Eye of the Wind

by Jane Jackson

  She skimmed through the close lines of small, neat script, noted Sir Edward Pellew’s name, read that he had been in action against the French, but little of it registered. All she could think of was that if Robert’s letter had got through at last, then she might soon hear from George.

  Finding it impossible to concentrate, she refolded the letter to read later. It occurred to her that not so long ago a letter from Robert would have been the highlight of her week. She would have read and re-read it with her atlas close at hand, the easier to trace the movements of his ship.

  Her life now was so different, and bore no resemblance to her life then. Her new responsibilities made such demands that she could summon little interest for what might be happening in the Channel.

  Taking a deep breath, recognising as she did so that contact of any kind with Aunt Louisa required her to mentally brace herself, she picked up the remaining letter once more. It was an invitation to a picnic the following afternoon. Though the prospect did not fill her with enthusiasm, her first inclination, for the sake of peace, was to accept. Then she read on.

  ‘… You have shut yourself away for long enough. An observance of what is proper is one thing, but complete withdrawal from even close family shows an excess of sensibility and I cannot think it healthy. Naturally you miss your father, as indeed we all do, but life must go on. It is of the utmost importance that your behaviour at this sad time does not give rise to rumour and speculation. To be labelled reclusive must damage even further your prospects of marriage. You know that I have only your good at heart when I point out that you have difficulties enough already.’

  Melissa’s hand clenched, crushing the sheet. She stood up so abruptly that her chair almost fell over.

  ‘Is everything all right, miss?’ Lobb enquired sharply.

  ‘My esteemed aunt –’ she began furiously, then caught herself.

  ‘Ah,’ said Lobb, and tactfully turned away to the sideboard.

  Gathering up the other letters, she started toward the door, pausing as she drew level with him. ‘I know you will be glad to hear that my mother is beginning to show signs of recovery.’

  ‘Oh miss, that is indeed good news. Do you know when she might be coming home?’

  Melissa shook her head. ‘I don’t think it will be for a while yet, but Aunt Lucy is convinced a corner has been turned.’

  ‘I’m delighted to hear it, miss. With your permission I shall impart the good news to the rest of the household.’

  ‘Thank you, Lobb. I’d be most grateful.’

  He opened the door for her. ‘At least that’s one weight off your mind.’

  Passing him, Melissa made a wry face. ‘I wish the others might be so easily lifted.’

  In her father’s study, she sat at his desk. Her initial intention was to dash off a swift note thanking her aunt for the invitation but regretting that she must decline. She would claim that, as her aunt surmised, her high colour had indicated the development of a summer cold and it would be unfair of her to risk spreading the infection.

  But even as she dipped the pen she knew she could not do it. She would have to go. Putting down the pen, she smoothed the crumpled sheet. It was plain as she read on that Aunt Louisa’s concern was less for her than for public opinion.

  ‘… By rejecting the support of those who wish only to comfort and advise you at this tragic time, you invite society to accuse us, your family, of neglect. I have already heard whispers of astonishment that your mother is not facing her loss with the fortitude expected from one of her breeding. You are not alone in your mourning, Melissa, and family gatherings cannot be considered going into society. I shall put my trust in your loyalty and good sense, and look forward to seeing you.’

  Eyes closed, teeth clenched, Melissa battled anger and intense frustration. Then, taking up the pen, she wrote her acceptance. After folding and sealing the sheet, she left it on the tray in the hall and went upstairs to change out of her morning gown into her working clothes.

  Collecting the basket containing her lunch from Mrs Betts, she went to the stable yard. The shires were tacked up and ready, and John was tying Duchess’s nosebag to the harness.

  ‘Good morning,’ she greeted them.

  Man and boy glanced round, chorusing, ‘Morning, miss.’

  Captain shifted restlessly as Hocking checked the straps and chains, and the groom growled at him to stand still.

  ‘What’s the matter with him this morning?’

  ‘Dunno, miss. Daft side out, he is.’ Hocking grumbled.

  Setting her basket down, Melissa approached the huge horse, talking to him in soothing murmurs while she looked first at his eyes and nose. He stood docile while she ran expert hands over him. ‘He looks all right. Did you find any sores? Any heat in his legs?’

