Destitute On His Doorstep Read Online Free

Northampton. Things might have been different if she had. She was the only person I knew who could stand up to my father. If you are set on going back there, Jane, I shall pray you do not have to bear the brunt of the malicious hatred that might still fester in the breasts of those who consider they have been cheated out of hanging a witch.’
    â€˜So do I, Hester. But it’s a long time ago and I’m hopeful that things will have changed.’
    â€˜Then if you’re set on leaving, I’m sure I can be of help in some way.’
    Jane smiled and clasped her hand. She was deeply touched by the sincerity in Hester’s voice. With her soft blonde hair and pale blue eyes, Hester was a modest young woman, with a retiring and wary nature, which was hardly surprising considering the harsh treatment meted out to her by her father.
    â€˜Dearest Hester, ever practical and always kind. Ever since Gwen brought me here you have been a pillar of strength. As for helping me—you shouldn’t. You know your father will find out. He always does and then you will be in trouble as well as me.’
    Hester smiled. ‘I’m prepared to risk it. Sometimes I fear what will become of us—but it’s right that you go. At least you have somewhere to escape to, whereas we will have to stay under his authority until he finds us husbands,’ Hester retorted, in a voice made harsh by the hostility of her thoughts. ‘Indeed, Jane, I cannot wait. Nothing could be as bad as this—no man as cruel as he is. His behaviour is abnormal, deranged. I believe his mind is twisted—in fact, there are times when Iam sure he is quite mad. How else can his cruelties by explained?’ Tears were glistening in her eyes and on her lashes when she asked, ‘Is there always a man to be found behind women’s suffering?’
    Her words were met by silence, then Jane took out a handkerchief and handed it to her. Jane was worried about what would happen when Jacob Atkins discovered she had left. ‘It certainly looks that way, Hester. God help us all,’ she whispered. ‘I believe there is.’
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    With her few possessions secured to the back of the horse and Scamp, her little dog, curled up in front of her, with the end of her journey in sight, Jane focused her eyes on the road ahead. With the war not long over, the countryside was infested with footpads, vagrants and displaced soldiers. She was armed with an ancient matchlock pistol, one of a brace that she had taken from the house. She would not be afraid to use it should anyone try to accost her.
    After a long and weary ride, having reached the borders of the Bilborough estate in the heart of Cambridgeshire, suffering from aching limbs and a severe headache, she rode slowly. She tried to ignore her discomfort in the joy of being close to Bilborough Hall, telling herself there would be plenty of time to rest when they were home.
    She was going home in peace—at least, it was peace of a sort, for although England was now a Commonwealth, the Civil War had ended. She let her gaze move lovingly over the achingly familiar landscape. The countryside around them was beautiful, the land rich and fertile, with ancient woods full of game and huge oaks and elms stretching to the sky like a benediction. Marshbirds came in flocks to settle on a large lake, wheeling and calling overhead. Corn standing tall and golden in the fields indicated that harvest wasn’t far away.
    Halting her horse to let a young swineherd cross the road to the next field, she noted sheep and cattle grazing contentedly in meadows; in another, half-a-dozen splendid-looking mares had foaled. She was impressed. Long before her father had died all the horses at Bilborough had been requisitioned by the army. She wondered where all these horses had come from.
    There was no sign of neglect here, as had been the case of other manors she had passed through. Despite the ten years of