Shifter's Baby(18)

“I’m fine ma’am,” she answered in a monotone droll, choosing to ignore the look of reproach on her visitors face.

Mrs. Gildon swept back the loose sweaty hairs on her forehead and sidled past Arabella into the room.

“I know you’re still grieving over Henrick, but you can still shed your tears while getting this place back into shape. I know Lord Nelson has been by, looking to acquire your land. He’ll simply take it and have you committed if you don’t get this place into shape. Let me help you dearie, please. I’d be happy to. I know there’s plenty to be done.”

Arabella still felt as if she was in a trance, lost in a bad dream where her life had fallen to pieces and she couldn’t muster the strength to pick up the pieces. But to have Mrs. Gildon sweeping around and helping didn’t feel right. Arabella wasn’t quite ready to be in the presence of anyone else.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll get started today. Go home. I know you’ve plenty to do without helping me with mine.”

Mrs. Gildon had already found the slatted bucket and a dozen rags. The woman cast a frustrated look at Arabella.

“Are you sure dearie? It won’t take any time at all. If anything at least let me go and milk your goats. Their poor teats look as if they’re about to burst. And your cow is lookin’ a tad thin. I could throw some hay and clean out their stalls—“

“No. I said its fine,” Arabella interrupted her suggestions.

The plump woman sighed and set down the cleaning supplies she’d gathered.

“I’ll be back tomorrow. If it still looks a mess, I won’t be asking permission. Lord Nelson wants this land to be farmed by a cluster of serfs and I’ll not be too pleased if I am to live next to a cluster of underfed overworked peasants. I see enough of that travelling to the marketplace.”

Arabella didn’t have a reply for Mrs. Gildon. She watched her rounded figure sidle through the door and down the dirt track that lead a mile up the road to her own farm. The woman meant well enough, Arabella didn’t want her farm to be taken either, but every day that she laid about trying to reign in her numbness Lord Nelson had sent a messenger.

At first asking for her to join him to dine. Another requesting a visit. He wasn’t simply hoping to take her farm; he wanted her hand in marriage as well. She had no desire for either one. The Lord was an older man, rat faced and balding and had his last wife executed on the premise of treason when she’d spread around that he wasn’t well endowed. Lucky for Lord Nelson, the last wife had also had a large parcel of land left to her when her parents mysteriously passed on and her brother had been shipped off to war.

As she stepped from her doorway, out into the sunny yard, she finally saw what Mrs. Gildon had been speaking of. Her animals were out in the pasture, their utters full and bloated, their ribs sticking out from lack of extra feed.

She sighed and tromped towards the small barn that stood near the edge of a wooded area. Immediately the cow, the old mare, and a pair of unmilked nanny goats came trotting towards her as she opened the gate to their pens.

With a grunt of effort she hoisted the milking stool and two large buckets down from a shelf. Before wrangling the goats into place, she remembered that there was still a bag of grain she could feed to the hungry livestock. Thoughtlessly she tromped to the back of the shadowed building to fetch it.

Her mind was so preoccupied with the tasks she now was attempting to accomplish that she didn’t even notice the huddled figure in the corner that stirred as she walked by.

She bent over, reaching for the heavy bag and then was grabbed from behind. A filthy rough hand covered her mouth while a heavily muscled hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her close. Arabella tried to scream, but the huge hand over her mouth muffled the noise.

“Quiet woman. Now listen to me, we’re going to turn around and walk back to your house. If you try to escape, if you fight back, I’ll end you. Don’t test me.”

The small group of livestock had stopped at the barns opening and were watching on, not one hoof passed over the threshold and as the threatening figure steered Arabella around and back towards her house the animals scattered.

She was internally in a panic, her heart was racing and she begun to sweat. It had never crossed her mind that someone could be shacked up in the barn. Her land was so far off from the main road that she rarely got visitors, save for Mrs. Gildon.

Her mind raced over how to get away from the man that had her trapped. She knew that men like him, vagabonds, would do horrid things to her and take what they pleased. It wasn’t an uncommon bit of news for women travelling alone, but she was at home and should have been safe. If only Henrick was here with her.