The Shepherd's Daughter

By Winifred Sadlier

Set in the 1700s, The Shepherd's Daughter tells the story of Leah Fenton. 

Leah's expectation of a simple life on the Yorkshire Moors ends when her father dies under suspicious circumstances and Lady Carlton refuses her work at the manor house. 

Discover who murdered Shepherd Fenton and how Leah comes to join a family of Wh

• Language: English
• Publisher: W M Sadlier
• Release date: Sep 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9780646848051

Book preview

THE SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER

W M Sadlier

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organisations, and events portrayed in the novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Author's Logo. Winifred Sadlier, Storyteller. Small owl sitting on tree branch.

Copyright © 2021 W M Sadlier

Cover painting by Linda Newell-Smith

(Inspired by Brian Hill’s photographs of the Yorkshire Moors)

ISBN 978-0-646-84210-3

First Edition.

Also available as an ebook

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

1

Snow disguised the familiar landscape, smoothed the rough edges of boulders, covered rocks and hid paths. Leah Fenton stopped pacing the stone-flagged floor to peer once more between reed shutters, tight-woven to block out icy winter weather. She hoped to see her father herding the Carlton flock to the lean-to shelter at the side of their solitary, stone cottage, at the foot of the Yorkshire Moors. He must have seen the grey clouds gather in the north yesterday afternoon. In bad weather, he’d promised to return early. To break a promise wasn’t in his nature. When Father hadn’t appeared last night, Leah expected him home at first light, in need of a hearty breakfast. The mutton stew she’d made for supper was still in the pot. Should she go in search of him and make herself late for school? Lateness earned a black mark against a pupil’s name. A scratch at the door decided Leah. Patch, the younger of Father’s two sheep dogs jumped up and barked leaving dirt on Leah’s clean apron.

‘Down Patch, it’s alright, I’ll come.’ Leah grabbed her cloak from a peg on the wall and ran after Patch. As she stumbled and panted up the side of the moor snow raced across open land finding its way in her boots, down her neck and into her mouth.

Patch led Leah to the flock. Their dull eyes held a vacant stare, as though they sensed abandonment. Valour her father’s trusted dog was not with them.

‘Good boy, Patch, stay,’ Leah said, patting him. Leah called until her lungs were ready to burst. ‘Dad, where are you? Answer me, Dad.’

The shepherd’s hut where he took refuge in storms was visible in the distance. The door stood ajar and Leah gave it a slight push, then hesitated for fear of what she’d find. A sudden gust of wind blew the door wide open, banging it against the wall. Wind sprayed snow across the dirt floor. The hut smelled of damp earth and of a fire long extinguished. On the low shelf, her father used as a bed, a blanket was folded. Leah picked it up and held it to her face. It felt icy.

As she stood alone in the white emptiness fear pricked at her mind. The steep climb had caused a pain in her side as hot as a rod drawn from a smithy’s furnace. Long slow breaths brought common sense. She turned and hurried the half mile down the moor to the familiar grey stone buildings of Carlton Manor.

When Leah burst into the kitchen, Ruth, her sister, dropped a plate and Jess, the cook, grabbed the edge of the table to steady her plump frame. Both knew only bad news would bring Leah to the manor.

‘It’s Father,’ Leah gasped, and bent forward to gain her breath and ease the pain in her side. ‘He’s not with the flock and I can’t find him.’

‘Here, sit by the fire and calm yourself.’ Jess offered her own chair. Leah shook her head, scattering snow.

‘I must have help to search for Father. He didn’t come home last night,’ she said gulping in air.

‘Did you check the shepherd’s hut?’ Ruth asked.

‘Yes, he hasn’t been there. And Valour isn’t with the flock. Father never leaves the sheep unguarded. Not with packs of wild dogs roaming the moors.’

‘I’m sure there’s no cause to fuss, lass,’ Jess said placing an arm around Leah. ‘He’ll have gone after a stray sheep. You sit here by the fire while I nip across to the stables. I’ll get my Ned to look for your da. Where did you last see the flock? Ned will ask.’

‘Over towards Cragg End,’ Leah replied as she hurried to the kitchen window to watch Jess.

