Beyond the Plough Read online

  ‘Please stay. She might wake and feel scared by the sight of a strange man.’

  ‘She’ll grow to love you as much as I do.’

  He almost purred at her flattery, then smiled at his susceptibility. He wrote in his notebook with a graphite pencil. Female foundling of unknown origin – to be known as Marigold Forbes (Matheson?). Aged about four years. Suffering from malnutrition.

  He took a good look at the child. He’d visited just about everyone in the district over the past few years, and this little girl was certainly not one of his patients. She had a delicate and dainty air to her, like a porcelain figurine. Her limbs were thin, but without too much muscle wastage, her stomach was slightly distended. She was dirty and dehydrated and smelled of death, but her heart beat strongly.

  She opened her eyes and stared at him. They were the colour of cornflowers. Her hair was a mass of tangled gold curls, freckles danced sparsely across her nose. Her gaze was direct, without curiosity, yet slightly assessing. Francis was disconcerted by it.

  ‘Can you tell us your name?’ he said gently to her.

  Her gaze moved on to Siana and she gave a tentative smile. Her voice was a piping little lisp, like that of a bird. ‘Mariglows.’

  He slid Siana a glance, absorbing her innocent expression, the gleam of triumph in her eyes. ‘I shall call her Goldie,’ she said.

  ‘Do you have a second name?’

  The child stared at him, uncomprehending.

  Behind him, Siana expelled a sigh of a breath and reached out her hand to close the smaller one inside it. When Francis looked again, the child was asleep.

  ‘It was meant to be,’ she said calmly. But deep in her heart she felt uneasy, as if Goldie was hers only for a short time. She shook the feeling off, pessimism didn’t sit easily on her these days.

  ‘The girl is free of external parasites,’ Francis informed her. ‘We don’t know what her mother died of yet, so have her bathed as soon as possible. Feed her on milk-sops, oatmeal and chicken broth for a day or two. Inspect her for worms when she functions.’

  ‘Yes, Doctor.’

  ‘Her appetite will be small to begin with.’ When she kissed him on the corner of his mouth he grinned, forced to abandon his professional mantle.

  ‘Thank you for not making a fuss about her, Francis.’

  He gazed sternly at her. ‘You do understand that you can’t take in every child who is orphaned, don’t you? As it is, we’re going to start married life with five children to care for.’

  A wide grin spread across her face. ‘Don’t look so horribly fierce about it. Be warned, as soon as possible I intend to present you with a son, then there will be six. He can grow up with Ashley for companionship and you can teach him to be a fine doctor, like yourself.’

  He pulled her against his body, his hand splaying across her back. ‘Now we have a wedding date, I’m almost tempted to get some practice in for this son of ours.’

  Her breath chuckled against his ear, making him shiver. ‘Make up your mind to this, Francis. Once I have you in my bed you will not escape too easily. Now, as you pointed out earlier, you are expected at the infirmary. So, be gone.’

  ‘So I am.’ They sprang apart, laughing as a knock came on the door and Siana told whoever it was to enter.

  Rosie came in carrying a large bowl and a jug of water.

  ‘Leave them on the table, I’ll bathe her myself,’ Siana said, seeing the doctor to the door. She was about to give Francis a chaste peck on the cheek when he gave a chuckle and swept her into his arms. When he’d finished kissing her entirely to his satisfaction, he strode off, laughing inside as she stood there, hot-faced and flustered.

  Rosie was grinning from ear to ear when Siana turned towards the child. Siana couldn’t quite meet her knowing eyes. ‘Indeed, I don’t know what came over Dr Matheson,’ she said to the maid, fanning her face with her hand.

  ‘Looks like he might be a right lusty fella, the doctor, with the pair of you always kissing in corners where you think you can’t be seen.’

  Siana tried not to grin. ‘You think so?’

  ‘Stands to reason, don’t it? Since his wife died he ain’t had time for a woman, until he sets eyes on you.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Built like a stud bull, too, but I suppose you’m noticed that.’

