Chapter 180

Hugo expected their destination to be similar to the usual horse breeder´s establishment, much like Mr Langley´s farm actually, with a sizeable house and plenty of surrounding fields, but the reality was infinitely smaller and almost unbelievably normal. From the carriage he had already noticed they were in a mature forest, not amongst fields, which was rather a singular place for a farmer to live. Of course some people preferred to live among trees but horses didn´t, and someone making a living from trading them certainly had to possess plenty of acreage to feed his stock.

When he exited the carriage to hold the door for Mr Darcy and his guest he was almost stunned to find himself absolutely surrounded by forest, with no telltale patches of light to indicate forest meadows. The house wasn´t like Mr Langley´s old-fashioned building either, all Hugo could see at the end of the driveway was a small and very modern farmhouse with the usual kitchen garden and a much smaller yard than he´d expected. There really wasn´t that much space for horses here, and Hugo was starting to think Bob and Peter had brought them to the wrong address.

´It´s quite a surprise to see my friend Garrick´s house, even for me after all these years, but he really does right by his horses. You´ll see, Mr Darcy, Mr Hugo. Ah, there he is, I hope he has taken a good look at your beauties, Mr Darcy, but I do seem to recognise that particular shade of green in his countenance from my own reflection in your carriage window: pure, unadulterated envy.´

Mr Langley was scrupulously polite to Mr Darcy but showed none of the deference most of the latter's tenants tended to display in his presence. Peter's father-in-law was an independent man and rightfully proud of it, and Hugo was glad for Peter that he was to reach that same status in the future.

Mr Garrick was obviously pleased to see his friend and greeted him familiarly before turning towards the other visitors. Stealing a look at Mr Darcy to see how he handled being treated like a normal man, Hugo was not disappointed to find his tall, dignified employer watching the reunion of the elderly friends with mild pleasure rather than disdain.

'Have you ever seen horses like that, Garrick? I'm glad Mr Darcy chose to accompany us himself or I might never have gotten to ride behind them. You have no idea how fast they can go!'

Mr Garrick didn't look that jealous after all, he probably had an idea of what such a team cost to buy and keep.

'I cannot wait to have a good look at them, as soon as you have introduced me to Mr Darcy and his companions.'

Mr Garrick seemed a little more willing to take notice of his guest's status, which Hugo could understand since Mr Langley's farm lay right amongst Mr Darcy's land, he might feel inferior to the owner of such a reputation and such riches, but he couldn't admit to it or he'd lose his dignity. Having no connection to the gentleman at all, Mr Garrick was much more free to admire him and treat him with a certain respect. Also, the gentleman was a potential customer, and it always paid to treat one's customers well.

Mr Darcy was kind and patient and again directed part of their host's praise for his team towards Hugo, who had after all chosen them and trained them for their unlikely purpose. No-one had a team-of-four thoroughbreds and there was a really good reason for that: once on the go, they were notoriously difficult to stop. And they were much more nervous than your common English coach horse, but Hugo had loved the challenge and was very proud of his accomplishment.

Peter also received a warm welcome and before long the little group of men preceded Bob driving the carriage on the driveway going around the house, seemingly deeper into the woods. Until the road topped the wooded hill and the expected fields appeared, though not as many nor as large as Hugo had expected.

'I suppose you cannot wait to see the team, and then, if you like, I can lead you around my stables,' Mr Garrick offered, and Mr Darcy replied, 'I'm always glad to see another man's amenities to keep his horses, I've made some rather large changes to my own setup as a result of one such visit. But I do want to see those ponies first, I'm looking to surprise my wife with a phaeton to drive herself once she gets too large with our child to ride.'

Mr Garrick now looked a bit difficult.

'My two boys are mild enough for any woman to drive, Mr Darcy, but you may not find them good enough for a lady of standing.'

Hugo wondered what that was supposed to mean, Mr Langley had known they were for Mrs Darcy, hadn't he? How could his friend not have been aware of that?

'You told me what the problem is, Garrick, and I dare say Mr Hugo and Peter will look right through it. I trust your knowledge.'