Ruth busied herself with dishes and cutlery and brewed a beverage of tea reserved for the Carltons.

‘Here, drink this,’ she said and pressed the bowl of hot tea in Leah’s shaking hands. Leah sat by the fire and tasted the unfamiliar drink.

‘You’re sheer worn out from running across the moors,’ Ruth scolded. ‘It’ll be as Jess said. Father will return. He’s stayed out many a night in worse.’

‘Yes, but not since Mother passed. You know Dad doesn’t like leaving me alone in the cottage after dark. He’s afraid strangers might wander from the pack-horse track to seek shelter.’

‘Here comes Ned,’ Ruth said and Leah rushed to open the back door. Ned came from the stables, rubbing his hands against the cold. He carried a pallet on his back and with him was Oliver Malloy, the red-haired Irish stable lad. Ropes and a bag draped over his shoulder. Leah ran to join them, but Jess blocked her way and pushed her back into the kitchen.

‘Best, you and Ruth go to the cottage lest your da makes his way home unaided.’

‘What will Lady Carlton say if Ruth leaves her post? She’ll be angry with me. You know, she’s forbidden me to cross her threshold.’

‘Don’t worry your head over her Ladyship, I’ll manage her without mention of your name. Get away now, the both of you. Your da’s likely home and Ruth can hurry back with the news before she’s missed.’

‘Don’t worry, Ned and Oliver will find Father,’ Ruth assured Leah as they trudged a short, well-worn path through a copse of silver birch; planted to screen the cottage from the manor.

‘Do you think Father’s fallen from a cliff?’ Leah asked.

‘Well, nobody knows the moors better than Father.’ Ruth gave Leah’s hand a squeeze. ‘He’s never lost a sheep over a cliff, let alone himself.’

As Leah pushed the cottage door open, she felt an icy chill come from the stone walls. A coldness coiled itself around her freezing her bones. The feeling reminded her of the day she’d realised Mother was dying from the wasting disease. Ruth threw logs on the dwindling fire. But Leah knew it could not dispel the chill. Without mother the cottage was no longer warm and homely.

‘What will happen when Lady Carlton finds you’ve left your post?’

‘Mrs Gibson will tell Binns, the butler and he’ll inform Lord Carlton. His Lordship will appreciate a search is underway.’

‘Her Ladyship won’t. She’ll say I should not have disrupted her household. She hates me.’

‘Those are strong words, Leah. If she is hostile toward you, it’s because she doesn’t want you and Tom to continue your friendship. Rules were bent when you were both children.’ Ruth reached across the hearth and patted Leah’s knee. ‘Now you’re older it’s a matter of propriety.’

‘Propriety, what do you mean?’

‘It’s a word the Carlton housekeeper is fond of using. I think it means knowing your correct place in society. The Carltons will never accept the daughter of their shepherd as a wife for their only son.’

‘A wife!’ Leah exploded. ‘I’d never marry Tom, he’s like a brother to me.’

‘Well, maybe Tom doesn’t see you as his little sister any longer.’

‘I don’t turn 13 until next month and Tom’s only two years older and you speak of marriage. I haven’t yet got my courses or given up childish ways. My rag doll is still on my bed.’ 

‘Come, let’s not argue. The snow no longer pounds so hard on the roof, Ned and Oliver will find Father.’ Leah stirred the stew and added a handful of dried herbs from a hook above the fireplace.

‘Whatever’s happened, Father will be hungry,’ she said.

The morning dragged on, with neither girl able to settle to a task. They leapt to their feet at the sound of horses. Ruth pulled open the door to admit the tall, distinguished figure of Lady Carlton, wrapped in a heavy cloak. Calvert, her groom, stood to the side and held their mounts. Leah wanted to block her ears. Lady Carlton only visited servants and tenants at the time of births and deaths. Ruth burst into tears. Leah refused to let her ladyship see her cry.

‘Gather your things Leah, you will live at the manor until we decide your future,’ Lady Carlton said. Leah climbed up the ladder to the loft and wrapped her spare clothes in an old shawl. She left the rag doll, knowing the time for childish ways must end.

2

‘I don’t understand why Father left the flock,’ Leah said as she tried to control her tears. ‘Carlton Cliff is a good mile from Cragg End, where I saw the sheep. What made him go there?’

