Runaway (24 page)

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Authors: Marie-Louise Jensen

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Love & Romance

BOOK: Runaway
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‘They loved each other so much?’

‘They did. When my mother died, my father was a broken man. He never recovered.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He paused, looking at me closely again. ‘No wonder you concealed your age. Did I guess it correctly? You’re fifteen?’

‘I’ve turned sixteen now. It was my birthday in June.’

‘Sixteen! I suppose you had to lie about that to explain the lack of a beard!’ He laughed, pinching my chin, but then stopped abruptly as another thought struck him: ‘And your name? Of course, it isn’t Charlie?’ He sounded sad, but I smiled.

‘Indeed it is,’ I said. ‘It’s short for Charlotte.’

An answering smile lit his face. ‘That’s something. Charlotte … This explains many things that were puzzling me: your need for privacy, your difference to the other boys, your tendency to blush and to cry … my … my strange attraction to you that I couldn’t explain to myself.’

My heart began to thud painfully again. He’d found me attractive? Even grubby and scruffy as I’d been? I could feel myself flushing, whether with awkwardness or excitement I couldn’t tell. I was glad of the moonlight that bleached all colours from the world, leaving only shining shades of silver and grey.

We both looked away, shyness overcoming us at the unexpected intimacy of the situation. I was painfully aware of my nakedness under my long shirt. The impropriety of being alone with Lawrence in this secluded place in the middle of the night struck me. Martha’s words of warning rang in my ears. But at the same time, I was close to the man I loved. I’d always thought it was a hopeless love, doomed to remain forever undeclared. But now here he was, in the water with me in the middle of the night, speaking of attraction.

‘I made you share my bedchamber,’ said Mr Lawrence abruptly. ‘No wonder you slept in your clothes! It puzzled me. Good grief, I hope I didn’t embarrass you by undressing … ’

‘I didn’t look!’ I told him hurriedly and we laughed awkwardly.

He stared at me some more and shook his head. ‘How brave you’ve been to deal with so much. I’m all admiration.’

‘Now you’re teasing me,’ I said, flushing again.

‘Not at all. But you were always brawling. Did you not get hurt? Why would a girl fight?’

‘I never did!’ I assured him, a laugh escaping me. ‘Each time it was either an accident or I was attacked and came off worst. You assumed I’d been fighting and I let you.’ I laughed again. ‘You had such a disapproving face every time I had new bruises!’

‘And Susan?’

‘Oh, Susan,’ I said more soberly. ‘I haven’t known what to do about her. She would be so mortified if she knew!’

‘I felt cross and jealous every time I saw you flirting with her!’ exclaimed Lawrence. ‘I couldn’t understand myself!’

‘You did?’ I asked shyly, my eyes falling before his. ‘Really?’

‘Really. Look at me, Charlie!’

When I raised my eyes, Lawrence looked deeply into them and this time I didn’t look away. He moved towards me, the water swirling softly about him, ripples spreading out across the pool. He drew me slowly, gently into his arms, his body tantalizingly warm against mine through the thin layers of our drenched linen. ‘Charlie, Charlotte, stable boy and vagabond,’ he said. ‘So brave; so beautiful.’

Lawrence looked down into my eyes a moment longer and then bent his head and brushed his warm lips against mine. Trembling, I held myself quite still, feeling his breath on my face. He drew back and looked at me again, a question in his eyes, as though he were asking permission to continue. In reply, I twined one arm around his neck and drew his head down, lifting my face for his kiss.

I’d never been kissed before. I hadn’t imagined it to be as it was; so close, so intimate, so passionate. I was chilled in the cold water now, but Lawrence’s embrace sent a fire sweeping through me that left my very fingertips tingling with warmth. His mouth and his tongue were hot and sweet against mine and he wrapped his arms around me so that I felt enclosed in him for the long, lingering moments that it lasted.

When he lifted his head to look down at me again, I was breathless, all my senses alive. Gently he stroked one hand over my cheek and my hair, whilst still cradling me in his other arm.

