Every step was painful, her body protesting at being forced to travel such a distance when all it really wanted was to be at rest. Her stomach continued to contract, although the immediate discomfort was less now, and she could feel blood continuing to pool in the cavity between her legs, a tangible reminder of what had happened. Yet still, she walked.
Siegfried's child. She had been carrying the child of the man she loved, and she hadn't known. How could she have been so stupid, so naïve, so uneducated? Hadn't her monthlies stopped? Hadn't she felt different? Hadn't she realised that engaging in such wanton acts together could, inevitably lead to pregnancy? What had she been thinking? And then, to have had the child so cruelly ripped away from her, to have created a situation through her own foolhardiness where others might find out what sort of a woman she really was…
Tears blinded her. All the whispers, the stares, the remarks…everything that people had thought or said about her and Siegfried, about him trying to encourage her to become a vet, about her thinking herself clever enough to treat an animal on her own, well, her accident had proved them all right on that score, hadn't it? And now this. But this was so much more. No-one would ever look her in the eye again, no-one would ever think well of her, and everyone would call her what she knew she was.
A whore.
Leaving Darrowby was the answer, the only answer. Why couldn't he see that? Why couldn't Siegfried see that? It was all right for him at the end of the day. Any man who gets a woman on her back earns nothing more than congratulations from his peers. And with him having some standing in the community, they would all be prepared to overlook his shortcomings, of that she had no doubt. But not hers. Hers would never be overlooked, even if they were to marry now. Why couldn't he understand that she wouldn't be able to stand the scrutiny, that she needed to be somewhere far away, where she could start again, where nobody could question anything about them? Why couldn't he see that? Why couldn't he understand that it was possible to start again?
If he loved her, why wasn't he prepared to make the sacrifice?
By the time she reached Windy Hill, she felt tired to the point of exhaustion, but all the thoughts and questions swirling around in her mind had reached one fixed point of conclusion; regardless of him, she couldn't stay.
The farmyard was quiet, the only sound coming from the breeze rustling the nearby trees and as she opened the door into the kitchen, she was confronted by her father sitting at the table, nursing a glass of what looked suspiciously like whisky.
"Where 'ave you been?!" he leapt to his feet when he saw her, his expression one of relief. "I came back 'ere and Bellamy was gone, you were gone…"
"I went for a walk."
"A walk, but…?"
"I don't need to ask where you've been though, do I?" she gestured to his knuckles, bruised and bloodied as they were. "I've seen what you did to 'im."
"Can you blame me? 'e took you to bed without 'aving the decency to marry you first!"
"I wanted it just as much as 'e did."
He shook his head in disgust, "Then you're not the lass I thought you were."
"And what kind of lass was that then Dad, eh? The good, kind, quiet type who stays at 'ome, keeps 'ouse and doesn't say boo to a goose? You know that's not me anymore, not for a long time."
"No, not since you met 'im!"
"You gave us your blessing!"
"Aye, to get married, not to roll in the 'ay like a couple of animals!" He glared at her. "I told you before that it would be you who would 'ave to bear the shame of it all, not 'im. I'd wager 'e knew that and all, and yet it didn't stop 'im, despite 'ow much 'e might protest that 'e cares for you!"
"That didn't give you the right to beat 'im!"
"Oh aye? Well, I'll take my judgement from the Almighty when it comes. I don't regret it for a moment, and I'd do it again too!" He paused. "Shouldn't you be resting?"
She sank down into one of the other chairs and let out a long breath. "I'll be all right."
He sat opposite her again, saying nothing for a long moment. "It 'appened to your mother and all."
"What did?"
"She lost two bairns before you."
Surprise barely covered how she felt at the revelation. It had never been talked about before, never even mentioned. She had always assumed that she had been the product of the only pregnancy her mother had been able to conceive. "I didn't know that. When…?"
"First one was just after we were married, the second one…about two years before you were born."
"She never said."
"Why would she? Something you just don't talk about."
In that moment, she wished nothing more than for her mother to be there, not for her to join in with the recriminations, but to be able to empathise with how she felt at the loss of her child. She wanted to tell her father how empty she felt. That losing this child, even though she hadn't been aware she was carrying it, had already left an indelible hole.
"You've seen 'im then, Farnon," he said, breaking into her thoughts.
"Yes."
"And?"
"And what?"
