Runaway (9 page)

‘Are you going to lead out your new master’s horse, boy, or are you too busy brawling?’ he asked icily. They were the first words he had spoken to me.

Hot with anger, my throat choked up, I couldn’t speak a word in my own defence. Instead, I limped to the gelding, who was fretting at the noise and disturbance nearby. I soothed him with soft words, stroking him before I untied him. The necessity of being calm for the horse, and his familiar, comforting scent, helped me let go of my anger. When I led him out, both the horse and I were quite collected.

I walked past Matthew and Phillips without looking at them, my chin jutting defiantly. I hurt all over. My belly felt tender and bruised, as did my ribs, and I suspected from the soreness of my face, that I would soon have a black eye once more.

‘You fight like a girl, Weaver!’ Matthew taunted me as I passed. I flushed deeply.

Lawrence looked narrowly at me as I led his gelding to the carriage, but he said nothing. His gaze shifted to something behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see Matthew had emerged from the stable, a dirty pocket-handkerchief held to a bleeding ear, his face scratched. He was glaring at me. Lawrence exchanged a glance with Bridges as I backed the horse up to the carriage beside his partner. Bridges helped me harness the horse in silence. I knew I was in disgrace. My heart sank to think I had made such a bad start to my new employment.

When both horses were harnessed, Bridges climbed with some difficulty into the seat beside his master. I looked up questioningly, wondering where I was to travel. ‘You can stand up behind, Charlie,’ Lawrence told me.

I’d often seen grooms and servants perching on the back of a chaise, but had never tried it myself. I scrambled up so my feet were on the narrow ledge that protruded from the back of the carriage. There I clung as Lawrence drove the horses out of the yard and onto the road. I felt precarious in the extreme, every bump of the road threatening to shake me free. My existence, I felt, was as precarious as my perch.

I was used to long days in the saddle and all kinds of weather. And I’d become used to long days of walking with the packhorses. But the next two days tried me nonetheless. The clouds brought several heavy bursts of rain and the wind was sharp. We travelled slowly to spare the horses as they were accomplishing the whole journey without changes.

We broke the journey, of course but, when we stopped, my duty was to care for the horses, not to take a rest myself.

‘Take the gelding, boy,’ Bridges ordered me each evening as he led the beautiful stallion to the stables. I groomed Velvet, the gelding, to the best of my ability but Bridges always went over him as though I hadn’t done a proper job. He rarely spoke to me.

Once or twice I cast an envious glance at Mr Lawrence as he escaped the cold and the rain, disappearing into an inn to warm through and rest while we fed, watered, and rubbed down his valuable horses. Only when they were comfortable could we take a bite to eat and a sup of ale ourselves.

I slept in the stables overnight. ‘Stay away from that stallion! He’s in my charge, not yours,’ Bridges ordered me as he went off to sleep in the quarters for the senior servants. I made myself a nest in the corner of Velvet’s stall. He seemed quite happy with the arrangement, especially as I’d managed to beg a carrot for him. Before I slept, I couldn’t resist disobeying Bridges by trying to befriend the stallion, Pitch.

In the adjoining stall, the gleaming black horse greeted me with laid-back ears. I could see the whites of his eyes in the darkness as I approached. I stopped, standing quite still, out of the reach of those strong teeth, and simply talked to him. I kept my voice low and soothing.

It took the best part of an hour before I could approach closely enough to touch him. He was jittery and I was wary of being bitten again. But the longer I spent with him, the calmer he grew. When I finally lay down in the straw in Velvet’s box, I hoped it had been time well spent.

I woke in the early morning to find Velvet standing over me nuzzling me, blowing in my hair. I laughed sleepily and pushed his head away. He snorted, turned back and lipped my ear playfully.

‘That’s enough, you,’ I said, rubbing my sleeve over my face and yawning. I stroked the horse’s nose affectionately. Then I realized there was someone watching me.