Mr Darcy looked his question, and Hugo knew he had a similar expression himself. Whatever could be wrong with these ponies that Mr Darcy would find fault with them where Peter and himself wouldn't? Mr Darcy knew almost as much about horses as Hugo, except maybe for Hugo's sixth sense, but an ordinary woman wouldn't like an unsound horse any better than Mrs Darcy would.

'You will soon see what my only problem with the team is, sir, I wanted to wait a little before you visited but Langley said it was his reputation on the line as well as mine and you should see them at their worst. Here we are.'

They certainly were somewhere! Never before had Hugo seen such a large barn except in the largest army camp he'd ever visited, near Paris in France. It was easily twice the size of Mr Darcy's coach house and it had been hidden away completely by the trees. No matter how interesting the team, Hugo couldn't wait to see why a farmer should have such a small house and so few fields to graze his horses, and yet have such an enormous barn.

Bob led away the team, accompanied by a stable hand, and as Hugo was still staring at that barn, a bit stunned by the sheer size of it, another stable hand approached leading two oversized white powder puffs. These weren't elegant steeds to pull a lady's phaeton, these were strong, rough miner's ponies who could bear their weight in ore for years and years on end!

'Now please don't judge my beauties until you've examined them closely, Mr Hugo! I know what you're thinking, and the fellow who sold them to me did warn me they had a little Shetland blood in them, but they really are as pretty as a fairy tale. I suggested waiting until they'd shed but Langley wouldn't have it. I could have clipped them, but you would have wondered why I'd done that. Just lay your hands on them, Mr Hugo, and tell Mr Darcy I'm not trying to sell him a miner's best helpers.'

What could Hugo do but concede to their host's request? They certainly looked cute, and very healthy, but indeed not like a lady's pride. If one compared them to the beautiful hunter Hugo had managed to find for Mrs Darcy these seemed an affront!

But they were here now and Hugo had work to do. After Peter had had his turn. A nod in his stable hand's direction set the young man to work on one of the little balls of fur, and Hugo decided to do the other simultaneously and compare notes afterwards.

There was no mud on the fluffy creature in front of him, and it stood about a metre and twenty five at the shoulder, how much was that in hands? He calculated quickly, if the Revolution had brought one improvement it was standard measures, but one couldn't expect the English to adopt a French system just because it made perfect sense. Thirteen hands had to be about right. Well, Peter would know. Whatever one might call the ponies' height, it was perfect for what Mr Darcy wanted for his beloved's new phaeton, and the little face with large brown eyes didn't look that bad either.

The pony stood perfectly still as he checked its feet and teeth, then ran his hands over the thick coat to feel the body underneath. After a few minutes, he started to see where the coat ended and the horse began, and he could form an image of what would emerge from under the thick coat: a very elegant little gelding with long legs that were nonetheless sturdy enough to do quite a bit of work. The slightly concave nose resembled Barley's, as if there was some Arabian blood in this local pony as well. He knew that couldn't be true, but he had to admit that face was much nobler than the average pony's head. A quick check showed the brother looking like a mirror image of this one, same face, same height, same build.

'Did you clip the pony's chest, Mr Garrick?' Peter asked.

'I did, young Peter, you did well to spot that. We couldn't clip them altogether since we preferred to keep them outdoors, but we did the chest so we can exercise them without overheating, or they might forget all we taught them last autumn.'

Without saying another word, Peter and Hugo changed ponies, and he got his hands on the younger brother. Hugo guessed this one was about eight years old and the other a year older, which was perfect for Mrs Darcy since she liked spirited horses but they had to be safe. They had the same build, long-legged and elegant, more like a horse and less like a pony, and yet strong enough to pull a small carriage. The winter coat was snowy white on the body and neck, but the legs were still dark so maybe they'd still be dappled when in their summer coat.

Hugo could not find a fault with either pony, and when asked, Peter said, 'I suppose they'll both live to thirty, Mr Hugo. They're in excellent health and much more elegant than their winter coat suggests. Do you want to see them in action?'

