A Dream Rides By (11 page)

Rose asked her to pour the tea that Daisy had carried in on a huge silver tray, and then Ling perched on the edge of her chair, watching to see whose cup needed refilling. Her gaze clashed awkwardly with the dark, almost coal-black eyes of Toby Bradley, and they both looked away at once. Although Ling was Rose’s companion, she was still a servant, while Toby Bradley’s family would
employ
servants, and she must show the young man nothing but deference. He was a handsome lad, but her loyalty to Barney would not allow her to find any other male attractive.

‘Oh, look at you two fidgeting away!’ Mrs Bradley turned her attention on her younger children who sat like peas in a pod but for a small age difference. ‘You’re dying to see the horses, aren’t you, my lovelies? Why don’t all you young people go outside? ’Tis all right, isn’t it, Seth?’

‘Of course. You wouldn’t mind taking them, would you, Ling?’

Ling’s mouth dried as she was gripped with a sudden timidity. Young Master Bradley looked no older than herself, but perhaps that was precisely why she felt nervous. She was still trying to find a polite answer when his younger brother and sister shot past her in an eager furore, nearly knocking her over as they rushed towards the open French doors to the garden.

‘Slow down!’ the captain called after them in vain reprimand as the offenders disappeared from sight. ‘Horse mad!’ he despaired, though Ling noticed that his mouth was curved in an affectionate smile. ‘At least, Charlotte is, and whatever she does James follows. Keep an eye on them, will you, Toby?’

The adults resumed their animated conversation, unaware of the two adolescents hesitating by the doorway. Ling caught her breath as Toby stood back. Oh dear. Did he want her to go first? Was that correct? After a moment’s reflection, she decided the best thing would be to say a polite thank you and step over the threshold. Well, that seemed to work, thank the Lord. The boy shot her a coy smile, and they found themselves walking towards the stable-yard, the two younger children having run on ahead.

Ling waited. But Toby Bradley said nothing. Ling’s lips twitched. As a servant, and a female at that, surely she should not speak until spoken to, but really, this silence was quite absurd!

‘I take it you do not share your brother and sister’s passion for horses, Master Bradley?’ she ventured.

To her immense relief, he replied with a natural shrug of his shoulders. ‘Not exactly. Give me a ship any day.’

She caught the flash of enthusiasm in his voice, and felt encouraged. ‘It must be in your blood,’ she said with a half smile.

‘Oh, no. Father’s, well, he’s my
step
father. Didn’t you know? My real father died before I was born.’

Ling felt her cheeks colour. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘No one told me.’

But Toby merely raised his dark eyebrows in a good-natured arch. ‘No need to be sorry. I couldn’t have had a better father. Perhaps it’s because I admire him so much, but I’ve never wanted anything else than to go to sea.’

They had come into the stable-yard just in time to see Charlotte and James racing off towards the fields where they knew the horses would be. They evidently knew the way!

‘You wouldn’t think we had horses at home!’ Toby observed. ‘Not so many as here, of course. Do you ride, Miss . . .? What did Uncle Seth say your name is? I apologize, but I didn’t catch it.’

Ling’s eyes stretched wide. To have this young
gentleman
apologizing to
her
! ‘Ling,’ she told him with a suppressed grin.

‘Oh, I say, what’s that? It sounds, I don’t know, oriental.’

‘Not at all!’ she laughed easily now. ‘Ling’s a kind of heather. That’s my real name, you see. Heather.’

‘Oh, I see! How lovely! Shall we?’

Ling fell into step beside him. She felt more relaxed now in the young man’s company. ‘So, I imagine you must have sailed with your father quite often?’ she prompted him.

‘Not that often, actually. He doesn’t sail much nowadays. He has too many other business matters to attend to. A pity though. His seamanship is second to none. Even Uncle Misha still looks up to him, and he’s Father’s chief master.’

‘Misha? Now you’re the one with exotic sounding relatives!’

Toby grinned broadly. ‘Oh, Uncle Misha really is! I mean, not exotic, but he
is
Russian. I’ve sailed with him more than I have with Father. On the
Emily
. You see, Father says I must know how to handle a sailing ship first. He’s taught me a great deal of the theory and all about navigation. I’m to finish my general education, and then I’m to sail with Uncle Misha for two years. And after that, Father says I can go to naval training college. It’s steamships I want to sail, mind. Father owns one, but he refuses to captain it himself. It’s sailing he loves.’

