Runaway (27 page)

That night we climbed some high downs under cover of darkness. Belle took the slope steadily, pacing herself, but towards the top she was pulling hard, puffing with effort. I slipped out of the saddle, pulled the reins over her head and walked beside her. The grass was sparkling with dew in the moonlight. There was a chill in the air and I could tell the long summer was drawing to a close.

We reached the top of the down where the wind was fresh. At long last I could smell the sea. I breathed deeply, excited, knowing we were close to our destination now. A few steps more and the ground sloped away ahead of us, the view of the distant sea bursting upon us, shining vast and silver in the moonlight.

I halted and Belle stopped beside me as I gazed down at the English Channel, drinking in the beauty of the silvery sea. The landscape spread out at our feet was so different to Deerhurst; the hillsides were criss-crossed with dry-stone walls and dotted with sheep, the grass was rough and interspersed with dark gorse. Belle stirred restlessly beside me. When I didn’t respond she butted me.

‘I know, I know,’ I told her. ‘You want your breakfast and a rest. You can have both, as soon as we get down off this hill and find a stream and some shelter. Meanwhile, what do you think of this place?’

She whickered softly in response and I rubbed her nose affectionately. ‘I quite agree. It looks a wild but beautiful country for both girl and beast.’

After sleeping the day and most of the evening in a barn and refreshing ourselves at a stream, we set forth the next night to find the village of Studland. It was cold and the ground was damp with evening dew. ‘Here’s hoping we get a welcome from Henry, Belle!’ I exclaimed, shivering. ‘Autumn is almost upon us.’

We followed the cliff path along the shore to the east, the sea shining far below our feet in the late evening sunshine. The coastline was varied and dramatic; the village further than I expected.

By the time we reached the village of Studland, the night was fading, but even in daylight I was unable to find the cottage named in the letter. I had to forgo the discretion I’d so far maintained and ask for directions. I stopped a farmer, driving his cattle back to pasture after milking.

‘Sea View Cottage? You want the coastguard?’ he asked, sending us a darkling look from under his brows. ‘You sure about that?’

‘I’m looking for a Henry Palmer.’

‘Aye, he lives there all right.’ The farmer turned and spat deliberately onto the grass. ‘He’s a Preventer. Still want to find him?’

I nodded dumbly, with no idea what he was talking about. I was relieved to know that Henry was still here, close at hand.

‘Go back along the coast a step, past the village and out onto the cliff road. It’s a white cottage overlooking the sea.’

I thanked him, but he scowled and turned away.

I turned Belle about and we wearily retraced our steps. ‘Good grief!’ I said to Belle as the cottage drew in sight. ‘We came past here! I must have missed it.’

The sun was rising as I hooked Belle’s reins over the fence at the front of the cottage, opened the creaking gate, and walked up the short path through the neat little garden. I’d knocked twice before a window opened above me and a sleepy, night-capped head poked out. ‘What do you want?’ asked a voice groggily.

‘I’m looking for Henry Palmer,’ I said, peering up, trying to make out the face above me.

‘Well, you’ve found me!’ The face looking down into mine became more alert, his eyes focusing on my upturned face. ‘Charlie?’ he said uncertainly. ‘Is that really you?’

I felt tears prick my eyelids in sheer relief as I nodded. The window banged shut, there was a pause, presumably while he dressed hastily, then he came thundering down the stairs. The front door flew open and Henry grasped my shoulders, giving me a little shake.

‘By God, Charlie, you’re a sight for sore eyes! A friendly face in this hell-hole! I’ve been waiting and waiting to hear news from your father! But what are you doing dressed as a lad?’

‘I know, I know,’ I laughed and cried all at once. ‘It’s such a long story! I’ll tell it all, but do you have breakfast for me and my horse? We’re famished!’

Henry looked past me to where Belle watched us with bright, curious eyes, her ears pricked forward. ‘That’s a beauty of a horse!’ he remarked, limping down the path to take a closer look at her. ‘She’s been in the wars a bit, though, hasn’t she?’ he remarked, pointing to her injured face. ‘However did your father afford her, Charlie?’ He paused and then gasped. ‘Did he prove his claim?’

‘What claim?’ I asked puzzled.

He looked sharply at me and then shook his head. ‘It can wait until breakfast.’ He turned back to Belle. ‘What a fine creature you are!’ he praised her as he patted her. Belle took his attention calmly, pricking her ears forward endearingly.

