Hope - Lesley Pearse [51]
It had been very tempting to ask Lady Harvey for some help, but she’d quashed that idea for Nell knew if her mistress refused, she might retaliate and blurt out something she would regret.
Captain Pettigrew had called many times in the last three years, always when the master was away. Maybe they didn’t get up to anything wrong, but Nell could feel a charge in the air between them and her ladyship was always lost in a dream when he left, sometimes even a little weepy.
Nell could understand, at least to a certain extent. Over the years she had come to see that Sir William wasn’t the perfect husband she once took him for. He was careless with his wife, preferring the company of his friends in London to her. Maybe he’d always been that way and that was why her mistress fell for the Captain’s charms in the first place.
Without Lady Harvey’s help Nell couldn’t run away from Albert, and anyway she didn’t want to leave the job she loved, or her family. If James and Matt were to find out Albert had beaten Hope, they would take their revenge. But Albert was an intelligent, determined man and he knew the law. He’d get James and Matt arrested, they would end up in prison, and she and Hope would be completely at his mercy.
She couldn’t even hope that by now he was feeling ashamed of himself, as she knew that he didn’t love her. He didn’t love anyone but himself.
While there was no way she could either be rid of Albert or punish him, she didn’t intend just to lie down and let him walk over her. As her father had been very fond of saying, ‘There’s more than one way to skin a cat.’ And Nell felt she had found a way to skin Albert.
Inside, the cottage felt no warmer than outside, and Nell fumbled in the darkness for the candle and matches she always left on the shelf by the door. Once the candle was alight, she carried it over to the table and lit the oil lamp.
The stove was out, just as she had expected, and the breadboard on the table held just a few crumbs and the bread knife. A broken cup lay on the floor, clearly hurled by Albert, and the hearthrug was scuffed up, but there was nothing else out of place. She picked up the pieces of china and looked for further clues as to what had gone on that morning. Her eyes fell on a splattering of blood on the whitewashed wall by the door.
In a strange way she was glad to see it, for it was the confirmation she needed to give her the courage to carry out her plan. She had the stove lit within five minutes. She put the pie in to warm through, laid the table and then ran upstairs to make the bed and collect the slop pail.
Just after six, she heard Albert’s boots scrunching on the stones of the drive and her bowels contracted with fear. She was spooning some tea into the warmed pot as he came in. He stood for a second in the doorway, his eyes narrowing in surprise to find Nell there as she usually arrived back much later than him.
Even after all the misery he’d put her through, she could still admire how handsome he was. Six feet two inches of rock-hard muscle, and a face that would make many a woman swoon: large dark blue eyes framed by long lashes, a perfect straight nose and a well-shaped mouth. He had shaved off his beard soon after their wedding, and though there was a dark shadow on his chin now because he hadn’t shaved that morning, his slightly cleft chin was attractive. Even his teeth were still good, and he often pointed out that she should be ashamed that she’d lost so many of hers.
‘I’ve got a nice meat and potato pie for your supper,’ she said pleasantly. ‘And this tea will be brewed in a moment.’
‘Where’s the girl?’ he asked as he hung up his coat by the door.
‘Up at the house,’ she replied. ‘My father always asked how Mother was, and kissed her when he came in.’
He looked hard at her, clearly not really understanding the sarcasm, but he said nothing and went over to the bowl of water she had ready and washed his hands.
She poured his tea in silence, took the pie from the oven and put it on the table, then cut him