‘When the weather picks up, we’ll look for Valour and search for clues as to what happened,’ Ned promised.

The manor servants sat around the kitchen table. All work had ceased while they struggled with the loss of their good friend Shep Fenton, as he was known in these parts.

‘He was a good man, your pa.’ Ned said, looking at the sad faces of Ruth and Leah. ‘I don’t understand how he came to fall. He was always the one to rescue folk who got in trouble on the moors. I remember him saving a family of five in the bad storm of 1757, you’d only have been about six Leah, you wouldn’t remember.’

Leah guessed the servants wished to speak well of her father, but she wanted them to return to work and leave her and Ruth to grieve alone. As the servants continued to reminisce, Leah’s mind wandered to images of her and Tom roaming the moors on long summer days. When they tired of walking, they’d sit on the grass. Tom would pull a book from his coat pocket to read aloud. She’d point to a word and ask what it said. He taught her the alphabet and soon she too was reading from the page.

Leah’s mind snapped back to the present when Binns came to deliver a message.

‘Ruth, Leah, I’m to escort you to the parlour. The mistress wishes to speak to you.’ Jess tucked a strand of Leah’s hair behind her ear and tied a clean apron around her.

‘Watch your manners, now. Don’t forget your curtsey,’ Jess warned as Leah followed her sister.

‘Sit down girls,’ Lady Carlton said and waved them to the chase lounge opposite her chair. They perched on the edge, not used to grand furniture. ‘Lord Carlton has sent Oliver to Stokesley for the undertaker. Do you know of any family members we need to inform?’

‘No, madam,’ Ruth replied and kept her eyes on the warm colours of the carpet.

‘Lord Carlton will arrange and pay for the funeral,’ Lady Carlton said, as she stood and walked to the window.’ Ruth and Leah exchanged a glance. ‘This is customary if a death occurs in service.’

‘Will the undertaker return Father’s body to us before the funeral, the way he did with our mother?’ Leah asked.

Her father’s death wasn’t yet tangible, he’d been so full of life only yesterday and she wanted a chance to say goodbye. Lady Carlton moved back from the window and stood with her eyes fixed on Leah.

‘No, the undertaker’s instructions are to deliver the body straight to the church, ready for burial on Wednesday. Now return to the kitchen and keep busy. It won’t help to dwell on this tragic misfortune. Remember, you must not speak of his death as other than an accident.’

‘What else could it be?’ Leah asked, as she met Lady Carlton’s eyes. Ruth nudged her.

‘Why an accident,’ Lady Carlton replied, a grimace crossing her face.

‘Thank you, Lady Carlton, Leah and I are beholden for your help,’ Ruth mumbled, as she curtsied and backed out the door. Leah turned her back on Lady Carlton and followed Ruth. Her grief too great to remember manners.

Snow splattered on the garret window as Leah climbed in bed beside Ruth. The wind rattled and howled around the ancient stone manor, muffling their tears as they shivered and hugged each other for warmth. 

‘I don’t understand,’ Leah whispered, careful not to wake the other servants. ‘Why is Lady Carlton warning us to not to speak of Father’s death as anything but an accident? What else might it be?’

‘She meant people talk ill of those who commit self-murder. It’s a sin.’

‘What, kill himself? He’d never do that.’

‘Maybe folk will say he couldn’t live without Mother. And if you commit self-murder, you’re not allowed a Christian burial. They bury you outside the church walls on the edge of Harpers field.’

‘Do you think it’s what happened?’

‘No, but then nor do I believe he fell. He was always too vigilant.’

‘Yes, and if he ever considered self-murder, he’d have done it a few weeks after Mother died when his grief pained him the most. He’d not have waited until now. Father was more at peace these last months and talked of spring planting in our kitchen garden.’

As Leah helped Ruth in the kitchen, she puzzled over unanswered questions surrounding Father’s death until her head ached. On the eve of the funeral, more snow fell.

