Redemption (8 page)

“Mrs
Blidworth,” Lizzie began only to stop when the lady’s gnarled hand
suddenly came to rest upon hers.

“Please,
call me Patty. Like I said to you, I don’t stand on ceremony. I was
your father’s sister, but there was such a big difference in our
ages that we were never close. Your mother, bless her, kept in
contact with me and visited when she was alive, but you would be
too young to remember much about that I suppose. Now then, how
about a nice cup of tea and then you can tell me what that
scoundrel has been up to?”

“But you
don’t know me,” Lizzie began.

“Nonsense child,” Mrs Blidworth replied. “You are the
spitting image of your mother. Why, as soon as you came around the
side of the house, I knew exactly who you are. You are Lizzie
Pinner, Abigail’s daughter. Of course, it has been many years since
your mother passed away, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends
now does it?”

Lizzie
shook her head and smiled. “I can vaguely recall coming to see you
as a child but I must only have been about five, and it was before
my father died. After that, well, everything changed and we didn’t
really go anywhere much. Julian always said that everything we
needed was in London so there was no need to go
anywhere.”

Mrs
Blidworth nodded. “When you went to London, everything really did
change didn’t it?”

“Not for
the better either,” Lizzie sighed. “It was all right for my mother,
but we sacrificed so much of our old life that nothing was ever
really the same.”

“I know.
Life does change though my dear. All we can do is keep abreast with
it as best we can.”

“Please,
Miss Blidworth, I apologise for calling by unannounced like this. I
know it is the height of bad manners, but I really had nowhere to
go.” She paused when Miss Blidworth put the tea pot onto the table
and gave her a stern look.

“Call
me, Patty. My name is Patricia but nobody calls me that any more.
Mrs Blidworth sounds so stuffy, doesn’t it? You can call me Patty,
and I shall call you Elizabeth.”

“I
prefer Lizzie,” she corrected.

“Then I
shall call you Lizzie,” Patty declared with a nod. She quickly
gathered the tea cups and plates they needed and took a seat in the
chair opposite. “Now that you are here, I shall make up the spare
room for you. It will be dark soon so I insist that you
stay.”

“When I
arrived, you said that you were expecting me,” Lizzie said somewhat
hesitantly, wondering how she could have been expecting her given
that Lizzie hadn’t written to her in an age.

“Your
mother had her doubts about that step-son of hers right from the
very beginning, and wrote to me on many occasions to tell me so. It
appears that she was right about him too.”

The way
Patty spoke was in the manner of someone who was immensely pleased
at being proved right, and the impish smile she threw at Lizzie
made her smile in spite of herself.

“I
shouldn’t impose like this. I have little in the way of funds, but
I can pay you.”

“Nonsense, child,” Patty protested. When Lizzie opened her
mouth to speak, Patty held up her hand to silence her. “No. No. I
insist that you stay here as my guest. The Dales get dark at night
and can be dangerous. It won’t do you any good to be out there all
alone. I like it well enough here, but I am aware that it is not
for everyone. If you think you can stand it, I should like you to
stay for a while.”

“But I
don’t want to impose on your good nature.”

“Phah!” Patty snorted. “You are not imposing.” She threw
Lizzie another impish smile. “You are visiting your elderly
relation for a while. Given it has probably taken you days to get
here, you need to stay for a while to rest before you even begin to
think of going anywhere else.” She gave Lizzie a knowing look.
“
Do
you have
anywhere else to go?”

Lizzie
sighed deeply and looked at the table top sadly. “I have to confess
that no, I have nowhere else to go,” she sighed.

“You
took a risk coming here,” Patty replied pointedly. “I might have
died, you know.”

Lizzie
stared at her, a little nonplussed at the bluntness of the comment.
“Well, yes. I know it is incredibly bad mannered of me to just turn
up out of the blue like this, but I was desperate and you are the
only blood relation I have now.”

“It
isn’t bad mannered of you at all. I promised your mother that if
you ever needed any help I would be there for you. Now it appears
that you need my help, so you shall get it whether you like it or
not. Now, drink your tea up then dear, and then I will show you to
your room.”

“What
can I do to repay you?” Lizzie asked when she had been furnished
with a steaming hot cup of tea and a large slice of what appeared
to be fruit cake.

“Keep me
company, that’s all,” Patty replied firmly. “I have my ladies’
sewing group, and help out at the church but, other than that, I
spend most of my days by myself. It does get awfully lonely at
times. It would be nice to have someone to talk to for a
change.”

“Then I
should be obliged if you would allow me to help you around the
house with the chores.” Lizzie glanced around the kitchen and
frowned at the oddness of the quaint little room. It was a little
topsy-turvy and, from the look of the dust motes on the floor, in
need of a thorough clean. Although she was used to having servants
to do most of that kind of thing for her she was willing to give it
a go, and actually looked forward to a new challenge of learning
what to do to keep a house spic and span as it should
be.

“That
would be nice, yes,” Patty replied.

They ate
and drank in silence for a moment. Eventually, Lizzie just had to
ask. “Don’t you want to know what happened to me?”

Patty
looked at her with wise eyes. “I am sure you will tell me in your
own good time. There is no rush. Once you have rested you will
probably see the situation you have been dealt with a little
differently anyway. Then we can talk about what happened and decide
where we go from there. Meantime, just rest and catch your breath.
I am sure that living here will seem completely different to the
hustle and bustle of London, but you will get used to
it.”

Lizzie
smiled politely but already felt so out of place that she knew she
had made a huge mistake coming here, even though her aunt had been
gracious and hospitable in the nicest of ways.

