Larkrigg Fell (20 page)

‘That’s very sweet of you to say so.’

It also galled her to think her plain ‘little’ sister might marry before her, despite a recent declaration to scorn marriage. Of course Sarah had Jonty, a flawed lover perhaps, but never less than exciting or entertaining. ‘Look at Tessa, grasping for handouts, but can you blame her, stuck with a kid and no husband? You wouldn’t want to end up like that, now would you?’

A new viewpoint which brought pause for thought. ‘I - I suppose not.’

‘You should never rush into marriage. Worst thing a woman can do.’

Beth began to see some sense in her sister’s words and nibbled thoughtfully on her lower lip. ‘But it wouldn’t feel right simply to live with him.’

‘For God’s sake it’s not the Dark Ages.’ In Sarah’s eyes it seemed incredible that Beth still had these scruples, not to mention her virginity. Losing both might bring her down out of her romantic clouds. ‘We could have a ceremony, if you like?’

‘What?’

‘A homemade one, about commitment.’

Beth started to laugh. ‘What good would that do?’

‘It would make you feel better. Sort of dress rehearsal. Practice makes perfect, or so they say.’ Then they were both laughing and hugging each other and making plans as Sarah so loved to do. ‘But first, dear sis, you must pay a visit to the good old doc.’

A new excitement seemed to light the commune over the next few days. Sarah took charge of the arrangements as she so loved to do. Everyone was delighted by the news, even if it was no more than a make-believe celebration.

Only Pietro seemed less than enchanted by the idea.

‘We’ll have a real wedding one day, when Meg and Tam get back from the states,’ Beth promised.

‘You should write to your mamma now.’

‘Not quite yet. Sarah’s right. We have to get to know each other a bit better first.’

‘But it will not be the same. I want for you to marry me properly, at once.’

‘Pshaw. Marriage,’ Jonty scorned, his hand idly stroking the dog as he lay on the rug at Pietro’s feet. ‘It’s only a bit of paper. That won’t keep a couple together if they’re sick to death of each other. It won’t pay the bills or bring up kids. It didn’t keep my dad at home. It’s what you two decide, what you promise each other, that’s what’s important.’

Beth looked at him in astonishment. ‘That’s true, Jonty. Absolutely. Thank you.’

‘Don’t mention it.’ He grinned at her. Since he’d championed her over the doomed goat and helped make Pietro jealous, Beth had quite warmed towards him. Wild and wayward he may be but he still had a heart, evidently.

Pietro’s displeasure subsided slightly, which was a relief. And though she was excited about the plans they were making, Beth couldn’t help but feel guilty about keeping her ‘wedding’ secret from her family. She did mean to tell them, of course, and would write to Mom soon. But not quite yet.
 

Tessa found an old Edwardian dress in a chest and started to alter it to fit her. ‘You’ll be a beautiful bride.’

‘Non-bride.’

Tessa chuckled. ‘Whatever. You’re doing the right thing. Romance without ties. If I’d tested the waters a bit first I could have saved myself the cost of a divorce.’ She mumbled through the pins held in her mouth while adjusting the dress to fit Beth’s slim figure. ‘They used to have "bidden weddings" in the Lakes in the old days.’

‘What on earth was that?’

She took the last pin out and slid it into the folds of frayed silk. ‘Where the bride used to ride on a horse to church and one person was appointed to call on friends and neighbours along the way, and bid everyone to attend. Then after the ceremony the bridegroom would throw pennies to the children, before they would unlatch the lych gate and let him free with his bride. You can still see the groom doing that to this day as he and his bride come out of church. Mine didn’t have any change of course, daft fool, and we were stuck there for ages until someone found him some.’ She rolled her eyes in despair. ‘Typical. Anyway, in the old days everyone would race back to the reception, with prizes for the winners.’

Beth giggled. ‘Sounds great fun but I can’t ride and we haven’t got a horse. And we aren’t even going to church.’

‘We can at least have a party, and maybe a race? And we could go and "bid" Andrew to come. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to be left out.’