Of course he did, and so would Mr Darcy.

'Will you help us fetch the curricle, Langley? Let Mr Darcy and his men talk it over by themselves?'

The two older men took Mr Garrick's stable hand towards the huge barn, leaving the ponies in Peter's capable hands.

'I certainly want to know what you think, gentlemen,' Mr Darcy said, 'I have a feeling Elizabeth would love these fairy creatures just as they are, they look so cuddly with their huge dark eyes and cute fuzzy muzzles.'

'They will be beautiful in their summer coats, sir, and we could keep the hair trimmed short in winter.'

'But what would Caroline Grenfell say if she knew Mrs Darcy had two polar bears pulling her phaeton?' said Mr Darcy, as if to himself.

'Is that Miss Bingley as was, sir? Your missus wouldn't care three straws about what that lady thought, I'm sure, sir. But what's a polar bear?'

Well, Peter certainly was letting this day with his father-in-law get to his head, that was no way to talk to Mr Darcy. But Mr Darcy did not berate his stable hand, he seemed to have some soft spot for men who adored their wives as much as he did his own.

'She wouldn't, no. If she wants to drive a carriage drawn by two fierce white-furred bears from the icy cold lands near the poles, she'll do just that. I read about those bears in the paper, years ago, when some navy man described them from one of his missions. Apparently they are terrible killers and even taller than these ponies. They hunt under the ice and eat only meat because there is nothing else to eat where they live. Too cold, you see.

But I digress, these fuzzies are obviously not mindless killers. What do you think, Hugo, are they sound, and are they strong enough?'

'Yes to both, sir. If they make a good impression as a team I'd say all depends on your judgement of their looks.'

And since Hugo could not find fault with their paces either, when they were trotting up and down country lanes at a surprising speed with Peter driving, it really was up to Mr Darcy to make the final decision.

'Well, we cannot take them with us straight away anyway and the phaeton will take another few weeks to finish, I guess I'll take a few days to consider them.'

Mr Garrick was very understanding.

'Of course you want to consider them carefully, sir, I understand. And it is not as if I'll sell them to someone else really quickly. One thing, if you do decide to take them: please make certain that they are not put out to pasture, they are very sober and would probably founder. Their breeder warned me against it and I've stuck to his advice, they don't need much exercise but they do grow fat quicker than you might think.'

The tour through the large barn was very revealing as to how Mr Garrick kept his horses: the inside was almost entirely taken up by stalls, all of which were occupied by slender horses in every imaginable colour. There was no sign of hay being stored in this building, but they had to use a lot with so little acreage. Maybe Mr Garrick didn't think they'd be interested in seeing hay and feed, which was probably true since every stables had storage and a tack room. The thing Mr Garrick was proudest of made Hugo slightly envious for a really short time, something he had never seen in private ownership though the Paris army camp had had one: an inside riding paddock. Imagine being able to exercise horses every day even in winter, out of the rain, wind or snow!

As they admired the large, useful space, two helpers were riding horses, jumping obstacles and obviously strengthening their muscles with specific exercises.

Thinking of his own method of training hunters, Hugo asked, 'How do you get them used to uneven footing and things that horses don't like, Mr Garrick? Like dogs, and noise, and water?'

'Ah, you are clearly an expert, Mr Hugo. We have little open space to train the horses outside, but we try to use their last month of training to get them out there and show them all these things you mention. Fortunately, our lines are very highly desirable to huntsmen with a lot of experience and courage, who do not fear taking care of some of that part of their training themselves, for I have to admit that would be better served if we could train in actual hunt situations. These horses are not for everyone to ride, I'm afraid.'

Hugo felt a bit sorry for those horses, stuck in a stall for most of the day, then having to work in the same enclosed space, which horses generally didn't like. Though at first he hadn't seen the need for change when Mr Darcy came back from the north with all kinds of plans to get rid of some of the stalls and replace them with paddocks. There was more work involved in feeding and getting rid of the manure, which was spread out over a larger area. But Hugo had seen the effect on the horses, especially the thoroughbreds, and he was very certain the Pemberley horses were happier as they were now.

