The Miser's Sister (25 page)

Ruth was indeed exhausted. She leaned back drowsily and caught herself dozing off several times before they reached the castle once more. The place was as dingy and decrepit as it had been that morning, but the sense of brooding menace was gone. The front door was open, as Walter had left it in his haste.

They went down the passage to the library. If anything of value remained, it would be there. As they entered, a man started up from where he had been kneeling by a hole in the floorboards. It was the servant, Will.

He scowled at them and made as if to conceal the hole, then decided it was hopeless.

“Di’n’t know anyone were coming back,” he growled sulkily.

“Where are the Tremaines?” asked Ruth, sinking into a chair.

“Runned off a week since, wi’ everything they c’d lay hands on. Di’n’t know ‘bout this lot.” He hooked his thumb toward the hole.

“What have you there?” Walter queried sharply.

“All ‘at’s left o’ her fortin.” This time the grimy thumb indicated Ruth. “An’ all ‘at’s left o’ Penderric’s hoard. I’m owed near a year’s wage.”

Walter looked into the space beneath the floor. It held three small leather sacks, which he pulled out and set on the desk by Ruth.

“I’m owed f'r a year,” reminded the sullen servant.

“It’s probably true,” said Ruth. “Give him twenty pounds, Walter, please, if there is that much here.” She was too tired to argue.

“But he was going to steal the whole, I’ll be bound,” Walter objected.

Ruth could have added that it was Will who had arranged for Godfrey and Captain Cleeve to meet, and so precipitated the whole course of events. It did not seem worth the effort. She just shook her head.

Walter carefully tipped the contents of one sack onto the desk. A hundred gold sovereigns, bright as the day they were minted, glittered in a ray of sun which had somehow found its way through the filthy window. He picked out twenty and handed them to the servant.

“Get out,” he ordered, “and you need not return!”

Will left, grumbling.

The other two sacks each held the same amount. Ruth sat blindly staring at the pile of coins that was Letty’s and her sole remaining wealth. She needed to think, to make decisions, but her mind would not work.

Suddenly she became aware that Walter was on his knees before her, had taken her hand.

“Ruth,” he begged, “I wish you will reconsider! I am sincerely attached to you, and the unpropitious circumstances need not stand in our way. We may live as cheerfully in a cottage as in a castle, and I shall certainly soon receive a benefice. Marry me, my dear, and forget this grim, dilapidated mansion and the horrendous deeds it has been witness to. Let me take your hand and lead you to a life of Christian simplicity and charity, to contented matrimony and blessed motherhood. We shall—”

“No, Walter,” Ruth broke in gently, realising that he was carried away by his own eloquence. “I cannot marry. I am honoured and grateful that you should ask me again, but it will not do.”

Walter rose and dusted his knees with a sigh.

“I am sorry you think so,” he said with dignity. “I believe we should have dealt admirably together. I shall not press you, however.”

“You are so very good to me. Now I must consider what is best for me to do. You will not be offended if I ask you to wait in the salon?”

“Not at all, my dear. I am sure you are in need of solitude. You will call me if you need me.”

Ruth watched him leave. She was deeply touched by his renewed proposal. It was not his fault that she found him slightly ridiculous now that she was better acquainted with the world, and Oliver made most men seem inadequate.

But Oliver was literally gone on the wind. Even had he not abandoned her, she could not have married him now. She had no dowry, and worse, she bore the stigma of a father and brother who had both committed suicide. Insanity was in her blood, a lurking monster waiting to pounce on her innocent children. How could she ever inflict herself on any man, let alone the man she loved? Could she ever face anyone she knew? What was left to her?

Her uncle was her only refuge. She would flee to him, show herself a dutiful niece, and not resent her aunt’s interfering authority. Only she must make it plain to Sir John that she did not mean to marry, so that Lady Hadrick would not be forever casting out lures to catch her a husband.

Her future looked grey, but with two hundred and eighty pounds to her name she could see no alternative. At least she could pay her own way to London.

With tired determination, she went to find the curate.

“Walter, I must go to London,” she told him.

“Of course. Your uncle is now your guardian, and it is proper that you should go to him.”