Toby’s eyes were gleaming, and Ling was so pleased she had dared to break the ice. The groom took charge of Charlotte and James, and so Ling and Toby felt able to talk freely as they lounged against the gate to the field where Gospel was kicking up his heels and gambolling in circles, more like a spring lamb than the ageing gentleman that he was.

‘Still showing off to Tansy!’ Ling chuckled. ‘I’ve been here nearly two months and I’ve already learnt so much about horses. I knew virtually nothing before.’

‘And has Uncle Seth told you about his time in India? Fascinating! I’d love to travel. Would you, Ling, if you don’t mind me calling you that?’

‘Well, I’d never really thought about it. I imagined I should always live on the moor and only ever travel as far as Tavistock once a year for the Goose Fair. But now the railway’s come to Princetown, I’ve been there several times. And Mistress Rose has taken me to Plymouth once or twice on the train, which I’d never expected before. But it must be interesting to travel. I imagine you’ve been all over the world.’

‘Not at all. I’ve only ever been on short trips. France, mainly. And Spain once or twice. I’ve not been through the Straits of Gibraltar yet. But when I’m fully qualified to master Father’s steamship,’ he said proudly, ‘I shall sail to the West Indies for him to buy rum and sugar and bananas.’

Ling gave a light-hearted laugh. It appeared that Toby had it all worked out! As well as his shipping line, Captain Bradley owned a wine and spirits merchants, his family’s original business, and he was already grooming his elder son in knowledge of the trade. And then there was the huge estate in Herefordshire that he had inherited. Toby oozed devotion as he told Ling about his stepfather and also his mother whom he adored. The family had just come from spending a week at the river port of Morwellham, the other side of Tavistock, where Rebecca’s father was still Harbour Master. Toby was so interesting that Ling could hardly believe it when Daisy was sent out to fetch them since dinner would be served in an hour and Ling, of course, was required to assist Rose to change.

‘Ling, my dear,’ Rose almost sang as Ling unhooked the back of her day-dress. ‘We’re all going to spend a few days at our friends, the Pencarrows, over near Peter Tavy. Richard can’t leave the farm, you see, so we always go to them. You’d love Beth, but I thought perhaps you’d like to take the opportunity to go home for a day or two? I know Beth would be delighted to have you, and I’d love to take you with us, but that would be selfish of me. I’m certain you’d rather spend the time with your family. And then there’s your young man. There’ll be times when the baby comes when I can’t spare you, so you ought to make the most of it now.’

Ling stared into her mistress’s radiant face. Mistress Rose was being kind and thoughtful, but Ling was astounded and confused by her own reaction. She relished her weekly visits home, when she would sit and chat with her mother while Fanny would sidle up to her, thumb plugged in her mouth. When Arthur finished his work at six o’clock, or at noon if it happened to be Saturday, Ling would relate the serious aspects of life at Fencott Place, business matters and the various campaigns the Warringtons were involved in, or Seth’s stories of India. Mary and Fanny would listen with mesmerized devotion, hardly understanding a word, while Arthur nodded in comprehension, the only one among them to ask intelligent questions.

And then there was dear Barney. Ling cherished every moment with him, every tender kiss, every strong and protective embrace in his muscled arms. He had just completed his apprenticeship and was beginning to put money aside for the day they would marry. He planned on renting one of the empty cottages, he said, and making her a good quarryman’s home, and Ling had no doubt that he would.

But . . . go home for a few
days
? Sleep on the thin, straw mattress on the kitchen floor again? It wasn’t that she had come to look down on her own kind. They were good, God-fearing people and she loved them with every beat of her steadfast heart. But they had no thought beyond the roof over their heads and the food on their plates. It wasn’t their fault. It was what they were conditioned to. Only her father could see beyond the quarry. Not even Barney could understand that there were principles to fight for beyond their own lives. When she thought of the Warringtons and the Bradleys, working tirelessly to help others, of Toby and his desire to see the world . . .

She had to stifle her gasp of shame. Yes. She would go home for those few days. It would be wrong of her not to.

But the truth of it was that she didn’t want to, and the realization was crucifying.