The
house, as old and decrepit as it was, felt like it was situated in
the back of beyond; and was so deathly quiet that even the ticking
of the clock on the mantle was unnerving. Outside, the winds coming
off the moors echoed hauntingly around the house, rattling the
windows with ruthless determination. It heightened the strangely
abandoned feel of the place. She had to wonder how Patty managed to
live here all by herself. Of course, she didn’t actually say as
much to her hostess for fear of sounding impertinent, ungrateful,
and rude. Instead she smiled and began to eat the delicious fruit
cake, just relieved that she had somewhere to stay for the time
being that wouldn’t take up the remaining money she had.

At
first, the slightly strange texture of the cake treat didn’t
register on her senses. It was only when she had been chewing a
particularly hard piece of peel for several moments that she
realised something was wrong only she couldn’t quite make out what
it was. Was it just a piece of hard peel? Was it some other part of
the apple that had gotten into the cake by mistake? She realised
then that the strange taste she was getting in her mouth from the
cake was in fact bread. She chewed, swallowed and looked
suspiciously at the remainder of the cake on her plate. It didn’t
appear as appetising as it had been moments earlier, mostly because
there were strange black bits in it that looked like seeds of some
sort. Were they apple seeds?

“It is
an intriguing cake,” she murmured politely, discretely putting the
rest back onto the plate and brushing crumbs off her
fingers.

“Oh, yes
dear. The birds love it. I gather up all of the leftovers I have
and add them to my cakes. Why, there is suet, and fruit. Oh, and I
found some bread that had gone hard so popped that in there too,
and a bit of pie crust. They love pie crusts.”

Lizzie
looked at her blankly for a moment then swallowed the peel she had
been chewing before she took a sip of her tea to wash the unusual
flavour out of her mouth. Her gaze was drawn to the window and she
realised then that her aunt might not be all that she seemed.
Because, unless her eyes were deceiving her, Patty had in fact hung
several balls of wool and ribbons from the washing line and they
were now flapping gaily in the gathering storm.

“Finished, dear?” Patty asked when Lizzie had choked down as
much of the cake as she could manage along with two cups of
tea.

“Yes,
thank you. That was - delicious.”

She
watched suspiciously when Patty beamed proudly at her as she left
the table. Her cup hovered half way between the table and her mouth
as Patty lifted the remainder of the cake off the plate between
them, opened the back door, and threw the entire thing out into the
garden. The dull thud of it hitting the grass outside was
immediately snatched by the increasing winds, and brought forth a
shudder within Lizzie that had nothing to do with the cold breeze
that invaded the kitchen.

“There,
the birds will love pecking at that,” Patty declared with a nod as
she closed the back door and slid the bolt and the curtain
across.

Lizzie
stared at her. The wild urge to laugh nearly got the better of her
before she turned her attention back to the brightly coloured
balls, ribbons, and lace flapping about violently outside. She just
had to ask.

“What
are the wool and bits for?”

“The
ribbons and things out there?” Patty asked without bothering to
look out of the window. “They needed an airing, that’s
all.”

“An
airing,” Lizzie repeated dully. She had never in her life
considered that wool and ribbons needed to be aired but there
Patty’s were, out on the washing line, in the wind and
rain.

A small
tendril of worry began to filter into her subconscious and stayed
there for her to think about later. Her aunt clearly was not as
together as she first appeared. Was Patty mentally unstable, or
just a little – well – eccentric? Her cousin in Scotland, the
eccentric one, suddenly flashed to the forefront of her mind. Did
eccentricity run in the family?

“Yes,
dear. They also keep the birds out of the garden.”

Lizzie
thought about that for a moment, and considered the cake her aunt
had just thrown out of the door. “But I thought you just gave the
cake to the birds?”

“I did
dear. They do so like cake,” Patty replied.

Lizzie
decided to let the matter drop for now and helped clear the rest of
the table. Once the room had been tidied, she collected her carpet
bag and followed her aunt up the stairs to the small bedroom that
overlooked the washing line.

“This is
your room, dear. I will fetch you some clean linen. The wood pile
is out the back, so help yourself if you wish to light the fire in
here. It can get a little chilly at night, especially now that we
are approaching winter. Now then, I need to go and meet with my
sewing circle friends so will be out for a while. Help yourself to
anything you need while I am gone. I shan’t be long.
Ta-ta.”

Lizzie
opened her mouth to speak only to find herself suddenly alone. She
hurried to the door, followed her aunt down the stairs, and watched
Patty gather up her cloak and knitting and disappear out of the
front door, all the while muttering to herself about making more
stale bread and cakes for tomorrow.

Silence
descended once she had gone.

Unsure
what to make of what she had just witnessed, Lizzie sat on one of
the steps and stared at the front door in disbelief. She had
anticipated Derbyshire to be entirely different to London; but not
quite this much. The wilds of the Dales she could live with – just
- if she absolutely had to. However, her aunt’s curious behaviour
was a little startling. Was it just absent mindedness? Or was there
something more disturbing going on? If so, how was she supposed to
deal with it?

It was
only when she was half-way up the stairs to her room that she
realised her aunt hadn’t given her any linen for the bed. That
wasn’t too bad, she could look for the linen cupboard herself.
However, what bothered her most was that her aunt had gone to the
sewing circle, or so she claimed. Why then, had she taken her
knitting?

Later
that night, when she was tucked up in her new bed watching the logs
crackle and pop in the fire grate, she reluctantly allowed her
thoughts to turn to London and, in particular, the one man she
least wanted to think about.

Where
was he? What was he doing? Had he thought about her since they
parted at the ball? Did he know she had left London? Did he
care?

They
were questions she suspected she would never get answers to now,
and that upset her even more. She wished she could see him one last
time, but knew she couldn’t. The pang of homesickness she felt for
the man, and the life she had left behind was so strong that it
brought tears to her eyes.