‘Mr Lawrence,’ I said, appalled, scrambling to my feet, trying to brush straw out of my hair. ‘I didn’t see … didn’t realize … ’

‘Good morning, Charlie,’ he responded, completely relaxed. ‘Thank you for guarding my horse. I wanted a quiet word with you.’ He paused as though uncertain how to continue then finally said: ‘Bridges is bound to resent you at first, Charlie. At present, he neither wants to retire nor understands the need for it. He’s been a loyal and trustworthy servant and I don’t want his feelings hurt. I rely on you to win him over as skilfully as you have won over my horses.’

‘I’m not sure I’m as good with people as I am with horses,’ I admitted ruefully.

‘I’m beginning to see that,’ replied Lawrence. His eyes rested on my new bruises. I lifted a hand to touch my sore cheekbone and blushed at the appearance I must present.

‘Do you want to explain this latest to me?’ Lawrence asked sternly. I shook my head. I peeped up at him nervously and was relieved to see smile creases in the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t really angry. The irony of acquiring a reputation for brawling wasn’t lost on me. A small answering smile crept onto my own face. I winced as it hurt my bruised cheek.

Mr Lawrence gave me a nod, and left, presumably to be served his breakfast. I turned to Velvet and patted him. ‘Let’s get you groomed and presentable for the day then, shall we, boy?’ I asked him. He twitched his ears and nudged me by way of response.

Our last stop was the bustling city of Bath with its sandstone buildings and bustling, narrow streets. How I’d longed to visit it when we first returned to England and how different was my actual arrival. Instead of entering the city as a young lady with expectations of pleasure, I clung to the back of a chaise, soaked through and grimy, my bitten arm and bruised face aching. My hair was hacked short and I was dressed in boy’s working clothes.

Up to now, I’d been so grateful to have escaped death and to have found work to keep myself from destitution that I’d dwelled little on my losses. But the bustling city, thronged with sedan chairs and filled with elegant ladies in beautiful gowns, and gentlemen gorgeously attired in bright colours, brought my fallen fortunes home to me in the most brutal way possible.

My father wouldn’t have been able to afford the best lodgings or the finest gowns for me, not even before things began to go wrong for him, but I would at least have been respectably, perhaps even prettily, clad. I would have come here for parties, not hard work.

I roamed the streets for the hour or so I had free while Mr Lawrence transacted some business. I watched the street sellers hawking their wares, saw a pickpocket at work and clutched my own meagre purse tightly to me. I watched stray dogs picking over piles of rubbish in the street.

There were sites where stylish new town houses, grand squares, and wide streets were under construction, extending the city to the north and west. Sedan chairs passed me, carrying elegant gentry to their places of amusement, and I cast them longing glances. But that life was no longer for me. I must be grateful for what I had.

The Lansdown Road out of the Bath was steep and rutted. Lawrence took it at a steady walk, allowing the horses to pace themselves without actually stopping on the sharp incline. When we reached the top, a magnificent landscape burst upon us; the rolling downs and far views drew a gasp of admiration from me. The country was verdant, with tall trees just bursting into leaf. Lawrence half turned to me as he drove.

‘Nearly home now, Charlie,’ he said. ‘Just a few more miles.’ He was smiling and I could tell the view pleased him too, though it must be a familiar sight. ‘All this land belongs to Lord Rutherford’s estate,’ Lawrence added, with a casual wave of his hand.

We drove up and down the rolling downs for another half an hour or so before Lawrence turned the weary horses to the left and allowed them to slow to a walk. Before us were shining new lodge gates. At the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel, they were quickly thrown open to welcome us by a man with a beard and battered cap on his head. A woman with wispy grey hair escaping from a bun emerged from the neat new lodge cottage beside the gates. She was hastily removing a floury apron and bobbed a curtsey when she saw us.

‘Good afternoon, Mrs Saunders, Mr Saunders,’ said Lawrence with a friendly nod to the couple as he tightened his hold on the reins, drawing the horses to a halt beside the woman. ‘I hope I find you both well?’

