Highway Girl

by Valerie Wilding

  Even now, when she’s in the garden and knows I’m busy writing, she twitters on about a man on the hill yonder, on a horse. Does she really think the keeper’s ghost could ride a horse? I shall close the window.

  Bid is right. It is a man on a horse. And the horse looks familiar, even from this distance.

  Later

  Oh, how my heart leapt when I realized that I did know that horse. It was Moonbeam, so named for the streak of white which runs diagonally down across his face, like moonlight seen through trees. Dominic’s horse!

  I must have flown down the stairs, for suddenly I was outside, running up the hill, shouting and waving to my brother, not even realizing I was barefoot!

  The rider dismounted and stood silhouetted against the sky. And I faltered, then stopped. He was not Dominic. He was not tall enough. Not only that, but one shoulder drooped. One leg was bent, while the other was straight.

  It was Ned. As soon as I realized this, it felt as if my heart had plunged into my stomach. Ned here, on Dominic’s horse. Oh, the things that went through my mind in the seconds that I stared at him. Over all of them, the one that hammered at my brain was the realization that Dominic must be dead. Why else would Ned be here with my brother’s horse? Unless, unless he had harmed Dominic in some way?

  I flew at him. “Ned! Ned Allin! Tell me, tell me the truth, do not spare me! What of my brother? Is he hurt? Or worse? Oh, say not worse!”

  Ned shook his head and smiled gently. “Nay, Mistress Susannah, Master Dominic is in good health. Well, in fairly good health. Truth to tell, he did have a slight fever when I saw him last, but he is aboard ship for America. Long gone now. He sends his dearest love, and is sorry he could not write a final letter, but it all happened so quickly in the end. Getting on the ship and such.”

  I took Ned back down to the cottage, and sent Bid for some beer and cheese and bread for him. When she returned, I told her she could go and see her mother and brothers and sisters for the rest of the day. Ned was my old friend, I explained, and I wished to spend time with him, to catch up on all the news.

  She wished us a pleasant visit, curtsied and went to go, but I called her back.

  “Bid, I do not wish anyone to know that my friend is here. Please remember that.” I wasn’t sure if I could trust her, so I added (nastily, I know), “If you do not remember, you will have to sleep in your own room.”

  She actually looked hurt, which made me feel rather mean. “You can always trust me, Mistress.”

  When she’d gone, Ned told me all. He and Dominic had waited so long for a ship that they’d been forced to use a large part of my brother’s money, just to live.

  “We had to sell my old mare,” said Ned, “for money for food and lodging. We didn’t get much for her, love her heart.”

  “But why are you not aboard?” I asked. “And Moonbeam, too?”

  “Money, Mistress Susannah,” he said. “We didn’t have enough to pay my passage, and the captain refused to take Moonbeam. He said he was doing Master Dominic a favour by giving him a place when he was full to the gunnels already. If he wanted to go, the horse stayed. If he wanted the horse to go, he could wait for another ship.”

  “And he would not wait?”

  “No, Mistress.” Ned took a huge swig of ale, and I refilled his cup. “Master Dominic said the sooner he got to America, the sooner he would make his fortune and return for you.” He hesitated. “And for me.”

  “He said that?”

  “Yes, Mistress. He said that if I came back and watched over you, he would see that all would be well for me on his return. I will never want for work. That’s what he said.”

  My dear brother.

  March 19th

  I expect Ned will call today. He left the day before yesterday to find somewhere he can work in exchange for lodgings. I hope he finds someone kind, who will not mind that he is not quick to move.

  March 20th

  It is almost midday. Ned has not come yet. He will come soon, I am sure.

  How I wish I had a book to read. I know I have our Bible, but in truth, I would love some poems or a tale to lose myself in. Time passes slowly. Bid says that Juliana has books.

  “What sort?” I asked, unthinking.

  “How should I know, Mistress Susannah? I could not read the names even if I dared touch them.”

  “They are sure to be dry and dusty and full of passages about improving oneself,” I said bitterly. I regretted it instantly, because Bid understood and giggled.

