Alfred’s jaw tightened. He had agreed to accompany his aunt to see the house, but now he just wanted to be gone. He turned to go.
His aunt, who never missed anything, put her bony hand on his arm and stopped him. ‘That is a mutinous look you have on your face. What’s upset you, boy?’
Alfred stared at her translucent fingers. His aunt was a cold woman and he doubted she would understand. He found it hard himself to know why his feelings for Grace still felt so raw, even after all this time. He gently removed her hand and attempted to leave again, but the old woman stopped him by simply saying his name, such was the power the old woman still had over him even after all these years.
‘Don’t turn away from me when I am speaking to you. I brought you up better than that.’
‘You ’elped my mother and you only did it in exchange for a roof over your ’ead. As soon as we were old enough you were off elsewhere.’
‘Your mother and I didn’t get on.’
‘Father gave you an ’ome when you ’ad nowhere to go.’
‘And I scrubbed and cleaned for him and that awful wife of his and got no thanks for it.’
Alfred turned away from her. His gaze settled on Grace’s figure receding into the distance. It was true, his mother had been a shrew. There had been no love in their house, but despite the coldness and lack of affection, he always felt that out of all his sisters and brothers, his aunt had taken to him the most. And he had missed that scrap of attention when she had left.
He looked at her. Despite her age, she still carried herself well. There were no rounded shoulders or excess weight and her mind was still sharp as a blade. The old woman still had the power to cut you down to size with one lash of her tongue.
‘You are right,’ he conceded, ‘they gave you no thanks. Anyway, they are both dead and gone now and I’m glad you are back in these parts.’
His aunt tilted her chin and looked through her glasses at him. ‘You don’t look glad.’ She looked past her nephew to the woman he had been staring at only seconds before. A woman too far away to see in detail, but her auburn hair still shone in the sun, marking her out from any other girl in the parish. ‘Do you know that girl?’
Alfred nodded slowly. ‘That is Grace Kellow. I used to walk out with ’er, but she wants nothing to do with me now. I’m not good enough for ’er.’
‘Is that what she said?’
Alfred shrugged, ‘She didn’t need to. She’s Daniel Kellow’s daughter. ’E owns Kellow Dairy. ’Er family will want a better man for their daughter than me.’
His aunt stiffened, growing taller with indignation. ‘Humph! The Kellows think they are better than you?’ She took a step closer to her nephew so they stood shoulder to shoulder, staring at the girl in the distance. ‘They’re wrong. Their daughter may have a pretty face, but the family have a skeleton they are hiding which is larger than most.’
‘What do you know?’
‘More than most. Her mother always thought herself better than others and it sounds like her daughter is no better.’
‘’Ow do you know ’er mother?’
‘She was Lady Brockenshaw’s maid when I was the housekeeper. I lost my job and home because of her.’
‘Father said you lost your job because the place was sold.’
‘What did he know? No, there was more to it than that. Take a stone away from the base of a wall and the whole house is at risk of falling. That was how it was back then. If her mother had behaved . . . if she had kept herself to herself rather than step outside her role. If she had not played loose and caused havoc . . . the Brockenshaws may have stayed.’ She stiffened, as if facing a memory she had dwelt on too long. ‘And I wouldhave remained the housekeeper, with a place of my own. But she didn’t, everything went wrong and I had to lower myself and ask your worthless father for help.’
‘Grace seemed upset. She said someone is spreading lies about ’er family. Did you see ’er in there? Did she mean you?’
A faint smile teased his aunt’s lips. ‘I told no lies. If she is going to accuse me of being a liar, then I think it’s about time the rest of the parish knows too.’
‘About what?’
‘I will tell you on our walk home.’ She turned her grey eyes on him.’ I think the time has come to take the Kellows down a peg or two, Alfred,’ she said, coldly. ‘They say blood will out and I think it is time the Petherbridges did a bit of blood-letting of our own.’
Chapter Five
Grace watched her parents from the doorway. A week had passed since her visit to Bosvenna Manor and Grace had been too cowardly to confront them about it. To do so would feel a betrayal, that she had believed a stranger rather than the character of her father. Yet Grace could not forget the old woman’s accusations, which gnawed at her heart every hour of the day.
Her brother and sister, Ben and Ann, had gone to bed, leaving her parents to chase the evening chill away by feeding the fire with seasoned logs. They are in love, thought Grace, she could see it in their eyes. A woman did not fall in love with a man who’d forced himself on her. It was a lie. A vicious lie.
She rested her head against the doorframe and listened to their muted conversation, interspersed by a question or soft laughter. Grace smiled. They were talking about her sister, Mary, who had married the previous year and set up a new home in the village. From their conversation they believed she might be with child.