Beth recalled their last meeting and how they had quarrelled, and felt an odd reluctance to confront him with the information that she was getting ‘married’ to Pietro, however home-made the ceremony might be, though why it should matter she couldn’t imagine. He had no right to object to anything she did. Worryingly he seemed to think that he had, which didn’t auger well for his future with Tessa.

Tessa was obviously very fond of him, which was why she wanted him there, and Beth felt it important that her friend find happiness too. Everyone must be happy, as she was. And little James needed a good father so the friendship should be encouraged.

‘Of course we must invite him. How could we not? But I don’t want any trouble with Jonty over it.’

Jonty, in fact, promised on his word of honour to be as good as gold. ‘Or tarnished brass perhaps,’ he chuckled and Beth suddenly hugged him on a surge of emotion. Everything was going to be quite perfect.

‘You’re all right, Jonty.’

‘You’re not so bad yourself, princess.’

The air was crisp and dry as they bounded through bracken a foot high, taking a short cut over the hills to Cathra Crag, giggling and laughing like children let loose on a school outing. There was something about a clear autumn sky that made it seem more intense and wider than a summer sky so often fussed with cloud. The rich splendour of Brockbarrow Wood cresting the peak below them was a joy to behold with its rich aura of rust and gold, and Beth made a mental note to call and see Ellen soon. The coming of winter to Rowan cottage must be a bleak prospect indeed.

Beyond the bracken came the heather, a vast palette of mauves, violets and purples and then they were running and skipping over turf cropped as short as a bowling green. A stoat ran out between their feet, startling them so they all stopped to roll on the ground with laughter, and afterwards to lie and catch their breath.

When they were rested they set off again at a more sedate pace. Autumn leaves and fruits circled her hair, and she carried a bouquet of nasturtiums. The cream silk gown felt wonderful flowing against her legs for all it was moth-eaten and shabby, as if she were truly a bride. Beth tucked the warm shawl which Tessa had lent her close about her shoulders and glanced shyly at Pietro.

He walked by her side, vigorous and handsome in white trousers and crisp jacket over a blue roll neck sweater. He was always impeccably dressed. Typically Italian.

Beth loved simply to gaze upon him, drinking in his beauty, and thinking how he would soon belong entirely to her. She could hardly believe her good fortune. They were both young and full of love, bubbling with passion. In a way this was even more romantic than a real wedding because it was private and secret, done in the old country way.

He bent his head to whisper in her ear, ‘The dress suits you. It make you look pretty. Bella,’ and her heart melted with love for him. No one had ever called her pretty before. ‘This is only the beginning. Soon as it is possible, we will marry properly, sì?’

All her love was in her eyes as she told him that yes, she would marry him in a twinkling, the moment Meg returned home. ‘You know it is what I want too, when the time is right.’ Deep in her mind a small voice added, when I am entirely sure of you. She no intention of being jilted at this wedding.

It was Jonty who saw the men first as he strode ahead. ‘Look, lined up across the fell. Hunting foxes again?’

‘Obviously,’ Tessa agreed. ‘Come on, cherub, you’re getting heavier every day,’ addressing young James who was tucked on her hip as usual, his small plump legs clad in tartan dungarees. Round cheeks glowing pink in the brisk breeze. ‘Let’s go and find Andrew, shall we?’ and he happily showed two white teeth as he gurgled with pleasure.

They found him cleaning his gun.

‘Decided to end it all have you?’ Jonty joked.

Andrew glared at him, and at Pietro, but made no comment. Then his eyes fastened on Beth.

‘We’ve brought you some news,’ she said, feeling suddenly dreadfully conspicuous and for some reason, rather silly.

His eyes widened as they scanned the length of her, taking in the whole image, decked out in the pretty dress and flowers. Beth was now so overcome with shyness she found herself` flushing furiously, but before she could explain he’d turned away to attend to his gun. ‘We’ve got a job on. I haven’t time to talk.’

Tessa shielded her eyes and scanned the fell tops. They were quite empty and barren, not a sign of life on the skyline. ‘Is it something to do with the men on the hills?’