The manor servants plodded to church in the tracks left by the Carltons’ carriage, carrying Lord and Lady Carlton and their two daughters, Edith and Catherine. Jess and Ned held up Leah and Ruth between them. Leah knelt with the meagre congregation to pray, but her heart was as cold toward God as the icicles hung from the church windows. As the mourners moved to the graveyard, the sky grew dark, and the wind made ghostly howls around tall grave stones. Leah stood beside the deep hole in the ground and inhaled a waft of snow mingled with fresh turned earth. Bare branches rattled like the bones of skeletons. Leah looked up to see Lady Carlton’s gaze resting on her and shivered. The small funeral procession wound its way to the road and Leah heard Lord Carlton whisper to his wife.

‘Should we offer to take Ruth and Leah back to the manor in the carriage? They both look forlorn.’

‘No dear, leave them with their own kind. They will do a better job of comforting them than we will.’

‘What shall become of Leah? Is she to go to Ingleby Hall?’

‘I hope so, I’ll not take her under the manor roof and have her bewitching our son.’

3

Leah carried out mundane duties in the kitchen, her mind immersed in other matters until the housekeeper, Mrs Darlow, bustled in.

‘Come girls, get your cloaks, you’re to pack up items belonging to your family. Lord Carlton wants the cottage empty and ready for the new shepherd, he intends to hire.’ Ruth burst into tears.

‘We have no parents and now no home,’ she sobbed.

‘You mustn’t talk so, Ruth,’ Mrs Darlow said. ‘We’re all family here, the Carltons will take care of you.’ Ruth maybe, Leah thought, but not me.

At the cottage Leah stood in the doorway, while Ruth placed household goods in a clothes basket.

‘We own too many things to carry back. And where will we store them?’ Leah asked.

‘We should keep what’s ours. One of us might marry one day. Let’s pack them in baskets and tie them in sheets and ask Ned to come and get them with the horse and cart. He might find space in the barn to store them.’ Ruth picked up a wooden cross, Mother used to wear around her neck.

‘Do you want this, Leah?’

‘No, I have no use for religious icons.’ Tears wet her eyes and when she turned away to hide them, she saw a small green milk jug decorated with white flowers. A jug Mother had treasured.

‘I shall take this as a keepsake if you don’t mind.’ Leah knew Mother had valued it for its sentiment. ‘I remember Mother saying Father won it at Stokesley Gooseberry Hiring Fair, before they married and he gave it to her.’ Ruth took it and held it to the light.

‘It’s pretty, you have it. I prefer the cross.’ 

Later in the day, Leah received a summons to Lady Carlton.

‘I’m sorry, Leah,’ she began. ‘But because of your ability to read and write, I can’t take you on as a servant at the manner. It would unsettle the other servants.’ Leah knew it was not the reason, but rather her friendship with Tom.

‘Your father served us well, and I am not without sympathy for your predicament, it’s the reason I asked Lady Ingleby to find you work at the Hall. It’s a large house with more servants, and more opportunity for someone with literacy skill.’ Leah knew of Ingleby Hall, she’d looked down on it while astride Tom’s pony. A stately house with pavilions and lawns. People in fine attire hit balls around the grass with strange sticks. Tom said it was a game called pall-mall. The Hall was only two miles from the manor if you took the moor track. She could still see Ruth and maybe Tom on her days off.

‘While I wait on Lady Ingleby’s reply, you may stay here. Lady Carlton sighed before continuing. ‘If her rejoinder is positive, Ned shall drive you to the Hall. If not, you must attend the next Stokesley Gooseberry Hiring Fair and put yourself out for work.’

‘Thank you, Lady Carlton.’ There was nothing else Leah could say.

‘There is a condition to my help. You must write a letter to my son and tell him you leave Carlton Manor of your own accord and wish no further contact.’ Leah understood her Ladyship’s intention was to keep a close eye on her and use Lady Ingleby as a willing spy. One who’d report any attempts Tom made to see her.

As Leah sat at the library desk, she gazed out at the Wainstones three tall chimney-like stones at the top of Hasty Bank. The stones served as a landmark for folk travelling between the coast and dales. Leah remembered how she and Tom had climbed them, and gazed across a wide vista of the countryside to see the masts of ships docked in the mouth of the River Tees. Tom bragged how he’d sail away and discover unknown lands. Leah laughed and replied, ‘I never want to stray far from the moors.’ The mention of the stones in her missive might give Tom a clue she stayed close.