  Hocking shook his head. ‘Nothing. You sure you want to take him, miss? He isn’t hisself. Got one on ’un today, he have.’

  ‘He’ll be fine once he starts work, won’t you, fellow?’ She rubbed the white blaze that stretched from forelock to muzzle, and the horse tossed his huge head, jingling the harness. ‘Speaking of work, we had better get going. Will you give me a leg up, please?’

  They reached the clearing in time to see the final log of the first load lifted onto Mr Nankivell’s heavy four-wheeled wagon. As it pulled away, the team of horses straining under the weight, Gabriel turned. Catching sight of her, he came forward, saluting.

  ‘Morning, miss.’

  Her rebellious heart quickened as it did whenever she saw him. No other man of her acquaintance had affected her in this manner despite their indisputably greater eligibility. Though his manner and greeting were respectful, she glimpsed a brief flare of warmth in his eyes and knew it was echoed in her own. ‘Good morning, Gabriel.’

  ‘The driver will be back for a second load this afternoon.’

  She gave a brief nod of acknowledgement, her grip tightening on Captain’s bridle as he jerked his head and swung his quarters sideways. ‘Be still,’ she chided softly.

  Gabriel’s glance flicked to the horse. But, aware of his responsibilities, Melissa didn’t want to delay him.

  ‘Where would you like me to start?’

  ‘One moment, miss, and I’ll show you.’ He moved past her to the boy, pointing as he issued directions. Nodding, John led Duchess off to where Chirp was waiting. Returning, Gabriel fell into step beside her.

  ‘Two stripped boles are ready to be pulled out. Ned is clearing the débris and will chain them for you. Billy is helping me with a large sycamore. Once that’s down we’ll have finished in this area.’

  ‘What happens then?’

  ‘We move further in. That will mean extending the track.’

  Melissa nodded. ‘How big is the sycamore?’

  ‘About ninety feet high and perhaps two and a half in diameter.’

  ‘It must be very old.’ She bit her lip. He must know what he was doing.

  ‘It is. And showing signs of disease,’ he explained quietly. She felt her colour rise. Could he read her mind? ‘Better it’s dropped now while most of the wood can be salvaged. If it’s left and brought down by the winter gales, there will be a lot more destruction.’

  She darted him a swift, apologetic smile. ‘You’re right, of course. Good luck.’

  It was only as she led Captain away that she realised how deeply she dreaded the possibility that he might one day leave.

  During the next two hours, against the slow, rhythmic thunk of the two axes biting alternately into the huge trunk, she twice passed John and Duchess. It was the first time the entire team had worked in the same area. Captain’s restlessness kept her on her guard. But once a log was chained to his harness he appeared to settle down.

  She drove him from behind, walking slightly to one side and using the long traces to guide him. But going in toward the logs with the chains looped up he was jittery and hard to handle. So she held either his bridle, or the reins close beneath his chin, though his frequent h
ead tossing made her arm and shoulder ache.

  She was leading him past some shrubbery when a pair of wood pigeons suddenly exploded out of the bushes in a violent flutter of wings. Snorting in panic, Captain reared back on his haunches, almost pulling her arm from its socket, his forelegs flailing. Fortunately Melissa had a firm grip and jerked down hard, stepping smartly back from the plunging hooves.

  ‘Steady, now. Steady. It’s all right,’ she crooned, trying to sound calm and reassuring despite the eye-watering pain in her wrenched shoulder. Nostrils distended, his eyes showing white behind the blinkers, Captain snorted, champing on the bit as foam flew from the corners of his mouth.

  ‘What’s the matter with you, you silly old thing?’ She stroked his nose, tightening her grip on the bridle as the sound of the axes ceased, and Gabriel’s warning shout echoed through the wood.

  After a loud groan, the splintering cracks echoed like gunshots. Then came the crashing thud as the sycamore fell. The earth vibrated and Captain flinched. But though tremors ran through him he remained still as she continued to stroke, talking softly. When the sounds of axes and saws resumed she coaxed Captain forward.