‘There’s a rogue dog about. Killing sheep. He’s had three of ours, two from Ashlea.’ He glanced at her. ‘Nick’s up there, with his gun, along with my dad and most of the other farmers from the dale. The dog has to be found and stopped.’

‘What, shoot him you mean?’ Beth was appalled.

‘We can’t lay down poison, now can we, or we’ll kill summat we shouldn’t.’ Andrew hooked the open barrel over his arm and started to fill his pockets with boxes of cartridges. ‘It’s got nine lives that one, I’ll tell thee that. Nick had a go at it last night and it still got away and killed another ewe. I’m glad to see you’ve sense enough to leave your own dog at home,’ he said to Jonty, who made no reply. Then he nodded at them all and started to walk away.

Suddenly the idea of their ‘bidden’ wedding seemed terribly frivolous.

But before anyone had time to say anything more, a shot rang out, a clear loud crack in the empty air. Andrew stood stock still for a fraction of a second then he began to run.

‘Stay where you were,’ he called back over his shoulder and the baby started to scream, startled by the bang and the anger in his voice.

‘I’ll take him in to old Seth,’ Tessa said, trying to soothe him as the others, hardly pausing to glance at each other, started to run up the hill.

Jonty shouted, ‘Dart.’

‘Isn’t he safe at home?’ Pietro demanded, as he gasped for breath with each pounding step.

‘Couldn’t find him when we set off.’

To which Pietro muttered something unintelligible in Italian. No one required a translation.

It was hard going up the fellside. The ground was uneven, pitted with holes and slippy with dewy turf. Here and there the ground split wide open, falling away into crevices or sheets of rough scree. Above their heads buzzards and carrion crow circled, scenting fear, waiting and watching.

‘You stay below,’ Andrew shouted, more fiercely this time, but they ignored him. Jonty was determined to reach the dog before the men did, and Pietro kept close by him, the two girls trailing a long way behind, struggling to catch up.

Again a shot rang out and they could see the group of men now, faces grim and tight-set, surrounding the rim of a ravine. Then they saw the dog. It had cornered the ewe on to a ledge and had its teeth fastened into its neck. Still warm and twitching with the last remnants of her strength, a mess of blood gave testament to a battle royal as the dog snarled and growled, shaking the almost dead animal with such a tenacity that its own body looked in danger of snapping in two.

‘Go round back of it,’ one farmer softly called. ‘Don’t scare it or he’ll get loose and run off. If I miss with this shot you hit it as it runs.’

The farmers took up their positions, barrels were loaded, preparations made.

‘Dart?’

For a moment the dog looked up, ears pricked, face bright and trusting. ‘Leave it,’ Andrew shouted. He lifted the gun to his shoulder and fired. There was no question of the dog running now. It lay dead, sharp fangs still bared and dripping with blood.

The punch hit Andrew full in the face, knocking him off his feet and backwards down the hill. Jonty flung himself after him and the two men locked together, rolling down the fellside, over and over, as one.

‘The gun.’ Sarah was the first to move, setting off after them, screaming at the top of her voice. ‘Stop them. Stop them. Get the gun.’

Pietro reached it first, abandoned on the grass. He picked it up, broke it then ran on down the hill. Jonty’s cry curdled the blood in their veins.

‘Damn murderer. You killed my dog and I’ll bloody well kill you.’

The fight continued right to the bottom of the hill. They were all exhausted by the time they reached the farmyard, the two men’s faces both covered with blood as they staggered about, aiming punches that missed more than they connected.

‘The dog had to be killed.’ Andrew’s words, punctuated by painful gasps. ‘He’d have gone on killing. We can’t afford to lose valuable stock.’

The sound of a shout came from the fell above but both men ignored it as Jonty hit out again.

Andrew ducked and punched him in the ribs, doubling him up. Jonty responded by grabbing Andrew around the neck, trying to twist him around and floor him. But Andrew was too used to such tactics in his wrestling contests. With one easy movement he flicked Jonty over and sent him sprawling.