Rather than returning to the kitchen, Leah lifted the latch on a side door and slipped out. She took a moor track in search of Oliver. Oliver’s red hair was a beacon in the pale winter sun. As Leah drew near, she called his name and waved.

‘Has Valour returned?’

‘No, I haven’t seen him.’

‘How do the sheep behave for you?’

‘They’re not much trouble this time of the year, but it’s a lonely job. I prefer to work with horses.’ Leah was aware Lord Carlton had appointed Oliver shepherd until he could hire a more experienced man.

‘Father loved working on the moors.’

‘Suppose you get to like it, but they tell me a new shepherd will start soon so I won’t know.’ 

‘Is it my father’s crook you carry?’

‘Yes, Ned said you’d not mind if I borrowed it.’

‘You keep it, I’m sure it’s what Father would want. Where did you find it? Was it by his body? He always carried it with him.’

‘No, I found it yesterday. It was along the path towards Carlton Cliff.’

‘Can you tell me where?’

‘Come, I’ll show you. It’s not far.’ The pair walked in silence until Oliver stopped.

‘This is where I picked it up,’ he said. ‘Near this gnarled tree.’

‘Look, Oliver, a horse and rider passed this way!’ Leah crouched to examine the soft ground.

‘This isn’t a print made by a horse from the Carlton stable. The Kirkby farrier shoes them, and he uses a distinct pattern,’ Oliver said.

‘So, a stranger has ridden this path,’

‘It appears so.’

‘The right front shoe doesn’t match the other three,’ Leah said.

‘Yes, and the pattern is worn. The horse needs a new shoe on the right front, or it’ll go lame.’

‘Will you tell me if you see this horse?’ Leah asked as she committed the horseshoe pattern to memory.

‘Do you think the rider had something to do with your father’s fall?’ 

‘I must return to the manor before I’m missed. Oliver, please keep what we found to yourself.’

‘Don’t fret, the sheep are my only companions.’

As Leah turned towards the manor, she tripped over a boot. One much cobbled and recognisable as belonging to her father. Leah looked for the other boot without success. What her search did uncover was a groove in the soft earth and the heel of the boot she held fitted it well. She hid the boot she carried under a gorse bush and ran back to the kitchen.

‘You were a long time. What did Lady Carlton want with you?’ Ruth asked.

‘I had to write a missive to Tom and say not to search for me.’

‘Where is she sending you?’

‘If I tell you must promise never to tell Tom, or I fear she’ll turn you away too.’

4

‘A message has come to say you’re to go to Ingleby Hall as scullery maid,’ Jess called to Leah, who was in the kitchen garden gathering herbs. ‘Gather up your possessions Ned’s in the stable yard harnessing the horse.’ Leah ran up the back stairs to collect her bundle from under the bed she’d shared with Ruth.

‘We wish you well, Leah,’ Jess said giving her hugs and kisses. ‘It’s a pity you can’t stay here where you belong. Come back for a visit soon, we’ll be eager for news of you.’

‘Thank you for your kindness, Jess,’ Leah said as Jess dabbed her cheeks with the corner of the oven cloth. Ruth hugged Leah to her.

‘I don’t want you to go,’ she wept.

Seated on the cart beside Ned, Leah dried her eyes not daring to look back as Ned urged the horse towards Kirkby. The weather was mild for the time of the year, but Leah wrapped her cloak tight and spread a shawl over her knees as an unexplained chill took hold. Ned pointed to a field harvested in autumn.

‘This one will yield more if left fallow, and the one by the stream belongs to farmer Bates. It’s sheltered and he’d do well to plant potatoes for spring picking.’ Leah guessed Ned tried to distract her from sad goodbyes, but her thoughts dwelt on the missed opportunity to look for more clues surrounding Father’s death.

‘Please stop here, if you will, Ned,’ Leah said, as they drew level with Kirkby village school. The students raised their heads as she entered the schoolroom. Chalk dust danced in sunbeams and the familiar odours of ink and paper greeted her. Mr Duncombe stepped down from his tall chair. His expression grew grave when Leah explained why she could no longer attend school.

