Belle - Lesley Pearse [39]
‘I’ve brought you hot water to wash,’ he said, and in the gloom she could see steam rising from a ewer on the washstand. ‘There’s a comb there too. I’ll be back for you in ten minutes.’
Her terror abated a little for surely no one would give hot water and a comb to someone they were going to kill. She started to plead with Sly for an explanation but he quickly backed out of the door and locked it behind him.
Sly was back as he said he would be. He picked up her cloak from the bed, then held her arm as far as the stairs, but once there he picked her up and flung her over his shoulder instead of making her walk.
Now Belle got a chance to see more of his house because daylight was streaming in through the windows. It was a fair size – she thought about six rooms on each of the two floors. It was a very old place with low ceilings, beams and uneven floors, without even gas lighting. Through a window up on the landing she’d caught a glimpse of cows being herded into a shed next to the house, and realized she was in the farmhouse. But it was also clear Sly didn’t run it, someone else, probably the man called Tad did, and she didn’t think any women ever came in here for it was all so dusty and neglected. Belle looked from one man to the other as she ate the bowl of porridge Kent had given her. Both men were silent, she sensed they were in disagreement about something, and it was probably to do with her.
‘Can you read and write?’
The question from Kent took Belle by surprise.
‘Why do you want to know?’ she asked.
‘Just answer me!’ he snapped.
It occurred to her that it might be a very good idea to play ignorant, that way he’d be less wary of her. ‘No, I can’t,’ she lied. ‘I never went to school.’
He made a scornful face as if that was what he had expected, and Belle felt she’d won a point.
‘What are you going to do with me?’ she asked.
‘Don’t ask so many questions,’ he replied. ‘Finish that porridge – you won’t be getting anything else for a while.’
At that Belle felt she must eat as much as she could and not only finished the porridge but had two thick slices of bread which she spread generously with butter. Sly poured her a second cup of tea and winked at her companionably.
The wink lifted her spirits, for it did seem he was on her side.
She had barely finished drinking the tea when Kent put on his greatcoat and wound a scarf around his neck. He then picked up her cloak and passed it to her, curtly ordering her to put it on.
Within less than ten minutes she was ushered out of the front door where a carriage, probably the same one from the previous night, was waiting. Sly escorted her out to it, lifting her in, while Kent went back into the house for something. The sun had come out, and although it was weak and wintry and the trees surrounding the farmhouse were bare of leaves, it made a pretty scene.
‘Did you live here when you were a boy?’ she asked Sly.
He half smiled. ‘Yes, I thought there was no finer place until I was your age and was expected to milk cows and help with the harvest.’
‘What made you go from farmer to helping a murderer?’ she asked boldly.
He hesitated for a second before replying, and she hoped that was because she’d pricked his conscience. ‘I would suggest you didn’t ask that sort of question,’ he said, looking stern. ‘Or say anything which might make Kent mad. He’s got a short fuse.’
Belle’s hands were tied again before the carriage left the farm, and she was placed by the window facing the front. The blind was pulled down so she couldn’t see where she was going. Once again Kent sat beside her. Sly sat opposite, but he had his window blind up so he could see out.
The rolling of the carriage and the constant clip-clopping of the horses’ hooves made Belle sleepy, but although her head kept drooping she was sufficiently awake to hear the two men talking quietly. Mostly they were discussing things which meant nothing to her, but she pricked up her ears when she heard Sly mention Dover and a ship.
‘I’d have