Love's Way (17 page)

“Certainly not. He hasn’t a penny to spare these days, with all his own building. I happen to know he is in a tight financial bind. Why, if it weren’t for Gamble’s generosity, he would have to stop construction of Wingdale.”

“Gamble is footing the bill for the building?” I asked, my blood rising.

“You know he is a partner in it now, Chloe. They cannot be stopped. The whole stretch of road headabouts is going to be built up new, and I don’t mean for Ambledown to look a fright, shaming us before our neighbours. Little better than a blight on the landscape.”

“Is that why you’re doing this?”

“Not the only reason,” he answered, flushing, but he offered no other reason.

“Where did you get the money? Tell me, Edward. Was it from Gamble?”

“Yes, he forwarded me the money.”

“Oh, you fool! Don’t you see what he is up to? He wants to get Ambledown away from you. They don’t plan to have one old Tudor home sticking out like a sore thumb in their new village of little brick dog houses. They plan to get you over a financial barrel so you’ll renege on your mortgage, then they’ll snap it up and tear the house down, to stick up a dozen new ones. You must be mad to have gone along with this.”

“That is not the way it is at all, Chloe. Jack
wanted
me to do the repairs. He thinks Ambledown is a lovely old historic home. Besides, I am not to pay him a penny of cash. Over the years he is to take a part of my new yield of lambs each spring.”

“How large a part?”

“That has not been settled. The fact is, there is no set time when I must pay him cash, so you worry for nothing.”

“Edward, you should have remained a poet. What if the flock have a low yield? How large a number are you committed to each spring? And if you cannot pay, then what? Will Gamble not expect cash instead?”

“No, he did not say so!” Edward said, but he was frowning, less confident now.

I pressed home my point. “You have not forgotten our broken walls, our murdered sheep dog—after Gamble got Ulrich drunk. Suppose Gamble and Wingdale pull some of their other stunts on us—set fire to the barn while the ewes are down for spring delivery, for example? Then what? You owe Gamble I don’t know how much money, and you need not think he will wait a decade to collect, for he will not.”

“He’s not like that, Chloe. Not a dishonourable man.”

“He stole Emily from you while your back was turned.”

“That was different.”

“Yes, it was worse. I should think you would have been warned by that incident.”

“You never wanted me to marry her anyway.”

“That’s neither here nor there. You loved her, and she loved you. Had Gamble not come home, you would have married her. He stole her from you, weaned her fickle affection away with gowns and carriages and gew-gaws, and now he is stealing Ambledown from you with these unlikely loans that are never to be repaid in cash.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do I not?
One
of us doesn’t know what he’s doing, but it is not me. I’ll tell you this, Edward, I disapprove
very strongly
of your dealings with Gamble. I want nothing to do with him in future. This is your house, and if you wish to entertain the man who is determined to ruin you, that is your affair, but I shall not meet him, and I shan’t go to his ball either.”

“That is nonsense. We have already accepted. You and Nora are making new gowns.”

“Yes, with silk and crepe bought on credit. I am sorry we ever did it.”

“Well I am not,” he said petulantly, and stalked from the room.

My eyes, following him, alit on the Indian blanket Gamble had sent down to Nora, which she treasured, not realizing he was only poking fun at our hideous new carpet. It decorated the sofa. I snatched it off to take to her room. I would tell her it was getting too rough a usage down here, for I could not bear to look at it another day. I regretted the purchase of extravagant silk, but I stuck to my guns about the ball. I would not attend.

I made my intention known informally to Emily a few days before the great event. She came over in her phaeton in the afternoon for a visit, tended by a groom, who never failed to accompany her now when her chaperones were otherwise occupied. With the silk bought, Nora and I went on with the sewing, planning to amaze the village with our gowns at the next public assembly, or possibly to astonish the parish at church on Sunday if we found we could not wait. If it were to be the latter, a tippet must be added to conceal the daring cut of my own. My morals must have been lowered by constant exposure to the tourists, for I would not normally have exposed so much of throat and arms, and shoulders.

Tom Carrick was also there that afternoon. He had got tired of being angry with me and came to make it up. He brought a leg of pork with him as a peace offering. I had not been able to tell him I was not going to marry him, as I had not seen him in a dog’s age.

