Chapter 2

Two

“ W hat a beautiful wedding it was,” Miriam said, as she brushed down her horse.

Her sister, Clare, was sitting on a bale of hay, and she nodded, smiling at Miriam as she rose to her feet.

“Didn’t Grace look beautiful in that flowing white gown? I’ve never seen such a happy bride. They were made for one another,” Clare replied, beginning to plait the tale of Miriam’s horse, Scarlet.

The two sisters had just returned to their home at Podmore Grange, following the marriage of Miriam’s friend Grace to Henry, the Duke of Crawshaw. It had been a wonderful occasion, even as the road to it had been somewhat rocky. Henry was blind, and Grace’s parents had, at first, objected to the match, despite the deep love between Miriam’s friend and her duke. But the inheritance of title, and the obvious qualities Henry exuded had won them over, and everyone had agreed just how well matched they were.

“I’m so pleased for her. You’re right, she was supremely happy,” Miriam replied, as she stepped back and admired her handiwork.

Miriam had raised Scarlet from a foal, and she was now a fine chestnut mare. They were going to ride in the woods bordering the estate of Burnley Abbey, the seat of the dukes of Lancaster, and Miriam was eager to set off, even as her sister had complained she could not accompany her.

“I wish Flash wasn’t lamed. I don’t know what that foolish stable boy did to him whilst we were away. I suspect he rode him into the village – despite my instructions to the contrary. He’s pushed him too hard, and now I can’t ride him myself,” Clare said, looking sulky as Miriam led Scarlet out into the stable yard.

It was a beautiful summer’s day, warm, with a light breeze, and the sky above a deep, cloudless blue.

“He’ll be all right in a day or two, then we can ride together. Don’t be so harsh on Digby, he’s still learning, and he does care about the horses. He was up all night with Jupiter when he had colic. But I’ve been dying to ride Scarlet all week, I’ve missed doing so terribly. Why don’t you go and keep Mother company? She’s not been herself since we got back from the wedding,” Miriam replied.

“I think she’s worried about something, don’t you? She and Father…they were terribly quiet at dinner last night. I don’t know what’s the matter with them. But all right, I’ll go and keep her company. Don’t be too long, though,” Clare said, as Miriam climbed into the saddle.

“I won’t be. I’ll ride out along the edge of the moorland, then into Bluebell Woods and back along the river. I’ll be an hour or two at the most,” Miriam replied.

Her sister nodded, watching her go as Miriam rode out of the stable yard and along the drive of Podmore Grange. The house had always been her home, a fine, red brick building, covered in ivy, with tall chimneys, set amongst lush, mature gardens. The drive gave way to a track between two gateposts, topped with ornamental lions, and the moorland lay ahead, its pink and purple hue shimmering in the sunshine. The wind caught Miriam’s hair, and the fresh air was exhilarating – she felt alive, and urged Scarlet on into a gallop.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she thought to herself, as she rode to the top of an incline, from which the full vista of the moor could be seen, disappearing into nothingness as far as the eye could see.

This was Miriam’s favorite ride, and now she took the bridleway running along the edge of the moor, entering the woods, whose name was now realized in the carpet of bluebells beneath the trees. Here, Miriam slowed the horse’s pace, enjoying the spectacle of the flowers, and wondering if she might pick some for her mother. Her parents had certainly appeared distracted in the days following their return from Grace’s wedding, exchanging anxious looks and whispering to one another when they thought Miriam and Clare were not observing them. But Miriam knew something was wrong, even as she did not know what it was.

“I just hope they tell us,” she thought to herself, as she rode through the woodland.

She was making for one of her favorite places, a folly in the center of the trees, built to resemble a miniature Greek temple. No one was certain who had built it – an eccentric aristocrat was thought to have been the architect, building it for his lover, the daughter of the Duke of Lancaster, some fifty years previously. It stood in a clearing, surrounded now by bluebells, its white marble edifice rising like an island in a sea of deep purple. Miriam reined Scarlet in, dismounting to walk the last few steps, and leaving the horse to graze at the edge of the clearing.