  The fallen sycamore was a giant: some of its branches as big as whole trees. There was no possibility of hauling it out in one piece. Even cut into sections, the weight of each would be as much as one horse could manage.

  Though Gabriel had lined up its fall with care, the size and spread were so great that it had inevitably damaged other trees on its way down. Sunlight streamed through the wide gap in the canopy and Melissa glimpsed blue sky and puffs of fluffy white cloud. A short distance away, Billy was cutting down a partly uprooted alder presently leaning across the path. Ned and Chirp were already hard at work on the sycamore’s branches.

  Standing at Captain’s head, she coaxed the huge horse backward, toward a roped bundle of branches from the trees felled earlier that morning. Hearing her, Zeb glanced up then straightened, ready to help. But Gabriel was closer. Telling the others to carry on, he dropped his axe and strode forward to release the looped-up chains.

  Captain twitched, swinging his hindquarters sideways. Slapping his rump, Gabriel pushed him back. As he bent and picked up one of the chains, Billy cried out. But the warning was lost as the alder fell and another tree, uprooted by the falling sycamore, gave a rending creak and toppled across the crown.

  The violent rustling and shaking of foliage were too much for Captain. With a shrill whinny he reared up, throwing Melissa backwards and tearing free of her grip. She tripped, lost her balance, and fell with a breath-stopping thump.

  Zeb tried to reach the other rein but couldn’t get past the foliage of the fallen tree. Desperately scrambling to her feet, Melissa saw Gabriel hurl himself forward to grab the loose rein, wrapping it round his hand for greater purchase as he dug his heels into the soft ground. She wanted to shout at him to let go, but was terrified of scaring the huge horse even more.

  Thoroughly frightened, Captain reared, pawing the air as he fought the rein. One of the chains flicked like a whiplash, catching Gabriel a glancing blow as the horse lunged forward. The rein tightened. Unable to free himself, Gabriel was pulled off his feet. Melissa could only watch as, face down and dangerously close to the horse’s massive hooves, he was dragged over the débris-strewn earth.

  ‘Billy!’ Melissa screamed, deafened by the thunder of her heartbeat, her mouth dust-dry with fear. ‘Go that way! Try to head him off!’ Hoisting up her skirts, she raced after the runaway horse. Though it could not have been more than a few seconds, it felt like an eternity. Then, as Billy charged in from the side, John and Duchess came up from the clearing.

  His path blocked, Captain’s headlong dash slowed just enough for Melissa to hurl herself forward and grab his bridle. Using strength she didn’t know she possessed, she forced him to a halt.

  Both were trembling uncontrollably. Captain’s nostrils were distended, his eyes wild. Melissa gasped breath into her tortured lungs. The others arrived at a run. Billy stopped beside Melissa and they stared at the figure sprawled face down and unmoving on the trampled earth.

  Grabbing Billy’s hand, Melissa clamped it onto the bridle. ‘Hold him.’ Her heart hammering painfully, she dropped to her knees beside Gabriel. Carefully unwinding the leather rein from his fist, she bit back a wince at the livid bruise down the inside of his forearm.

  She looked up at the uncertain, anxious men. Gabriel had organised and directed them, and now they were rudderless. Everyone had looked to him. Now they were looking at her: as if she would know what to do. Hysteria bubbled, heady and dangerous. She fought it. She had to be strong for his sake.

  ‘Help me –’ Tremulous and cracking with strain, her voice was almost inaudible. She coughed. ‘Help me turn him over.’

  His eyes were closed, his face smeared with blood and dirt, bits of leaf and twig entangled in his hair. His boots and breeches were ingrained with earth, and through the rips in his filthy shirt she could see blood-stippled welts and grazes streaking his skin.

  ‘Best if we get him home, miss. Know where he live, do you?’

  Her thoughts raced. Rather than live in the village he had sought out a ruined tumbledown shack so he might have privacy and solitude. He had trusted her. She could not – would not – betray him.

  ‘N-no,’ she lied. ‘Besides, as we don’t know how badly he’s hurt he must be taken up to the house, in case – in case he needs a doctor.’

  ‘Yes, but how are us going to get ’un up there?’ Chirp asked. ‘He won’t be walking nowhere, that’s for sure. I suppose we could carry ’un.’