‘How is your leg, Henry?’ I asked him.

‘Oh, it’ll never heal. But I can get about and it doesn’t pain me too much any more.’

‘It seems a lifetime since Newfoundland. So much has happened.’

‘It has, Miss Charlotte, and that’s a fact. Would your horse be happy turned out in the paddock with my nag? There’s a good bit of grass and he’ll be glad of the company.’

‘She’d love it! You have a horse of your own?’

‘I’m the Riding Officer now. My work is mostly at night, which is why you caught me napping just now. It wasn’t easy for a cripple like me to find work at all. I wasn’t wanted anywhere as a groom, so this seemed an honourable calling; working for King and Country as I was used to.’

Henry unhitched Belle as he spoke and led her away down the path. She went with him willingly, sensing the hand on her bridle was both kindly and experienced. I followed as he continued to speak.

‘It was a way to remain on horseback too. But that was before I came here to work this stretch of the coast. I assure you, Charlie, they are scoundrels the lot of them! If they aren’t smugglers themselves, they’re in league with them, lending their horses or their barns. I tell you, no brandy, wine, or tea used around here has paid a penny in duty, bar what you’ll find in my house! I’m hated so that no one will even give me good day. All for trying to do my duty!’

‘That’s bad,’ I agreed, thinking this explained the farmer’s hostility. ‘But surely the vicar and the squire at least must support you?’

Henry gave a bark of mirthless laughter and looked at me from under his brows. ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you?’ was all he said.

Unsaddled and turned loose in the paddock, Belle kicked up her heels for joy. She headed straight for the muddiest patch in the field and rolled vigorously. Scrambling to her feet when she was done, she cantered once about the paddock, her dark head held high, her glossy black tail streaming behind her in the sea breeze. Finally, she touched noses with Henry’s horse, Cloud, a strong grey gelding, and then jumped away playfully squealing. The two horses danced around each other, before settling down to crop the grass sociably side by side.

I waited to tell Henry my own story until we were sitting before the open fire in his cottage, some buttered bread, eggs, and ale inside me.

‘Come then, Charlie,’ Henry said. ‘You have a tale to tell. You’re looking far too skinny, and you’ve cut all your hair off, so I’m guessing something’s not right. I’d expected to hear from you and your father long before now. Indeed, I’d expected to see you in quite a different situation to this. Do you have a message from your father?’

I shook my head, wiped my sleeve across my eyes, and gulped. ‘No, Henry. I don’t. Father has been dead these six months. Murdered in our lodgings in London. I’ve been on the run from his killer.’

Henry gasped and grasped the table for support. The colour drained from his face, leaving him grey. I clasped his arm anxiously. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry!’ I cried. ‘I’m thoughtless to throw it at you like that! You see, I’ve grown used to it, and I didn’t think … ’

Henry took hold of my hand and patted it, drawing a breath. Then he limped over to the dresser and poured himself a shot of some strong liquor. Downing this in one, he sat down heavily. I watched as a little colour returned to his face.

‘Oh, Charlie. Poor Andrew! He survived all those years of battles, fevers, and ship voyages to far off lands. For this! It breaks my heart! And just when I thought he was returning to sort out … Lord, he never told you, did he?’

‘Told me what?’

‘We can discuss it later. First, tell me all what happened.’

As I told him the tale, I wept, pulling Lawrence’s pocket-handkerchief from my pocket to wipe my tears. Henry’s grief made my loss all the more poignant. When he heard the circumstances of my father’s death, Henry became distressed. ‘Oh Lordy, Lord, he went about it wrongly, I fear.’ He wiped tears from his eyes.

‘You know something?’

‘I do. It’s nothing to shame your father, Charlie, so don’t look so afeared. I wish … Tell me again, you’re quite sure it wasn’t a common burglar who turned violent because he was discovered at his work?’

‘I don’t believe so. He knew my name. He threatened to follow me. And I believe he did, Henry, for I saw him again.’

‘It’s a bad business. A sad, sad business. But before we talk more of it, tell me what became of you.’

I recounted the rest of my tale. Henry was a good listener. He shook his head and tutted when I told of my destitution, he laughed when I told him of my work with the packhorse train, and he nodded wisely over my description of the rigours of work in a posting inn. It was when I reached my tale of Deerhurst Park that his jaw dropped and he looked thunderstruck.

