Runaway (17 page)

The last Sunday of the month was an afternoon off for most of us, and the day dawned bright, clear, and unseasonably warm for late May.

‘Let’s go to the river,’ suggested Ben. ‘It’ll be cool in the shade there.’

Content that, after a week of lameness, Belle was on the mend, I agreed to go with them. It would be nice to get away from the stable yard and do something different for a few hours.

Ben, Peter, Joe, and I set off once we’d mucked out the stables, been to church and eaten an early cold dinner. The rest of the long summer’s day was ours to do as we pleased. I planned to visit Mrs Saunders later in the day, once the heat had faded.

It was a hot walk down to the river, and we were pleased to flop down in the shade and recover when we reached it.

‘Who’s for a swim then?’ asked Ben after a few minutes. He was sitting up, eager for fun and games. ‘Charlie?’

I shook my head hurriedly. ‘Can’t swim,’ I lied. ‘I’ll just paddle in the shallows.’

‘Oh come on,’ said Ben, stripping off his shirt. ‘It’s not deep enough that you need to be able to swim!’ I averted my eyes as he dropped his breeches and kicked them onto the grass before running naked to the river bank and leaping into the water with a great splash. The other boys soon followed him, leaving me red-faced on the grass, wondering what to do. I’d thought I’d sit on the bank and dangle my feet in the water, but the sight of the three boys wrestling naked in the water was too much for me. I felt as though I was spying on them under false pretences and, really, it wasn’t as though I had the least wish to look. I’d grown up with a brother, so I knew as much as I wanted to know about boys’ anatomy.

I wasn’t left in peace for long. Ben’s cry of ‘Let’s throw Charlie in!’ didn’t give me enough warning to make my escape. They surrounded me, picked me up and threw me fully dressed into the river. I surfaced, gasping and spluttering at the shock of the cold water, and struck out for the bank.

‘Hey, look! He CAN swim!’ yelled Pete.

‘What were you so afraid of, Charlie-boy?’ demanded Joe.

‘Doesn’t want to get his tool out in front of us and that’s the truth, I reckon!’ shouted Ben. ‘Ain’t that right, Charlie? That’s why you won’t join us for bath night either, hey? Terrified we’ll see how tiny it is!’

‘On the contrary, Ben,’ I said with a grin. ‘I don’t want to make you feel inadequate.’

‘Oh, Charlie, you’ve asked for it now!’ said Ben.

‘Asked for what?’ I said, realizing too late my bravado had been disastrously ill-judged.

‘Strip him, lads!’ shouted Ben, splashing into the water next to me, churning up the water, mud, and weed. ‘Let’s see the truth of this!’

All three lads converged on me, laughing uproariously. It was a game to them; they had no idea. Terror gave me a strength and speed I didn’t know I had. I leapt through the water to the bank and clawed my way up through the mud, the three boys close on my heels. At the top of the bank, Pete threw himself at me, bringing me down full length with a painful bump, my face hitting a stone.

Half stunned and convinced all was over, I gave myself up. But just as the three boys piled onto me, a girl’s voice cried out from the trees: ‘Oh, what are you rough boys doing to poor Charlie?’

Susan, the kitchen maid, was standing in the trees with two of the other maids. The sight of them made the naked stable boys holler with shock and leap back into the water. As soon as they backed off, Susan rushed forward towards me, putting a hand on my wet, muddy shirt and bending over me solicitously. ‘Are you much hurt, Charlie?’ she asked tenderly. ‘There’s blood on your face!’

At that moment, she was my saviour. I smiled up at her, light-headed with relief. ‘I’m well enough, thank you Susan,’ I told her. ‘I think I hit my head.’

‘You’re so brave,’ she sighed admiringly. ‘Why don’t you come with us? We’re walking further down the stream to paddle and pick flowers.’

‘Thank you, I will,’ I replied, scrambling to my feet. It was an unexpected helping hand and I didn’t hesitate to take it.

We spent a very pleasant afternoon wading in the shallows, plucking wild flowers, and chatting. Susan made a great deal more fuss than was necessary cleaning up my muddy face with her pocket-handkerchief. I had a cut across one eyebrow that had bled a little. It stung as Susan cleaned it gently.

