‘Hello, Susan,’ I said cautiously, glad that Lawrence was not here to witness this. I backed away slightly towards the stable.
‘Oh, Charlie, I missed you so much!’ she said, twisting her apron in excitement. ‘Will you walk out with me this Sunday?’
‘Perhaps,’ I said thinking it was only Tuesday today and that by Sunday I would be gone. Susan bounced up and down on her toes and then planted a kiss on my cheek that I couldn’t avoid, though I spilled water down my breeches attempting to dodge it.
As soon as my work was done, I went to Belle’s box. She hadn’t looked out at me since I returned, which was unusual. I leaned over the half-door to see her beautiful glossy bay rump facing me. At first I thought she was eating her hay, but then I realized she was merely standing facing the end wall with her head drooping.
‘Belle?’ I called quietly, worried by her listlessness. Belle startled as though I had cracked a whip behind her, crashing into the wall and cowering there, trembling.
Seriously alarmed, I unlatched the door and stepped carefully into the loose box with her. ‘What’s wrong, girl?’ I said approaching cautiously. Normally the sound of my voice would bring her eagerly towards me, eyes bright and ears pricked, nosing for a bit of carrot or a pet. Instead, she cringed away from me. Her whole body shook as I approached.
‘Charlie,’ said Bridges voice behind me. ‘I’m sorry. Belle … I did my best.’
‘What’s happened to her?’ I asked feeling sick. I looked at Belle’s hunched, unhappy shape in the box. I’d left her only a week ago, fit and well. ‘Miss Judith was going away! And you promised, you promised, you’d watch over Belle the days she was here!’
I glanced at Bridges and thought how old and exhausted he looked, pale with dark shadows under his eyes. His skin looked papery and his movements stiff.
‘She didn’t go on that visit after all,’ said Bridges in a defeated voice. ‘A message came that there were measles in the house and she should stay away. She’s been out riding every day; galloping that poor creature in the heat, jumping her until she refused.’
‘Why didn’t you stop her?’ I demanded. I moved closer to Belle gradually and reached out to her with great care. At first her skin twitched at my touch, but then she submitted, trembling. I could tell she was poised for flight, every nerve strung out. The slightest sudden movement from me would turn her into a wild animal, fighting to protect herself.
‘I tried, Charlie! But she’d have none of it. I was a fusty, stuffy old man who didn’t know his place. Going to his lordship for a word had no effect. He said Miss Judith was a slapping rider, game as a pebble, and that she knew better than I what her horses could do.’
Slowly, carefully, with many words of reassurance, I began to stroke Belle and then run my hands over her, checking her. She broke out in a sweat of fear and distress, despite my soothing words and gentle, careful movements. ‘Why is she in such a state?’ I asked Bridges.
‘Miss Judith was jumping her in the woods. She made her jump the stream. It’s a bad landing on the far side and a real risk to the horse’s legs. Once Belle had had one taste of that, she wouldn’t take it again. Refused dead. Miss Judith was too free with the whip and Belle bucked her off right into the stream.’
He paused and shook his head. ‘What a figure she looked when she pulled herself out: covered in mud, streaming with water, her riding habit quite ruined. But she was in the devil’s own temper. She used that whip on her. I took it off her, but not before she … ’
As he spoke, Belle turned her head towards me and the full horror was revealed. All down the fore side of her neck and shoulders were cuts and weals, some oozing fresh blood, consistent with vicious slashes from a whip. Worst of all was the cut across her face. The whip had missed her eye by a whisker, but the swelling had closed the eye, which now leaked tears and mucus that streaked her burnished mahogany hide.
‘Oh Belle,’ I whispered brokenly. ‘You poor girl. What has she done to you?’
‘It will heal, Charlie,’ said Bridges. ‘I’ve done everything I can to treat it.’
‘I’m sure you have. But what then?’ I whispered, running my hand soothingly over Belle’s uninjured shoulder. ‘What will she do to her next?’
I wished that Belle were my own horse and I could take her away from this, so that she need never be subjected to Miss Judith’s cruelty again. But I was only a servant without power or means. All I could do was stand by and watch helplessly. I felt little better than a traitor to Belle.