‘Very well, thank you, sir,’ the woman replied. ‘I hope you had a good journey?’

She darted a curious glance at me as she spoke, and froze, the colour leaving her cheeks. I squirmed uncomfortably. The chaise started again with a jolt and rolled forward. I cast a quick glance back to see the woman still standing on the carriageway, watching us. Her mouth was agape and one hand was clutching her chest.

Did she think it strange that Lawrence had picked up a guttersnipe and brought him home? Is that what all the people here would think of my arrival? I must certainly look disreputable with my dirty clothes and bruised, cut face. I was nervous, now that we were so nearly there, about meeting so many new people.

The ground fell away before us revealing a vast, cultivated park. In the distance I could see a herd of deer grazing. Ahead of us, nestled in the landscape like a precious gem, was a magnificent honey-coloured house with a grand facade filled with huge windows over three floors and topped with balustrades. I thought I’d never seen anything so beautiful.

Mr Lawrence must have heard my sharp intake of breath, for he glanced briefly over his shoulder. He was smiling slightly.

‘You approve of your new home then?’ he asked.

‘How could I not?’ I responded, still awed by the sight. Bridges sat silent at his master’s side. It occurred to me to wonder what his fate was to be, if Lawrence considered him too old to work much longer. Was he perhaps to be banished from this place that he had learned to love? If so, I had my first inkling of why he might feel resentment towards me.

‘What about you, Pitch?’ Mr Lawrence asked the stallion. The stallion’s ears flickered as though he knew he was being addressed. ‘This is where you’ll be living from now on,’ Lawrence continued. ‘So I hope you’ll settle in too and unlearn your less appealing tricks. I’m relying on you two, Bridges and Charlie, to teach him better.’

I smiled at the prospect of working with the magnificent stallion, but Bridges responded with a stiff half bow and a reproachful look at his master.

Mr Lawrence chuckled, not noticing his servant’s resentment. ‘He’s too tired to make much trouble now,’ he remarked. He steadied the horses, slowing their pace as we followed the sweep of the wide carriageway down the contours of the hill towards the house. The whole valley sloped towards the house which dominated the view. The sun was setting to the left behind the vast building and, as we dropped down closer to it, I could see it was all very new. The honey stone was newly cut and bright, the edges sharp and free from creepers or weathering. The house looked almost as new as the half-built houses at the Bath had looked. ‘It's all been newly built in the latest style,’ Lawrence explained. ‘And the park fashionably landscaped. His Lordship felt in need of a large project.’

To our right, a stream flowed down towards the house, cascading from one pool to the next. The grounds had been arranged formally but with great elegance. Before the house lay a neatly-scythed lawn. A gardener worked to one side of it, tending rose bushes in the evening sunshine. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the number of staff they must need to run a house and park on this scale.

The carriageway reached level ground in front of the house, swept to the left through wrought iron gates and then to the right again along the front of the stable block. Mr Lawrence slowed the horses again for a sharp left-hand turn through an archway to a courtyard. The surface here was cobbled and the horses’ hooves clattered on the stones.

Before us was a large block of stalls ending in another archway that led through into more gardens. I caught a glimpse of another lawn and shrubbery beyond the arch in the setting sun. To my left and behind me were loose boxes. Several horses looked curiously over their half-doors at us.

The yard was swept and clean, free of the clutter and dirt that clogged most inn yards. Two smart-looking grooms emerged from a doorway and came towards the carriage. I noted they looked well-dressed, well-fed, and alert, and my hopes for life at this place rose still higher.

I jumped down from my perch the moment the carriage drew to a stop, but the grooms in the yard were quicker. Pitch threw up his head in indignation as they approached him and, despite his tiredness, backed up, ears flat, preparing to fight.

‘Wait!’ Mr Lawrence called, tightening his hands on the reins. ‘This new horse is unpredictable. Let Charlie see to him.’