The Runaway Daughter by Libby Ashworth

Author:Libby Ashworth
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Canelo
Published: 2023-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The next morning, Betty was busy filling a box with the few serviceable possessions she intended to take with her to Deptford when there was a knock on her cottage door. Although she knew it couldn’t be Lydia, because her daughter would have come straight in, Betty hoped it was news that she was on her way and her hopes surged when she saw the Reverend Brocklehurst standing there.

‘May I step inside?’ he asked as he took off his hat.

‘Aye. Come in,’ said Betty. His solemn face worried her. He was always a serious man, not given much to smiling, but there was something about his demeanour that made him seem sterner than ever this morning. She was worried that he’d come to say that there was a problem with the arrangements for her travel.

‘I think you’d best sit down,’ he told her.

‘Why? What’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘They haven’t changed their minds about our passage on the ship, have they?’

‘No.’ The vicar shook his head. ‘Sit down, Mrs Knowles,’ he repeated. ‘It isn’t about the passage, but I do have some bad news.’

Betty felt herself becoming increasingly alarmed. She knew that it wasn’t about Simon or Rose. They were out gathering wood for the fire and had only been gone for ten minutes at the most.

‘Lydia?’ she asked. ‘Will they not let her go from Caton?’

The Reverend Brocklehurst took her elbow and looked around for a seat, but finding none, he let his hand drop and allowed her to continue to stand.

‘I have had a letter from Mr Greg at Caton,’ he told her, ‘but it wasn’t what I was expecting.’ He paused, obviously finding it difficult to find the right words and, as Betty watched him, her fears grew.

‘What’s happened?’ she asked, hearing the quaver in her own voice.

‘It seems that on the Sunday before last, after church, the children were allowed to go down to the riverbank to play. It was a common occurrence and there had never been any question of it being dangerous,’ he added. Betty found she was struggling to breathe as panic gripped her. ‘There was an accident,’ went on the vicar. ‘There was some argument, some horseplay – as children are inclined to after a week spent working inside. It seems that one girl was pulled from the water. But Lydia is still missing. Despite a long and thorough search, she hasn’t been found.’

Betty stared at the vicar, trying to make sense of what he was telling her. ‘So she’s not at Caton?’ she asked after a moment. She must be somewhere, thought Betty. People didn’t just disappear. They must not have looked hard enough.

‘Nothing is certain, Mrs Knowles,’ the vicar told her. ‘I’m assured that they have not stopped looking for her. But…’ He hesitated. ‘The river runs fast in the wet weather,’ he went on. ‘It comes down from the hills. The other children raised the alarm immediately and they were lucky to rescue one girl. But your daughter… Lydia…’

‘No!’ screamed Betty as the implication of what she was being told hit her with its full force.

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