I had wanted to flee Deerhurst that very night. But I couldn’t leave Belle alone, injured, and frightened. Instead, I took my blanket to her loose box as usual so I could dress her hurts again in the night.
‘Poor Belle,’ I said softly. ‘No one should treat such a valiant beauty so badly. You deserve so much better.’
Belle whickered softly to me, the first positive response I’d had from her since I returned from London. I stroked her velvety nose and fought the wave of despair that crashed down on me. What was I to do? How could I flee in order to save my own skin, leaving her here alone to face such cruelty?
I reapplied ointments to Belle’s cuts when the stable clock struck midnight. She was less afraid now and I managed to tend her without waking Bridges for help. When I’d finished, I stopped and stroked her and she nuzzled me affectionately as she used to. I leaned against her, breathing in her warm scent of sweet hay. ‘You can trust me, Belle,’ I promised her in the darkness. ‘I’ll never hurt you and I won’t abandon you either. I don’t know yet what I shall do, but I’ll think of something.’
After a while Belle seemed to fall into a peaceful doze. I was hot, uncomfortable and had too much on my mind. Questions about my parents and my fear of the murderer gave me no peace. Despite my weariness, I was unable to either lie or sit still. My legs kept jumping and my skin crawled.
Eventually, I slipped quietly out of the stable into the yard. Even here there was little relief to be had. I walked up and down restlessly; it was another hot and sultry night. I sighed with temptation for the cool pool in the gardens. But I knew I was safe here in the locked yard. No one could get in without keys. That would not be the case if I wandered beyond the door. Although the gardens were walled and gated too, they were far less secure than the stable yard. Did I dare? Worry for Belle had driven my own danger from my mind for several hours, but the threat was very real.
I imagined slipping into the cool water, finding relief from the heat and the fears and doubts that tormented me. It was too tempting to resist.
I locked the yard door softly behind me and stepped out into the gardens. The moon was full and the sky clear, making it almost as bright as day on the open lawn. In the corners and under the trees and bushes, long black shadows reached out to me like claws.
I scurried along the paths, staying out of the grasping, creeping shadows as far as I was able. At first, I was convinced I would be pounced on at any moment. But the fear receded as the gardens proved to be tranquil and empty. An owl raised his quavering voice in the distance and another replied mournfully near at hand. They would not do so if violence and death were lurking.
When I reached the pool, it gleamed like black glass in the bright moonshine. My skin, prickling with heat, thirsted for the coolness of the water. I threw cautious looks around me, but there was no sign of another soul. Sighing with pleasure, I threw off my breeches, boots, and stockings. Tonight I kept my long shirt on, feeling too insecure to be comfortable naked. But underneath the loose shirt, I unravelled the scarf that constrained my breasts and dropped it on the pile of my clothing.
I slid into the pool with barely a ripple, gasping as the cold water caressed my skin. It was wonderful; divinely refreshing after the hot, dusty days spent travelling. I swam some lengths, careful not to splash, then ducked right under, scrubbing at my hair and my face to remove any lingering dust from the road and the big city.
Feeling fresher than I’d felt in days, I paused by the
side of the pool, leaning against the cool stone. I was glad I’d come. How stupidly timid it would have been to have fancied it too dangerous.
I’d barely had that thought when I heard a light footfall behind me. I whipped around with a splash feeling utterly exposed, terror filling me. There was a tall, slender figure standing beside the waterfall watching me.
Raw panic is a horrific thing. When you most need to flee, it freezes you, turning your limbs to lead and clamping an iron band around your lungs so you can barely breathe. I just hung there, unable to move, turned to stone for what felt like an eternity. The unknown silhouette stood there staring back. Somehow I unfroze my limbs. With a strangled whimper of terror, I turned and struck out for the far side of the pool, desperate to get as far away from the figure as I could. Vaguely, I thought I heard my name called. But then he knew my name, didn’t he, that man who had snatched my father’s life away?
There was a splash behind me and strong arms caught hold of me in the middle of the pool, clamping my arms to my side. I went under, struggling frantically against the grip. It was futile. I was dragged through the water to the side of the pool. The grip on me loosened and I gasped, turned away from my captor, and tried to leap out of the water and away.
