumbled, and as you can see, you’ve survived your ordeal on the heath. Now you must recover so you can be on your way.’

  Adele felt as weak as a kitten when he lowered her onto the pillow and drew away. ‘What time is it?’

  He placed a little bell within her reach. ‘It’s only first light so try and sleep for an hour or so longer. Where were you going?’

  ‘Home … I was going home.’ She yawned and turned on her side, her eyes beginning to close. ‘I’m so tired.’

  ‘You might feel a little better when you’ve rested more. If you need anything ring the bell.’

  He was a kind man, she thought, as she closed her eyes.

  Despite the early hour Ryder went downstairs, greeting Hal Stover with a smile. An attorney by profession, Hal had been with him since they first met. They’d become brothers in arms. Since Ryder had handed in his commission their friendship had strengthened. Only a few weeks ago the pair had shared a comfortable billet in London, waiting for official news of their discharge. Now the war with Napoleon was over their soldiering days had also come to an end.

  Hal had beaten him to the kitchen and he’d got a fire roaring in the stove. The cast-iron kettle steamed and the lid clattered away on top.

  ‘You’re up early, Sergeant Stover.’

  ‘I’d forgotten how suffocating snow is when it comes to deadening sound. It was too quiet to sleep for long and the bivouac was more comfortable than I’m used to. I guess I’ll adjust eventually.’

  ‘I’ve spent better nights with a woman occupying my bed. The invalid’s name is Mrs Pelham, by the way.’

  They grinned at each other.

  ‘As for my quarters, they were passing clean and the bed had sheets, thanks to your dubious domestic skills.’

  ‘I’m an attorney, not a chamber maid.’

  ‘And inept at both.’

  ‘True … How did you sleep, Captain?’

  ‘I spent the night in the chair. Mrs Pelham survived the night, though she’s weak with fever. She was travelling with her stepdaughter, apparently. We must bring the girl here since Mrs Pelham needs a female to look after her.’

  ‘How old is she?’

  He shrugged. ‘Old enough to send off across the heath to fetch help. Her name is Sarah. That would have taken some guts. Having her here will bring Mrs Pelham peace of mind, if nothing else. I’ll take the pack horse and if I can get through to the rectory I’ll bring the girl back with me.’

  His glance lit on the recently washed table and to the contents of their saddlebags spread out there – half a stale loaf, a chunk of cheese, a thick slice of ham and a wad of fat that provided the grease for cooking. A piece of unsalted fish housed a colony of pests. Hal fed it to a small dog that had followed him in and was lurking under the table.’

  ‘Where did the ratter come from?’

  ‘It came charging at me from the barn and would have torn my leg off if I hadn’t been wearing boots. He’s a gutsy little bugger, a stray, I think.’

  ‘It looks calm enough now.’ Ryder put his hand down to fondle the creature and the dog offered him a rattling snarl.

  ‘Sit!’ Ryder said and it rolled on its back and presented its belly to be fondled.

  Hal laughed. ‘I’m glad someone likes you.’

  There was also some tea in a tin-lined box. ‘You’ve been busy, Hal.’

  ‘The food won’t last long.’

  Ryder sighed. ‘And is not the kind of food we should offer a sick woman … especially one as emaciated as our guest. I’m hoping the agent delivers the list of provisions I ordered on the way through. I told him it was urgent.’

  ‘I’ll go and see what I can scrounge from the garden and I thought the smokehouse showed signs of use.’ Hal reached for his greatcoat, hanging over the back of a chair. ‘Some chickens have been wintering in the barn so there might be eggs. Use has been made of the kitchen garden in your absence, so there will also be winter vegetables under the snow. I’ll neck one of the older hens and we can make a broth.’

  Hal was nothing if not resourceful. He reconnoitred their immediate surrounds thoroughly and a little while later he came back with some onions and turnips, a couple of thick pork rashers and a chicken he’d already plucked. He hung the fowl upside down over a bucket to bleed, so the flesh would be white and tender.

  ‘You made a good haul,’ Ryder said when Hal carefully transferred half a dozen frail eggs from his pocket to a bowl of cold water.

  Hal grunted with satisfaction when they sank to the bottom. ‘These are freshly laid; if they’d been old they would have floated.’