'An acquaintance of mine is aiming to breed a more manageable hunter, Mr Garrick,' Mr Darcy observed. 'Especially for less courageous and elderly men. It will take a few years to see how he has succeeded, but I think he has a good chance of achieving his goal. He works with a man who raises horses for the army, hardy and smart horses but generally not much to look at. His stable master showed us some special skills they had taught their stallions, ancient fighting techniques. We were very impressed.'

Maybe it was time for Hugo to admit his true skills to his employer, if Mr Darcy thought those dressage forms impressive. There were several horses in the Pemberley stables who could learn those demanding forms, and several riders who might learn them, if they dared submit themselves to Hugo's army-style teaching. Or maybe he could tone it down a little for smart pupils who actually wanted to learn what he had to teach.

'I'd like one of those hunters for myself, Mr Darcy, I have to admit I haven't dared ride most of these beauties for the last ten years. Generally we don't keep any for ourselves, this is our livelihood after all, but I miss riding and might make one exception.'

Soon afterwards, they took their leave of Mr Garrick and returned Mr Langley to his wife, after which Mr Darcy addressed Hugo.

'Take as long as you need tomorrow, Hugo, helping your friend move. If Mr Langley is going to take Peter from us we'd better get all possible use out of him. And give him a chance to hone his leadership qualities without your constant supervision. Spend some time with your friend, give her a chance to get to know you. If you prove your commitment to her, maybe she will change her mind about getting married.'

That would certainly help, if Caitlin allowed him to help her with more than just the move.

Little did Hugo know that Caitlin was spending the same day in agony, desperate over having treated him so badly by rejecting his careful suggestion of a union out of hand when he had merely been probing her to find out her view on marriage. Why had she judged him so harshly when she knew he was different from other men, had no absurd romantic ideals about love everlasting or the amalgamating of minds? When he was better than any other man she had known in every aspect but, possibly, being faithful? For he'd said he would be faithful to his wife, hadn't he? And she'd run away with the idea of his wanting to marry her, then taken offence at one tiny detail, which was in hindsight typical for the man he was, a man who would never make such an important decision lightly or without first gathering the evidence he needed to come to the best conclusion.

She loved the care he gave her without expecting a return, the way he took his position as stable master at Pemberley seriously without bragging over it, the energy he had expended to see her safe without expecting to profit by it. And now she'd lose him to another woman because she'd let his failure to fall at her feet in adulation offend her. When his practical, almost thoughtless consideration for her needs had been the main reason she'd more or less fallen for him quite some time ago. Well, besides his fabulous skills between the sheets, of course, but didn't they spring from that same caring nature, carefully hidden behind an almost military bluster?

Curse her own pride, she could have been engaged to a truly superior man by now, but instead she had to flee the only place she had ever dared to call home and leave her only source of income, and throw herself on the mercy of some gentleman she knew nothing about, except that his local reputation was flawless and he didn't have adult sons or other male relatives living with him. And for some time, Jean would still come to visit her, as kind as ever, not expecting any favours in return for saving her life. And then he would marry some other woman and be faithful to her, even though he didn't love her.

That was the moment her common sense reminded her he didn't love her either, wanted to get married to have a companion, not because he loved the woman he'd commit himself to. Even if she hadn't told him no, he might have married one of the other women he was seeing instead of her anyway. He didn't love her, and if she let that thought hurt her when he had always been honest about his reasons to see her, well, more fool she. And Jean certainly couldn't help Mary Bridgen's son's misconduct, Caitlin had been afraid for years something like this would happen and now it had, she'd better be thankful that it would at least offer her a chance at a better life for Ben, with a solid roof over his head and a chance of becoming a farmer in the future. If Jean was right that the people in Witham would be glad to avail themselves of her knowledge and experience, even Caitlin's own status might improve.