‘Charlie, don’t be ridiculous, it’s only me,’ said a familiar, calm voice. Lawrence’s voice. ‘So you are the secret night-time bather! Don’t be in such a hurry to run off now.’ As he spoke, he caught me around the chest and pulled me back down into the water.
Though I realized in that moment that I was probably safe from murder, my relief was tempered by the realization that my secret was now uncovered.
Lawrence released me abruptly. I turned in the water to face him, braving it out, and saw the confusion in his face as he backed off. There was no possibility that the thin fabric of the shirt had disguised my breasts under his hand. A dawning astonishment replaced the confusion of his expression.
‘You’re not, you’re … ’ he stuttered, his habitual calm deserting him for once.
I stayed quite still, waiting for his reaction, wondering what he would say, what he would think. A part of me was glad that he knew now, whatever the consequences.
‘Good God!’ Lawrence rubbed a dripping hand over his face. ‘I don’t know what to say. You’re a girl?’
‘I am,’ I admitted.
‘You’ve deceived me!’
‘Would you have employed a girl as a groom?’ I asked defensively. ‘I didn’t set out to deceive you. I didn’t even know you. I dressed like this to hide.’
‘From the man in London?’
‘Yes, from him.’ In my mind, I saw again the poster folded and concealed in Lawrence’s luggage. How much had he guessed? How much more likely would he be to make the connection between the information on the poster and me now he knew I was a girl?
But instead of questioning me, Lawrence stepped closer and reached out a hand to me. I flinched, trying to dodge him, anxious about what he intended, but he only took my chin and tilted my face this way and that, exposing it to the moonlight.
‘I see now,’ he said wonderingly. ‘It all makes sense. You always looked odd as a boy. But you make a very pretty girl.’
I blushed and tried to turn my face away, but he made me look up at him. The droplets of water on his face and in his short hair were gleaming in the moonlight like miniature diamonds. He looked far younger without his wig, just as he had done in his sleep. Just a youth, when all was said and done.
‘How did you dare?’ asked Lawrence at last, releasing me. He stood beside me, his loose shirt floating about him in the water as mine was. ‘How have you managed the work? How have you coped being surrounded by men and boys?’
‘It’s tricky,’ I admitted. ‘Keeping such a secret; finding opportunities to wash. And the work at the inn was too hard for me. That was partly why they dismissed me. But not here. I could manage it all here.’
‘And Mistress Martha, did she know?’ he asked wonderingly.
‘Oh, yes. She knew from the first, though she did not tell me so until later. In fact, she cut my hair short for me.’
‘Good God, and I made you have your head shaved! Did you hate me?’
‘No!’ I laughed shakily, some of the tension going out of me. I’d feared anger, recriminations; I wasn’t quite sure what, perhaps even instant recognition and to be hauled before a constable. But it seemed Lawrence was still my friend. ‘My hair will grow again,’ I said with a shrug. ‘It already has. Although I admit I was unhappy to lose it at the time! You won’t … tell anyone, will you? That I’m a girl, I mean.’
‘I’ll keep your secret,’ said Lawrence. ‘So this has been the mystery? The reason you haven’t trusted me?’
I nodded, relieved that he felt this explained everything.
Lawrence reached out and ran his hand over my short hair. His hand felt warm against my scalp and I caught my breath. His closeness made it difficult for me to breathe. My heart was pounding in my chest, making the blood pulse in my veins. His touch was light, almost caressing.
‘I still cannot believe it,’ he said. ‘Somehow my mind won’t quite take it in.’
‘It’s not so strange to me,’ I said shakily. ‘My parents often dressed me as a boy and pretended they had two sons. It was safer. I nearly let that piece of information slip out, do you remember? On the way to London.’
‘I do. How did I not guess then?’
‘The baggage train of the army is no fit place for a grown girl, my father used to say,’ I told him, relieved by how calmly he was taking the revelation. My own courage was rising once more. ‘And yet my parents could not bear to part so that my mother, brother and I could live somewhere settled. Not even for a few months.’
‘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.’
Runaway Page 17