"What did 'e 'ave to say for 'imself?"
She thought back to their conversation, brief and painful as it had been. "'e told me 'e was sorry…told me 'e loved me...told me everything would be all right."
Tom snorted.
"I 'ave to leave, Dad," she said, lifting her eyes to his, her voice quivering. "I can't stay 'ere."
He said nothing for a long moment, whilst she waited for him to argue against her words given how jealously possessive he had been about her initial relationship with Siegfried, but he didn't. Eventually, he merely nodded. "Where would you go? Wensleydale? Scarborough?"
She shook her head, "Further than that. Someone I could…start again. Bexley, maybe."
"Bexley? But that's miles away from 'ere!"
"And maybe that's what I need! A fresh start away from everything! I'm not daft. I know what folks will think of me when they 'ear about this." She paused. "I asked 'im to come with me, begged 'im to take me away…but 'e said no."
"Aye well, true to form that, isn't it?"
She paused, "'ow do you mean?"
He shifted slightly in his seat. "I told 'im we'd never speak of this."
"Never speak of what?"
"When you 'ad your accident…'e walked away."
"What?"
"I mean, the doctor told us that you were going to die and 'e ran away. Said 'e couldn't be with you. Left me there at the 'ospital with Mrs Hall and brought 'imself back to Skeldale House. 'e thought you were going to die that night, and 'e left you."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, that's not right. 'e walked away from me in Skipton when I told 'im to go to 'im but…but 'e came back…"
"This was before that. In York." He nodded. "Ask that brother of 'is, or Audrey Hall if you don't believe me. 'e would 'ave let you die without being by your side, lass. What does that say about 'im, deep down?"
"I don't…" she broke off, unsure how to process what he had said. Siegfried wouldn't have walked away from her. He had only gone because she had told him to, demanded that he leave her alone and, even after that, he had come back. He would never have just left her…it had to be a lie, something her father thought he should say to try and persuade her to his way of thinking. How could she believe it?
"You're better off without 'im."
"Am I?"
"Course you are. Good looking lass like you…you'll find yourself someone decent no bother."
She stared at him, beyond surprised at the sudden change in his attitude. Before Siegfried, he would never had encouraged her to do anything that might have led to her finding a husband. Now…he clearly had the same thoughts she did about her reputation. He wouldn't want the shame of her indiscretions landing on him. Best to have her out of the way; out of sight, out of mind.
"'e's not worth any of your tears, lass. Put it down to a case of bad judgement and move on."
She rose from the table then, unwilling to hear anymore, and went upstairs to lay down on her bed, hoping that sleep would claim her and give her respite from her thoughts. But it refused to bend to her will and, after a while, she took herself back down to the telephone and placed a call to the unit in Bexley. It was surprising how pleased they were to hear from her, how willing they were to help, how strange they didn't find her request. It all seemed, almost, too easy.
"This afternoon?" her father said when she told him her plan. "You can't just disappear now!"
"Why not?"
"You need to rest!"
"I can rest on the train."
"Lily love…I know you said you 'ad to get away and I agree but I think you're being a bit 'asty. It's a long way to go with no plan."
"I'll figure it out," she replied, with slightly more confidence than she knew she possessed. "But I 'ave to go now, Dad. What's the point in me staying 'ere? What difference will another day or another week make? Folk are probably talking about me already." He looked at her, as though trying to think of some words of comfort or wisdom and falling short. "The sooner I go, the better. There's a train in an hour. Will you take me to the station?"
He nodded finally, his eyes taking on a glassy expression. "Aye lass, if it's truly what you want."
"It is." She slid her engagement ring from her finger and put it down on the table, staring at it for a long moment, remembering the night Siegfried had given it to her, the night they had taken that first step on the road to ruin. Despite everything, her feelings for him hadn't changed. He would always be the first love she had ever known, the last love she truly wanted to know. "I love 'im, despite what you've said," she said finally, lifting her eyes to meet his gaze. "I need you to promise me one thing Dad." He looked at the floor. "Please."
Finally, he met her gaze again. "Anything for you, lass."
"If 'e comes looking for me, tell 'im where I've gone…tell 'im I've gone to Bexley, then 'e can make up 'is own mind if 'e wants to follow." He said nothing, then nodded and she felt relief. Relief that she had made the right decision for herself and yet left the path open for Siegfried.