A stream flowed past the folly, gushing and gurgling its way in a gentle curve, and Miriam stooped to refresh herself in the cold, clear waters. As she looked up, she was surprised to see a figure sitting on the folly steps, with her head in her hands. She was very pretty, though dressed in a dirty dress, splattered with mud, her head covered with an old bonnet, and her shoulders wrapped in a brown shawl. She had not noticed Miriam, and now she looked up in surprise as Miriam cleared her throat.

“Are you all right?” Miriam asked, approaching the woman, who could not have been much older than herself .

The woman wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve, staring fearfully at Miriam, who now realized she was with child.

“I…yes, I’m quite all right,” she said, even as Miriam now saw a bruise on her temple, and cuts to her hands and arms.

“No, you’re not. Something’s happened to you,” Miriam said, her concern growing as she mounted the first of the folly steps.

The woman rose fearfully to her feet, shaking her head.

“I fell off my horse, it’s nothing,” she said, backing away from Miriam, who only wanted to help.

“If you’ve fallen from your horse, there’s a danger to the baby,” Miriam said.

She had known other women to have lost their babies in a fall from a horse. But the woman shook her head.

“I don’t know. I don’t need help, though. I’ll be all right. I’ve got to be,” she said.

“But what’s your name? You can’t just go. You need to looked at. We’re not far from Burnley Abbey. I can take you there on my horse. They’ll look after you,” Miriam said.

She knew there had been changes at the Abbey recently – the previous duke had died in Corsica, and it was his brother who had now assumed the title. But their neighbors at Burnley Abbey had always been decent people, and Miriam was certain they would help this woman in her hour of need. But at the mention of the abbey, the woman’s expression had changed, a fearful look coming over her face.

“No…not there. I can’t go there,” she exclaimed, shaking her head.

“But why not? It’s only a couple of miles. Let me take you. I’ll explain everything. There’s no shame in it,” Miriam replied.

She wanted to help the woman, but she was beginning to suspect the baby might be a secret, one she was ashamed of. Many women fell pregnant outside of wedlock, and many took steps to keep their secret permanently. But Miriam was not one to judge. This woman needed help, and Burnley Abbey was the nearest place to get it.

“I can’t go there, miss. I can’t,” the woman said, and it seemed there could be no persuading her.

Miriam nodded, but she was not about to leave the woman alone, when she was so obviously in distress.

“Please, won’t you let me look at you? I might be able to help. There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she said, taking another step forward.

The woman nodded, and Miriam made her way up the steps, raising her hand and gently brushing back the woman’s black hair. She had a graze from the fall, and bruising to her temple. Her hands were cut, though the wounds were superficial. But it was the baby Miriam was worried about. A fall from a horse could spell disaster, and whilst Miriam knew little about midwifery, she knew a great deal about mares and their foals.

“Is the baby all right, miss?” the woman asked.

Miriam placed her hand gently on the woman’s stomach. She had witnessed many a mare lose a foal in a tumble, but there was no sign of a problem here, even as Miriam hoped the woman would see the sense in being examined.

“I think so, yes, but…won’t you let me take you to Burnley Abbey? We could send for a doctor. You can stay below stairs, I’ll speak with the Duke – he might not even be there,” Miriam said, but once again, a fearful expression came over the woman’s face, and she shook her head.

“I won’t go there, miss. I can’t go there. I’ve got to go,” she said, pulling her shawl around her shoulders.

“But the baby – what about the baby?” Miriam exclaimed.

It seemed the woman was close to giving birth, and the thought of allowing her to leave was tantamount to a betrayal. Miriam could only imagine how it would feel to be with child, alone and scared.

“I’ll be all right, miss. I promise you,” the woman said, and now she hurried down the folly steps, crossing to where her own horse stood amongst the trees.

Miriam followed her, anxious to see in which direction she went.