Though Caitlin couldn't believe that last fantasy for a moment, she did not let herself sink back into the despair she had just felt, even if it all started again, the mistrust, the gossip, the speculation, eventually the village would need her and grow to respect at least her healing skills. Whilst no-one could cure full-blown pneumonia, it generally took those who were already weaker with other ailments or living in poor sanitary conditions, and she could certainly help cure or help prevent those.

Thinking of the whole process she'd been through in Ripley she almost lost heart, she could stay with the widow, would be welcomed with open arms by at least one human being, but even if she could bear being stifled it was just too dangerous to stay, she could no longer go out at night to help deliver a child without risking her life.

If only she had treated Jean a little better, it hadn't even been a proper proposal, he was just trying to feel her out, so to speak. She saw too much in it, overreacted. Maybe she could apologise? Ask him to at least try to be together? She'd felt so safe with him, the way he floored that young man, the confidence he inspired in his master's horse in the middle of the night. That reminded her she needed to pay the young lout's mother one last visit, and some other current patients, to let them know she was leaving and could no longer care for them. Of course she also needed to show the son she wasn't afraid of him, her honour demanded that of her.

Should she tell Jean she didn't mind him seeing other women? Beg him not to marry another woman? She couldn't see him if he was married, she'd never humiliate another woman that way, but it was difficult to imagine not ever seeing him again. Or worse, seeing him in church with this other woman, who undoubtedly had some carefully hidden feelings for him as much as Caitlin herself had. Most women did that to themselves, growing attached even to those men who didn't fall in love.

After accompanying Ben to their old hut to feed the goats from their precious supply of hay, if Jean was right they'd have plenty of grass to feast on from tomorrow on, Caitlin left her son in their shared room with one of the widow's books. Though her nerves made her feel sick to her stomach, she was determined to take leave of the patients she currently had in treatment, and also give them some extra medicine to tide them over until they could find a new healer. Fortunately she had no real life-threatening cases right now, or she would have found a way to continue to visit them until they were out of danger. She planned to tell them the plain truth about why she was leaving, it hurt her pride to leave them in a pickle when they depended on her, and she felt a certain need to put the blame where it belonged. Maybe they would look into it and change their little community to protect those just outside it as well as their own.

The easiest was an elderly lady in Ripley whom she brought a month's worth of herbs to make an infusion against rheumatic aches. The mixture might lose some of its potency when kept longer than a few weeks, but it would still relieve her pain quite a bit, and she really did have to find a way to visit the healer in the next village within that time. The good woman was disappointed but also rather shocked to hear that Caitlin was relocating because of threats she had received from a man in the village.

'I'm sorry to hear that, my child, you have been a great comfort to me last winter when I was so ill, though I can imagine you want your son and yourself to be safe. I wish you good fortune, and maybe you can visit some day, if you're not moving too far away.'

Three others were as saddened by her predicament, and for themselves most likely, though they were too polite to mention that. They would be fine, their troubles were mostly over and Caitlin knew they had the means to go to the healer in the next village in case of an emergency. But now she had to face her fears by visiting Mrs Bridgen, where she ran a significant risk of encountering the family's son, the reason she had to move in the first place.

Mrs Bridgen opened the door herself, a two-month old baby on her hip, and seemed pleased to see Caitlin.

'Miss Brennan! Did we have an appointment? Do come in, the girls are doing just fine thanks to you.'

The farmhouse was old and comfortable, the family had lived here for generations and it showed in the interior, all the furniture looked as if it had grown there and belonged as much as the people. It was clearly handmade and very sturdy but immaculately clean and not too worn, and they certainly had a few outstanding pieces as well. The large standing clock, for instance, deserved the term heirloom.

The other baby girl was lying on a blanket spread out on the floor, she couldn't do much, yet, but she was holding a toy with an intricate shape and exploring it with her eyes but also her mouth, as babies were wont to do.

At the mother's invitation, Caitlin sat down and started to explain.

'We did not have an appointment until Thursday fortnight, but I have some news and I thought I should tell you in person instead of letting you guess or hear through gossip. I'm leaving. I have been offered a cottage in one of Mr Darcy's villages and I am moving tomorrow.'