He would realise, in time, that she was right, that this was the best thing for both of them, and he would follow her.
XXXX
He didn't realise that he'd fallen asleep until he suddenly jerked awake and, looking at the clock by the bed, saw that it was almost five o'clock. He had only meant to rest for a short time, but the effects of Tom Bailey's brutal attack, not to mention the weight of Lily's devastation, to say nothing of his own, had clearly weighed heavily on him. Swinging his legs out of the bed, he moved to the basin to splash water on his face and then looked in the mirror. If anything, his injuries looked worse and he wished he could say that he wore them with pride, earned them in a fight for honour instead of as the result of a father's vengeance for him sullying his daughter.
Lily…every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face. The pain, the desperation, the hope…he hated the image of her like that. He wanted to see her as she had been before any and all of this; alive, happy, loved.
Loved.
God knew he loved her, loved her more than anything in the world. Hadn't he told her that? Hadn't he said, over and over, that she meant everything to him? Didn't she know that? Didn't she understand how much of a step it had been for him to admit his feelings for her, shrouded for so long in grief as he had been? Couldn't she understand that she was the best thing that had happened to him since Evelyn?
Suddenly distracted by a noise from outside, he moved to the window and looked out over the square. Life continued in Darrowby as though nothing had happened. As though Lily had never been pregnant, never lost their child, never begged him to leave with her. As he stood and watched the people milling by, the shopkeepers preparing to close for the evening, a horse being led through the square, dogs barking at one another, he suddenly realised that, as much as he loved this place…it could be anywhere. The people could be anyone. Yes, there was Tristan and Mrs Hall and he cared for them more than he often liked to admit but…there was no future without her, no home without her, nothing without…her.
Her notion was fanciful, he knew that, but it was clearly born from a need she had to make herself anonymous for a while, to regroup, gather her thoughts. Why would he deny her that? How could he deny her that? He would do anything for her, move mountains, take away all of her pain, change the world for her, if he could and now…now he had the power to do something to make things better for her, to give her a simple answer and agree to go somewhere, anywhere, to allow her to feel better about herself. How could he possibly deny her that?
He redressed quickly, his mind working ten to the dozen. They would go wherever she wanted, get married and take a holiday. She could regain her strength and they could talk about the future, the real, proper future, and he would listen, truly listen, to what she had to say and…and if it ultimately proved that returning to Darrowby would make her unhappy…he paused on that thought. It was a big decision. To leave everything that he had worked hard to create over the last few years, to put Tristan in the position of potentially having to move, yet again, to possibly have to find Mrs Hall a new employer but…he would do it. He would do all of it for her.
"Mrs Hall!" he thundered down the stairs. "Mrs Hall, I'm going to Windy Hill!"
"You're doing what?!" she declared, hurrying out of the kitchen. "Mr Farnon, you 'eard what Tom Bailey said…"
"Yes, I did, and I don't care. Lily's going to be my wife, I don't care what anyone thinks about us. I'm not giving her up. I'm going to take her away, as she asked."
"Take 'er away where?" she asked, following him as he flitted about, looking for his jacket, shoes and car keys.
"Wherever she wants to go!"
"Mr Farnon…"
"You said yourself that her idea had merit and, thinking on it, I happen to agree. I'm going to tell her that and then we'll make our plans. We could go next week, perhaps, if I can find someone to cover the surgery. I'm sure that shouldn't be too difficult, especially if Tristan helps out. Where is he anyway?"
"I…"
"Never mind, I'll see him when I get back. I know he wasn't in favour of the idea, but I also know he cares for Lily, so I'm sure he'll understand." Before she could say anymore, he hurried out through the kitchen and jumped into the car. The road to Windy Hill was quiet and he found himself pushing the car to a speed he wouldn't ordinarily had chosen, but now that he had made his decision, the one thing he didn't want to do was waste any more time. He wanted to see her smile at him, wanted her to throw herself into his arms, wanted to feel her close to him again.
He pulled noisily into the yard, bringing the car to a sudden stop, just in time to see Tom coming out of the nearby shed with, somewhat disconcertingly, a shotgun in his hand. He glanced at the kitchen window, hoping to see Lily, desperate for her solidarity, but it remained blank. He reasoned that she must be resting and chided himself for thinking she should be doing anything but. Slowly, he got out of the car, his hands making an appeasing gesture as the other man approached him.
