The Sea Between (17 page)

‘I doubt they’d have got beyond here.’ Edwin tapped his finger on the map. ‘If they mistakenly went down a side valley when they were making their way back, they more than likely went down one of these.’ He pointed to three likely candidates.

John nodded. It was all pure speculation, of course, but he felt a slight easing of the tension in him as he ran his eye over the marks Edwin had made on the map. If Charlotte and Richard were indeed in one of those valleys, there was a good chance they’d found somewhere to shelter. Even so, it would have been a bitterly cold night for them. ‘Is Charlotte warmly clad?’ He looked over at Sarah.

To his relief, Sarah gave a reassuring nod, then looked up at the ceiling as Mary Ellen’s voice sounded from the bedroom above. Laying the fire bellows down on the hearth, Sarah pushed herself to her feet. ‘Charlotte’s well clad. She’s wearing her thick woollen coat with her knitted brown jacket underneath for extra warmth and a warm scarf over her head.’ She looked up again as further voices sounded from the room above. ‘Oh dear, Mary Ellen’s woken Arthur and Matthew. I’d better go and see to them,’ she said wearily. ‘Edwin, can you see if you can get this fire to blaze? I’m blessed if I can.’

As Sarah disappeared to see to her children, Edwin walked over to the fire, picked up the bellows, and began vigorously pumping them. ‘How are Letitia and Eliza, Father?’ he asked over his shoulder.

‘Worried,’ John replied. He looked across at the window again, and prayed as he had prayed so many times already, ‘Lord God, bid this storm abate.’

The blizzard didn’t show any sign of abating until midway through the afternoon, when the wind, which had roared without cease all day, suddenly dwindled away to nothing; the snow, however, continued to
fall silently from the heavens, as dense as ever. A search was still out of the question, but the fractional improvement in the weather at least made it possible to make a short sortie to the lower slopes to check on the stock. Donning warm clothes, John and Edwin, accompanied by Tom and Bill, set off up the hill.

It was a depressing scene that met John’s eyes. Dotted across the hillside were dozens of white humps, sheep that had become too exhausted to go on and had become trapped in the snow; and since there was no sign of any lambs, he could only assume they were buried. As they continued across the hill, the scene became more heartening. The large mob that Edwin and Tom had mustered was safe, sheltering in the lee of a long line of trees. Hungry, but safe.

Making the most of what daylight remained, the four men set about freeing the trapped ewes from the snow and lugging them to safety. They worked until dark, then made their way back to the farmhouse. There was little conversation. They were each thinking the same thing: while they were returning to a warm hearth, Richard and Charlotte were about to spend a second bitterly cold night in the open.

The snow continued to fall steadily all through the night, and it was still falling while John and the family ate breakfast the next morning. Midway through the morning, however, the storm at last began to show signs of easing. The snow, which had been falling in a thick blanket all morning, thinned to feathery flakes. Hoping that this signalled a change in the weather, John and his two sons, along with Tom and Bill, donned warm clothes and prepared to leave.

Quarter of an hour later, they were struggling on foot through deep snow. Horses were out of the question. It took them over two hours to reach the place where Edwin was guessing that Charlotte
and Richard might have wandered from the main valley, but they’d seen a few encouraging signs on the way: heaps of shovelled snow close to where sheep were sheltering, confirmation that Charlotte and Richard had passed that way. As for where they were now…

Cupping his hands to his mouth, Edwin called loudly: ‘Charlotte! Richard!’ He drew in a deep breath, then called again several times in each direction. It wasn’t the first time he’d called their names, but the only replies he’d had thus far had been from sheep.

Getting no response, Edwin shook his head.

‘Well, what shall we do? Split up? Two of us explore the valley to the right and three of us the one to the left?’ George asked.

John nodded. ‘I’ll go with Edwin. George, you go with Tom and Bill. If you sight them,’ he said, turning to Tom, ‘fire a round from your rifle. We’ll do the same.’

‘I wonder if we should fire a round before we split up,’ Tom said, nudging his hat back so that he could wipe the sweat from his brow. ‘The sound from a rifle carries a long way. If they hear it, they’ll know we’re searching for them and they’ll probably start calling out, to let us know where they are.’

‘Good idea, Tom,’ Edwin said and, pointing his gun skywards, pulled the trigger.

They stood in silence, listening intently as the echoes died away.

