‘I’ll tell her.’ Adam looked down and then patted Reggie on the shoulder. ‘Good luck with the judge. I hope he sees the sense in you keeping your home. And I’ll see you shortly.’ He watched as Reggie walked across the tiled floor and knocked on the judge’s chamber door. He’d not encouraged Reggie about Lucy, as she had made light of his interest in her, and he knew that she wouldn’t want Reggie to be encouraged. Also, Adam couldn’t stop a pang of jealousy at the thought of Lucy walking out with Reggie, even though she was only his maid.
Adam returned to Black Moss Farm feeling that justice had been done. Now at least he knew his sheep were safe from the thieving hands of the Baxters. They’d be troubling no one for quite a while. He unsaddled Rosa and looked around him. The swallows had started to nest in the stable eaves, and they swooped and chittered above his head, mixed with a helping of swifts and house martins that screeched and dived in the sky as he crossed the farmyard and went into the house.
The front door was open, letting the warm summer’s light into the old building, and he heard Lucy singing to herself as he made his way into the kitchen. It reminded Adam of his mother singing when he was a child, and of the hugs and love she had given him, on his return from school in Denholme. The old homestead was beginning to feel like a home again and he was glad.
‘Ah, you are back! How did it go? Did they all get charged and found guilty?’ Lucy glanced across at Adam as she placed a bunch of dog daisies in a glass vase upon the kitchen table and stood back and admired them, before hearing what he had to say.
‘Aye, they are all at this minute serving Her Majesty in the jail. They’ll not be bothering us for a while. Jacob and his brother George are to be deported. The judge was not a forgiving soul, but Fred had warned me. They didn’t go without a fight, though. The language they shouted at everyone as they were led down was terrible.’ Adam sat down in his fireside chair and sighed. ‘Lord, I’m tired. Today has really taken it out of me. Thank heavens for Archie – is he still here or has he gone home? He’ll be glad to hear the news, for he hated the Baxters as much as anyone.’
‘He’s gone home. Everything’s seen to, so you’ve nothing to do. Your supper’s keeping warm in the oven, and I’m away home. It’s nice to walk home on these early summer evenings. I went for a walk up the gillside earlier today and picked those daisies – they brighten up the place.’ Lucy smiled.
‘Just like you do. I heard you singing as I came in. It was good to hear.’ Adam looked up at Lucy and noticed her blush.
‘I sound like a strangled cat! My mother says I’ve no voice fit for anything, and that I can’t hold a tune. So I’ll apologize now for the racket.’ She hung on his words of praise as she looked up at the mantelpiece and the letter that had arrived for Adam with the post-boy earlier in the day. ‘You have a letter awaiting you – it came when you were out.’
Adam stood up and reached for the letter, noticing the handwriting and recognizing it at once.
‘Oh, she’s written at long last! I thought she had abandoned me or, worse still, come to some harm.’ He smiled as he held the envelope in his hand and looked at the delicate handwriting and smelled the perfume upon it.
‘I thought it was from a lady. I could smell the perfume,’ Lucy said quietly.
‘It’s from my dear friend, Ivy Thwaite. I do hope she says that she’s going to pay me a visit. It would be so good to see her, after all these years. I’ll have my supper and then I’ll read it – it will end the perfect day.’ Adam replaced the letter on the mantelpiece, not noticing the look of dejection on Lucy’s face.
‘I’ll be away then. Don’t let your supper go dry – it needs eating soon.’ She looked at the excitement on Adam’s face and knew that her words fell on deaf ears, as she stepped out of the farmhouse. Who was this Ivy Thwaite? Was she more than a friend? A lover, or a rival for Adam’s affections? Lucy felt she had just started to enter Adam’s life, as he’d noticed her of late, and now this woman was appearing on the horizon, with her posh perfume. Whoever she was, Lucy was going to make it her business not to like her, for this woman was a threat to her future happiness and, as such, she’d not give her the time of day.
‘You look in a bad mood, our lass. What’s wrong? Have you fallen out with Archie, or has a lad that you fancy not looked the side that you are on?’ Dorothy Bancroft looked across at her daughter as she came home, throwing her shawl down into the chair before she sat in it, and not saying anything to her mother, as she stared into the fire. It was in need of attention, but Lucy couldn’t be bothered to tend to it.
‘Me – there’s nowt wrong with me. I’ve just had a long day. Is our Susie not in her bed yet? Why do I always have to see to her?’ Lucy growled and scowled at her younger sister, who sat drinking her cup of milk before bed.
‘Now then, young lady, you usually like putting your sister to bed. Don’t
