Elizabeth Elgin - I’ll Bring You Buttercups

‘Thanks are not required.’ Slowly, carefully, the older woman drew on her gloves. ‘You did right to come to me – now leave it with me; is that understood?’

They said it was and tipped their caps, murmuring a respectful goodnight.

‘Night, Reuben – and thanks for all you did,’ Alice whispered, clasping the cape tightly around her nakedness. ‘And, Tom – will you keep an eye open for Morgan’s lead on your way back? I dropped it …’

‘I’ll find it,’ he smiled, touching her cheek with gentle fingertips. ‘Goodnight, lass, and try not to worry.’

She smiled briefly and said she wouldn’t, though it was easier said than done. There would be trouble, especially for Tom, because servants didn’t hit their betters and get away with it. And it only seemed like minutes ago, she mourned silently, that she had been so very happy.

‘Will you tell me,’ Helen Sutton demanded of her housekeeper, ‘what is so very urgent that it cannot wait until morning?’

‘It’s Hawthorn, milady. She was attacked in Brattocks Wood, tonight. These were almost torn off her.’

‘Hawthorn? But is she all right? Where is she?’ Her eyes were wide with apprehension as she regarded the garments. ‘These are ripped to shreds. Someone must have used terrible force. This is awful – monstrous ! I must see her at once, poor child!’

‘With respect, milady – no. There are things I should tell you first. I’ve sent Hawthorn to the sewing-room. It isn’t likely anyone will go up there yet awhile. With dinner just finished, they’ll all be busy downstairs.’

‘But attacked ? She wasn’t –?’

‘No. She assured me it wasn’t – that , though it might well have been if the dog hadn’t defended her.’

‘Dog? Giles’s Morgan, you mean?’

‘Morgan. According to Reuben, that creature’s got another side to him. If he hadn’t been with Hawthorn, it’s almost certain we’d be worrying about something very serious indeed. The word that comes to mind, if you’ll pardon me, milady, is –’

‘Rape?’ Helen Sutton supplied, chalk-faced. ‘Please sit down, Miss Clitherow. I think you’d better tell me about it – all !’

‘Elliot!’ It had not made pretty hearing. Helen Sutton’s jaws clamped tight on her anger. ‘How dare he? Here, on my land and to one of my household! Is there no stopping him? But he’s gone too far this time!’ Family or no, her nephew must be confronted, accused. Drawing in her breath, biting back the flow of condemnation, she whispered, ‘Has my son been told?’

‘Not yet, milady. I came to you first. But I think you should know that the dog is with William. Reuben left him at the stables before he came to me; told them Morgan had got himself in a mess in the woods, and that someone had better clean him up before Mr Giles saw him.’

‘And William believed him?’

‘That I don’t know. William’s a gossip, we all know that. If he sets eyes on Hawthorn the state she’s in now, he’ll put two and two together and come up with worse than the truth. Reuben is fond of the girl, you see. I got the impression he’d like it kept quiet, for her sake; but Dwerryhouse – now he’s another matter altogether …’

‘I know. It’s a pity he struck my nephew.’

‘But wouldn’t you have done the same, in his shoes?’ Agnes Clitherow shrugged expressively. ‘It’s no secret he and Hawthorn are walking out. It surprises me he held on to his temper the way he did, and didn’t give the man the leathering he deserves. According to Hawthorn, Elliot Sutton smelled of drink. Sober, he’s obnoxious; under the influence he’s dangerous, if you ask me!’

But her ladyship hadn’t asked her, and the housekeeper felt her cheeks redden, knowing she had stepped outside the bounds of her position.

‘I’m sorry, milady. I beg your pardon – but Hawthorn isn’t a flighty one. She didn’t deserve to go through an experience like that, and I believe her when she said she gave him no encouragement.’

‘Encouragement? When ever did my nephew need that? No. This time he shall be called to answer for his behaviour. His parents must be told.’

‘And Hawthorn?’ Agnes Clitherow rose to her feet, sensing the interview was over. ‘The girl is upset, and sooner or later it’s all going to come out. Falling into a bramble bush is one thing, but the bruising is another; she won’t be a pretty sight in the morning. And the staff have a right to know, milady; to be warned. It seems no woman is safe from him.’

Frowning, Helen Sutton pursed her lips. Those who lived and worked at Rowangarth were indeed her responsibility – hers and Giles’s; they had a right to protection. But Elliot was a Sutton, and because of him the Sutton name would suffer. It was altogether too much!

‘I am bound to agree with you, Miss Clitherow, and I suggest you first discuss the matter with Mrs Shaw. It will be up to you both, then, to agree on what the staff is told, and how much. But I beg you to ask them to be discreet for a little while longer. I would like time to discuss this with my son first. That I must speak to Mrs Sutton is without dispute, but I know the staff will keep the matter out of the village for as long as they can – and be kind to Hawthorn, too. The poor young thing. Are you sure there is nothing I can do?’

‘Best you shouldn’t, milady. Not just yet. She’s very embarrassed at the moment. But when I’ve talked to Cook, I’ll tell Mary to take some milk up to her.’ Milk and honey. The best soother there was. The housekeeper swore by it. ‘Mary’s a sensible girl; I’ll tell her to see Hawthorn into bed and stay with her for a while.’

‘Yes. Perhaps that would be best. And please tell Hawthorn that I hope she’ll feel better in the morning. You’re sure we shouldn’t call the doctor?’

‘As sure as I can be, milady. No lasting harm was done – it might have been a lot worse. And I’ll give Alice one of my herbals to help her sleep.’

Leaving alone, that was what the girl wanted; not being quizzed and prodded by Doctor James, well-meaning though he might be. A bit of sympathy and understanding from her own kind would do more good than physic. And as for Elliot Sutton – well, let his equals deal with him. He was nothing to do with the likes of her, the housekeeper stressed silently, though from the set of her ladyship’s mouth, the young buck at Pendenys was in for a real eye-opening – and not before time, either!

‘I’ll bid you goodnight then, milady.’ Respectfully the suddenly weary woman nodded her head. ‘You can leave the matter of the servants to me.’

‘Thank you.’ Helen Sutton rose to her feet, forcing a smile. ‘I appreciate all you have done. Will you first call in the library and ask Mr Giles to come and see me as soon as he’s able? And goodnight to you, Miss Clitherow.’

‘I would like, Julia,’ said her mother briskly, ‘for you to make haste from the station this morning. No dallying, if you please, when you meet the doctor. I am going to Pendenys and would like to be there before ten.’

‘Why, might I ask?’ Julia frowned. Ten o’clock was calling time; before ten smacked of urgency. ‘You’ll be seeing them on Friday night – can’t it wait?’

‘It can not wait and you might not ask, either. What I have to discuss with your aunt is disturbing enough without having to repeat it over breakfast.’

‘But she has every right to know,’ Giles protested. ‘She’s in just as much danger from the man as any other woman. And she’s bound to find out for herself sooner or later.’

‘Danger? Now I insist you tell me, Mama.’

‘You’d better tell her, then, for I declare I’ve had enough of the sordid business already.’ Helen Sutton rose to her feet. ‘I shall go to my room, or I’ll have a headache.’