  If she were not a servant, Bid and I might be friends. I have no one else, except Ned, and even he has not bothered to visit me.

  March 22nd

  Ned came! And he’s caught three fat trout for us! It’s been a beautiful spring day, warm and sunny, and Bid called me from my seat against our one old apple tree, saying, “Your young man is here again, Mistress.”

  Does she disapprove? Well, if she does, what is that to me?

  Ned has found both work and lodging at an inn called the Stag’s Head in the bottom of a valley. It’s beside a swift-flowing river that has a trout stream running gently alongside it, with a raised footpath between the two. He says the countryside reminds him of the deep hills around Lustleigh. I should like to see it.

  I offered to show him Gracy Park, so he tied Moonbeam to the door of my little barn, and we walked as he told me about his new home.

  “My work is just feeding the fires,” he said, “and chopping wood and collecting the pots, and helping with horses and so on. But ’tis honest work.” He frowned slightly. “At least, I think it is.”

  I thought that an odd remark, but he said no more.

  “And Moonbeam?” I asked. “Can you stable him there?”

  “By rights, he is yours, Mistress Susannah. And it would not be wise for me to keep him at the Stag’s Head. The landlord said Moonbeam’s a fine animal, and many would be glad to own him. ‘Better keep your eye on that horse, lad,’ he said, and I think he meant it well. Oh, and he has a good wife, called Kate. She said their son was lame, too – much worse than me – and they are glad to offer me work.”

  “See?” I said. “You have been here just a few days and you have acquaintances already. I still have none.”

  We reached the lake, so I sat on a log, for I could see Ned’s leg was aching. He settled on the grass beside me and I explained about the de Gracy family, and made him smile when I imitated the ghastly Juliana!

  I was strutting about, tossing supercilious remarks over my shoulder, when Ned leapt to his feet and pulled off his hat. I spun round. There behind me were two fine chestnut horses bearing none other than Juliana and her father.

  “Whatever are you doing, Susan?” asked Juliana.

  “I, um, I was reciting a poem.” I was so taken aback that I forgot to correct her misuse of my name.

  “’Tis like no poem I know,” she went on spitefully. “May Papa and I hear it, too?”

  Thankfully, Sir Roger wasn’t the sort of man to have the patience for poetry. He raised his whip and pointed it at Ned.

  “Who are you?”

  I noticed he did not address Ned as “sir”. But it wasn’t surprising. My poor friend is ill-dressed, and not well-groomed.

  “Forgive me,” I said. “Sir Roger, cousin Juliana, may I present Ned Allin, my, er, my…”

  “I used to work for the Makepeace family, Sir Roger,” said Ned. “I am here to return Master Dominic’s horse to Mistress Susannah.”

  Juliana’s mount was insolent enough to attempt to munch a mouthful of grass without permission. She yanked its head up. “So, Susan, you wish your horse to join ours, do you? Is there room in our stables, I wonder?”

  “There is no need,” I said. “Ned will stable Moonbeam at the Stag’s Head, where he now works.”

  Sir Roger almost exploded. “He will not!” he barked. “Luke can fit out one of the outbuildings of Keeper’s Cottage as a stable.” He swung his horse’s head round. “The Stag’s Head indeed!”

>   Juliana cantered away, but Sir Roger spoke over his shoulder to Ned. “Stay off my land. I’ll have no one from the Stag’s Head in Gracy Park.”

  And with that he was gone.

  I am furious. Not only have they done exactly as they wish without consulting my feelings, but they have put me even deeper in their debt. Moonbeam is to be the latest recipient of their charity. For how can I feed a horse and clean a stable? I am a girl. Where would I find hay and straw? I shall be dependent on one of Luke’s stable lads.

  Just to spite Sir Roger, I took Ned home with me and we all ate the trout.

  March 26th

  Bid has been gossiping in the kitchen of the big house, that’s clear. She knows Ned has been banished from Gracy Park. I was picking burrs from Jack’s coat, when she came outside to weed the bean patch.

  “How will you see your friend now, Mistress Susannah?”

  I didn’t reply. For see Ned I will, somehow.