‘And how’s my lovely godson, then?’

Rebecca Bradley swept into the nursery and Ling glanced up, her eyes like warm toffee as she played with nine-month-old Henry Warrington. Although a little angel, Hal, as he was known, was into every mischief imaginable. The Bradley family had been due at any minute, and Ling had carried him upstairs to the nursery until the inevitable chaos caused by the visitors’ arrival had subsided.

Ling’s favourite occupation in the Warrington’s employment was caring for baby Hal. She had been working at Fencott Place for well over a year, more as one of the family than a servant. Since the day he had been born, Hal had been the core of his parents’ lives, but they also had a business and investments to take care of, and, to give Florrie a break, Ling was often left in charge of the little chap. She had been encouraging him to build a tower with some little wooden bricks as they sat opposite each other, cross-legged, on the rug. The boy’s face burst into a proud grin when he eventually succeeded in balancing one brick upon another, and clapped his chubby hands in glee.

‘Oh, clever boy!’ Ling whooped with delight as she heard the noisy advent of the guests down in the hallway. This would be the fourth occasion upon which the Bradleys had come to stay, and each time she and Toby had strengthened their friendship. So that now she looked forward to being in his company with as much eagerness as Seth and Rose anticipated being with Adam and Rebecca.

‘Mrs Bradley! How lovely to see you!’

She leapt to her feet and bobbed a curtsy. Rebecca Bradley gave her vivacious smile and bent to scoop Hal into her arms. He was such a happy soul, surrounded by nothing but love, and he opened his mouth in a wide grin, revealing the tiny front teeth in his otherwise toothless gums.

‘Ling, my dear! You’re looking well. And look at
you
, little man. ’Tis so big you’ve grown since we saw you last!’

Ling had no need to conceal the smile on her lips. She had come to love her employers and their friends as she loved her own family. Later, when Hal had been put down for his afternoon nap, with Florrie dozing in the chair beside his cot, Ling was free to join the two families in the drawing-room, and she found herself sitting beside Toby. Her hands were clasped loosely in her lap as she watched Charlotte and James lolling on the floor with the dogs, and she almost jumped when she heard Toby clear his throat.

‘Ling, I wonder if you’d mind . . .’ he faltered. ‘I’d like to talk to you about something.’

Ling stole an inquisitive glance at Toby’s dark, earnest eyes. He had grown taller and broader of shoulder in the year they had known each other, and, though possessed of a wiry, narrow frame, he was altogether a more mature figure. Ling nodded at him and, having politely excused themselves from the adults, Toby offered her his arm and they stepped out on to the terrace. Her fingers rested uneasily in the crook of his elbow. What on earth did he have to say to her that was of such importance? When he finally spoke, his voice was low and solemn.

‘Ling, I believe I am in love,’ he told her gravely. ‘No. I
know
I am.’

Ling almost stopped in her tracks. They had become good friends, but surely she wasn’t worthy of such a solemn confidence? Unless . . . Oh, dear Lord, surely he didn’t mean . . .?

‘Only, I don’t know how to tell her. It’s Chantal, you see. Chantal Pencarrow. You know we’ve just come from there. You’ve never met her, but she’s . . . Oh, she’s so full of life. And she still has this enchanting French accent. Her mother was French, you see, but she died when Chantal was a baby. She lived in France until she was six and then Uncle Richard brought her back to the family home at Peter Tavy. And then Uncle Richard married Auntie Beth, so Chantal has two half brothers and two half sisters now.’ Toby paused, and when he turned to gaze into Ling’s face, she saw his eyes twinkling with stars. ‘Chantal’s just so beautiful,’ he went on, his voice trembling. ‘The problem is I become tongue-tied when I’m with her. She’s three years older than me, you see, so I’m afraid she’ll just look upon me as a silly child. I’m not though. I’ve known her for years, and, you know, I think I’ve always loved her.’

Ling’s head swam, the paving slabs seeming to waver beneath her feet. What
had
she expected? Toby had never been anything other than a good friend. She was way beneath him, so why for one precious, thrilling moment had she thought he was going to confess that he was in love with
her
? She was overwhelmingly relieved that he hadn’t, of course. She was engaged to Barney! But . . . wouldn’t her life have changed for ever if she had been free and Toby
had
been in love with her?