donât know yet, but Iâll think of something.â Stella threw her arms around Annie and gave her a hug. âGo quickly and see if you can catch Jacob before he sets off for the village. Heâs been offered a job with the farrier so he wonât be far away.â
Annieâs grey eyes filled with tears. âIâll miss you, Stella. Send word to me when youâve found a new position.â
âI will. Donât worry about me. Iâll be all right,â Stella said with more conviction than she was feeling. She gave Annie a last hug. âGo quickly or youâll miss him.â
The reality of her situation only became apparent to Stella as she walked through the gates of Portgone Place for what she thought would be the last time. She paused, glancing over her shoulder at the house which had been her home since she was eleven, and now she was going out into a hostile world with little more than a change of clothes and the small amount of money she had managed to save. The worst of it was that she had no one to turn to and nowhere to go. Perhaps she should have gone to Lady Langhorne and told her the truth of what had happened, but Tommy would deny everything and of course she would believe her son over the word of a mere servant.
She started walking and when she came to a crossroads she hesitated, gazing at the signpost. The wooden fingers pointed in four directions and she must choose which road to take. The rain had ceased but a chill wind whipped her hair from beneath her bonnet and tugged at her damp skirts. Her boots leaked and she was conscious of a blister forming on one of her heels. She read the signpost again and the word Navestock seemed to leap out at her. She closed her eyes and she could hear Mr Hendyâs voice. âChalkhill Farm, Navestock. Ask anyone and theyâll give you directions.â He had invited her to visit them and she was desperate. Perhaps he would allow her to stay for the night, even if she had to sleep in a barn, and she could start out again tomorrow. She braced her shoulders and set off on the road for Navestock.
The sun had fought its way between billowing rain clouds, parting them briefly before they closed together like the curtains in a theatre, plunging the countryside into a sullen gloom with spatters of rain spiking the wind. It was late afternoon by the time Stella reached her destination and she could see the lights from the farmhouse windows from the lane. Her boots were thick with mud, as was the hem of her dress, and the damp patch was gradually working its way up towards her knees. Her fingers were numbed with cold as she fumbled with the metal latch on the gate. She opened it and was about to step into the yard when two dogs appeared as if from nowhere, barking and baring their teeth.
âDown, boys.â The order came from Robert, who emerged from an outbuilding and strode towards her, clicking his fingers at the dogs. They obeyed the command and came to heel. âMiss Barry. It is you, isnât it?â Robert stared at her in astonishment. âCome into the house. You look perished.â
Her teeth were chattering so loudly that she was virtually incapable of speech, but she mumbled her thanks and followed him across the muddy yard to the back door of the half-timbered farmhouse. He ushered her into the chaos of a scullery with a stone sink filled with dirty dishes. The floor was strewn with muddy boots, which looked as though they had been kicked off and left where they had fallen. Waxed coats hung from pegs on the wall and she almost tripped over one of the dogs as it lapped water from a pudding basin. âItâs a bit of a mess,â Robert said apologetically. He opened the kitchen door. âFather, we have a visitor.â
A gust of warm air almost took Stellaâs breath away as she entered the large and equally messy kitchen. Strings of onions and bunches of dried herbs dangled from its beamed
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