Here Comes a Candle (20 page)

“
We
’
ll be in Cambridge soon.
”
Jonathan settled Sarah more comfortably on his knee.
“
I wish we could stop to show you Harvard College, Kate, but that will have to wait for another time. The sooner we get to Lynn, the sooner you
’
ll be on the shore, eh, Sarah?
”

But he called to Job to slow down the carriage as they drove through Harvard Square, so that Kate could have a glimpse of the college yard, with boys
’
figures hurrying this way and that among the trees.
“
Late for prayers, I expect,
”
said Jonathan.
“
And there
’
s the Charles River—named for your King Charles, Kate. It makes our Penrose look a mere stream, doesn
’
t it? And if you keep watching you
’
ll soon see Trimountain Hill, the one that gave Boston its old name. We keep to this side of the river for Lynn, though. You
’
ll be glad of your second breakfast when we get there, won
’
t you, puss?
”
He tweaked Sarah
’
s ear and she giggled up at him delightedly.

It was high morning when Job set Kate and Sarah down on the edge of the golden, sandy beach.
“
The spouting horn
’
s down that way, Miss Kate,
”
he said.
“
Over the rocks. Or if you don
’
t want to bother with that, I
’
ll just look for you here when I
’
ve fetched Mr. Jonathan.
”

“
Yes, do, Job. We
’
ll have plenty to do here, I
’
m sure.
”
Sarah had already darted off across the smooth, hard sand.
“
Is it safe, Job?
”

“
As houses. The tide
’
s falling, I reckon, and you
’
ve not a thing in the world to fret over. Now, later in the season, it would be quite another matter. This is a great summer jaunt for the nobs: they even talk of building a big hotel out there on Nahant point. But this time of year you
’
ll have the place to yourselves. And no need to be looking for us for a couple of hours or more: I know Mr. Jonathan said he
’
d only be half an hour, but he
’
s always longer than he says, is the master.
”

“
Thank you, Job. We
’
ll be happy as larks, won
’
t we, Sarah?
”
She had darted back with a handful of shells.
“
Good-by, Job, don
’
t hurry back on our account.
”

The sun was high overhead now and already it was as hot as the best kind of English summer day, the fierceness of the sun tempered by a fresh breeze off the sea.
“
Look, Sarah, there
’
s a ship, a big one. I wonder what she is?
”
Strange to think she was probably English, waiting to pounce, as the
Shannon
had on the
Chesapeake.
But Sarah was not interested in anything s
o
distant as the graceful, white-winged ship. She had discovered that a kind of cradle-shaped shell was plentiful on the beach and was busy collecting them to lay out in one of her long, purposeless lines. Then, suddenly tiring of this, she came tugging at Kate
’
s hand to persuade her down to the very edge of the sea, where big Atlantic breakers came creaming in and she had to run away, with squeals of joy, to escape getting her feet wet.

It seemed a hazardous pastime to Kate, so she found them a couple of flat pieces of driftwood with which to dig. This was an immediate success, and they were soon both absorbedly at work building a castle:
“
Like Doubting Castle, Sarah, in your picture book.
”

A flash of Sarah
’
s big gray eyes showed that
s
he had understood the reference to the picture in her
Pilgrim
’
s Progress
and she began molding turrets on the solid base Kate had helped her build. She was exquisitely happy, absorbed
...
She needs to make things, Kate thought ... I must
think
of something like this for her to do at home.

They were both of them extremely sandy by the time the castle was finished; Sarah
’
s hair was a mass of tangled curls and Kate did not think her own could be much tidier.
“
Now, shall we find some shells and seaweed to decorate it with, Sarah?
”
Her own back was aching with the unaccustomed stooping, and even active little Sarah was obviously glad to straighten up and move away toward the sea, picking up here a bright green strand of seaweed and there a delicately whorling shell.

It was wonderfully peaceful on the beach. They had not seen a soul all morning and Kate felt the winter
’
s tensions easing in her as she drifted here and there, further now from Sarah, making a pleasant pretense of hunting for shells. With the sun hot on her back and the sea for music, it was easy to forget everything in a delicious, unreasoning surge of happiness. Vaguely, contentedly, she began to sing one of the nursery rhymes Sarah loved so,
Oranges and Lemons.

“
Here comes a candle to light you to bed,

Here comes
—
”

She stopped. What was that other noise, mixed up in the roar of the breakers? A horse—horses—driven fast. Surely it was early still for Jonathan? Much more likely that someone else had had the same idea as they. She began to move back toward Sarah, who was some way off on the far side of their castle, when a chaise emerged onto the beach, driven tandem and at breakneck speed.