"Mr Bailey…I haven't come here for a fight. I appreciate you're angry and I understand why. I'm sure if it were my own daughter, I would feel the same way you do. But, as I told you, I love Lily, very much, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. Nothing about that has changed. Nothing ever could change that." He took a breath, well aware that his next words would be unwelcome. "Earlier today she asked me to leave Darrowby with her and I…I told her no, that our lives were here and that we needed to disregard what others might think but…I thought about it…about all of it and I realised that whatever life I may have built here…it will all be for nothing without her. I don't want to be without her and, if she feels she can't stay here, then neither can I. So, I've come to tell her that we can leave. Together. We can go wherever she wants."
Tom stared at him for a long moment.
"Mr Bailey…"
"You're a bit late," Tom replied finally, making his way over to the kitchen door. "She's not 'ere."
He paused, it being the last response he had expected. "What do you mean, she's not here? I met her earlier, at the crossroads. Don't tell me that she never made it home…"
"She made it 'ome all right and told me what you said." Tom paused again. "I took 'er for the train a few 'ours ago."
He shook his head in confusion. "I'm sorry…the train?"
"Aye, the train. I don't know where she were 'eaded, but she left something for you." He pushed the door open, stepped into the kitchen and emerged moments later. "'ere." He drew his arm back and threw something towards him, which he inevitably missed, and which instead landed at his feet.
Bending to retrieve it, he saw to his shock, that it was Lily's engagement ring. He turned it over in his hand, the jewel glinting in the sunshine. "I don't…"
"She said to tell you…that you 'ad let 'er down when she needed you the most, that she was leaving and that she never wanted to lay eyes on you again."
It wasn't true…couldn't be true…
"No, no I don't believe you. Lily!" he cast his gaze wildly around the yard, hoping she would come into view. "Lily!"
"I told you, she's not 'ere!"
"And I told you that I don't believe you!" he pushed past the older man and hurried into the house. "Lily! Lily!" Hurrying from room to room he sought her, pounding up the stairs to her bedroom before rushing back down again to where Tom was waiting. "Where is she?! Please, you must tell me!"
"I told you she's gone! And if she knows ought, she won't be back, not for a long time coming."
"What have you done to her?!"
Tom glowered at him. "I've done nothing but love 'er, protect 'er and care for 'er and I was doing all of that just nicely until you came along!"
"Yes, yes you would think that, wouldn't you?!"
"You ruined 'er! You took 'er to bed and gave 'er a child…"
"A child I would have loved as much as I love her if it had been given a chance at life!" He heard his voice crack and willed himself not to become emotional. Not in this situation, not in front of this man.
"She'll be better off finding someone who won't take advantage of 'er. Someone who respects 'er. Someone who's prepared to say vows before God before 'e's prepared to venture between 'er legs," Tom said, drawing himself up to his full height. "Now…I want you to leave."
"Please, please tell me where she's gone!"
"I told you, I don't know and, even if I did, I wouldn't tell you given 'er instructions that you weren't to follow 'er. Now, get yourself off my land."
"Mr Bailey…please…"
Tom cocked the shotgun and lifted it to his shoulder, pointing it straight at him. "Get off my land, Farnon, and don't ever come back. For if I find you've set foot on this 'ere earth again, I'll kill you, and think nothing of it. Do you understand?"
He stared down the barrel, wondering if it would make any difference if the other man did shoot him. Lily was gone. Gone with his words ringing in her ears that he wouldn't leave with her, not to mention what else her father might had told her. His life, his love, his future…gone.
He knew of nothing else to do except turn and get back into the car. Tom kept the gun trained on him the entire time, until he had started the engine, put the vehicle into reverse and turned in the yard. Slowly, he made his way back down the road, his gaze flitting across the fields hoping that he might find her there, that her father's words had been a lie. Where had she gone? What had she done?
Lily…
In a moment of blind faith, he turned at the bottom of the road and made his way along and around the back of Windy Hill, leaving the car where he had done before and hurrying down across the lower field and over the style. He wasn't dressed for a hike in such warm weather and his level of fitness hadn't improved much since the last time, but he made the journey in the vain, blind hope that she might be there, that he might find her sitting atop the hill at her favourite spot, staring down into the valley. His lungs were burning by the time he reached it and though the landscape had never looked more beautiful, dappled as it was in the evening sunshine, it was deserted. There was no Lily waiting for him, no welcoming smile, no hair burning with fire, no soft body to hold onto.
