Runaway (10 page)

The grooms fell back as I stepped forward, letting the stallion see me before I approached him. His head dropped when he realized it was me. The time I’d spent with him over the past couple of days was beginning to pay off.

‘Take care of Charlie, won’t you Bridges?’ Lawrence said as he got down from the carriage. ‘Show him the ropes!’ He turned to me. ‘You’re in good hands, Charlie. See you soon!’

He left us to unharness his horses and strode off through the archway to the adjoining main house. I felt friendless and forlorn to see him go, but threw myself into the work of rubbing down the weary horses while the other grooms prepared the stable for the new acquisitions. When Pitch was ready, Bridges led him into a loose box and then returned for Velvet. I stood back, pleased with my work as Bridges untethered him. The horse was shining and magnificent; worthy of these fine stables.

I gathered up the brushes as Bridges led the horse away, then waited for him to return, but he did not. I couldn’t see anyone at all now.

‘Bridges?’ I said tentatively, walking to the stables. I went right up to the loose-box door. Velvet stood with his rump towards me, munching hay contentedly. He was alone. I looked over the neighbouring loose-box door and Pitch flattened his ears, stirring restlessly in the strange surroundings. Bridges wasn’t with him either. He’d left me alone.

I stood feeling foolish. I had no idea where to go. Where was I to sleep? Was there food? I’d eaten nothing but an apple since breakfast. Who would show me around and tell me my duties? The grooms who had appeared when we arrived had pulled the chaise into the coach house and vanished. My satchel lay just inside the door of the main stable block, but there was no other sign that I belonged here. I swallowed hard and picked it up. I walked over to what I guessed was the tack room, looking for someone to ask. The sound of cheerful whistling from within heartened me. Peeping around the door, I saw a red-haired lad with a freckled face and blue eyes polishing the harness from the carriage. He looked up as my shadow fell over him and grinned at me, revealing a broken front tooth and a dimple in each grubby cheek.

‘Lookin’ for work to do?’ he asked with a cheeky smile.

I stepped into the room and picked up a rag. ‘By all means,’ I said. I was dead tired, but some friendly company was most welcome.

‘I were only joking,’ replied the boy looking a little startled as I sat down beside him. ‘This is my work.’

‘It’s no problem. What’s your name? I’m Charlie.’

‘Heard that. You’re to be trained as Mr Lawrence’s new personal groom, huh? Plenty of us would have fancied
that
position.’

My hands, which had already picked up a bit to clean, fell limply into my lap. ‘Will everyone resent me then?’ I asked timidly. ‘Bridges already does.’

‘Ha! Won’t accept he’s past it. He’ll get over it. He’s not a bad sort, really. The lad grinned again. ‘I’m Ben.’

‘Hello Ben, pleased to meet you,’ I said with a smile.

We worked side by side for a few moments in silence. Eventually I got up the courage to ask: ‘So where do we get meals here?’

‘The kitchen maids bring over pots and pans for us to the room next to this. We dish up there.’

‘Not welcome in the house then?’ I said, remembering life at the inn.

‘Whiff of the stables an’ all that,’ said Ben with a comical grimace. ‘They thinks theirselves a cut above us lot, the house servants. More
refined
,’ he added in a mock genteel voice, holding up his nose.

I chuckled and felt the tension in me lessen. I rubbed at the leather harness for a few more minutes and then yawned.

‘Dinner’s served when the stable clock strikes six,’ Ben told me. ‘Then we got to feed and water all the horses and check ’em afore we get to turn in. And I got to finish this harness first an’ all.’

By the time the clock struck, we’d cleaned the entire harness. I was so tired I stumbled wordlessly after Ben, and barely knew how to eat my stew and dumplings. The small, crowded room where the men and boys who worked in the stables enjoyed their dinner was noisy with chatter and laughter. Everyone was friendly and introduced themselves to me, though their names and faces blurred before my weary eyes. There was a Joe and a Peter around my own age as well as Ben, all loud and cheerful, and several men besides. The contrast with the John of Gaunt couldn’t have been greater. Despite my weariness, I felt at home here at once.

I got through my evening duties somehow, but the moment I’d taken a blanket off the pile in the stables that evening and laid down in the straw, I was deeply asleep.

Ben shook me awake the next morning. It took me a moment to remember where I was. The stable yard was already bustling. I could see from the stable clock high on the tower that it was just after six. Two horses had already been led out of their stalls and were standing in the yard being groomed. Stable boys were mucking out the stalls or boxes, carting the soiled straw to a towering midden in the corner of the yard. I looked at Ben enquiringly. ‘What am I to do?’

‘Bridges has put you on mucking-out duty,’ said Ben. ‘Why don’t you take Belle’s box? Bring her out and tie her out here for grooming first.’ He pointed the way.

I headed across the yard to the loose box he indicated. I wondered what kind of horse answered to the name of Belle. It sounded like a lady’s horse. A showy, spoiled pet, perhaps. I imagined her grey, with some Arab blood. None of my idle imaginings prepared me for the sight that met my eyes when I peeped over the stable door.

In the gloom of the loose box stood the most beautiful horse I’d ever laid eyes on. She was a dark, glossy bay, with a gleaming black mane and a shining tail that almost swept the ground. Her hide was a rich, burnished red-brown, darkening to black on her legs. Everything about her was elegant and beautiful. She was sheer perfection from the tip of her pricked ears to her neat hooves.