‘I’m so sorry this tragedy has befallen you, Leah. I was sure the bad weather kept you away. Then when it cleared, I feared you were ill. This evening I planned to visit to see what ailed you.’

‘I thought you’d have heard about my father’s death. Kirkby is a small place, if anyone sneezes the whole hamlet hears of it.’

‘Not this time, Leah. Nobody breathed a whisper. But then the snow kept folk beside their fires.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Leah’s voice cracked with emotion. ‘Folk around these parts respected my father. Why not mention his death or come to his funeral?’ When tears sprang to her eyes, Mr Duncombe guided her to the back porch, away from the curious stares of the other pupils.

‘It’s sad your school days must end prematurely. You’re a bright girl Leah, you can continue to study on your own.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Leah nodded and wiped her eyes with the edge of her shawl, doubting she’d get access to literature as a scullery maid. It was as though her teacher read her thoughts as he took two books from the shelf behind his desk and dusted them on the sleeve of his jacket, before adding a bundle of bound paper. On one of the books the cover read, Robinson Crusoe, by Daniel Defoe and the second was a slim, well-worn book of French grammar, he’d loaned Leah over the summer break.

‘The class have made journals to write daily accounts,’ Mr Duncombe explained as he handed her the bundle of stitched paper. ‘You may wish to keep your own. The books are a gift to remember your time at Kirkby School.’

‘Are you sure, Sir, I’ve never dreamt of such a gift.’

‘One day you’ll find you can put your knowledge to good use.’ More tears rolled down her cheeks at Mr Duncombe’s kindness. He opened the gate to the backyard to let her leave without the need to face the excited chatter of his students.

‘Please don’t mention where I’m bound, sir. Lady Carlton doesn’t want Tom to find me.’

As Ned drove on Leah’s thoughts drifted to the day, she’d received the news of her scholarship. It was granted to a poor child in the district considered to have the ability to learn. Her excitement knew no bounds. But soon ended when the other children laughed at her patched dress and mended shoes. They made callous remarks regarding her home and family. She was thankful to have Tom stand beside her. The children moved away when Tom Carlton befriended her. By the time Tom left for boarding school, Leah had gained respect in her own right.

Ned continued to chat as he flicked the reins and headed the horse toward Great Ayton. Leah stayed silent, her mind on the haste of her father’s funeral. It was as though the Carltons wanted him in the ground and his death forgotten before word spread.

‘Whoa,’ Ned shouted and slowed the horse to allow a family of ducks to waddle across the road to the River Leven. Ned halted the horse on the low green and let it graze, before he waved clean muslin under Leah’s nose.

‘Will you eat a slice of the mutton pie, Jess wrapped for us?’ She shook her head.

‘I’m not hungry, thank you, Ned.’ Her stomach clenched when she considered her job at the Hall, and the need to gain information from Ned about her father’s death before they parted. Ned wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and clucked for the horse to move forward.

‘Soon be there,’ he said. ‘The gates to Ingleby Hall are less than a mile from the village.’ Leah coughed to ease the sudden dryness in her throat.

‘Ned, will you tell me how my father looked when you found him?’

‘No, I’ll not discuss it. Best not to dwell on such matters.’

‘I know you don’t wish to grieve me, but please it pains me to not know. I promise not to get upset.’

‘If you’re certain?’ Ned said looking long and hard into Leah’s face.

‘Yes, I am.’

‘Well, it was me who descended the cliff. Oliver offered, but I felt sure your da was dead from the height he’d fallen, and I wanted to spare young Oliver.’ Leah nodded.

‘Was his face injured?’ Leah asked and looked Ned in the eye to judge the truth.

‘No love, he landed on his back. There was a nasty gash on the back of his head, but his face escaped injury. The fall would have broken his back. I knew if your dad lived, he’d never have left his bed. He’d not have wanted that.’

‘How did he injure his head?’

‘I expect he hit a rock.’ Ned was quiet, his eyes focussed on the road. Leah waited.

‘I wonder why Lady Carlton didn’t want anyone to view his body.’

‘I expect she wanted to spare you sorrow.’

‘Did my father have both his boots on when you found him?’