'Congratulations, Miss Brennan! A real cottage, all to yourself? And Mr Darcy is said to be a very good landlord, his tenants are all very pleased to lease from him. Will you leave your new address? I'm certain Herbert won't mind either fetching you or bringing us over, whichever you prefer.'

'I'm sorry, Mrs Bridgen, but I can't. I'm not leaving because I can do better there, though I suppose living in a house will be an improvement indeed on my current situation. But I'm forced to do this because I have been threatened by a man from this village, and I cannot give my new address for fear of his seeking me out. I cannot keep my current patients, I'd have to walk for miles every day and in the dark as well, it would certainly make me a target. You will have to find a new midwife to check up on your girls. Though they are old enough to not need such intensive help anymore, they are doing really well.'

The other baby was also lying on the blanket now, and examining her own little foot.

But Mary Bridgen didn't see her little girl being adorable, she was very upset and asked in an intense voice, 'It was Mitchell, wasn't it? He has been acting strange for some time now, disappearing late in the evening, I heard him return several times when I was feeding the girls at night. Two nights ago I heard him come back and in the morning he had a bruised face and his stomach hurt, I told him to send for you and he was very evasive. And he was always around when you were visiting, he never bothered with his sisters except when you were here… Tell me if it's true, I'll have his father give him a hiding he'll never forget! My son will not lay a hand on you, I promise!'

'It was him, but I cannot come here anymore and I have to leave all my other patients. I just cannot take the risk, he threatened to rile up his friends against me.'

'Friends, he doesn't have any friends! He works the fields with my husband all day, then sits here whittling wooden figurines all night. That's how I knew he was up to something when he left the house at night. I should have known he it was you he was after, he was so different with you around. Mind you, you're not to blame, you have always been correct.'

'Nevertheless, I can no longer go out in the dark to see my patients here, whereas I'll be protected on Mr Darcy's grounds. I'll have a decent house for my son to grow up in and I hope the villagers will treat me a little better than here.'

'I'm sorry they never treated you well, Miss Brennan, and even sorrier to have my son be the final straw when you did so much for me and my girls. I'll never be able to repay you.'

As she made ready to leave, Mitchell came in with his father, a solid, reasonably well-to-do local farmer. Mr Bridgen greeted Caitlin politely, he was a hard-working farmer but one of the more affluent ones. His son seemed seemed contrite, two huge bruises standing out against his light skin on either side of his face. His greeting was mumbled and barely audible, Caitlin merely nodded.

'Miss Brennan is leaving this neighbourhood, Herbert, she is moving to one of Mr Darcy's villages so we're to lose her help.'

'I can take you to her, my dear, without her the girls might not have survived, her aid is worth a little detour.'

Mrs Bridgen explained, saving Caitlin the need to accuse a man's son of a very unmanly deed.

'She cannot tell us where she will live, my dear, a local man threatened her. Because of him, our girls will have no help if they fall ill.'

This was too much for Mitchell, who seemed to fear his father more than his victim.

'All right, mother, you've made your point, and I'm certain father will make his soon enough. If it means anything to you, I'm sorry, I didn't think. I just wanted her to love me, I didn't know she had another man, did I? It angered me that she didn't want me when I'll have my own farm one day and he's just a servant. I still don't see why she would prefer a foreigner over a local man when I have so much more to offer!'

Now Mr Bridgen looked at his son as if he knew a reason or two and would at the very least try to beat them into him, but when he spoke up his voice sounded gentle and reasonable.

'If you're moving because you're getting married you don't have to fear our boy, do you? Looking at his black-and-blue face I'd guess your man can protect you very well, though I admit I don't know what damage he suffered.'

Having seen the fear of his father in Mitchell's eyes, Caitlin felt more or less obliged to come to the young man's rescue by stating, 'My friend was very able to defend himself, Mr Bridgen, he didn't suffer any hurts.'

She did not try to explain she was seeing 'her man' in sin, it wouldn't matter in the least, she was leaving tomorrow and did not plan on ever returning.