  ‘Rosie!’ Siana exclaimed, half in protest, half in laughter. She wouldn’t have taken this familiarity from any other servant, but Rosie had been her maid since her first marriage, and had become her confidante and ally in her transformation from peasant girl to lady. ‘You should not say such things.’

  ‘’Tis only the truth. You’ll be walking around with a smile on your face from the word go. Now, when’s the wedding going to be?’

  ‘August . . . and Dr Matheson doesn’t mind Goldie becoming one of the family.’

  ‘Have you told him you want him to move into the manor?’

  Siana shrugged. ‘I’m sure he won’t mind.’

  Rosie’s look was measured. ‘Best you talk to him soon, with the wedding not far off. The doctor has his pride, he’ll want to provide for his wife and children himself.’

  Siana promised herself she’d ask Francis as soon as possible. After all, what objections could he possibly have to moving into Cheverton Manor?

  2

  Although Goldie settled in quickly, a month later it became obvious that Daisy resented the presence of another female in the nursery.

  Having lost her mother at too young an age to remember her, Daisy had automatically transferred her affections to her older sister. Daisy called her ‘Mamma’ now, and Siana didn’t bother to correct her. After all, her sister had only just turned five; what harm could it do? Daisy couldn’t remember her former impoverished existence in the mean estate cottage, either, for she’d lived a life of comfort ever since. When Daisy was old enough to understand, then Siana would explain the situation to her.

  Daisy had welcomed the birth of Ashley almost two years before, but she seemed to regard the presence of Goldie with suspicion, as though the girl was competing for Siana’s affection. And indeed, Goldie was a rival. The empathy between Siana and the orphaned child was unmistakable. Something inside Goldie tugged at something in Siana, as if they were twin souls.

  Now, Siana dried Goldie’s tears and scolded the defiant Daisy who stood with her legs apart and hands on hips, glaring indignantly at the younger girl.

  ‘Please don’t smack her again, Daisy. She’s smaller than you.’

  Daisy’s bottom lip stuck out in a fat pout. ‘She took my doll from her house. I hate her.’

  Goldie snuggled into Siana’s side, a livid welt decorating her cheek, the small wax figure held in her hand. ‘I was only looking at it,’ she whispered.

  ‘You should have asked Daisy first.’ Giving a sigh, Siana drew Daisy’s stiff little body against her other side. She stroked the golden curls at her temple. ‘It wouldn’t hurt you to share your toys, Daisy. Say sorry to Goldie.’

  After a moment her sister relaxed a little. ‘But I’m not sorry, Mamma. If I say I am it will be a lie, and you told me I mustn’t tell lies.’

  Siana stifled a grin. The wretch! Who could argue with such logic? ‘Then promise me you won’t hit Goldie again.’

  For a moment, Daisy hesitated, then said, ‘I promise I won’t hit her if she promises not to steal my things.’

  The time had come to lay down the law. ‘You have too many toys to play with all at once. If you don’t share them I’ll take them away from you. And I’ll turn you over my knee if you smack Goldie again. Do you understand?’

  ‘You’re not Goldie’s mamma; she’s buried in the cemetery,’ Daisy said rebelliously. ‘You found Goldie.’

  ‘And now I’m her mamma, and I love her as much as her own mamma did.’

  ‘You love her better than you love me.’ Daisy’s bottom lip began to tremble.

  ‘That’s not true, Daisy. I love you both, but I’ve loved you for longer, because I’ve known you since you were a baby.’ Siana cuddled the girls against her sides and was eventually rewarded by a kiss on each cheek. ‘Now, make friends. Dr Matheson is waiting for me and I have to ready myself. We’re visiting the Reverend White to arrange for the marriage banns to be called, and if the pair of you don’t behave yourselves I won’t allow you to be there on the day.’

  The pair exchanged a glance of such consternation that Siana nearly laughed.

  ‘I’ll be friends if you will,’ Daisy said grudgingly.

  Goldie hesitated for a moment, then in the quiet, trusting way she had, she nodded. Slipping from Siana’s side, she delicately replaced the little wax figure on her chair in the doll’s house.