Ned took his eyes from the road to meet Leah’s gaze.

‘Now, that’s funny you ask. He only wore one boot, I searched, but couldn’t find the other.

‘I found one of his boots on the track to Carlton Cliff.’

‘Now that is odd.’

‘Thank you for answering my questions and for finding Father and bringing his body back.’

‘I hope I haven’t caused more anguish.’

‘Ned, can I ask another question?’

‘If I have the answer, I’ll tell you.’

‘Do you believe my father’s death was an accident? I’ve heard the words self-murder whispered.’

‘People should keep their mouths shut. It’s sinful to say those things. Your dad loved you girls he’d never have left you of his own accord.’ Leah gave a sniffle and nodded. ‘I know it’s hard to believe he fell, but the only other way is somebody pushed him.’

It was a relief for Leah to hear the words she’d mulled over since her father’s death.

‘Who would wish to do such a thing?’ Leah asked.

‘Don’t repeat this, but I believe it’s someone who wants you away from Carlton Manor.’ Leah knew at once who Ned referred to.

They’d reached the tall, impressive iron gates of Ingleby Hall as a few drops of rain fell.

‘If you wish to turn for home before the weather turns wet, I’ll walk the rest of the way,’ Leah offered.

‘No, I’ll not be having it. Your Father would bring you to the door proper. It’s the least I can do for him.’

Tall trees lined the drive, drab in their winter starkness. As they turned a corner, Leah got her first view of the front of the Hall. A magnificent building with a sweeping flight of stone steps leading to a carved front door. Mounted on a wall either side of the steps was a stone lion.

Ned drove to the back. The cart bumped over cobbles and Leah took in the sight of a well-tended kitchen garden to her right, and to the left a stable block and barn. Between them loomed a view of the Wainstones bathed in purple, green and gold in the last rays of a winter sun. Before Leah could move, Ned jumped from his seat and with the flair of a footman handed her to the cobbles as though he might a grand lady. He placed an arm around her shoulders and walked her to the door. 

‘I’ll see you here fit and proper, it’s what your da would want.’

A girl, no older than Leah answered the knock. She wore a grey maid’s dress with a neat white apron. And a cap covered her hair. 

‘This is Miss Leah Fenton.’ Ned said. ‘She’s come as a scullery maid to Lady Ingleby.’

‘We’ve been expecting her. I’ll take her to Mrs Thirwell.’

‘Who is Mrs Thirwell?’ Ned asked.

‘She’s the housekeeper.’

‘Then it’s to her care I’ll deliver Miss Fenton.’ Ned said and stood his ground, despite the look of shocked surprise on the girl’s face.

‘I’ll away to tell her then,’ she replied and left them on the door step.

5

The grey hair and severity of its style imparted an air of authority. Leah might have mistaken her for the Lady of the house had the woman not said, ‘I’m Mrs Thirwell, the housekeeper, and I take it you’re Leah Fenton, the new scullery maid.’

‘Yes, madam,’ Leah said and curtsied. Mrs Thirwell was of average height, but the way she carried herself gave an air of importance. Her flawless complexion still glowed with vitality even into middle years. Leah imagined in her youth she’d have been a beauty. Her gown was of black wool, a plain design, but of a good weave. A white lace collar and cuffs relieved the austerity.

‘Don’t stand and gawk girl, get yourself over the step.’ Leah turned to thank Ned for seeing her to the Hall. But Mrs Thirwell grabbed her arm and dragged her inside. ‘Well man, do you intend to loiter on Lord Ingleby’s doorstep until dark and waste your master’s time? Haven’t you work at the manor?’ Ned blushed as the door slammed in his face. After Ned’s kindness, Leah felt embarrassed at the way Mrs Thirwell spoke to him.

There was no chance to dwell on the housekeeper’s unkind words as Leah was hurried to a room off a narrow hallway. The furniture was plain and well-made. A desk stood under the window with a straight-backed chair placed before it and an upholstered chair before the fireplace. Mrs Thirwell pulled the chair out from the desk and told Leah to sit, while she stood over her.

‘This is my room and you’re not to enter unless invited. Nor do you go in any of the rooms at the front of the house, save I bid you. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, madam.’ Leah hung her head under the intense stare of the woman.

