Free Daughter of Dark River Farm by Terri Nixon Page B

her he’s perfectly all right, and she’ll trust your judgement.’
    I looked at Mr Beresford again, hoping I could trust hers. ‘I don’t know…’
    She put her head on one side, a sign I recognised, and one that made me grimace. ‘Come on,’ she urged, ‘you know how she’s changed since you came to live here. She used to be so strict.’
    ‘She still is!’ But I surrendered, as we’d both known I would. ‘Oh, all right. I’ll go in and talk to her.’
    Reluctantly I stepped out into the dark, but halfway across the yard I hesitated and almost turned back, my stomach suddenly churning as I realised I’d left her alone in there with a strange man…but Belinda was a grown woman, and a supremely confident one. I sighed. I had to stop trying to wrap the rest of the world in my own fears.
    I found Mrs Adams in the creamery, a low light in the corner glowing while she shaped and patted butter into blocks.
    ‘All done?’ She looked beyond me. ‘Where’s Belinda?’
    ‘We’ve almost finished, Mrs Adams,’ I lied, hoping she wouldn’t come out to the barn to check. I explained briefly about Mr Beresford’s bad fortune, and his request for paid accommodation until it was time for him to return to his unit.
    Mrs Adams pursed her lips. ‘He’s a friend of Belinda’s, you say?’
    ‘It seems so.’ There didn’t seem any point mentioning that Bel had only met him once; he was friendly, he’d be here two nights at the most, and then he’d move on. ‘Maybe he can help out with one or two things around the place,’ I added.
    ‘Well, it’ll mean Will can stop looking around as if he feels he should be doing them,’ Mrs Adams said grimly. ‘Poor boy’d do himself a mischief if we took our eye off him for five minutes.’
    ‘So shall I bring Mr Beresford in to meet you? Then you can make up your own mind.’
    ‘Yes, all right,’ she said. ‘Show him into the sitting room. I’ll be out in a few minutes. Oh, before you go back?’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘When are you going to start calling me Frances? Evie and Will do.’
    ‘They’re guests,’ I said. ‘I work here.’
    Mrs Adams looked sad rather than exasperated. ‘You
live
here, my girl. You’re my daughter now, to all intents and purposes.’
    ‘I do have a mother,’ I reminded her, as gently as the words allowed. She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She didn’t have to.
    About two weeks after I’d returned from giving evidence at Oliver’s trial a letter had arrived, routed through Elise at Number Twenty-Two, the ambulance station to which Evie had moved after our own little cottage had been shelled. I’d opened it with trembling fingers, recognising the handwriting immediately, but any hope that my ordeal had touched my mother’s heart was dashed as soon as I began to read.
    Katherine,
    News has now reached us of the events surrounding your brother’s arrest and court martial. I wish that word had come from your hand, but of course we had to hear it by way of gossip and newspapers. To learn that you are responsible for Oliver’s downfall does not lessen our shame in his actions, it merely serves to throw some understanding upon it.
    Likewise I can understand how a girl like you would be flattered by the attentions of an officer, but even if you did not make it clear to him that you had come to your senses, you are, after all, a sturdy girl and cannot have been so incapacitated that you could not protect yourself. I’m sure if you think back you will realise the truth of this. Such a man would never force himself upon a wholly unwilling partner.
    Word of your ruin is already spreading among those upon whom we depend for the continuation of the family’s successful business, and those whose good opinion we value. I can only hope you are able to redeem yourself in their eyes, in the course of your chosen war duties—Oliver has no further opportunity to cover himself in glory, but you, at least, have the chance to expunge the shame you