  After a while, I asked, “Where is the Stag’s Head, Bid?”

  She drew a sharp breath. “Ooh, you don’t want to be going near there, Mistress. Things go on there.”

  “But I’m told the landlord is a good man,” I said.

  “Sykes MacPhee? Oh, he’s lived round these parts ever since his father settled here. Yes, he’s a good man, always tries to please everybody. That’s his trouble, being pleasing. No one has anything bad to say about Sykes MacPhee. Or his wife. Kate MacPhee is kind.”

  I tugged impatiently at a small prickly twig that obstinately refused to be pulled out of Jack’s fur. “What do you mean, ‘That’s his trouble?’ And what is wrong with the Stag’s Head?”

  She looked around as if she was afraid someone might hear. “They do say that Sykes MacPhee turns a blind eye to goings-on.”

  “Goings-on?”

  “Men who drink at the Stag’s Head are not all as honest and straightforward as Sykes MacPhee. They gather there and share their spoils—”

  “Spoils?” This was a whole new language to me.

  “Things they’ve stolen. Robbers meet at the Stag’s Head. Highwaymen, too, I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Bid.

  “You cannot know that for sure,” I said, “and anyway, if this Sykes MacPhee is such a good, upright, honest citizen,” (I did try not to sound sarcastic), “then why does he allow goings-on?”

  Bid swore at a thistle stump that refused to leave the ground.

  “Well? Why does he?”

  “I don’t know, Mistress. Maybe he’s scared not to. Maybe it’s more than his life’s worth to cross certain people. Like as not, he wouldn’t have any customers in his inn if he put a stop to goings-on.”

  I do hope Ned will be all right. I thought back to Bid’s original question. How shall I manage to see him? He’s banned from Gracy Park, and the Stag’s Head is certainly not for me.

  March 29th

  Moonbeam’s stable is ready and I’ve made a decision. I will not accept any more of the de Gracy bounty than I have to. I must eat and I must have shelter and I must sleep. My horse must eat and have shelter. Therefore I am happy to accept the charity of a house, a bed and food, and Moonbeam is happy to accept food and shelter. But more than that I will not. I shall look after Moonbeam myself. He’ll be my responsibility, and when Dominic returns, his horse will shine with good health. Moonbeam will, of course, learn to love me, so it may be difficult for Dominic to regain his affection!

  I explained my feelings to Luke. We had a very polite little argument about it, which I won. He will send down everything Moonbeam needs in the way of food and bedding. Feed. They call it feed, not food, when it’s for a horse. We are agreed that if I have any problems with the saddle or anything, I am to tell him.

  “We won’t bother the family with little things like that, eh, Mistress?” he said, and he gave me one of his wicked winks.

  I do believe I have a friend there.

  April 4th

  Juliana and her waiting woman met me walking through the long avenue of limes today. I was watching squirrels and thinking how the darker red parts of their fur are much like the colour of Dominic’s hair.

  “Good day, Susan,” she said. “Why, you look quite far away! Do tell me your thoughts. Is your mind in America, with your brother? Or perhaps it is with another? Maybe your brother will return – if he returns – to find you a married woman.” She laughed. Then she saw my face.

  “I only tease you, Susan. But you will have to think about your future, will you not?”

  I knew what she meant. Marriage. Even the waiting woman knew what she meant and stepped aside, pretending to examine a large yellow toadstool.

  “Cousin Juliana,” I said, “I regret – as much as you obviously do – having to throw myself on your family’s charity. Your parents are very good to me, and when Dominic returns—”

  She smirked. I swear she did.

  “When Dominic returns, he will take the burden from your family. And,” I said, getting carried away, “I am quite sure he will repay the kindness of Sir Roger and Lady Anne, many times over. In the meantime, I have plans of my own to repay them, I promise you that. Good day to you both.”

  And off I went, leaving Juliana and her waiting woman open-mouthed.

  At least, I hope I left them open-mouthed. I didn’t have the courage to look round to see.

  Plans? I have no plans.