The girls shared their lunch with me, since mine had been left behind with the boys. After lunch, I helped them weave flowers into their hair. I felt a little wistful, as my own hair was still only mere fuzz on my scalp. I kept it very clean now though, hoping there would be no need to shave my head again too soon.

‘You’re so good at this, Charlie,’ said Susan, smiling up at me. ‘Wherever did you learn it?’

‘Oh, I have sisters,’ I said quickly. It had been so pleasant to enjoy female company again that I’d forgotten myself. Luckily my glib explanation seemed to satisfy her.

‘Oh, sisters! That explains why you’re so nice to talk to too. Not like the other boys, all rough and shouting.’

I had the grace to blush.

As the heat of the afternoon faded, we walked up to the Home Farm and bought a pitcher of cool milk for a farthing, which we shared sitting under an apple tree in the garden. Much refreshed, we walked back down to the house, in time for the evening meal to be served. Parting at the back of the house by the door to the kitchens, Susan stood on tiptoe to kiss my cheek and then fled with her two friends, giggling.

As I turned away, shaking my head, I saw Lawrence striding towards me from the stables in riding dress, whip in hand. I realized he’d witnessed the little scene and that a frown creased his brow.

‘I hadn’t taken you for a ladies’ man, Charlie,’ he said with a definite note of disapproval in his voice. ‘Aren’t you a bit young for that? I hope you can conduct yourself with propriety and not get any of our maids into trouble.’

I fixed my eyes on the ground. ‘Oh n-no, sir,’ I stammered awkwardly.

‘And you’ve been fighting again,’ he said despairingly.

I touched my brow lightly, realizing it had swollen.

‘N-not exactly,’ I replied. ‘It was all in fun, sir.’

He shook his head and sighed. ‘Get some ice on it,’ he said curtly. ‘I need you to accompany me out tomorrow morning without looking like a prizefighter. Be ready in your livery at nine o’clock sharp!’

Lawrence nodded a curt dismissal to me and I made my way back to the stable yard feeling unaccountably low. It took an hour of grooming and petting Belle to restore my peace. The gentle mare had a restful presence.

Later, I braved the kitchen and Susan’s attentions once more to fetch ice for my bruises. In the cool of the evening, I walked up to the lodge gates to speak to Mrs Saunders, with one of my mother’s letters tucked into my shirt. But before I reached the lodge house, Mr Saunders walked towards me, with no friendly expression on his face.

‘Good evening,’ I began, uncertainly. ‘I’ve come to call on your … ’

‘I know why you’re here,’ he broke in. ‘And I won’t allow it. Why can’t you leave her alone? Coming here, raking up the past, just as she’s found some peace! You have no idea what she’s gone through! Take your lies and your false hopes away, I won’t listen to them!’

I fell back, astonished and hurt. ‘But please, I just wanted … ’ I pulled the letter from my shirt, but he pushed it away without so much as a glance.

‘No! Go! And stay away from my wife!’

I hesitated a moment, wilting under his fierce, angry stare. Realizing there was no point arguing, I turned sadly away, tucking the letter back into my shirt. Shaken and dispirited, I walked back down the hill through the park. I spent the night in Belle’s loose box once more, sleeping up against her warm flank, soothed by her breathing, which was steady and rhythmic in the darkness.

The following morning, I accompanied Lawrence down to the city, where he had various commissions to perform. He didn’t speak a word to me, which was unusual. I was surprised to find he was annoyed with me over something apparently so trivial. My cut scarcely showed this morning and the bruise had only darkened a little. I seemed to have the trick of angering everybody at the moment.

In the city, I took charge of the horses at the White Hart inn. Lawrence had left orders for me to be served a meal while he was gone, so once Pitch and Velvet were comfortably bestowed, I sat in a quiet corner of the taproom and enjoyed some ale and stew.

Left with nothing to do for once, memories overwhelmed me. I missed my father and thought longingly of the days when my parents were still alive and my family together. Those seemed like golden days to me now; a distant land where life had been perfect. Now, by contrast, everything had fallen apart. I recalled the horrific sight of my father’s body, once so handsome, but wasted by poverty and worry, murdered and left to lie on the floor of that sordid lodging room. As a result, I lived in hiding, in fear of my life. What was worse, Mr Saunders was furious with me and even Mr Lawrence, in whose company I took much pleasure, was distant and displeased with me.