I caught my breath. For a mad instant, I’d thought it was my own Mahogany, whom I’d had to leave behind in America. The parting had almost broken my heart. But, I had to confess, this horse was far finer. My father could never have afforded such a magnificent creature. This horse had thoroughbred blood, I was sure. Arab too, by the look of that beautiful arched neck.

I stood staring, lost in admiration. The mare looked back at me from dark, liquid eyes. She arched her neck and blew out through her nostrils. Spellbound, I unlatched the half-door of the stable and stepped into the loosebox. I approached the mare cautiously, reverently, but she was perfectly relaxed and friendly, stepping forward and nosing me in search of some treat. Sorry I had nothing for her, I stroked the horse’s glossy neck. She was in tip-top condition; gleaming with health and vitality.

‘So you are Belle,’ I said softly to her. She pricked her ears forward, looking at me endearingly from intelligent, kind eyes.

Belle was already wearing a halter. A leading rope hung on the wall near the door. I unhooked it, clipped it on to her halter and led her out into the yard. She stepped out beside me, so light on her hooves it seemed as though she were dancing.

I tethered her in the yard and continued to pet her, quite forgetting I had work to do, until Ben called me away, a spade in each hand.

‘What a beauty!’ I exclaimed.

He grinned. ‘A costly piece of horseflesh,’ he agreed. ‘You wouldn’t believe the long price his lordship paid for her.’

‘Does he hunt her?’ I asked. Her delicate good looks and her name still made me think her a lady’s ride.

‘Lord love you, no,’ said Ben, shaking his head and accompanying me into Belle’s loosebox, where he threw me one of the spades he carried. ‘Clean straw this side, soiled the other,’ he said. ‘I’m to show you how we muck out here.’

I nodded, my mind still on Belle, as I raked out the soiled straw and piled it on one side. I looked questioningly at him.

‘Belle belongs to Miss Judith,’ he said. ‘Or she will do when … ’

‘Less chit chat in here and more work,’ interrupted a stern voice from the open doorway. A shadow fell across me and I jumped and flinched, afraid of a blow. When I dared looked up, I saw a smart-looking groom with neat whiskers looking down at me. He was tall and spare with something of a military air about him, which made me warm to him at once.

‘You’re the new boy,’ he stated, looking distinctly unimpressed.

‘I know,’ I replied cheekily.

Instead of lashing out, he grinned at me. ‘I’m Steele. I’m the head groom here. Lawrence might have employed you, but you will need to prove yourself to me. You look a skinny little excuse for a stable lad. Get this box done! No slacking! There are three more to do before you get your breakfast.’

The footman made sure I removed my muddy boots at the door before he turned and led the way into the house. As we left the servants’ quarters and entered the main rooms, I caught my breath in wonder. I’d rarely seen such affluence. Furnishings, hangings, chandeliers, and carpets; all were new and looked costly. I stepped nervously, hoping no straw or manure was clinging to my clothing to soil such splendour.

I’d been at Deerhurst Park a week, but this was the first time I’d been into the house itself. I’d spent my days and my nights in the stables; most of my waking hours had been devoted to mucking out and cleaning tack.

The footman paused outside a heavy oak door and cast a disparaging eye over me. I probably had dirt on my face and looked disreputable. I’d been given no notice of this summons, but had been fetched directly from mucking out stalls. I removed my cap, smoothed my shorn hair nervously, then quickly replaced it, worried that it was a girlish habit and would give me away.

The footman was still looking down his nose at me. From his expression, I guessed I smelled bad. With a disapproving ‘Ahem’, he knocked and opened the door. ‘The new lad from the stables, Mr Lawrence,’ he announced in a voice of doom.

I stepped nervously into the room, but there was nothing within to terrify me. The room was an office. There was a small fire in the grate, casting a cheerful glow over the panelled room. A few bookcases stacked high with ledgers and papers drew my eye, as did a huge mahogany desk covered in more paperwork. My grubby, stockinged feet sank into a thick carpet that hushed the sounds of the fire and the door closing behind me.

Lawrence was writing at a desk, but looked up as I came to stand before him. His expression was friendly, so I had a glimmer of hope that I hadn’t been brought here to answer for any misdeeds.

‘Charlie,’ he greeted me, laying down his pen. ‘Are you settling in well?’

I grinned nervously in relief and, belatedly remembering my manners, whipped my cap off my head. ‘Thank you, sir. Yes, I am.’

‘Good. It’s a fine place. I hope you’ll be happy here. Any problems, you can always speak to Bridges or Steele. I’ve just spoken to Bridges and he tells me you’re shaping up well.’

I cast Lawrence a look of disbelief. ‘I don’t get the impression Bridges trusts me with the horses, sir,’ I said respectfully. ‘He sets me to clean tack and muck out mostly.’

Lawrence frowned. ‘Of course you’ll have those duties too, but the priority is the new pair. I’ve ordered you a set of livery too. Those clothes will do about the stables, but if you’re to accompany me out or if visitors are to come, I’ll need you looking smarter.’

I nodded, aware that the process of being measured and fitted for livery might present a new danger to me.

‘In fact a good wash wouldn’t go amiss,’ Lawrence added dryly.

I hung my head. I’d been too exhausted after the long days of work followed by time spent with Pitch and Belle to either get up early or stay up late to wash in private.

‘We have high standards here,’ he added. ‘And that includes personal cleanliness. I’m sure there is a bath night for the stable hands.’

I gulped and nodded. He himself was impeccably clean, his clothes neat and pressed, not a hair out of place in his neat wig. He was clean-shaven too, not a mark or a smudge of dirt anywhere about his person, save a little ink on one finger. I felt suddenly disgusting.