Runaway

by Marie-Louise Jensen

  ‘I could understand it if you’d told me you were older. Why younger? It makes no sense.’

  I hung my head. ‘I thought you would think me a small, skinny thing, perhaps not up to the work,’ I told him, squirming uncomfortably.

  ‘I’d already offered you the job,’ Lawrence sounded more puzzled than angry. ‘There was no need to conceal the truth.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

  There was a long silence, during which Lawrence continued to look at me. I felt deeply uneasy. It was hard not to recall those posters in London. Could Mr Lawrence have seen them and made the connection with me? Was I under suspicion? My heart beating quickly with fear, I sought to change the subject, to distract Lawrence from thinking about me.

  ‘I’ve told you about myself,’ I said, rather breathlessly. ‘What about you? Have you always lived here? If I’m permitted to ask you, that is,’ I added diffidently.

  ‘Of course you are permitted,’ replied Lawrence calmly. ‘No, I haven’t always lived here. I grew up in north Gloucestershire. My father was a navy man, though we didn’t follow him as you followed yours. He came and went. He was killed in 1712.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It must have been hard for you to lose him.’

  ‘It was. I was fourteen and my mother had four younger ones to provide for. I was very fortunate to be taken on here. Although I’m related to Lord Rutherford, he was under no obligation to provide for me.’

  This gave me a different perspective on Lawrence. I knew he was employed by his lordship, but I’d thought of him as part of the family. Now I could see he might live in the house but he was separate from them; more servant than relation.

  As we drove back through the open lodge gates, Mrs Saunders was standing at the door of the lodge house with a curtsey and a greeting. Her eyes were on me, I noticed, not on Lawrence. There was an anxious look in them, almost a look of longing, that made me uneasy all over again. I nodded to her but drove Sorrel on at a steady trot, not relaxing until we were out of sight.

  Mr Lawrence let me drive him on his various errands over the weeks that followed. I kept a more careful guard over my tongue and when I sensed he was trying to draw too much out of me, I closed up. He frightened me a little with his curiosity.

  When I’d grown confident driving Sorrel, Mr Lawrence had Mustard and Cress, a steady pair of horses, harnessed to the chaise and taught me to drive them too. ‘You take a great deal of trouble with me,’ I said on our third outing with a pair of horses. ‘I thought Bridges was to teach me once you trusted that I was safe with the reins?’

  ‘Who says I trust you?’ replied Lawrence lightly. ‘I take my life in my hands every time I drive out with you! How could I possibly ask that of Bridges?’

  ‘You’re teasing me,’ I said uncertainly. ‘Why?’ My driving was steady, I knew it was.

  ‘Oh, merely for the pleasure of seeing you look so unsure of yourself! You are normally so guarded and self-contained, you know,’ said Lawrence, the teasing tone still in his voice. ‘If you wish for the truth, you show promise, Charlie,’ Lawrence said as we drew into the yard of an outlying farm on the estate. ‘It’s a great pleasure to teach you. There, does that satisfy your vanity?’

  I blushed, both reassured and embarrassed. ‘I wasn’t … I didn’t … ’

  ‘I know,’ Lawrence waved a hand as he climbed down from the chaise. ‘You weren’t asking for compliments. But you are a natural with horses, you know you are.’

  That evening, missing my father, I skipped supper and took the package containing his letters out of the hiding place I had made for it behind a post in the stables. I read through several of the letters hoping to feel closer to him. The comfort they offered me was tempered with grief. As the light was fading and I could no longer read the aged ink, I began to place the letters carefully back inside the oilskin. As I did so, the leather pouch containing my father’s ring fell out. I picked it up, shook out the ring, and caught my breath as the sun’s fading rays fell on the design. It had not struck me until this moment. Until I came to Deerhurst, I hadn’t considered that the design upon the ring was a crest. But now it was familiar to me. These days, I saw the stag intertwined with the R for Rutherford every time we hauled Lord Rutherford’s chaise from the coach house. Here was the self-same device upon the ring: the crest of the Lawrences.

  What was my father doing with a ring that clearly belonged to a noble family? Had he stolen it? Was that why he had to flee and had been parted from my mother? That would account for so much. It could explain why they had gone abroad together, why they had been secretive about their past. It could also explain why the murderer was pursuing my father. Perhaps this ring was a valuable heirloom.