Tears began to steal silently down my cheeks. As my back was to the room, I let them fall unchecked. Perhaps the company of the maids the day before had triggered memories of my mother, for I could almost smell her scent and feel her warm embrace as I sat forlorn. I missed my family so much that it ached.

When Lawrence joined me at the table sooner than I’d expected, I jumped, embarrassed to be caught shedding tears. ‘Crying Charlie?’ he asked, sitting down opposite me. ‘Not troubles of the heart, I hope?’

I lifted my arm to wipe away the tears. ‘Not your sleeve, Charlie,’ said Lawrence, catching my wrist. ‘That is costly livery you’re wearing!’ He pulled out a pocket-handkerchief and handed it to me. ‘You’ll find this is perfectly clean,’ he promised me.

I wiped my tears fiercely away and blew my nose. A little restored, I gulped and looked up, sure that my eyes must be red and my face blotchy.

‘Do tell me what’s wrong!’ invited Lawrence. ‘No, I really don’t want that handkerchief back now, please. Keep it in case you have need of it again!’

I nodded and stuffed the damp linen square into my sleeve.

Lawrence had a look of concern on his face. I had no idea what to say to him.

‘So?’ he prompted kindly.

I shook my head. ‘I can’t very well say it’s nothing,’ I said in a voice still choked with unshed tears. ‘But it’s nothing I want to talk about.’

‘So it’s not Susan the pretty, plump kitchen maid?’

I shook my head vehemently. ‘No, indeed! I don’t care for her except as an acquaintance!’ It seemed important to tell Lawrence that.

‘I don’t like to see our dependants unhappy,’ said Lawrence at last, when it became clear I would say no more. ‘I hope if I can ever be of assistance, you won’t hesitate to come to me?’

I nodded, touched by his kindness.

‘Come,’ said Lawrence, rising. ‘I gave the order to have the horses harnessed before I came to find you, so we can leave now.’ I gulped and followed him, ashamed to have betrayed such weakness.

‘I’m sorry I was so silent on the drive down,’ said Lawrence as Pitch and Velvet pulled the chaise smartly out of the city and then slowed for the long, steep climb. ‘I was much preoccupied. I have some very weighty matters on my mind; some business for Lord Rutherford that concerns me very closely too. I suspect there is something gone awry and I’m greatly troubled by it.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I replied, wondering what that could be. ‘I’m sorry to hear it. And, of course, I am here to serve you, not to be entertained.’

Lawrence glanced briefly at me over his shoulder. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘And of course it would be ridiculous to think that my silence had anything to do with your upset.’

‘Yes, that would be ridiculous,’ I agreed firmly.

‘We’ve done an excellent job between us reschooling this pair, you know, Charlie,’ said Lawrence, changing the subject and nodding to Pitch and Velvet who were trotting beautifully together. ‘I think we can sell them on soon. How are you at choosing horses? Would you like to accompany me to an auction? I rather fancy a team next. I like a challenge.’

‘I’ve a fair eye for a good horse, I believe,’ I said, greatly cheered both by the prospect of choosing new horses and by the idea of accompanying Lawrence. The summer sun shone on my face and a light breeze cooled me, drying the last traces of tears from my face. Despite the great grief I carried inside me, life was not so bad after all.

Miss Judith began riding Belle again some weeks later. At first she behaved herself well enough. She accepted my escort without complaint, she rode with reasonable moderation, and she was only rude and unpleasant every second outing.

‘That’s enough sugar for one day,’ I said to her one afternoon when she’d come to the stables yet again with her pocket full. ‘You’ll make Belle ill.’

Miss Judith narrowed her eyes at me. ‘Whose horse is Belle-belle?’ she demanded. ‘Let me see … um, yours? No, stable boy. Wrong. You don’t own her. Mine? That’s right; she’s mine. My horse. So get back to mucking out her manure, for that is what you’re paid to do. It’s all you’re fit for. Leave me to enjoy her company!’ She pulled more sugar out and fed it to an eager Belle.