“I mean that I wish to go at once. I shall not return to the Trevelyans. It cannot be thought necessary that I should see Captain Cleeve since
...
in the present circumstances. Will you see that they are informed of my departure? I will write to them from town.”

“Certainly. But do you mean to travel post? I believe it is sadly expensive. I shall take you to Launceston, of course.”

“Thank you, Walter. I do not know how I should go on without you. You are right, a postchaise would be far too costly. I shall go on the stage.”

“My dear Ruth, single ladies do not travel alone on the stage. You must
...
”

“I shall do as I see fit! Pray do not make me quarrel with you. Do you know at what time the stage leaves Launceston?”

“I believe there is a coach leaving in the evening to catch the London coach at Exeter in the morning,” he answered stiffly. “You will have plenty of time to get there if we leave at once.”

“Let me find a portmanteau for the money, and I’ll be ready. I’ve nothing here to pack up, and Mrs Trevelyan will send on my bags.”

An hour later, the dogcart pulled into the Trelawney Arms in Camelford, and the weary Dapple was unhitched.

“I’ll take ‘im back to Vicar,” offered the ostler, and harnessed a fresh horse in his place. Walter scribbled a quick note to Mr Trevelyan, and the man promised to see it delivered right away.

They set off again. Ruth was beginning to feel as if she had been on the road for months. The thought of her comfortable bed at Trevelyan House was tempting. With a sigh, she rejected it. She dreaded the old couple’s kindly solicitude, their questions about her brother’s death and Oliver’s absence.

Reaching Launceston at half past four, Ruth discovered that the coach for Exeter would leave the Duke of Cornwall at seven. She put her name on the waybill. Thanking Walter for all he had done, she insisted on giving him money for the hire of the horse, and took her leave of him.

No one at the inn seemed to recognise her, though she had been there with Oliver twice. No one showed any surprise that she was travelling alone, and catching sight of her rumpled, grubby reflection in a window, she could see why. She bought a comb in a nearby shop and paid the landlady for a private corner in which to wash and tidy herself.

The coffee room was crowded, noisy, and smoky. Ruth had not eaten since breakfast, but she could not face the bustle within. Outside, the late afternoon sun shone full on a wooden bench set against the wall of the inn. With a slight smile, Ruth remembered Walter’s strictures against ladies sitting by common taverns. Would it make any difference that this was a respectable posting house?

She sat down, leant back against the sun-warmed wall, and fell asleep.

Chapter 22

When Oliver had arrived on the moor early that morning, he had found the balloon fully inflated. It was still on the ground, but even as he drove up the slope, it shook itself and rose a few inches. A cheer went up from the crowd, most of whom had been out all night waiting for the great spectacle.

Bob Polgarth came to meet Oliver. Though he was red-eyed from lack of sleep, he was full of energy and excitement.

“Another couple of hours,” he cried, “and we’ll be ready to go. The apparatus is working perfectly. I hate to wait around until the advertised time!”

“You promised I could go up before you leave,” Oliver reminded him. “Besides, you must not deprive latecomers of the treat.”

“Come and look. The envelope is in excellent condition. I should like your advice as to whether to add more ballast.”

Seen from close to, the balloon was impressively vast, towering over their heads. Relays of volunteers had worked through the night stoking the fires, which had not faltered for an instant. The carter was still in charge and showing no signs of fatigue.

As they watched, the balloon rose slowly to the limits of its tethers. Its base was a foot or two above the basket, whose rigging hung slack.

“We’ll have to loosen the guys a bit,” Bob said.

Before he could issue instructions, the carter started to organise a crew. One man seized each of the lines, while another untied it or rolled a rock off the end. Gradually the ropes were let out, until the basket rose a few inches from the ground.

“Down a bit!” bellowed the carter. “That’s it, boys. Fasten ‘em down now.” He turned to Bob. “You need much more gas, zir? We be running low on fuel.”

Oliver walked over to one of the guys and tugged sharply. It took considerable effort to move the balloon, which was bobbing and swaying in the breeze.

“Finish what you have,” he said. “I doubt you’ll be needing more. Any leaks, Bob?”