‘Dear Charlie,’ he said. He pressed his warm lips to my forehead. I shivered. ‘You’re cold,’ he said. ‘Come, you should get out of the water.’

‘He vaulted out of the pool with ease, the water streaming in a silver, moonlit cascade from his wet shirt and breeches. He’d jumped into the water fully dressed. He turned to offer me a hand but I shook my head.

‘Will you turn your back please?’ I asked him bashfully, aware that my shirt might not cover me as I climbed out. ‘I’m not … decent.’

He smiled and turned away obediently, looking up to the back of the house. I clambered inelegantly out of the water, shivering a little, and retrieved my breeches. It was difficult to pull them onto my wet legs but, once I’d buttoned them up, wrung out my wet shirt and pulled it down over them, I felt less exposed.

Lawrence took my hand, led me to the bench beside the pool, and sat down with me there, drawing me back into his arms. I nestled against him with a sigh of contentment, resting my head on his shoulder, not thinking of anything beyond the happiness of the present moment. ‘How did you know I was here?’ I asked.

‘I was awake and sleepless, concerned for Belle and for you. My room is on one of the upper floors; I can just see the far end of this pool from my window. I could see someone was in the water. I saw you once before, or at least I thought that it was you, and guessed you had been bathing.’

‘So you expected it to be me, then, when you came down tonight?’

‘I hoped it might be.’

‘I thought you were … that man who has been pursuing me,’ I said with a sigh. ‘I was terrified.’

He kissed the top of my head soothingly and then rested his cheek against it. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘But I’m sure he won’t come here. Why would he?’

I shrugged, not knowing what to say to account for my apparently irrational fear that someone as insignificant as I should be the target of a killer. Lawrence drew me closer and we sat still for a moment without speaking.

One by one, birds started to twitter in the bushes around us. We both realized the dawn was near. ‘Back to sleep with you,’ said Lawrence, straightening up. ‘If you wish to keep your secret, it would be better for us not to be seen here.’

As I got up to follow him, his words threw a dark shadow over my happiness. For an hour, I had allowed my feelings to run away with me, but it could go no further.

Lawrence accompanied me back to the door into the stable yard. There, before we parted, he drew me into another long, loving kiss. Aware that this could be farewell, that I must leave Deerhurst soon, I held nothing back, kissing him as freely and tenderly as he kissed me.

 

I crept back into the stable to find Belle asleep. I stood watching the rise and fall of her breathing, my heart tearing in two. Belle, Mr John Lawrence; I loved them both and I longed to stay here with them. But at any moment, Lawrence might make the connection between me and the girl on the poster. If he did, could I be sure he would believe I was innocent? I knew it was time to leave, while everyone still slept. I would slip away at once and find Henry in Dorset.

I took my waistcoat from the nail it was hanging on and pulled it on over my still-damp shirt. Then, feeling ready, I went to the main stable door and eased it open to fetch my satchel and to retrieve my papers. As I crept across the aisle to the cupboard, Ben yawned and sat up, straw sticking out of his tousled red hair.

‘Mornin’, Charlie!’ he said sleepily. ‘Is it time to get up?’ The words were scarcely spoken before the stable clock began to chime five and the other boys began to stir. I would have to wait until tonight.

 

 

 

The following day seemed unreal to me. Sleep deprived, I stumbled clumsily through my duties.

‘Whatever’s up with you?’ demanded Ben over breakfast. He punched me lightly on the arm to get my attention. ‘That’s three times I’ve spoke to you already today and not a word have I had back.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said and smothered a yawn. ‘I didn’t sleep well. I had to tend Belle.’

‘Belle indeed!’ cried Peter. ‘Up dreaming of his lady-love he was!’ He put on a high-pitched, mocking voice: ‘Oh! Miss Susan, I can’t wait to walk out with you on Sunday!’

‘I never said so,’ I objected.

‘You might not have done, but
she
talks of little else,’ Joe sniggered. ‘You’re in with a chance there, Charlie! If you ask me, she can’t wait to throw herself at you. Taking her into the woods for a bit of you-know-what, are you?’ he said with a wink.