Reaching the brow, he looked down upon what they had once viewed together and screamed her name into the void.
XXXX
Mrs Hall met him at the door, her hopeful smile quickly disappearing as he moved past her into the house and through to the sitting room. Tristan was there, lolling on the couch, but he leapt to his feet when he saw him and pursued him to the drinks' cabinet.
"Mrs H said you were going to tell Lily you'd leave Darrowby with her."
He said nothing at first, simply lifted a glass from the shelf and filled it with as much whisky as it could hold, draining three-quarters of it in one go. He turned back to look at his brother, at the innocence in his expression. "I did."
"And?"
"And…she's gone."
"Gone?" Mrs Hall said, joining them. "What do you mean, gone?"
"I mean, she's gone. Left. Moved on. Taken her things and…gone." He moved over to the armchair. "She took a train, apparently."
"A train where?" Tristan demanded.
"He said he didn't know."
"What, Tom Bailey just put his only daughter on a train without knowing where she was going?"
"That's what he said," he replied, somewhat amazed at the calm steadiness of his own voice.
"You don't believe him, do you?"
"I don't know."
"Siegfried…"
"She told him to tell me…that I had let her down when she needed me the most, and that she never wanted to see me again."
His words hung in the shocked silence that followed, the only noise coming from the ticking of the clock. Staring down into the honey-coloured liquid in his glass, he felt his vision mist with the tears he had tried so hard to keep at bay.
Mrs Hall crouched beside him, her hand moving uncharacteristically to his knee. "Mr Farnon…"
"I should have told her, straight away. I should have told her that I would leave with her. I should have said…"
"This isn't your fault."
"Isn't it?" he looked at her. "Then whose fault is it, Mrs Hall?"
"It's no-one's fault. It's circumstance is all."
"Circumstance…" he shook his head. "I did all of this. I was the one who tried to take her away from everything she had known. I was the one who tried to make her into something she wasn't. I was the one who persuaded her to take risks. I caused her accident. I gave her a child…" he broke off, slammed the whisky glass down on the side table and put his head in his hands. "I'm the one who drove her away…"
"Siegfried…" he felt Tristan's hand on his arm. "There must be something you can do."
"Like what? She's gone, Tristan, gone! And gone God knows where!"
"Bailey must know, he must!"
"Well, if he does, he won't tell me. Threatened me with a shotgun no less."
"A shotgun?!" Mrs Hall exclaimed.
"It would be no more than I deserved, I suppose, if he did shoot me." His chest contracted painfully, the sudden stark reality of all that had happened coming squarely home to roost. She was gone. He had told her he wouldn't leave, and she had felt she had no choice but to go anyway and left hating him in the process. He took his hands away from his face and viciously wiped his eyes. "It's done now anyway." Rising from the chair, he moved over to the window and surveyed the square once more.
"We must be able to find her," Tristan said, coming to stand beside him. "You must have an idea of where she might go."
"Didn't you hear me?" he swung to face his brother. "Even if could find her, she never wants to see me again!"
"You can't know that to be true."
"Can't I?" Delving into his pocket, he pulled out the engagement ring. "Would she had left this behind if she still wanted to be with me?" Tristan said nothing. "I can't…force her to love me, to forgive me."
"Mr Farnon…"
"Mrs Hall," he turned to face her. "I don't want to speak of it."
"But…"
"I don't want to speak of her!" Pushing past them both, he hurried upstairs once more to his room, closing and locking the door behind him. For a moment, he paced back and forth, his breath coming in bursts, then sank down onto his bed, his chest bursting with the pain of separation. After a moment, he realised that he was still clutching the ring and, opening his fist, saw that he had almost drawn blood from the prongs of the diamond casing.
Reaching under his bed, he felt for the small wooden box where he kept all her correspondence and, opening it, carefully dropped the ring inside before closing and locking it, stowing the key carefully at the back of a drawer.
He thought back to that day in the hospital in Skipton, when he had begged her to give him another chance, and to the truth he had told her then.
"If you tell me to go, I will. If you tell me that you don't love me, don't see a future with me, don't want to be with me, then I will accept that and I will go but…but I won't be able to come back, not again. A heart can only take so much bruising in a lifetime, Lily."
It was over.