“Chloe, you are making a new gown for the ball! How pretty the shade is. May I see it?” Emily asked, not long after she was in the saloon.

“It is not for the ball, Emily. Actually, I do not plan to attend it!”

“Not attend? Why not?” she asked, blinking in disbelief.

Tom’s chin dropped an inch in shock. I had not told him of my plan.

“It is a personal matter. I cannot discuss it now, but if your cousin wishes to know why, I will be happy to tell him.”

She could not have cared less about this intriguing statement. “Is Edward coming?” she asked anxiously.

“Yes, he is.”

“Oh, thank goodness!”

She stayed for half an hour, during which time Tom was very eager to get back to my refusal. As soon as she was out the door, he said, “I want to hear all about it, Chloe. If that fellow has insulted you ...” His chest swelled to indicate his eagerness to defend my name.

“He hasn’t. Merely I disapprove of everything he stands for—what he is doing here. He wants to live in peace in this community, Tom. If we all get together and let him know how strongly we disapprove of this development business ...”

“Oh is that all!” Tom said. “I thought it was serious. No denying the fellow carries on with the ladies. And he all but engaged to that nice little Emily. I wonder she don’t look sharp and accept him. Daresay it will be announced at the ball.”

“That seems to be the consensus of opinion. Do
you
plan to attend the ball?”

“Of course I do. It would look dashed shabby not to, after I have sent in my acceptance. Besides, I have
...
that is ... the fact is, Chloe, the Mandrels have asked me if I would give them a lift. They have a carriage but have to hire job horses, you know, and as I will be going right past their door I knew you would not mind. You will be going with Edward.”

“I won’t be going at all. You don’t have to explain your passengers to me. Take the Mandrels anywhere you want,” I said snippily. I was offended to the core. I didn’t care two straws for Tom Carrick, yet I felt betrayed. Even jealous. If this dalliance with Cora grew much stronger, I would end up accepting Tom in a fit of pique.

Nora had left to take the pork to the kitchen and did not return. She smelled romance in the air at Tom’s return, and wished to give it every chance to blossom. Poor Nora! I had driven her into a state of fidgets nearly as bad as my own, with my loud worrying. The upshot of her absence was that Tom grabbed my hands and grew ardent. “Chloe, my dear, it don’t mean a thing! You know you are the only woman I care a fig for.” It was enough to confirm in my heart my total lack of feelings for him. He persisted a little. I opened my mouth to say definitely no, but the pork was even now in the oven. He would leave at once, and it seemed uncivil to send him from the door after accepting the gift. It was a long ride home without any dinner. Such are the trivia on which our fate hangs. If I had told him
...
but I didn’t.

He stayed for dinner, leaving soon afterwards. I went to the front door with him, hoping for a chance to tell him I had reached my decision. My act only gave him the idea I was warming to him. Edward was not so cunning as Nora. He did not stay behind, but walked with us to the door, making it impossible for either Tom or myself to say anything of the least importance. Since I had been dismissed from managing Ambledown, I had become incapable even of managing my personal affairs.

“Tom is a good chap,” Edward said in the avuncular tone he sometimes used since becoming a worthy. “Jack was saying just the other day what a fine match it will be for you, Chloe. Mistress of Tarnmere. Doing pretty well for yourself.”

“I’m not interested in Jack Gamble’s opinion,” I said curtly. How
dare
he say anything of the sort?

Edward, the gudgeon, took me at my word and turned away, forcing me to go after him to demand when Gamble had discussed me and Tom Carrick. “At Wingdale Hause today. I had lunch with them—Wingdale and Jack.”

“You went to that place!”

“They serve a very tough mutton, and the price is exorbitant. Jack says when he ... oh, but I wasn’t supposed to mention that.”

“When he is what?”

“Nothing. You asked when Jack spoke of you and Tom, and that’s when it was. He said you’ll smarten Tom up no end, Chloe. He thinks highly of you. You can always change the name of Tarnmere, if that is what ...”

“He may go to the devil!” I said, and stormed up the stairs.

When I returned below thirty minutes later (for it was much too early to go to bed) Edward had gone out. When I asked Nora where he had gone, she said, “He mentioned something about a meeting at Wingdale Hause. It has to do with organizing the wrestling competition for next year. They feel it ought to be advertised more widely, for it would bring in a good many tourists.”