  ‘Oh, Father, what did you do?’ I whispered to myself.

  ‘Hey Charlie, what are you up to?’ Ben’s voice came out of nowhere. Startled, I stuffed the pouch in my shirt and stood up, the ring concealed in my tightly-clenched hand. ‘Why aren’t you at dinner, Ben?’ I asked.

  ‘Finished. Was that letters? Who learned you to read?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Yes, from my mother. She taught me.’

  ‘Your mother, eh?’ asked Ben sceptically. ‘You sure about that? Not a love note from a secret admirer?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ I said, far too primly for a boy.

  Ben winked. ‘Mr Lawrence seems to like you,’ he said meaningfully. ‘Always taking you off for long drives. We never knew it were boys he liked, but there’s no accounting for taste.’

  ‘What nonsense!’ I cried, horrified. ‘I’m his groom.’

  ‘Oh yes? You should hear what the others are saying.’ Ben threw me a good-natured punch. I hit him back and he grappled with me, shoving me playfully into the wall.

  I saw the other boys tackle each other like this all the time and kept my distance. Now, I defended myself, terrified he would grab some part of me that might reveal my gender. ‘Stop it, Ben!’ I cried, clutching the ring tight, praying I wouldn’t drop it. But Ben pummelled me with his fists. He was only being playful, but it was knocking the wind out of me.

  ‘Not more fighting, Charlie?’ a voice interrupted us. We fell apart, both shocked to find Mr Lawrence watching us from the entrance to the stables. ‘Your bruises from the last time have barely healed yet!’ Lawrence complained. ‘I can only just take you out in public respectably. You might have a care for the reputation I’ll get for beating my servants if you keep fighting!’

  His tone was light-hearted, but we both hung our heads. ‘We was only larking about, sir!’ Ben said.

  ‘Haven’t you got work to do, Ben?’ demanded Lawrence. Ben effaced himself at once, heading off to the tack room, shooting me a significant look. He left me confronting Lawrence with his dreadful suggestions still ringing in my ears. I shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, the hand with the ring concealed behind my back.

  ‘You’re a troublesome brat, Charlie.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ I agreed meekly.

  ‘I hope you’re sorry for it?’

  ‘Of course,’ I agreed.

  ‘Charlie, you ride don’t you?’

  ‘I do,’ I agreed.

  ‘Then I have favour to ask you. Miss Lawrence intends to begin riding Belle tomorrow morning. I have a great deal of work to do and her grandfather is in the gout at present and can’t ride at all. I’d like you to accompany her.’

  ‘Me?’ I said startled.

  ‘Yes. Her own personal groom left a few months ago and hasn’t been replaced yet. When I need you to accompany me, one of the other grooms will go with her, but Steele has better things to do with his time and Bridges would struggle to keep up with her. I’d like you to keep an eye on her. And on Belle.’

  ‘Very well,’ I said.

  ‘Thank you. You can ride Merlin. And be warned, Miss Lawrence will do her best to give you the slip. I’m relying on you!’

  Lawrence turned to leave and then paused. ‘And Charlie? Try and stay out of trouble for a few days, will you?
’

  I grinned sheepishly in response. Checking I was alone and he’d really gone, I dropped the ring back into the pouch, wrapped it into the oilskin bundle and carefully concealed it all in the gap behind the pillar at the back of the stable block. I stuffed straw around it to hide it completely, but was more anxious than ever about it being discovered. It seemed doubly dangerous now.

  I still didn’t feel hungry, so I went to visit Belle. She greeted me like a long-lost friend and nuzzled me happily while I scratched behind her ears.

  ‘I don’t know what to think any more, Belle,’ I confided in her softly. ‘Was my father a thief? Surely not! And then Mr Lawrence … There’s more truth in Ben’s words than he knows, from my side at least. I’m sure he doesn’t care for me. Not in the way they are suggesting! He thinks I’m a boy, and he called me a troublesome brat, didn’t he? But I … ’ I sighed and stroked the beautiful horse’s neck. ‘I can’t stop thinking about him,’ I whispered in her ear. ‘I’m a fool.’

  Belle snorted contentedly. My secret was safe with her.