‘Nor will I say welcome to you, as I’ve yet to hear a good word spoken of Leah Fenton. To tell the truth, I don’t know why Lady Ingleby agreed to take you. We’ve got a scullery maid.’ Leah’s cheeks grew hot as Mrs Thirwell continued her invective. ‘I warn you we won’t stand for servants behaving as hussies and setting their caps at the young master of this house. If you try it at Ingleby Hall, we’ll send you on your way with no favours.’

‘But I…,’ Leah began. Before she could continue, the housekeeper delivered a sharp reprimand.

‘Watch your manners girl; don’t interrupt when I speak to you. I’ve heard your mother enrolled you in school and encouraged you to take on airs and graces…’

‘It’s not true, I won a scholarship,’ Leah interrupted, unable to keep silent when the housekeeper slandered her mother. Before she could finish her sentence, Mrs Thirwell pulled her from the chair and gave her a smart slap across the face. Leah’s hand covered her stinging cheek.

‘Don’t answer back; I’ll not want to remind you of your manners again. Orders from her Ladyship are, she won’t tolerate you getting above your station. Marwood, the butler, Mrs Thomas the cook, and myself are the only servants who need to read and write in this house. And you’re not to tell the others you’ve any learning. Now open your bundle and let me check your belongings are suitable for service at the Hall.’ 

Leah bent and placed her shawl on the floor; her paltry possessions on display for the hawkish eye of the vile housekeeper. Mrs Thirwell’s eyes fell at once on the two books and the stitched blank paper.

‘Hand me the books and paper?’ Leah picked them up and handed them over. The housekeeper opened a cupboard next to the fireplace and put them on the top shelf.

‘Where did they come from? Stolen, I expect.’ Leah was ready to protest, but remembered the earlier lesson and clamped her mouth closed. It appeared this wasn’t correct either.

‘I asked you a question girl, have the manners to answer. Where did you get them?’

‘They were a gift from Mr Duncombe, the schoolmaster at Kirkby School.’

‘An unlikely tale,’ Mrs Thirwell sneered. ‘I’ll keep them until the truth of the matter is out. You’ll have no time here to read or write.’ Leah wasn’t sure if she should reply, so risked a murmured, ‘Yes, madam.’

Leah already hated the Hall; she’d been a fool to come. She should have taken her chances at the Stokesley Gooseberry Hiring Fair. Even the workhouse would have been better.

‘Wrap your belongings and follow me,’ the sharp command came, as Mrs Thirwell swept out of her office and left Leah to gather up her things. Leah hurried after the housekeeper along a dim passage, at the end was a solid oak door.

‘This door leads to the front of the Hall, don’t go beyond it.’ Mrs Thirwell said and pointed before she turned to climb a flight of narrow stairs. At least Leah was glad she’d wrapped the green jug her father won at the fair in her spare shift.

Mrs Thirwell opened a door. ‘This is the new scullery maid she’ll need a uniform.’ Two women worked at a table with needlework spread in front of them. ‘When you’ve seen to it, tell Maud to show her to the servants’ quarters. She can share with her and the bedraggled kitchen maid.’

‘Very well madam,’ the older woman replied as she continued to place tiny, neat stitches into the bodice of a gown.

‘I’m Nelly Flower and my helper is Mary Laverick.’ Nelly gave Leah a wide smile.

‘Hello Leah, I hope you’ll be happy with us,’ Mary said before bending her head back to her work.

‘So, you’ve come as second scullery maid,’ Nelly Flower said, as she stared at Leah. ‘It’s alright lass, I’m sizing you up to see if I’ve a uniform to fit. There’s a nasty red mark on your cheek. How did you get it?’ Leah lowered her eyes, not sure how to answer. ‘Don’t tell me Mrs Thirwell slapped you and you just walked in the door. I swear she’s getting worse. Always been firm mind, and quick to say if you weren’t doing your job, and that’s fair, but hitting a new lass isn’t right.’ Eyes still on the floor, Leah thought it prudent not to gossip. ‘No need to reply, we know Greer Thirwell and it takes little to rile her.’ Nelly Flower could see Leah was near to tears and put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Now you mustn’t