  April 6th

  I picked bluebells this morning after church. They are early here, perhaps because Gracy Park is so sheltered. The flowers, even in April, are abundant, and I only ever pick the wild ones. The weather is gentle and calm. I’ve always loved the spring, and here it is beautiful indeed, with birds and buds everywhere. I should be happy if only I had someone of my own.

  I feel mean to write that. I have my Jack, bless him.

  Wait! I do have someone else of my own!

  Later

  I shocked Bid this afternoon. I put on my hooded cloak as if I was going for a stroll around Gracy Park, and the next time she saw me was when I called her from outside our gate.

  “Bid! Look at me!”

  She came to the door drying her hands on her apron, and stared, speechless. Then she ran to me, saying, “Do be careful, Mistress. That’s a big ’un, that Moonbeam is!”

  I looked down at her and laughed. “Don’t worry, Bid. I can manage him. Why don’t you fetch him one of those old carrots you’re using for pottage? Then he’ll be your friend for life.”

  She hurried off, glancing nervously over her shoulder, and returned with a woody, pale carrot.

  “Hold your hand out flat.”

  She did so.

  I sighed. “Bid, hold your hand out flat with the carrot on it.”

  She laughed nervously. “You don’t mean for that great brute to bite it off my hand, do you, Mistress? Not me!” She flung the carrot to the ground, and Moonbeam picked it up and began crunching. When he’d eaten it, he whinnied and showed his teeth, as he always does after a treat. Bid squealed and jumped back! Luckily, Moonbeam isn’t nervous!

  “See?” I said, as the horse dipped his head and nuzzled Jack’s nose. “Even little Jack isn’t afraid of Moonbeam.” And I bunched up my skirts in front of me, waved goodbye and set off. I’d like to have put on Dominic’s old breeches once more, but the thought of Juliana’s disgust and scorn prevented me. I still have them, though. When I’ve ridden Moonbeam all around Gracy Park, and I know the ground well, I shall don breeches, hat and cloak and ride in moonlight. Ha! Maybe I’ll be seen and become known as the Night Rider! That’ll take everyone’s mind off the keeper!

  April 11th

  My days are long, even though we go to bed early. Today seemed extra long. Bid spent most of the day making bread and pastry and salting some left-over meat, to stop it going bad. I tried to help, but she said – very politely – that she prefers to get on with the cooking herself. I know what she means. I am not helpful, as I tend to either daydream or talk too much. I took my Bible out and sat under the apple tre
e. I have read much of it, of course, but now that it is my only book, I have started it from the beginning and intend to read it all the way through, every word.

  I soon wearied of reading how this person begat that one, and that one begat this one, and laid the book aside. As I did so, I noticed Bid gazing at me out of a window. She is, I believe, a good girl, and I think she likes me. She never says anything against the de Gracy family, though I have yet to hear her say anything nice about them.

  Last night I lay awake until almost dawn – the birds had started singing, which was a welcome change from Bid’s night-time snorts. I couldn’t sleep because I couldn’t stop wondering. Wondering how Dominic is faring on the ocean. Wondering what is happening with Ned. Wondering how I can fulfil my promise to Juliana. The thing is, I can’t. How can I possibly repay my benefactors? I have nothing. I own only my clothes, my Bible, my writing things and Moonbeam. The first three I could not survive without, and the last is not really mine to give.

  However, if I have no ideas, maybe Lady Anne has.

  Later

  I rode Moonbeam early this morning, with Jack running along beside us, then walked to the big house after Bid and I had eaten our dinner. I have asked her to share my table. It is silly that I should eat in one room and she in the kitchen. I would like to make a friend of Bid, but is she trustworthy? Heaven knows, I’ve always found it hard to keep a still tongue in my own head. Why should I expect a simple, uneducated girl to do so?

  I stopped at the stables to give Jack to Luke, who offered to find him a bone, then made my way to the house. Lady Anne received me graciously and called for some tea, which was generous of her, as it is so expensive. However, I’m sure cost never enters the de Gracy heads, though it does surprise me that much of the furniture and hangings are slightly – well, shabby. Perhaps Sir Roger is mean, for they must have money enough, living in such a grand house. Mustn’t they?