  ‘Being accompanied by a groom is stuffy. I’m not having it.’

  Miss Judith stared at me mulishly. I kept my face as wooden and expressionless as possible. ‘His lordship’s orders, miss,’ I replied.

  ‘What use will you be?’Miss Judith taunted. ‘Shouldn’t you still be in the nursery having your nose wiped?’

  Spoiled brat, I thought to myself. How pleasant it would be to say the words aloud. I reminded myself I was paid to put up with her insults.

  ‘I don’t believe you, either. I’ll wager it wasn’t Grandpapa, but that Gothic John Lawrence who ordered this.’ Miss Judith jerked Belle away, jobbing at her mouth in a way that made the mare startle. Dragging her towards the mounting block, Miss Judith settled herself on Belle side-saddle and adjusted her petticoats.

  ‘If you don’t like Charlie going with you, miss, I can accompany you.’ said Steele. ‘Or Mr Lawrence. It’s up to you. But we would lose our jobs if we let you out alone.’

  Miss Judith tossed her head and didn’t reply as Steele helped her adjust her stirrup leathers.

  I scrambled up onto Merlin’s back and was adjusting my own stirrups, when Miss Judith kicked Belle and shot out of the yard at a slapping pace, leaving me to urge Merlin after her with one stirrup still too long.

  After the first half an hour, I understood Lawrence’s concern for Belle. Miss Judith rode her with great flair and daredevilry but with no care for her mount’s safety. She showed none for her own either, but that didn’t impress me. In my view, a rider’s primary concern was the safety and well-being of her horse.

  Merlin followed Belle’s mad flight across the downs gamely, but with far less elegance. My own seat was untidy with my badly adjusted stirrup, and several times I had recourse to grasp a handful of Merlin’s mane to stay on his back. I was glad no one could see me. I watched the beautiful mare going through her paces ahead of me and longed to be riding her myself. Every time Miss Judith pulled unkindly on her mouth or risked her legs galloping over rabbit holes, my heart was in my mouth. I would take far better care of her than that.

  ‘Oh. You’re still here, then,’ remarked Miss Judith looking round with a pout as she reined in at a gate, miles from home. Her face, pink from the exertion and the bracing morning air, was framed by an expensive hat. She looked more beautiful than ever, but she failed to charm me. Belle was sweating, her flanks heaving.

  ‘You can make yourself useful and open the gate,’ she told me haughtily. I rode forward past her and took the opportunity to adjust my stirrup before unlatching it.

  ‘You’re keeping me waiting, boy,’ scolded Miss Judith impatiently.

  ‘Sorry, miss,’ I replied. My stirrup done, I unlatched the gate and pulled it open, leaving the way clear for her to ride through. As she passed me, she slashed her whip down on Merlin’s rump, then kicked Belle past me into a gallop down the hill beyond the gate.

  Merlin half-reared in pain and shock, crashed into the gate, then skittered away from it. I hadn’t dreamed Judith would do such a thing and was very nearly unseated. Clinging on desperately, I fought to calm Merlin and get him back under control. By the time this was done and the gate was closed, Miss Judith and Belle were out of sight.

  I felt sick with shock and a sense of failure. Lawrence had relied on me and I’d let him down at the very first test. I recalled that he had warned me she would try to give me the slip. Fear for Belle and for the consequences of my failure drove me to push Merlin swiftly after her. I was no hand at tracking, however, and didn’t know the area. I was soon hopelessly lost and could find no trace of them.

  I asked at a farmhouse, then again at a hamlet, and eventually found my way back to Deerhurst. As I reached the main gates, Mrs Saunders came out to let me through instead of her husband. She reached up and caught Merlin’s bridle as I passed.

  ‘Charlie Weaver, isn’t it?’ she asked. She was looking at me strangely, as she always did. I wondered if she were perhaps a little mad.

  ‘That’s right,’ I agreed cautiously.

  ‘Where are you from, Charlie?’ she asked me. I felt a knot in my belly. Here was another person who wished to know more about me.

  ‘I’ve lived in many places,’ I said warily.

  ‘Who are your parents, Charlie?’

  ‘They are both dead.’