‘Well—’ John stopped short as Edwin raised a hand to silence him. Whatever Edwin had just heard, George, Tom and Bill had heard it, too, judging by their alert expressions.

‘There it is again,’ Edwin said, turning a relieved face to his father.

‘There what is?’ John asked impatiently. He’d heard nothing at all. ‘Did you hear them calling?’

Edwin shook his head, but it was George who answered. ‘A horse,
Father. We heard a horse whinnying.’ He raised his hand to point. ‘Somewhere over there.’

John closed his eyes gratefully. Hopefully, along with the horse, they’d find Charlotte and Richard.

Half a mile further on they found the two horses, sheltering under a rocky ledge. Judging by the shoulder-high snow wall that had been built up on the south side of the ledge, this was where Charlotte and Richard had sheltered for the last day or so. They’d obviously decided to leave the horses behind when they set off on foot, trying to make their way out. Given the depth of the snow, it was probably a good decision. Less good was their sense of direction. Their steps, clearly visible in the deep snow, were heading further into, not out of, the hills. Tom fired another round from his rifle and they set off again, following the tracks.

An hour or so later, the searchers finally met up with them.

John looked his bedraggled daughter up and down, as if assuring himself that she was truly alive, then embraced her in a crushing hug. ‘Charlotte, thank God!’ he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

As her father released her from his arms, she gave him a tearful smile. ‘Father, I’m so glad to see you,’ she said hoarsely.

John shook his head and laughed exuberantly. ‘Not half as glad as I am to see you!’ Reaching over, he grasped Richard’s hand. ‘Richard, thank God you’re safe.’

Richard gave his stepfather’s hand a hard squeeze. ‘I’m glad to see you, John,’ he said with a tired smile.

Stepping forward, Edwin kissed his sister affectionately on the cheek, then turned to Richard and clasped his right shoulder in a gesture of thanks. ‘I knew you’d take good care of her,’ he said warmly.

Still plunging through deep snow, George waved to them, grinning from ear to ear. Feeling close to tears, Charlotte waved back. Caught
up in the euphoria of relief, Tom started to laugh while Bill stood quietly nodding his head, his face as dour as ever.

‘We passed your makeshift shelter,’ John said, still smiling broadly.

Richard glanced across at Charlotte and briefly met her eyes. ‘We spent the last two nights there.’

‘I got us completely lost, Father.’ Charlotte’s cold reddened cheeks turned a slightly deeper shade. ‘Richard told me he thought we were going in the wrong direction, but I wouldn’t listen to him. I was convinced we were going the right way. If I’d listened to him, we’d have got home safely the first night.’

‘Well, my sense of direction was equally bad this morning,’ Richard admitted. ‘Thanks to me, we trudged miles up the valley before it became obvious that we were going the wrong way, so then we had to trudge all the way back again.’

‘A pity you didn’t have a pocket compass with you,’ John said with a smile.

‘Father,’ Edwin cut in. ‘The wind’s getting stronger and it’s starting to snow again. We should set off back.’

John frowned as he turned his head into the icy blast. The last thing he wanted was for the seven of them to end up lost, huddling beneath a rocky overhang like the one Richard and Charlotte had sheltered under. ‘You’re right, the wind is rising, Edwin,’ he agreed. ‘Come on, let’s make our way back.’ He turned back to Charlotte and Richard and, with a smile, added, ‘We’ve got what we came for.’

It was dark and snowing heavily by the time they reached the farm. Exhausted and frozen to the bone, Charlotte went straight to bed, leaving the men to recover in the parlour with the warming aid of some brandy.

‘You look absolutely worn out, Richard,’ Edwin commented, as he passed him a large glass.

Richard nodded and closed his eyes. ‘I am.’ He felt as if he could sleep for a month. The past two nights he hadn’t slept at all.

‘Sleep here tonight. You, too, Father,’ Edwin suggested. ‘Sarah will make a bed up for you both. Bill will call at the house to let Letitia and Eliza know all’s well, won’t you, Bill?’

Bill blew noisily into his handkerchief, then nodded.

‘No, I’ll go back to the house, Edwin,’ John said definitely. ‘You stay if you wish, Richard. I’ll assure Eliza that you’re all right.’

Richard shook his head. ‘No. I’ll come with you, John. Eliza will be anxious to see me.’

