The Elsingham Portrait

Sixteen


While Donner and Adrian were dickering for a cart to carry them to Elsinghurst Village, Elspeth was already driving back to Bennet Farm at a pace which alarmed the sober old cob. In fact, he rebelled part way home, and neither voice nor whip could move him out of the stubborn walk he affected from then on. So it was that Elspeth arrived at the farm in a tight-lipped fury, to encounter Richard Bennet at the barns. Had she not been so angry, she might have been more circumspect. To his mild enquiry as to what errand had taken her from home, she snapped.

“I’ve been to Crofton discovering the truth about your precious Mistress Radcliffe. It seems she’s no more a widow that I am, and her mother and husband are searching for her—” Elspeth faltered, alarmed at last by the expression on Richard Bennet’s face. Normally the gentlest of men, he was staring at her with angry incredulity.

“You went to Crofton to make mischief for the girl? Is that what you are telling me?”

“She’s no girl, Richard Bennet, as I have been forever telling you.” Elspeth clung stoutly to her anger. “She’s a married woman run off from her husband. I told them where to find her—”

“You meddler!” Richard’s attack shocked Elspeth into momentary silence. “You had no business tattling! My sister trusted us to shelter the girl—”

“From her lawful husband?” snapped Elspeth, recovering her countenance.

“And who says he is her husband?” Richard challenged, his face unyielding.

At this evidence of male stupidity and bias, Elspeth’s fragile control snapped. “Whoever he is, she’s mixed up with him and that queer old woman. They’re a precious pair of rascals. Birds of a feather flock together, as you ought to know. Decent folk are well rid of the lot of them. I couldn’t find it in my conscience to remain under any roof where such persons were welcome,” she concluded self-righteously.

“This is still my home, Elspeth Cameron,” said Richard in a voice she had never heard him use, “and my orders must be obeyed. If you cannot find it in your conscience to accept my decisions, you must leave at once.”

The woman stared into his face, unable to believe what she had heard. “You are telling me to go away from this farm, Richard? After the years I have worked here, faithfully, for you and your sister? After we have worked together—known each other?”

Richard considered her gravely. “It seems to me I have never really known you until now.” He turned away. “I’ll saddle a horse and ride to the vicarage. If this is some trick, Kathryn may need help, and the Vicar is of no use in an emergency. Get the guest room ready for Mistress Radcliffe and Poll.”

“You fool!” shrilled Elspeth. “You’re besotted by her devil’s face—!” but Richard had already left her.

Elspeth had never admitted to herself the depth and nature of her feeling for her employer, nor did she do so now. Instead she got into the trap again, and, seizing the whip, lashed the astonished cob into a reluctant trot. Her face was twisted in a scowl and she muttered to herself, “I’ll save him from that witch . . . I’ll tell the villagers what sort of a viper they have nourished . . . contaminating their children . . . deceiving a besotted old man . . .”

She was well on the way to Elsinghurst before Richard had saddled his horse. Unaware that Elspeth was launched on a mission of vengeance, he did not force the pace, but held his mount to a canter along the lane that was a short cut to Elsinghurst Village.

*****



And at this very moment, Donner and Adrian were already at the Elsingham Arms in Elsinghurst, asking the way to the vicarage, and telling their story of the return from the dead of “the widow’s” husband.