Bought for Revenge

‘This whole area is made up of piles of cut stone. It is very overgrown and the stones themselves are covered in lichen, but you will see that they are all dressed, ready to use.’

‘And use them we will. Thank you, Miss Havenham. I wonder why it was brought here?’

‘I think my father had some idea of building a house on this spot.’

‘Surely it would have been better to rebuild the old manor? The views are much better from that side of the hill.’

‘I am sure he had his reasons.’

He did not press her to explain, saying instead, ‘Tomorrow I will set men on to clear a path for the wagons. There is sufficient material here to rebuild the west wall and it should keep the builders supplied with stone until I can open up the delph again.’

‘You know about the old quarry? I suppose someone in the town told you, I did not think any of them would remember it.’

‘Clearly you were wrong.’

The frank grey eyes met his for a moment, a faint twinkle in their depths. ‘Then they have stolen my thunder, sir. I meant to amaze you with my local knowledge.’

It was the first crack in the wall of ice she had put around herself.

Lucas was heartened.

‘I am sure there is plenty more for you to show me.’

He smiled at her, but the defences were up again. She replied coldly, as if to make up for her momentary lapse in hostilities.

‘My father instructed me to show you everything that might be of interest, Mr Monserrat.’

She turned the big grey and rode on. He followed her to the valley where the natural springs welled up from the ground and she pointed out the damaged and dry culvert that had once carried water to the house. Moving into the surrounding woods, she showed him the heavily overgrown tracks that cut across the Morwood land.

‘Odd that they should have been allowed to fall into disuse.’

‘Not really. They lead only to the old house. Once that was abandoned there was no need for them.’

‘But all this woodland, untended. Do the local people not come here to gather firewood, or snare rabbits?’

‘I have never seen any sign of that. Perhaps they are afraid of the ghosts.’

Lucas looked around. In every direction the trees grew tall and thick, cutting out all sound from the rest of the world. At night it would be a very different place, dark and sinister, a place for hiding secrets.

Lucas, your father, he has the black temper this morning. You had best go away and play, my love. Keep out of his sight.

He shivered and his horse sidled as his hands clenched on the rein. Annabelle glanced at him, brows raised.

‘Have I unnerved you, with the talk of ghosts?’

‘There are no ghosts,’ he said shortly. ‘Only memories. Let us move on.’

They made their way to a sunlit valley where the warmth of the spring sunshine dispelled his melancholy and he was able to concentrate on winning over his companion.

He went carefully, showing an interest in the land, asking questions, drawing her out to tell him what she knew of the estate’s history, encouraging her to share her memories. He might tease her gently, but he maintained a rigid propriety and gradually, as the day went on, the ice maiden thawed a little.

The tour took much longer than Annabelle had anticipated, partly because the overgrown paths meant their progress was slow. They had to take long detours to reach the points of interest she wanted to show the new owner of Morwood. He was eager to see everything and she was surprised at how much she enjoyed acquainting him with the land where she had spent so many happy hours. It was impossible to stay aloof, although she caught herself up at times, refusing to respond with more than a tight smile to his pleasantries. She was still unsure of Mr Lucas Monserrat.

Clegg reminded her of the time and Annabelle was surprised by a tiny stab of regret as they left the old house and its neglected grounds behind them. They rode in silence until they reached the highest point of the moor. A sudden tinkle of bells was carried on the wind and she slowed, looking up to see a packhorse train trotting across the distant hills, while in the valley below Oakenroyd and its gardens basked in the weak sunshine. How she loved this place!

‘Your knowledge of Morwood is invaluable, Miss Havenham,’ said Lucas.

‘Thank you.’ Her response was cool. Not for the world would she let him know that she appreciated his praise, nor how much she had enjoyed herself. ‘You could gain as much from a map, I am sure.’

‘All the maps in the world are not as useful as someone who knows and loves the land. Perhaps you will come again? We have not yet seen everything.’

‘No, but there is only the Home Wood to explore. The rest is mainly farmland, and that has been well tended and needs no explanation from me.’

‘But I thought you might show me the lake.’

She looked at him, surprised. ‘You are particularly well informed, sir.’

‘You would not expect me to purchase an estate without making some push to find out what I was buying.’

‘No, I suppose not.’

‘And you will come again and be my guide?’

She bit her lip. It was tempting, but she must not succumb. ‘You do not need me.’

‘Oh, I think I do, Miss Havenham. Having seen how treacherously overgrown the paths have become, I might well lose myself in the wilderness that is now the Home Wood. Remember “Sleeping Beauty.” It could be a hundred years before anyone comes to my rescue.’

His reference to her earlier comment surprised a laugh from Annabelle. He grinned back at her.

‘So you will come. Tomorrow?’

She shook her head. ‘I have an engagement.’

‘Monday, then, if the weather is good.’ Still she hesitated and he continued, ‘I intend to be at the manor all day, so come if you can.’

It had been such a pleasurable day, why not repeat it? She was sorely tempted.

‘We have reached the edge of the Oakenroyd Park,’ he said, bringing his horse to a stand. ‘I shall leave you here and hope to see you on Monday.’

‘I—Do not look for me.’ She was suddenly unsure.

The brim of his hat shaded his face and she could read nothing from his look, although she knew those black eyes were fixed on her. Unsettled, she touched her crop to Apollo’s flank and set off at a gallop across the park. She did not look back, but it was an effort. She wondered if he was still watching her, or had he ridden away, putting all thoughts of her from his mind?

Annabelle entered the house by a side door and went to find her father. He was in his study, but he put down his book when she entered.

‘So you are back at last, my love. Did you enjoy yourself at Morwood?’

‘The time went very quickly,’ she answered him evasively. ‘We covered everything to the south and east of the house. Mr Monserrat has a lot of work to do to make Morwood habitable again.’

‘But it is time. I should have done more with it.’

‘You once had plans to build another house there, did you not, Papa?’

‘Yes. I thought I might do so.’ He sighed. ‘I was going to demolish the old manor, but when it came to it…’ He sighed again. ‘Perhaps I should have sold Morwood then. Perhaps I should never have bought it.’

‘Too late to fret over that, sir,’ was Annabelle’s bracing response. ‘Instead let us be thankful that it is now being restored.’

‘Yes. Do you know, my love, I think Mr Monserrat’s coming will prove beneficial to the whole area. I am glad you have shown him over the grounds, Belle. I would not want him to think us anything less than good neighbours.’

She walked to the window, gazing out at the tranquil gardens, everything so neat and orderly.

‘He has asked me to ride out with him again, Papa. On Monday.’

‘And will you go, Belle?’

She raised her eyes, looking past the well-kept domesticity of Oakenroyd to the rugged moors beyond. Even in the sunshine they had a barren look to them, a wildness that attracted her. And beyond the moor lay the neglected groves of Morwood and their enigmatic owner.

‘Belle?’ Her father spoke again. ‘Will you ride out with Mr Monserrat?’

She smiled.

‘Yes, Papa. I think I shall.’

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