  When they skipped off towards the table, Siana heaved a sigh of relief and went through to the nursery, where Ashley was taking a rest. Her son was lying on his back sound asleep, his thumb sucked firmly into his mouth. Long lashes swept against his soft pink skin and his hair was a mass of dark silky curls. Love for her son overwhelmed her, making her unreasonably emotional, so her eyes moistened and she knew she’d be unable to speak coherently.

  ‘My dearest Edward, thank you for leaving me with this sweet son of ours,’ she choked out, ‘for I love him so much.’ Vulnerable under the influence of something so precious, she hugged the feeling to her, feasting on it.

  Edward had honoured her by making her his wife. He’d caged her, but she’d loved him in her own way and missed the exciting intimacy of their life together. However, she tried not to think too much of her late husband, especially in the face of her forthcoming marriage to Francis, whom she loved completely and without reservation.

  The nursery maid smiled when Siana stooped to kiss Ashley’s cheek. ‘He might be looking like an angel now, but he’s been as lively
as a flea on a dog this morning. Fair wore me out, I can tell thee.’

  Siana chuckled as she left, wishing she had more time to share with the children. But most of her time was taken up by the affairs of Cheverton Estate. And now she had her wedding to arrange.

  Changing into a gown of amber brocade, with a velvet shoulder cape for warmth, she allowed her maid to tie the lace-decorated strings of her bonnet under her chin. They made a becoming frill which set off her centre parting and allowed her ringlets to escape into fashionable disarray.

  ‘Pretty as a picture,’ Rosie said with satisfaction. ‘Now don’t you be forgetting your cloak. ’Tis cold outside and, although I told the groom to heat some bricks for your feet to rest on, you can’t be too careful.’

  Hot bricks, was it? Not long ago, her warmth came from her mother’s old shawl and a pair of hand-me-down boots, and grateful she’d been for them, too. Still, it was nice to be cosseted.

  Francis was waiting for her in the drawing room, his hands cupped around a steaming tankard of hot, spiced brandy. The remains of ham and cheese and a crusty loaf of bread rested on a plate. There was a special edge to his smile today. ‘You won’t mind if I come with you in the carriage?’

  ‘I will mind if you don’t. Finish your drink, Francis. The horses will wait.’

  His mount came with them, tied behind the carriage, for Francis was the only doctor in the district, and never knew when he’d be called on to visit those suffering from disease or accident.

  The coachman clicked his tongue and the Cheverton blacks set off, their heads nodding, their breath steaming and leathers creaking and clinking. The ground was hard. In the shadows the frost hadn’t yet cleared. The iron-shod hooves of the carriage horses threw up stones, snapped twigs, and chopped up clods of decaying leaves.

  How evocative the smell of winter was, Siana thought. The air was redolent of the woodsmoke curling from the chimneys of the labourers’ cottages, seasoned with the cold and spiced by salt carried on the wind blowing off the sea. The pine trees retained their fragrance under a taut skin. The sap was no longer liquid, but a hard amber vein waiting for the rise of spring. The trees stood in a carpet of rust and fallen cones, their needles dark, bristling spikes.

  The land belonged to Ashley, the son of her first marriage, who was the product of a liaison between an aristocrat and a peasant. The day after their marriage she and her aristocrat had made love in this carriage, on the way to the horse sales.

  Her quiet chuckle turned Francis’s eyes her way. They contained an unspoken query. It was one she couldn’t answer, for memories such as this one could not be shared with him. She leaned forward, took his hands in hers and gently tugged. ‘Come and sit beside me, Francis.’

  The winter grey of his eyes registered amusement as he resisted. ‘So you can tease me?’

  The laughter suddenly left her when she realized the depth of her hunger for him. ‘Are you so easily teased by me, then?’

  ‘You know I am.’

  Softly, she said, ‘Dearest Francis, you allow your background to show when you play the drawing-room aristocrat. Your manners and control don’t impress me in the least, especially when I so long to be loved by you.’

  His smile returned at that. ‘I’ve forgotten how to play courtship games, Siana.’

  ‘I know.’ Taking his face between her hands she tenderly kissed him, whispering against his lips, ‘Are you so frightened of loving me that you must keep me at arm’s length?’

  ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘For to have you in my bed before our wedding night would be disrespectful to you, and wrong for us.’

  ‘Even though I’m a peasant by birth?’

  His eyes became glacial. ‘You make too much of your low birth. You have risen above it now. You move in different circles and must accept different standards of behaviour. I will not be the one to push you down again. It seems I must show restraint for both of us.’

  Which struck her as being slightly hypocritical, for she’d learned that what these people did in a public way and what they did privately often contradicted each other.

  ‘“Manners maketh the man”,’ she said almost accusingly, dredging the words out from she knew not where.

  He was cutting. ‘“Manners maketh man.” If you are going to quote, quote correctly.’

  Giving a tiny gasp she pulled away from him, colour rising to her face. ‘You are displaying very few manners, Francis. Your words are wounding. You mock my lack of education, and speak as if you believe the peasants are little more than animals.’

  The expression in his eyes softened. ‘You know that’s far from the truth. I’ve always been straightforward in my speech. You know I love you, Siana, but you must learn to be less spontaneous in demonstrating your affection . . . in public, at least.’

  ‘Perhaps it should be you who learns to be more spontaneous.’

  He shrugged. ‘When we are wed, be assured, I will prove my mettle to you, for I’m not a man to hang back without reason.’

  She turned to gaze at the countryside passing by, hurt beyond measure by his rebuke. Gradually, she came to realize that in being too forward she’d embarrassed him. Francis was more conventional than Edward had been, and she must adjust her behaviour accordingly. So when the church tower came into her view she turned apologetically to him. ‘I’m sorry, Francis.’

  He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. ‘I must apologize for being so churlish. I find it hard to display affection in public, but if it’s any consolation, you’re constantly in my thoughts. I did not seek to mock you, for I’m proud of what you’ve achieved. I’m totally ashamed of myself.’

  The Reverend Richard White’s smile was wide when he saw her. When Siana had been younger and in need, the reverend had taught her to read and then employed her in his house. She could not forget the fact that the help had been withdrawn when she’d needed it most, but kept it in mind that he’d been manipulated by others, her late husband in particular. Although he was verging on portly, and past middle age, Siana found Richard to be likeable. But she no longer held as much respect for him as she had in the past.

  Their interview was formal, as Richard sought to make sure they both understood the duties attached to the marriage vows. Sounding bored, Francis told him, ‘Both of us have been wed before and are well aware of what is required.’

  ‘Quite so.’ Richard sighed. ‘I have not seen you in church lately, Francis.’

  Francis’s mouth twisted wryly. ‘Winter has brought its usual diseases to haunt the villagers. We have lung sickness, rheumatism and stomach ailments at the moment. There has been a case of lockjaw, and several deaths from malnutrition amongst children from the larger families. I must put my vocation above all else at times.’

  Tears pricked at Siana’s eyes. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

  ‘They wouldn’t welcome your charity.’ He slid her an apologetic look. ‘I know you’ve done your best, Siana, but the improvements to the cottages have had little effect, since whitewash doesn’t keep out the draughts or the rain, and most of them need rebuilding. What the villagers need is good, nourishing food.’

  ‘Then I’ll talk to Jed Hawkins and see if the estate can manage a rise in wages again.’

  Richard nodded approvingly. ‘Siana tells me you’ll be moving into the manor once you’re wed, Francis. You’ll be in the position to do something about conditions, then.’

  Siana opened her mouth, then shut it again when Francis gazed at her with a slight frown. ‘The estate belongs to Edward’s son, not to Siana. I’m not a trustee, so I’ll not be in the position to administer any inheritance there may be. As for me moving in, this hasn’t yet been discussed between us.’

  Picking up the slight current of tension, Richard gently coughed. ‘You’ll stay for refreshments, won’t you? Mrs Leeman has so looked forward to your visit, Siana.’

  Francis rose to his feet as if he were about to refuse, then he seated himself again when she appealed to him, ‘Have I time to visit my mother’s grave?’

  ‘Aye,’ he said, his voice slightly gruff and ashamed. ‘Do you want to be alone, or shall we take refreshment first, then stop off on the way home?’