  The sergeant’s seemingly trivial remarks never ceased to amaze Ryder, for invariably he was proved right. ‘Where did you find the pig?’

  ‘The smokehouse. It might interest you to know that the kitchen garden is in use and the smokehouse has a quartered porker hanging in it. I cut us some rashers. Someone seems to be making use of the land and outbuildings. I found a couple of turnips going begging, and some potatoes. The well has been kept free of debris so the water is sweet. The lid will stop it from freezing over. It will make a change from drinking melted snow.’

  ‘Take care if there are signs of my estate being used illegally, though I see no signs of the house being occupied. I imagine someone local is taking advantage of the situation. We’ll get to the bottom of it eventually. In the meantime we’ll profit from their hard work, and thank them. They might abandon it once they know the house is occupied. After breakfast I’ll leave you to look after my guest while I chase the rector up. I doubt if the woman will eat anything, but she might enjoy something warm in her stomach, tea perhaps. Mrs Pelham sounds like a lady down on her luck, so use the best china, if you can find any.’ He ignored Hal’s grin. ‘God knows, the caretakers I left in charge might have taken the china with them.’

  ‘The house doesn’t seem to have been ransacked and its condition is sound considering the amount of time it’s been unlived in.’

  Ryder shrugged. ‘For me it feels like I never left. I spent much of my childhood here, and was twenty-one when I departed. You know the rest.’

  Hal grinned. ‘It wasn’t hard to figure out it was woman trouble.’

  ‘I got over it.’

  ‘Once you stopped feeling sorry for yourself you became a passable soldier, but tell me you’re over the woman in a day or two.’

  ‘I can always find another. As for you, I can safely say you’re the worst companion I’ve ever had.’ Ryder took the bent and battered coin from his pocket and spun it in the air. ‘I still have my lucky shilling. Who’d have thought it would come between me and a bullet?’

  ‘No one in their right mind.’

  ‘That event was a turning point for me. The word duty took on a new meaning … and it included a future.’

  ‘It sounds as if you’re contemplating marriage, Captain. Not to me, I hope.’

&nb
sp; An image of a young woman stabbed into Ryder’s mind, and with such a bright clarity that he narrowed his eyes against the shine of it. She’d captivated his heart with her smile and her innocence, and then, to his mortification and shame, she’d left him – left him standing at the altar. There was a moment of yawning heartsickness, as though he stood on the edge of a deep, dark void, then he shrugged it off. He was through pining for what might have been.

  There had been women since her, physical encounters he’d enjoyed for what they were and for as long as they’d lasted. Mostly they were discreet women who played the game and asked for nothing more than the temporary comfort of a man’s arms around them, otherwise he’d avoided thinking her about since that day she’d walked away from him without explanation. He was twenty-seven … not too old to change his way of life. Why had he come back here with the intention of making a living from the estate if he had nobody to leave it to?

  ‘You could be right, Hal,’ he murmured, and then he laughed. ‘Marriage is not a bloody impossibility, you know.’

  ‘Marriage to me is? It’s not going to happen.’

  Ryder threw a tin mug at him.

  Ryder’s journey into town was uneventful. He passed a team of wagons heading for the Madigan estate. One was piled high with bales of hay and sacks of oats and the other with the provisions they’d need for winter.

  When Ryder pulled his horses to one side to let the wagons through, he introduced himself. The driver touched his hat with a grimy forefinger. ‘Good day, my lord.’

  ‘What’s the road like closer to Poole?’

  ‘We got stuck in a drift a mile back and had to shovel our way out of it. The wagons are heavy and the horses have tramped a path through it so it should be open for the time being. We’ll be coming and going all day and the livestock will come through last. We’ve been up all night getting this organized, but we should be all right for a day or two, I reckon.’

  After a short conversation about the weather they moved on.

  When Ryder reached Poole he went to the workhouse and hired a housekeeper, a cook and two maids of all work.

  He arranged for the cartage company to take them out to Madigan House. It would do until the snow had passed and he could reorganize his life. On the way back he went into the church, which was situated just inside the village of Brackenhurst … not to pray or seek solace, but to look for the rector.