‘Well, you’re not leaving until you’ve eaten,’ Sarah said, catching the tail end of the conversation as she came into the room, carrying a large wooden tray on which were six bowls of steaming soup. She looked around, as if defying anyone to argue. No one did.

‘How’s Charlotte?’ John asked.

‘Asleep,’ she said.

‘Has she had anything to eat?’

Sarah nodded. ‘A bowl of broth and a bite of bread. She didn’t want much. All she wanted was to sleep.’

‘I’m ready for my bed, too,’ John said, with a wide yawn.

Sarah smiled. ‘I think we’ll all sleep soundly tonight.’

An hour later, with full stomachs and the taste of brandy still in their throats, John, Richard and Bill donned their sodden coats again.

‘Stars!’ John blinked in surprise, as he stepped outside into the crisp air. A few clear patches had appeared amid the heavy grey cloud.

‘Thank God!’ Edwin said with feeling as he gazed up at the sky. ‘Perhaps we’ve seen the last of the snow.’

Bill pulled up the collar of his coat and tugged his hat down further over his brow. ‘It’ll be a cold night if the sky clears.’

John nodded. If it froze overnight it would be the finish of the weaker lambs. There was nothing to be done about it, though. To be honest, he didn’t care if he lost the whole damned flock. His daughter was safe, and right now that was all that he cared about. And Richard, he amended—he was very glad that Richard was safe, too. He turned to look at Richard. Like Edwin and Bill, Richard was gazing up, but it wasn’t the stars he was looking at, it was a window. The window of Charlotte’s bedroom.

Pretending not to have noticed, John looked away. He trusted Richard’s integrity implicitly, but he couldn’t help wondering what had passed between him and Charlotte during the two days and nights they’d just spent together.

Richard’s arrival at the Steele farm was greeted with tears of joy from Eliza and a relieved embrace from his mother. Then followed the inevitable barrage of questions. How did you come to be lost? Where did you shelter? What did you eat? How did you pass the time? How did you manage to stay warm? He finally tumbled into bed just before midnight and slept like the dead.

It was light when he woke, wrenched abruptly from sleep by his jerking legs. He’d been dreaming. Disoriented, it took him a few seconds to realize where he was. Pushing his hand free from the blankets, he ran his fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp, yawned, and rolled over. To his surprise, Eliza’s side of the bed was empty. He turned his head back to look at the window, wondering what time it was, yawned again, then threw back the blankets and got up. Rubbing his knuckles over the three-day growth of stubble on his chin, he padded over to the window and pulled aside the curtain, then let it fall back again. He wouldn’t be venturing far today. No one would. More snow had fallen during the night, and it was still falling.

His mother and John were in the kitchen discussing the weather when he went downstairs. He poked his head around the door, wished them good morning, then went along to the parlour in search of Eliza. He found her bent over the hearth, jabbing at the logs with the poker.

‘Are you having trouble keeping the fire in?’ he asked as he walked over to her.

She turned around; not in the best of moods, judging by her face.

‘Richard, don’t ever suggest coming here in the winter again!’ she said emphatically. ‘I’ve never seen such weather. And your mother tells me there’s no dry wood to be had. That’s steam coming off the logs, not smoke. See! There’s water bubbling out of them. They’re soaked. I’ve been trying to get them to kindle for over an hour. Surely there must be some dry wood somewhere.’

‘Here, give it to me,’ Richard said, taking the poker from her. Not that he expected to have any more success than she’d had. ‘If you’re cold, put on an extra shawl.’

Pushing herself to her feet, Eliza walked over to the window and pulled aside the heavy velvet drapes. ‘Have you seen how deep the snow is? It’s not far off the sill.’

‘I know how deep it is,’ he returned. ‘I spent the whole of yesterday in it.’

‘And I spent the whole of yesterday and the previous day thinking you’d perished in it, thinking I’d leave here a widow.’ She turned towards him, her face a picture of misery, then burst into tears.

Dropping the poker on the hearth, Richard went over to her and drew her into his arms.

‘I thought you were dead,’ she sobbed.

‘Well, I’m not,’ he said.

Sniffing loudly, she wiped her eyes with the corner of her shawl.
‘I wish this snow would stop. I want to go back to Lyttelton,’ she said miserably.

The snow continued to fall heavily all day. John was outwardly philosophical, but Richard could tell that he was worrying about the stock. Thinking some mental stimulation might distract John’s mind from his worries, part-way through the afternoon Richard got out the draughts board.