  ‘Not if he’ve broke something,’ Billy warned.

  ‘A stretcher. We need some kind of stretcher.’ Quickly, Melissa looked around.

  ‘Don’t you fret, miss. Us can do that,’ Zeb announced, surprising everyone. ‘Have ’un ready in no time, we will. Chirp, you fetch over that there rope. Joe, cut a couple of they young birches: 12 to 15 foot long. John, do you run back to the clearing and fetch that there bit of canvas we was using to keep the rain off.’

  ‘What about me?’ Billy said urgently. ‘What can I do?’

  ‘You stay right where you’re to and keep hold of that there horse,’ Zeb said. ‘We’ll need he in a minute.’

  While the men worked, Melissa remained on her knees beside Gabriel. Stripping off her gloves, she pressed her folded handkerchief against the long cut above his right eye. Had Captain’s hoof done that? It might have broken his neck.

  The thin fabric was soon saturated, and each time she lifted it, blood welled from the wound and trickled down his temple into his hair. She choked down terror. Beneath the dirt and blood and rapidly colouring bruises, he was alarmingly pale.

  Turning her back on the busy men, she pulled the fine muslin kerchief from about her neck and bosom. Laying it across her thighs, she folded it into a long, narrow strip. Binding it tightly around his head, she tied the two ends, blinking away tears of shock and fear. Let him be all right. Please let him be all right.

  Within a short time, two long poles had been braced apart by cross members and the canvas fastened between them. The men lifted Gabriel’s inert body onto the makeshift stretcher. Melissa turned Captain, now docile, his head low. With two men on each side, the top ends of the poles were lifted and fastened to the harness. Though the lower ends would drag along the ground, Gabriel was clear of the earth and a safe distance from Captain’s heavy hooves.

  Dropping the bloody handkerchief beside him, Melissa pulled on her gloves and picked up the reins. Her chest felt tight and she had to fight for breath. But she had to be strong and keep going. She glanced at the men, who avoided looking at her as they waited to be told what to do next.

  Hysteria threatened once more. Only days ago they had disapproved of her being here. Now, though embarrassed by her décolletage, they still expected her to give them directions. So she must, for who else was there? She sucked in a breath, strove for calm.

  ‘Thank yo
u all very much. It must be nearly dinner time, so I suggest you take your break now. I understand Mr Nankivell’s wagon will be back for the second load of logs this afternoon. The sycamore must be stripped and sawn into sections and hauled out to the collection area. Once that has been done, the track must be widened and pushed through to the new felling area.’ That was as much as Gabriel had had time to tell her. She turned to Billy. ‘Did Gabriel – do you know where that will be?’

  Billy nodded, and knuckled his forehead. ‘Yes, miss. Gabe said it would be best if we –’

  ‘That’s fine,’ she interrupted quickly. ‘You carry on then. Do exactly as he told you.’

  Walking behind Captain as he hauled his precious burden through the wood and across the park, she fought the urge to hurry him along. What if Gabriel’s injuries were worse than they appeared? Why was he still unconscious? What if … A sob caught in her throat and tears spilled down her cheeks. Stop it. Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, she swallowed hard.

  As she reached the drive, Lobb, who must have seen her through one of the windows, hurried out of the front door.

  ‘Dear life, miss! Whatever’s happened?’

  ‘There’s been an accident. Captain bolted and Gabriel was dragged. I think he must have been kicked. He’s been unconscious for ages.’ Hearing a gasp, she glanced round. ‘Sarah, go and fetch Hocking. Captain’s badly scratched. Tell him I’ll be along later.’

  ‘Miss,’ hissed Sarah, eyeing Melissa’s half-exposed bosom. ‘Where’s your –?’

  ‘I needed a bandage.’ She turned back to the butler. ‘Please fetch Gilbert, then take Gabriel up to Mr Adrian’s room. I’m going to –’

  ‘Mr Adrian’s room?’ Lobb repeated, visibly startled.

  ‘Just do it!’ Biting her lip as she fought for calm, she met his concerned gaze. ‘Please?’ Then she crouched beside the stretcher, anxiously searching for signs of returning awareness.