The Beggar Maid (33 page)

Charity sat down by the fire and sipped a glass of sherry. The taste was sweet and nutty and she began to relax, but Jane's cold reception was still fresh in her memory. This was just a temporary measure, she told herself, gazing round the room. It would be easy to think of this lovely old house as home, with its comfortable armchairs covered in chintz and the jewel-coloured Persian rugs scattered over the polished floorboards. A vase filled with daffodils and narcissi filled the air with their sweet scent, and velvet curtains moved gently in the draught from two tall sash windows. Watercolour paintings of country scenes brightened the white walls and framed daguerreotypes were carefully arranged on an escritoire beneath a painting of a pretty young woman. With her red-gold hair and large grey eyes, the likeness to Gideon suggested that this might be his mother, but she did not like to ask. He followed her gaze and smiled. ‘That lovely woman is my mother. She died ten years ago but sometimes I can feel her presence in this house.'

Philip cleared his throat noisily. ‘The scent of spring flowers always brings her to mind. Christina loved them.'

Charity could see that they were both deeply moved at the mention of her and she said nothing, although she thought that they were lucky to have such fond memories when she had none of her own mother. She sat and listened while Gideon and his father made conversation. It would be so easy to imagine herself living in a home like this, but she must not fall into that trap. Tomorrow she must find work, even if it meant doing the most menial tasks. She had allowed her attention to wander, but was brought sharply back to the present by the appearance of the maid to announce that dinner was served.

‘Thank you, Jennet.' Philip rose with some difficulty, refusing a hand from his son. ‘I can manage, thank you. My old bones get set in one position and then I have to shake them around a bit in order to get them moving again, but once I'm on my feet there's no stopping me.' He teetered towards the doorway. ‘Come along, ladies. You must be very hungry after all that travelling.'

Gideon took Charity's arm and led her into the dining room with Violet and Dorrie trooping dutifully behind them like schoolchildren on an outing. They took their places at the table but Jane was noticeable by her absence. Jennet served vegetable soup followed by collops of mutton in caper sauce and boiled potatoes, and once again the conversation revolved around parish matters, most of which Charity suspected held little interest for Gideon, but he listened politely and made the right noises. Charity had grown used to eating sparingly and she was full even before Jennet brought in the apple pie and custard sauce, but she managed to eat a little as she did not want to offend her host.

When the meal was over the housekeeper, an elderly white-haired woman called Mrs Simms, led them up to their rooms on the first floor. The rectory was a rambling house intended originally to house a large family, and as Philip had remarked at dinner, he and the servants rattled round in it like peas on a drum. Charity had her own room with a luxurious feather bed which she did not have to share with anyone. A fire had been lit in the grate and she was lulled to sleep by the whisper of the wind as it rustled the branches of the trees at the back of the house. She lay in solitary state imagining how Violet and Dorrie must be feeling in the room they had opted to share. Mrs Simms had offered to put Dorrie in the old nursery on the top floor, but she had made such a fuss that Violet allowed her to share her bed. There was no sound from their room next morning when Charity went downstairs to find Gideon, but as luck would have it she entered the dining room to find Jane seated at the table.

‘I'm sorry,' Charity said nervously. ‘I was looking for Gideon.'

‘As you can see he's not here, and it would be more appropriate if someone of your station in life were to address him as Mr Raines.' Jane's tone was scathing and she turned her back on Charity, taking out her spite on a boiled egg. The top flew off and landed on the polished surface of the rosewood table. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, tut-tutting in annoyance. ‘Go away, girl. I want to have my breakfast in peace. You should eat in the kitchen with the servants.'

Mortified and angry, Charity stepped back into the hall. She stood for a moment, wondering what to do next. She had a feeling that she might not be too welcome in the kitchen, and as she had no idea as to Gideon's whereabouts she decided to take a walk in the garden. She looped her shawl around her shoulders and let herself out through the front door. Standing on the doorstep she found herself faced with the full splendour of a spring morning in the country. More accustomed to smelly streets strewn with hay and horse dung, and buildings crammed together with not an inch to spare between them, she took in the view of verdant lawns and flowerbeds overflowing with daffodils, narcissi, hyacinths and pools of sunny primroses with a feeling of delight. A vista of rolling hills dotted with sheep stretched out above the hedgerows, which were bursting into life. The beauty of it all was quite overwhelming, and taking deep breaths of the wine-clear air made her feel as if she had drunk a glass of the rector's sherry in one long, greedy gulp. She raised her face to the sun and felt its gentle warmth caress her cheeks.