'But he cannot be with me all the time, especially not when I'm visiting patients. I'm sorry, sir, but you will have to find another healer.'

'If she is marrying that old froggy she will regret it!' Mitchell defied his father, 'even if he is Mr Darcy's stable master. He's almost your age, dad, and half your size.'

Herbert Bridgen stayed admirably calm, but Caitlin suspected his son would get that hiding anyway, as soon as Caitlin had left, but she couldn't feel sorry for the lad, he'd cost her too much.

'And yet he is the one to marry this beautiful woman, who managed to keep your mother from losing your sisters and possibly even her own life. Your grandfather's and my hard work will not buy you a woman, nor will you ever convince one to love you by creeping up on her in the dark, or threatening her with who-knows-what. I have taught you hard work, and your mother and I will teach you to respect women, and maybe you'll be worthy of love in a few years.'

And Caitlin hoped he would, mostly for his parents, who were good people and didn't deserve such a son. The father now addressed her.

'Thank you for all that you have done for us, Miss Brennan. If you change your mind please send us a message, and I will gladly fetch you from wherever you think it's safe. I will walk you home tonight, you should not risk the forest road this last night here.'

'You are very kind, Mr Bridgen, but I am staying right here in the village, I am in no danger.'

'Then I will see you to the door of the house where you are staying. We will be in your debt forever, it pains me that my son has brought such misfortune upon you.'

Caitlin did not want him to know where she was staying, not even this last night, but she also realised half the village had probably already seen her at the widow's place and had told the other half. There was no keeping a secret in a village like Ripley, and the widow had locks on her doors, which she had used every night since Caitlin had arrived, without the latter having to ask for the protection.

She nodded, said goodbye to Mary Bridgen and nodded to her son, then followed their husband and father outside.

'I'm staying with Mrs Kinley, it's not very far from here.'

'I'd heard from a neighbour but I didn't want my boy to know. I don't know what happened to make him behave like this, Miss, he is a hard worker and he always treats his mother with respect. I suppose I could try to beat the devil out of him, but I have a feeling it will not work. I hoped you might have some advice, you have a certain insight in people.'

So that was why he insisted on accompanying her home, even though he knew she had just a few streets to cross.

'I suppose you could ask your vicar to speak to him, see why he doesn't just try to meet girls as other young men do. He seems to have a few strange ideas about women, and he was very quick to anger when confronted with my friend. Of course my friend is a Frenchman, and he was wearing his livery coat and good pair of boots, that seemed to enrage your boy. He made some nasty threats but to me, not to my friend.'

When Caitlin had bid Mr Bridgen goodbye and closed the door and locked it, she felt an intense relief at being safe. She didn't have any reason to distrust the middle-aged farmer, but he was so tall and broad-shouldered she couldn't help feeling vulnerable in his presence. Somehow, her fearlessness had abandoned her, she had never felt afraid returning from an emergency in the dead of the night, but now she saw an attacker in every shadow, as she had for years after she'd escaped from her tormentor back in Ireland. Physical contact was always a problem, even when the much-smaller Jean held her too firmly she felt constricted and had to quell an urge to fight back. Of course he had noticed, he dealt with horses daily and was very attuned to body language and signs of fear as a result, and she had decided to tell him where that fear came from. He had been angry for her, and sad, and undoubtedly he had looked at Ben with different eyes, but he had never asked her whether she looked at Ben with any other emotion than love. If he had, she'd have told him she was afraid for the time when her son would grow up to resemble his father even more than he did already, though Ben was noticeably different in his demeanour and colouring. But she would never love him any less because his father had been spoiled and cruel.

Tomorrow she would see Jean again, she was looking forward to being with him, even though she feared the purpose of his visit. When he had helped her move to a new house he would leave her there, among new neighbours, where she would have to find new patients. And Ben would have to get along with other children. Caitlin was used to being shunned and despised, but she had managed to shield Ben from the worst of it. She was very afraid he would become very unhappy until and unless he, too, developed a thick skin.