  Still Mrs Saunders didn’t leave go of Merlin’s bridle. She continued to stare at me. ‘Excuse me, if you please, Mrs Saunders,’ I said at length. ‘I have to report Miss Lawrence missing.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, stepping back and releasing me at once. I trotted swiftly on.

  When I rode back into the yard alone, the alarm was raised at once. The grooms who knew the area saddled up and rode out in different directions to search for their mistress. I was sent running up to the house with a message for Mr Lawrence. I wasn’t allowed beyond the kitchen, but passed the message to a footman who informed me that Mr Lawrence was out.

  ‘I shall appraise him of the situation on his return,’ he told me grandiloquently.

  ‘Should I ride and fetch him?’ I asked worriedly, unsure what he would want. ‘Do you know where he’s gone?’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ the footman replied, looking down his long nose at me. He turned and walked through the door in a stately manner, to be swallowed up by the hushed, carpeted house.

  ‘I wouldn’t listen to him,’ said the same cook who’d once given me a bun. ‘He’s so full of himself it’s a wonder his buttons don’t burst right off. Mr Lawrence has driven over to West Farm to look at some puppies. I’m sure he’d want to know at once that Miss Judith has gone missing.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I know where that is. I’ll go at once.’

  ‘Hold on a moment,’ she said, catching my sleeve as I made for the door. ‘I’m just getting some almond pastries out of the oven. You’ll miss your dinner if you go off now, so take one with you!’

  ‘You never give us almond pastries, Mrs Bond!’ said a young kitchen maid, pausing in her work scrubbing pots in a huge stone sink. ‘You’re always favouring the boys. We get hungry too!’

  ‘Boys are growing, Susan,’ said Mrs Bond sharply as she bent over the oven and extracted a tray of deliciously fragrant pastries. ‘And they work hard. They need sustenance. You’ll just put on flesh!’

  Susan poked her brush at a pot in a disconsolate manner and then gave me a sly smile. There was so much invitation in the look, it took me aback. I was confused for a moment and then remembered she thought me a boy.

  Mrs Bond wrapped two of the hot pastries in a clean cloth and put them into my hands. I left the kitchen for the scullery, hurrying to the back door, but Susan was swifter than I. Abandoning the sink, she reached the door first. Once there, out of sight of the other servants, she whipped her hands behind her back and lifted her face to me as I approached, quite clearly asking for a kiss. I paused, astonished at her forwardness. I wasn’t going
to kiss her, but didn’t want to hurt her feelings either.

  ‘Here,’ I said impulsively, taking one of the pastries from the cloth and pressing it into her hand. ‘Don’t tell!’ And then, taking advantage of her surprise and delight, I slid past her and made my escape, shoving the second pastry into my waistcoat.

  I rode at a slapping pace all the way out to West Farm. Susan and her odd behaviour were quickly forgotten. Merlin had already been untacked while I was looking for Mr Lawrence, and was weary besides, so I’d saddled myself a fine bay gelding called Storm. He was swift and easy-paced with a great mouth and gave me a thoroughly enjoyable ride. I hoped it was allowable to take him. There had been no one senior to ask, with everyone out looking for Miss Judith.

  As I reined in outside the farm, patting Storm and praising him, I saw to my relief that the Deerhurst gig was in the farmyard. I slid off Storm and tethered him hurriedly. A buxom woman in a white apron and a cap answered my knock at the door. She had red cheeks and a kindly look on her face. There was no need for her to explain where Mr Lawrence was; I could see him in the spacious farm kitchen beyond her, seated on a low stool, playing with a litter of puppies. On the table stood a cake, several plates and a teapot, indicating he had been a welcome guest. He rose and came towards me when he heard my voice.

  ‘Is something wrong at home, Charlie? His lordship … ?’ he looked anxious.

  ‘No sir,’ I replied breathlessly. ‘Not his lordship. It’s Miss Judith; Miss Lawrence, I should say! I’m afraid she got away from me and she’s not back yet. I’m so sorry!’

  ‘Is anyone looking for her?’ he demanded.

  ‘Bridges, Steele, and Peter are all out looking,’ I told him in a faltering voice. ‘But no one knows which way she’s gone, because I was lost.’

  I hung my head, shamed by my failure, but Lawrence dropped a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. ‘I warned you, did I not?’ he said. ‘What happened?’