‘It is a beautiful day, isn't it?'

She opened her eyes with a start and saw Gideon walking towards her. He was dressed in riding breeches and a hacking jacket, an outfit which, she thought, suited him much better than his clerical garb. He looked almost as dashing as Harry. ‘Good morning, Mr Raines.' She averted her gaze quickly. She had tried to put Harry out of her thoughts, but despite their short acquaintance she could neither forget him nor could she stand by and see him lose everything that was dear to him.

‘Mr Raines?' Gideon said, chuckling. ‘Why the formality?'

Reluctantly she met his amused gaze. ‘Your aunt scolded me for calling you by your Christian name.'

‘And I suppose she told you that your place was in the kitchen with the servants?' He shook his head. ‘Dear Aunt Jane; I'm afraid she'll never change, but she's not so bad when you get to know her.'

Charity faced him squarely. ‘Gideon, this won't work. The girls and I can't stay here. It was a wonderful gesture and I'm very relieved to be away from London and Bert Chapman, but as I told you yesterday we can't impose on your father. We have to find accommodation quickly and I must look for work.'

‘I do realise that you're in a difficult position, but you mustn't worry about Father. He is only happy when he's helping people and he won't let Aunt Jane spoil things for you. However, for your sake it can only be a temporary measure and I thought we'd ride over to Bligh Park this morning to see if Daniel has any ideas.'

‘Ride?' Charity stared at him in horror. ‘Do you mean ride a horse?'

He laughed. ‘Well, I certainly don't mean you to ride a camel or an elephant. We don't have too many of those in Sutton Pomeroy.'

‘I can't,' she said nervously. ‘I've never sat on a horse in my life.'

‘Then now is as good a time as any to start. We'll have breakfast and then I'll take you to the stables and introduce you to Nellie. She was my mother's horse and she's the gentlest, quietest animal you'll ever meet. You'll pick it up in no time.'

CHARITY WAS NOT
afraid of horses. There were plenty of them in London, but riding one was another matter. With the aid of a mounting block and help from Gideon, she managed to settle herself on the side-saddle and found it surprisingly comfortable. The rector's groom led the animal out of the stable yard at the back of the house and into the lane.

‘How does that feel?' Gideon asked, drawing his mount alongside hers.

‘It's a long way to fall,' Charity murmured, clutching the pommel as she tried to adapt to the motion of the horse's gait.

‘You won't fall off,' Gideon said confidently. ‘We start off slowly and when you feel more confident we'll trot.'

Charity said little, staring between the horse's ears and hoping desperately that she would not fall off and make a fool of herself, but after a while she began to feel less scared and was beginning to enjoy herself. It was wonderful to be able to see over the hedgerows and feel the cool breeze ruffling her hair. Her bonnet had slipped off and hung by its ribbons, but there was no one other than Gideon to see her dishevelled state and he was grinning widely.

‘You're getting the hang of it. You're a born horsewoman, Charity.'

She turned her head to look at him, thinking he was teasing her, but there was no hint of mockery in his grey eyes. ‘Do you really think so?'

‘I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. Would you like to go a bit faster?'

‘Yes. I think so.'

He urged both horses to a trot and Charity bumped up and down on the saddle, but gradually she accommodated to the motion and when Nellie broke into a canter she was not afraid.

‘Mama would have been proud of you,' Gideon said as they entered the gates of Bligh Park. ‘She loved Nellie and she was an excellent rider.' His voice broke and he turned his head away.

‘What happened?' Charity hardly dared ask the question.

‘It was a hunting accident. She was riding an Irish hunter that belonged to Sir Hedley, and she was thrown at a particularly difficult fence. There was nothing that anyone could do to save her. Sir Hedley had the animal shot, and after that he rarely visited Bligh Park; hence the state of disrepair.'