‘Deerhurst Park? You have the name right? In Gloucestershire?’

‘Yes, indeed. You’ve heard of it, have you?’

Henry’s face was serious. ‘I should say I have! Are you honestly telling me you’ve been working for Lord Rutherford? The old lord?’

‘Strictly speaking, I was engaged to serve as personal groom to his steward and agent who is also a relative. I was being trained to take over from Bridges who is finding the work too much. But yes, I was on Lord Rutherford’s payroll. Yes, he’s very old. And cranky.’

Henry snorted. ‘That’s polite, my dear.’

‘You know him then?’

‘Worked for him myself once. But finish your tale!’

I wasn’t surprised to hear this. Somehow it all fitted. I began to realize that Henry was about to help me fit the last pieces of the puzzle together and I even began to guess what they were. But I was patient and told him the rest of my story, omitting that moonlit bathe in the gardens. Henry frowned over the fact that I’d stolen Belle.

‘I’m truly sorry if I’ve brought trouble on you,’ I said contritely. ‘I was quite desperate to save her and had nowhere else to go. And I couldn’t help wondering if father had left your address for me on purpose.’

‘I don’t blame you for a moment, Charlie. The only thing is, I’m so hated here, I fear someone might lay information against me … Even so, I wish you’d come sooner, Charlie. Far sooner!’

‘I had no way to do so, unless I’d walked all the way from London with no food,’ I pointed out. ‘I had no means of travel and no money unless I worked.’

‘Why ever didn’t you write to me? You’ve had enough money for that these past months.’

‘I was so afraid of revealing my whereabouts! Recollect that I have no idea who is pursuing me or why, or how powerful they might be. The murderer was in league with the magistrate! I haven’t dared put my name to paper and write to Robert either, for the same reason. I feel dreadful that he doesn’t even know that our father is dead.’

‘He will know soon enough,’ said Henry. ‘He’s on his way back to England.’

‘What?’ I cried. ‘He must not! Who knows if it is safe for him here?’

‘His company was recalled. I had a letter from him in May, telling me to expect him. I imagine he will be arriving soon if he is not already in the country.’

‘Oh, it’s good to know he’s well. But I wish he were not returning right now!’

‘Perhaps it’s for the best. Miss Charlotte, there’s something you should know.’

‘When you call me Miss Charlotte instead of Charlie, I always know it’s serious,’ I said with a grimace.

‘Wait here,’ said Henry, rising from his chair with an effort.

He climbed the stairs and returned with a fat package, which he dropped onto the table before me. ‘I’m guessing you took your father’s papers with you when you fled?’ he asked soberly.

‘I did, but there was almost nothing left. He used to have more!’

‘That’s why,’ said Henry, nodding to the package. ‘Before we parted, he asked me to keep them safe for him. I think you should look through it all and then ask me whatever questions you have.’

He began to clear the table and wash the dishes. I opened the package, spread out the crackling sheets of paper, some of them yellow with age, and began to read. Here was everything that had been missing when I took the papers from my father’s hiding place: my birth certificate, my brother’s too, my parents’ marriage certificate, and their own papers. I stared at them, willing my brain to make sense of it all.

‘But Henry … ’ I said.

He stacked the last of the dishes and turned back to me, wiping his hands.

‘Yes?’

‘Our surname … all the way through! Only his enlistment papers bear the surname Smith!’

‘That’s right, Charlie. The name Smith is false and always was.’

‘It had crossed my mind,’ I faltered. ‘When I talked to Mr and Mrs Saunders … that perhaps … that perhaps father had used an assumed name. For they assured me that mother had known no one called Smith. But it seemed too incredible that he could actually be … ’

‘That he could be Andrew Lawrence? But he was, Charlie. He was the eldest son of old Lord Rutherford. If you’ve lived and worked at Deerhurst, you understand what a momentous thing he did, turning away from his inheritance for love.’

I nodded. It was as if I’d known it somewhere inside me for a while, but it had seemed too far-fetched to be possible.

‘You’ve been working as a stable boy for your own wealthy grandfather when you should have been living in luxury in his house!’ exclaimed Henry. ‘How is that for irony? I worked for your grandfather and father for over twenty years. So no one knows better than me. I’ve been with him since before he and Emily ran away to get married. You guessed, didn’t you?’