“But where are you going? You can’t ride out across the moorland, surely. Take the track to the village, or the bridleway on to Burnley. Someone can help you there. You can’t give birth alone,” Miriam said, hurrying after the woman, who was already climbing into the saddle, and struggling to do so.

“You’ve been very kind, miss. But I need to take of myself now. There’s no one else to help me,” she said, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of Burnley Abbey.

“Here, at least let me give you something,” Miriam said, rummaging in the pocket of her skirts and pulling out her purse.

It contained several shillings, and she gave them to the woman, pressing them into her hand, even as the woman tried to refuse them.

“I can’t take this, miss. It’s not right,” she said, but Miriam would hear no argument.

“Find yourself some lodgings, pay for a decent meal, and seek help when the baby arrives,” Miriam insisted.

“Thank you, miss. You’ve been very kind. Kinder than most,” the woman said, and before Miriam could ask her name, she was gone, urging the horse into a canter, and disappearing through the trees.

Miriam sighed, watching her go, confused as to the woman’s strange behavior. The mention of the abbey had brought a fearful expression to her face, and Miriam wondered if it was not from there she had fled.

“But the Duke wouldn’t send her away, would he?” she asked herself.

The woman had the look of a servant, and Miriam wondered if perhaps she was not embroiled in some scandal, unable to trust anyone – even a stranger – with her secret. But there was nothing more Miriam could do, though she intended to make a point of enquiring in the village as to any women who had given birth. She had wanted to help the woman, but had felt powerless to do so.

“And how did I even know the baby was all right?” Miriam thought to herself, as she returned to Scarlet, who was still happily grazing at the edge of the clearing.

Miriam had wanted to reassure the woman, but in truth, she had known nothing of what she was doing in placing her hands on the woman’s stomach. She had witnessed dozens of foals being born, but it was hardly the same. There had been no signs of bleeding, and nothing to indicate a trauma to the baby, even as Miriam admitted to herself she had not known precisely what to look for.

“I can only hope and pray she’ll be all right,” Miriam said to herself, as she rode back towards Podmore Grange .

Her sister was brushing down her own horse, Flash, when Miriam returned, and she listened with interest as Miriam described her encounter at the folly.

“And you don’t know who she is or where she comes from?” Clare asked.

“I’ve never seen her before, though I’m minded to ask the servants when we go in. Perhaps one of them knows her,” Miriam said, for the thought of association had suddenly occurred to her.

Servants knew one another, just as aristocrats knew one another, and having stabled Scarlet and promised to ride her the following day, Miriam and Clare made their way inside.

“Mother wouldn’t let me sit with her. She was crying when I walked into the drawing room earlier on,” Clare said, as they entered the hallway.

Miriam sighed. She was worried about her parents, even as the encounter in the woods had distracted her.

“I wish they’d tell us what the matter is,” she said, glancing at the drawing room door.

“Well, you can ask them, I’m not going to,” Clare replied.

They made their way below stairs, surprising the servants, who were taking tea together in the servants’ hall. All of them rose to their feet in unison as the two women entered.

“My apologies, Lady Miriam,” the butler, Mr. Weston said, as the servants stood in silent attention.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Weston. We didn’t mean to disturb you all. It’s just… I was wondering…this might sound, but do any of you know of a servant at Burnley Abbey who might be with child? I’ve just encountered a woman in Bluebell Woods, I think she came from there. I’m worried about her,” Miriam said.

The servants exchanged glances, shaking their heads, and averting their eyes, so that when she and Clare returned upstairs, Miriam was none the wiser.

“I can’t believe no one knows of her,” Clare said, furrowing her brow.

“Then I’ve got to discover the truth for myself. I can’t stop thinking about her, and the poor child, too. What sort of a life will it lead?” Miriam said, shaking her head.

She was determined to do what she could to help, and now she resolved to make enquiries about the woman and find her, so that some good might come from her evident tragedy.

“I’ve got to find her,” Miriam told herself, even as she knew the difficulties her search would entail.