‘He must have been very fond of your mother.'

‘Everyone loved her. Mama was a wonderful woman and I still miss her, and so does Father. It was ten years ago but the feelings are still as raw as the day it happened.'

‘I'm so sorry, Gideon.'

He shot her a sideways glance and she saw tears in his eyes. ‘She would say “well done” if she could see you now. Mama was sweet and gentle but she was also strong and she never gave up on anything or anyone. Father hasn't been the same since her passing.'

There was nothing that Charity could say and they rode in silence until they reached the stable yard. Gideon dismounted and helped her from the saddle. He tossed the reins to the groom. ‘Good morning, Tapper. Is Master Daniel at home?'

Tapper deftly handled both horses. ‘I think so, sir. He hasn't asked for the carriage or his horse.'

‘What about Mr Barton?'

‘Mr and Mrs Barton left for Devonshire yesterday, sir.'

‘Thank you, Tapper.' Gideon turned to Charity with a relieved smile. ‘That's one less thing to worry about. Let's find Dan and see what he has to say.' He slipped her hand through the crook of his arm and they walked towards the house.

‘Have you met Wilmot?' Charity asked as they left the mews.

‘Never had the pleasure, but to tell the truth I never got on well with Daniel's mother, although of course I wouldn't dream of saying anything against her in his hearing.'

‘Wilmot is a snake. He pretends to be one thing to hide the real person lurking beneath a show of charm and good manners.'

‘We'll go round to the kitchen,' Gideon said thoughtfully. ‘If Dan's at home I think that's where he's most likely to be. Mrs Diment always spoiled us as boys and I doubt if she's changed despite the fact that we're grown men.'

They skirted the house, following the gravel path, but as they reached the gardens Charity tugged at Gideon's arm. ‘I can see him. He's in the garden with the mermaid.'

‘Daniel.' Gideon's voice rang out loud and clear. ‘Dan.' He waved his hand and Daniel looked up. His sombre expression was replaced by a grin and he strode towards them, stepping over the box hedges in his haste.

‘Gideon. This is a pleasant surprise. And Charity too?' He held both her hands, looking into her eyes with a sheepish smile. ‘I'm sorry I was so rude to you when we last met. I had no right to speak to you like that.'

‘You were upset, Dan. I didn't take offence.'

He raised one hand to his lips. ‘Thank you.' He turned to Gideon with a friendly smile. ‘I didn't realise you two were acquainted until Mrs Diment told us what had been going on in London. She gave us a blow by blow account of your encounters with Chapman.'

‘You'd have done the same if you'd been there.' Gideon slapped him on the back. ‘It's good to see you again.'

Charity watched them with a smile hovering on her lips. ‘It was pure chance that we got to know each other, but Gideon's been wonderful. I don't know what we'd have done if he hadn't come to our aid.'

‘Let's go and sit by the mermaid,' Daniel said eagerly. ‘We can talk without being overheard. With Mrs Trevett and Mrs Diment reunited it's like listening to a couple of magpies chattering in the kitchen. Poor old Parkin has to flee to the butler's pantry if he wants a bit of peace and quiet.' He led the way between the low hedges to the centre of the garden, where the mermaid rested on the mountain of blackened slabs that were alleged to have been salvaged from a wrecked ship.

‘These are so strange,' Charity said, sitting down and picking up one of the unexpectedly heavy brick-shaped objects.

‘It's always been assumed this was a mixture of lead and some other metal used as ballast,' Daniel said casually. ‘Or perhaps it was cargo to be sold and melted down to manufacture pots and pans or swords. I know nothing about metallurgy.'

Gideon sat down beside Charity. ‘We've come to ask for your help, Dan.'

‘I didn't think it was a social visit.' Daniel cocked his head on one side. ‘You're welcome to come back here and work in the library, Charity. I won't be able to pay you at first, but I'm still hoping to find the treasure. The dig is going well and we've found a tessellated pavement, which is exciting, but won't make my fortune.'

Charity felt the metal taking on the warmth of her hand and she began rubbing it with her sleeve. ‘If this was cargo and not ballast it would have some monetary value. Has anyone tried to find out?'