“Edward is going along with that?”

“He is a very good wrestler, Chloe. Or was, before he turned poet on us. He was quite flattered at having been asked to join them. He intimated that Gamble wished to include him in running the village affairs, which pleased him no end.”

“Why doesn’t he just sell Ambledown and move in to the Wingdale Hause? It would save him a deal of riding.”

“Now that he has such a fine mount, he does not mind the ride,” she answered complacently.

As it was to be one of those evenings when every word uttered threw me into a pelter, I retired to the lamp corner with a book, only to discover that what I had picked up as a book marker was a piece of paper bearing the arms used by Wingdale at his inn. It confirmed my suspicion that his crest had been borrowed holus-bolus from Queen Anne. I do not know the technical terms employed, but it consisted of a unicorn with a leash around its neck on the right, and a lion wearing a crown on the left. There was a note scribbled on the page, a reminder of the time of tonight’s meeting. The writing was not in Edward’s hand, nor was it Wingdale’s. As an active church worker I had seen a few of his pledges. This was executed in a more haphazard script than Wingdale’s military writing. Gamble popped into my head.

I turned the sheet over mechanically, unthinking, to see a series of lines and blobs. A closer examination told me it was a rough sketch of the local area. The shape of Grasmere suggested it, while the longer finger of Windermere below confirmed my guess. I puzzled over it, for while some of the features were familiar, others were totally wrong. A curious study showed me its unfamiliarity was due to its being a map projected into the future, when Wingdale would occupy the area now containing the few scattered farms. The arrow-straight road was there, in all its splendour. It was only a rough sketch, yet for even a rough study the eye could see it was inaccurate.

According to Wingdale’s original plan, Ambledown was to be the culmination of his arrow street. It was not so on the map. The street not only came to us, it went shooting right through us, to terminate at Carnforth Hall, a few miles beyond. The village had been enlarged to incorporate the Hall as its highlight. Edward, lured into debt, was to lose Ambledown. It would be pulled down, and a dozen cottages put in its stead.

My blood began a slow boil, as I scrutinized the cursed map for further offences. And found them. The twenty acres stolen from village common land were checkered in with the words Pleasure Park inscribed in the haphazard script already identified as Gamble’s. A half circle was drawn at the lake’s edge with the words Pleasure Dome inscribed thereon. Had the map been more complete, no doubt tents for side shows would have been included.

I sat staring, working myself into a dangerous fit of rage. Could
nothing
be done to stop this curst development? The Nabob, with his pots of gold from India, meant to let this development spread out like a great stain, till he had destroyed the whole area. And how on earth could he be brought to a stop? Between them, Wingdale and Gamble had the money, the law, and half the population on their side. It would take an act of God to prevent their succeeding now.

Chapter Sixteen

I passed the time till Edward’s return by explaining to Nora the significance of my find. She was much inclined to disparage it. Only a scrap of paper after all—what did it prove? We would ask Edward what it meant when he returned. As I sat there, tallying up all the recent occurrences that bolstered my suspicions, I imagined I smelled smoke. Having failed to wrest Ambledown from us by connivance, they would burn us out, as they had the Leroys and others before them. I thought I was imagining the smoke, till Nora lifted her eyes from her work long enough to sniff the air.

A sudden panic seized me. With nerves taut from imagining, I dashed into the hallway to see if the house was in flames. There was no fire, no discernible smoke, though the smell lingered here, too. There was a good wind blowing outside. I stood irresolute, wondering where to begin my more detailed search of the premises when Herbie, our backhouse boy, came pelting up the stairs. “Fire! Fire in the stables, Miss! Come
quick!
”

The awful word, and the boy’s strident yell, served to reduce me nearly to idiocy. We were too far removed from the village for the volunteer fire brigade to be of any use. Neither had we a large number of hands living in at Ambledown. Our help was hired seasonally as it was required for individual jobs. I felt a lurching of my heart, then a tightening followed by a brief period of nearly total unconsciousness, though I did not actually fall over. I looked into the mirror over the hall table and saw a white-faced ghost blinking back at me—wild-eyed, petrified. Then I glanced to see Herbie staring in fascination at my blanched countenance.