The Lost And Found Girl by Catherine King Page B

disappointment. He was an honourable man, perhaps a little too proud, she thought, but considerate and hardworking. As the days turned into weeks Beth often found herself staring at him through the farmhouse windows. He noticed. He stopped whatever he was doing and gazed back until she lowered her eyes and moved away.
    Mrs Roberts recovered and returned to her former self, blaming Beth for her prolonged fever and calling her a witch. Abel created order out of chaos in the farmyard and returned to tend his lambing ewes leaving Beth with two milking nannies and the hens. Only Mrs Roberts complained about eating oatcakes instead of bread. February turned to March and still no one had attempted to contact them.
    However, as soon as all his lambs were born, Abel loaded the donkey with rope and timber and set off to construct a temporary crossing over the stream. The days lengthened and the weather improved. Beth wished she could enjoy it more but feared she was sickening for something. She felt unwell. When she looked at her reflection she was pale and resolved to take regular walks in the bracing Dales air. The stream subsided and Abel had managed to cross it with the donkey and his temporary raft. He went on to Settle for news and their much-needed supplies. It was a full three months after the tremor before Beth noticed a small procession winding up the track towards the farmhouse.
    Edgar led the way on his hunter, leading the pony withMrs Collins perched regally on its back. Abel followed with a burdened donkey. Beth broke into a run then checked her eagerness and waited patiently by the track wrapped in her cloak. She noticed Abel took the donkey straight round to the farmyard without a word. She guessed he did not like Edgar and his mother any more than she did. But Edgar was her husband and she greeted him loyally.
    ‘You are well, sir?’ She did not expect a reply and went on, ‘I must speak with you urgently.’
    ‘Don’t bother me now. Help Mama down.’
    Beth held out her hands for support. Mrs Collins leaned heavily on her shoulder as she slid off the pony and went into the house without a word.
    ‘Where is Mr Roberts?’ she asked. But Edgar was already leading the pony away and she followed him to the stable. Abel was unloading the donkey at the back door but there was a commotion indoors, a cry and then – was that weeping?
    ‘Where is Mr Roberts?’ she repeated.
    ‘He died.’
    ‘Dear Lord, no. What happened?’
    ‘God knows. I’ve been in the South Riding.’
    ‘Was your visit a success?’
    She noticed a grimace and guessed it had not been.
    ‘Not your affair,’ he shrugged.
    Perhaps not, she thought, but my news is
your
affair.
    ‘Please Edgar.’ She was not going to let him dismiss her as he had in the past. Not now. ‘I have something important to say.’
    ‘Nothing at High Fell is important to me any more,’ he replied and concentrated on unbuckling his saddle.
    ‘Edgar, will you stop doing that. I must speak with you. I have news.’
    ‘You have news? What news can you possibly have?’
    ‘I am with child,’ she smiled. She was pleased. It was what marriage was for and it made the horrid experience of her wedding night worthwhile.
    He was genuinely astounded. ‘You’re what?’
    ‘I am carrying your child, Edgar.’
    ‘Good God, are you sure?’
    She hadn’t been at first, but she was now. ‘I am. I wanted you to be the first to know.’
    He appeared to forget what he was doing. ‘So soon,’ he murmured. ‘This will make a difference.’ He dropped the tack on the floor and led his horse into its stall, securing the door thoughtfully ‘I must speak with Mama immediately.’ He left her standing in the stable and went straight into the house.
    Beth caught up with him in front of the marble fireplace in the hall. Mrs Collins was warming her hands and both mother and son turned to look at her. She opened her cloak and smoothed the front of her skirt to show her small but