‘You are wide of the mark indeed,’ I replied, my lip curling. I was faintly disgusted with his crudeness and feeling all the inappropriateness of being linked with poor Susan in such a way.

It was just after noon when the order came from the house to harness the new team and don my livery to accompany Mr Lawrence on an errand. I pulled the smart clothes on and the wool prickled against my skin. It was another hot day; even more sultry than the day before. Being out in the sun would be unpleasant, but at least I would see Lawrence one last time.

When Lawrence arrived, he gave me a nod. The stable was bustling with staff, so he gave me no more sign of what had passed between us last night than the faintest of smiles that just creased the corners of his eyes. As for me, I scarcely had the courage to look at him. I kept my eyes downcast, dreading that I might betray myself by blushing.

I held the first pair of the team while Lawrence climbed into the driver’s seat and gathered the reins. I was just awaiting orders from him to ‘Let ’em go!’ when Lord Rutherford came through the archway from the main house, leaning on his cane.

‘Hello there, John,’ he called out. ‘So this is the new team?’

He walked forward, moving much more briskly than usual, barely seeming to need his cane. I deduced from this that his gout was rather better at present.

Lord Rutherford walked around the team, running an aged hand over their necks and checking their points before looking up to Lawrence. ‘A fine team, John! How do they go together?’

‘Oh, that leaves a great deal to be desired, my lord! But where would be the challenge or the profit in a perfect team? They are not as unpredictable as the previous pair. No stallions among them.’

‘Where are you off to today?’ asked the old gentleman.

‘I need to speak to Phillips about letting his cattle graze across Symonds’ land. You know how it is with those two!’

Lawrence was fretting a little, eager to be off. His impatience communicated itself along the reins to the horses, who stamped and pawed the ground, jingling their harness.

‘Tell you what,’ said Lord Rutherford unexpectedly. ‘I’ll accompany you! I’d like to see these fellows in action. You, boy!’ he turned to Ben who was lurking in the shade by the tack room. ‘Run and take a message to the house for Miss Lawrence that I’ve driven out for an hour or so!’

He turned back to Lawrence. ‘Judith won’t miss me. She’s practising her pianoforte!’

Bridges assisted Lord Rutherford to climb into the chaise. I watched gloomily as he settled himself beside Lawrence, reminiscing on the teams he himself had driven as a young man and how pleasant it was to get out behind some decent nags on such a fine day. ‘For I don’t mind telling you, John, being in the gout is no fun. No fun at all! Life is scarcely worth living.’

I let the horses go, and as I leapt up onto my perch behind the chaise, they swept smartly through the arch and out of the yard. Once they’d pulled us up the long drive, Lord Rutherford took the reins himself and sent the team along the road across the downs at a brisk trot. His conversation ran on the excellence of the horses, anecdotes of teams he and his acquaintance had owned in the past, and advice on how to cure this team of their various quirks and bad habits. All of this Lawrence responded to with his usual quiet politeness.

Once we had turned around, driven back along the downs and taken the lane to the village of Doynton, Lord Rutherford handed the reins back to Lawrence and sat back. ‘They were a deuced good buy, my boy! They’ll make us a pretty penny once you have those little tricks ironed out, by Jove so they will! Well done. I’ll let you take them from here, however. You lose your precision of eye with age, you know, and this is a narrow lane for a team.’

He then fell silent for a few minutes. I looked at the back of Lawrence’s head and wished desperately that Lord Rutherford had not chosen to accompany us. My regrets were abruptly interrupted by his lordship’s next words.

‘Damned shame, given your skill with carriage horses, John, that you cannot do better choosing a horse for Judith! Every one turns out a dud! Whatever happens to you? Do your judgement and wits go begging?’

I felt a surge of anger flood me and was hard put not to cry out what a perfect horse Belle was. I bit my lip and stayed silent.

Lawrence was silent too. I guessed he was gathering his thoughts. Probably he hadn’t expected this sudden attack any more than I had. When he spoke it was in a restrained, measured tone: ‘I believed, indeed I still believe, Belle to be an outstanding horse, my lord. Beautifully put together, highly trained, and with the sweetest of tempers.’

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