“Not a one,” answered the aeronaut. “The men who helped stitch the envelope have been sewing nets all their lives. Experts every one.”

A few gnarled seamen standing within earshot nodded proudly.

“That we be,” one agreed.

“Y’oughta try fishing fro’ that contraption, Mr Polgarth,” suggested another, guffawing at his own wit.

At last the supply of wood ran out. The balloon was pulling fiercely at its tethers, and Bob was more concerned that it might escape than that there might not be enough lifting power. He checked the anchor, the only rope that would not be loosed until he was about to depart. It was holding firm.

“Are you ready to go up?” he asked Oliver. “The lines are long enough to let us ascend to fifty feet or a little more. We should be able to see clear over the top of Brown Willy.”

They climbed into the basket. The two naval lieutenants reluctantly agreed to wait on the ground.

“Promise you’ll not change your mind about going, Pardoe!” cried one of them. “We’d never forgive you, damme if we would.”

“Never fear,” grinned Oliver. “Much as I’d like to, I have other obligations. We’ll be down to let you take my place.”

Gradually the guys were loosed. The balloon rose into the air, followed by the gasps and shouts of the crowd. The ten strong men holding the ropes let them out little by little until a signal from the carter stopped them.

Oliver and Bob hovered sixty feet above the ground. The breeze was cold, and Oliver was glad he had thought to dress warmly. Gazing around, he could see the sea to the west, though in every other direction a haze on the horizon hid details. Southward stood the grim bulk of Penderric Castle.

As he watched, a stream of tiny vehicles turned up the track toward them, looking like ants crawling across a painting. He had not realised how the crowd had grown since his arrival. Immediately below, he could make out the faces of the expectant aeronauts, the carter, and his assistants.

Then he saw Mr Trevelyan and Ruth making their way through the throngs. He shouted and waved.

“No point,” Bob told him. “They probably cannot see you against the sun’s glare, and they certainly cannot hear you.”

A man Oliver did not recognise accosted the pair he was watching. After a few moments, Ruth left the magistrate and followed the newcomer to a rocky platform, where they both sat down.

“Who is that?” Oliver demanded.

Bob shaded his eyes and stared. He had not looked closely when the couple were nearer and now their features were barely distinguishable.

“Could be the curate,” he proposed. “Fellow from Camelford Lady Ruth was supposed to be engaged to. Vane, I think the name is.”

Oliver was not at all happy with this tentative identification. What came next made him still less happy. After a few minutes of conversation, Ruth and the curate, if it was he, went down the hill, climbed into a carriage, and drove off. He had followed with difficulty their progress through the crowd, but he was fairly certain it was they. When, a short while later, he saw the carriage turn toward Penderric Castle, he was sure.

“I must go down at once!” he declared without further delay.

Bob was surprised, both at his abrupt insistence and because there was another half hour at least before the final preparations must be completed. Looking at his friend’s face, he saw it set in grim determination of which he could not guess the cause.

“Very well,” he agreed amicably, and leaning over the side, he gave the arranged signal.

The result was chaos. Half the men attending the guys had seen him, and without further ado began hauling in their lines.

The rest were awaiting the carter’s order, as intended. Unfortunately, almost all the overzealous crew members were on one side. The balloon tipped and the basket swung wildly.

Bob and Oliver just managed to save themselves from flying over the sides. There were gasps of horror from the onlookers. The men who had not pulled realised what was happening and began to reel in their ropes. Most of the others wisely stopped and held still, but some, aghast, simply let go. Released from tension, the heavy lines whipped back like living serpents, knocking several men and some of the crowd off their feet.

The weight holding the balloon suddenly halved. As if overjoyed at its freedom it bounded upward, tugging its remaining tethers from the grip of those few who still held on.

Oliver and the aeronaut found themselves racing skyward. Hanging on for dear life to whatever they had managed to seize when disaster struck, they watched the earth recede at a dizzy pace.

There was a tremendous jolt.

“The anchor!” they cried simultaneously.

It held. Within a few minutes their vehicle steadied. The wind had taken them some distance to the northeast of their starting point, and below them now was nothing but heather and golden gorse, looking exceptionally prickly. They had no way of communicating with those on the ground, so they sat down and waited.