“
Sarah! Stay where you are!
”
Had the child heard the carriage over the sound of the sea? Absurd, of course, to be frightened—with miles of golden sand spread out before it, why should one chaise be a danger to Sarah?

But she did not like the way the driver was handling his horses. There was something at once ruthless and flamboyant about his use of the whip. Ah—Sarah had seen the carriage and was standing quite still, watching it. That was all right then.

Or—was it? Another crack of the long whip, and Kate saw that the chaise had changed direction and was heading straight for their castle, and—Sarah had seen too. Suddenly she darted forward, with the speed of a mad thing, to stand, a tiny dauntless figure, directly between chaise and castle.

Kate, much further off, was running forward, was screaming at once to Sarah and to the unknown driver. Had he even seen Sarah? Would he stop? Could he stop? Was he even trying to? For an endless, horrible few moments it seemed that he would drive right over the motionless child, then, at the last instant, he swerved his horses sideways, pulled them to a stop, and shouted furiously at Sarah.

Kate could not hear the words, but their purport was obvious enough: he was in a blind rage at the risk he had run. His companion, a woman, leaned forward apparently to intervene, and then stopped, gazing in amazement at Sarah.

“
Sarah!
”
As she approached at a breathless run, it was the first thing Kate heard, in Arabella
’
s unmistakable voice.

Then she stopped, to stare, in a kind of tranced horror at the driver.
“
Nearly killed the lot of us,
”
he was saying, his fury emphasizing an English accent.
“
Blithering little fool.
”
And then, becoming aware of Kate:
“
Why don
’
t you keep your idiot child in some kind of control, my good woman?
”

It was odd to feel oneself tremble, to know one was white as a sheet. Never, in all her nightmares had she imagined a meeting like this. He had not recognized her yet. Was there any hope, any chance that he might not? Her name, after all, was different. But
...
Arabella?

“
Well, have you nothing to say for yourself? You might have ruined as good a pair of bays as you
’
ll find this side of the Atlantic; you and that cretin of yours.
”

“
Not mine.
”
What an absurd thing to say.
“
Mrs. Penrose
’
s.
”
And then, with stiff despair,
“
How do you do, ma
’
am?
”

“
I
’
ve never had such a fright in my life!
”
Arabella, too, was furious.
“
What in creation
’
s name are you doing here, Mrs. Croston? It
’
s not your fault that the child wasn
’
t killed!
”

And are you sorry she was not? The thought went through Kate
’
s mind like angry lightning. But she managed to speak coolly, enough.
“
Mr. Penrose is to pick us up here; he has business in Lynn.
”
What else was there to say? Not for anything would she apologize, when she knew as well as Arabella must that it was only her companion
’
s obstinacy that had endangered the child.
“
Sarah and I built that castle,
”
she went on with a calm she was very far from feeling.
“
I think she loves it a little.
”

“
Loves it!
”

But Arabella
’
s scornful outburst was interrupted by her companion.
“
You
’
re English,
”
he said.
“
You
’
re—Good God—
”
At least he was as appalled as she.
“
Miss Ffynch.
”

“
No, Captain Manningham, Mrs. Croston.
”
Surely, for his own sake, he would say nothing. So—to Arabella:
“
Captain Manningham and I were very slightly acquainted in England.
”

“
Very slightly!
”
His sneer was familiar as despair. But—he must have been thinking fast. Now, at all events, he took his cue.
“
Yes,
”
he turned to Arabella.
“
I knew Mrs. Croston
’
s father—a little.
”
His tone dismissed Kate as beneath his interest, and he turned to look at Sarah, who appeared to have forgotten all about them and was busy arranging her collection of shells along the castle
’
s battlements.
“
So this is the poor child?
”
Contempt mingled with curiosity in his tone. But more significant to Kate than either was the familiarity with which he spoke to Arabella.

“
What are you doing here?
”
Kate
’
s question to him came out with a bluntness that surprised herself.

“
What business is it of yours?
”
This was Arabella, her color becomingly high, her eyes flashing.

But Charles Manningham merely laughed and freed one hand from the reins to put it over hers in an oddly intimate gesture.
“
No need to fly into a pet, Mrs. Penrose. Your estimable nursemaid doubtless thinks she has caught me red-handed, a spy unmasked. Though it raises, does it not, a rather interesting question of your own allegiance, Mrs. Croston? I might well return your question. If I were interested, which, frankly, I am not. Your affairs are—your affairs.
”
His bright eye, fixed on here, seemed to make of this at once a threat and a promise.
“
As to me: you see me before you that miserable creature a prisoner of war. I was taken, by pure bad luck, at Fort Niagara.
”

“
Niagara! You were there!
”
Anger in Kate
’
s voice reflected her memory of Mrs. Mason, who was still gravely ill from shock and exposure.