by Annis Bell
“There’s a man coming, ma’am, and from the way he’s dressed . . . ,” Hettie began.
“He can only be the gamekeeper,” Jane finished her sentence. “We’re in luck.” Curious, they watched as the slender man in buckskin trousers and a chafed tweed jacket drew nearer. A bag of game was slung across his chest, while a shotgun and a hunting knife completed his outfit. He let out a sharp whistle, and a mottled hound followed at a run.
A cap perched atop his gold-brown hair, which he had tucked lazily behind his ears. As his name suggested, his features were Irish. Wry green eyes took them in, and his broad mouth stretched into an equally broad smile.
“Ma’am.” He touched his cap casually in greeting.
An independent man, thought Jane, who probably does not have an easy time of it here in Sir Frederick’s realm. From the corner of her eye, she saw Hettie giggle shyly, her arms wrapped around the bundled bag that she carried.
“Are you O’Connor, the gamekeeper?” asked Jane crisply.
“One and the same, ma’am. At your service.” His eyes maintained their rather disconcerting expression. His words and tone were a little enigmatic, and Jane found herself wondering how many women had taken advantage of his “service.” Perhaps even Charlotte? Is that why she was afraid of her husband? Reluctantly, she shook away the thought.
“I am Lady Jane Allen. I will be a guest at Winton Park for the next few days. We wanted to ask after little Pebbles. Hettie, give the man the parcel.”
A blushing Hettie handed the man the bag. “Here, sir. Mrs. Elwood sends her greetings. The bread and giblets are for the dog.”
He stowed the bundle in his satchel. “I wouldn’t have pinched them from him, little lady. I respect animals. Eh, Rohan? Good dog.” He fondly scratched the brown-and-black hound, who was rubbing his head against the satchel. “Oh, I know you want that, I know. Later, boy.”
“Can I pet him?” Hettie asked.
“He’ll let you pet him if he likes you. If he doesn’t like you, you’ll know it soon enough.” O’Connor grinned.
“Pebbles is in your cottage, Mr. O’Connor?” Jane inquired. She wanted to find out more about the gamekeeper.
He looked at her in surprise. “He’s there now. Should I go and fetch him already? I said I’d hold onto the poor beggar for a week. I won’t let that little rat get his hands on him before that,” he said bluntly.
Jane pulled her scarf more tightly around her neck; the wind was biting, and it cut through her clothes. “I assume that by ‘little rat’ you’re referring to Master Cedric?”
O’Connor planted his feet and lifted his chin. “Bet your life on it. And I’m not ashamed to say it.” He seemed about to say more but instead pressed his lips together and coolly stared at her.
“No, I haven’t come to collect the dog.” She held his gaze. “Though it might not be the worst thing to happen to him if he were to run away and find a new home elsewhere.”
O’Connor relaxed. “My lady, I would wish him the same, but that would cost me my head, and another creature would have to suffer in this pup’s place.”
“Running away isn’t always a bad solution, though. At least it wasn’t for Rachel, don’t you think?” It was a shot in the dark.
“Rachel?” His eyebrows narrowed, and one hand went to the strap of his shotgun. “What about her? Has she turned up?”
Before Jane could say another word, Sir Frederick’s imperious voice rang out.
“O’Connor!” the lord of the manor bellowed, the man himself out of sight behind a hedge.
The gamekeeper grimaced, then touched his cap. “My lady. Keep an eye on each other. The moor can prove deceptive.” He strolled off toward the entrance to the garden.
Jane furrowed her brow. An inscrutable man, O’Connor. “Come on, Hettie, let’s visit the horses. I have no desire to run into Sir Frederick today.” Jane picked up her skirts and hurried down the narrow path sheltered by the trees.
Jane knew that useful information could be gleaned from stableboys and coachmen, and after a ten-minute march, they reached the stables. It smelled of dung and hay, and they could hear the whinnying and snorting of horses inside. A male voice was speaking softly and reassuringly to the animals.
Entering the stable through the main door, Jane and Hettie found a young man standing inside, cleaning the hooves of a gray mare.
“Hello!” called Hettie. She strolled toward the young man, who turned his head as far as his bent-over stance would allow. “That’s a pretty horse. Does she belong to Lady Charlotte?” Hettie went to stroke the horse’s flank. The animal had a slender, beautifully formed head. The mare eyed her nervously with its dark eyes.
“D’you know horses? If you don’t, better leave her alone. She’s flighty and likes to bite.” The young man lowered the mare’s freshly cleaned front hoof to the floor, then repositioned himself by its hindquarters. He stroked a hand over the muscular rump and haunches all the way down to the fetlock before lifting a hoof and resting it on his thigh.
“What’s her name?” Hettie asked, caressing the horse’s soft muzzle.
“Shadow.” Hard-trodden muck and small pebbles flicked onto the stone stable floor. “And yours?”
“Hettie,” the maid replied. Jane thought it was about time to remind her of the reason they were there, and she stepped closer.
“If that isn’t Lady Charlotte’s horse, I would love to ride her. Would that be all right, Mr. . . . ?”
“Miles. Just Miles, ma’am.”
“Miles, could you have Shadow ready for me in, say, an hour?” Jane observed the stableboy closely. He was not especially tall but was powerfully built, and he spoke with the thick accent typical of the region.
“Ma’am, I would gladly do that, but this horse ain’t easy to ride.” Miles looked at her doubtfully, further tousling his already disheveled hair. Muscular forearms jutted from his rolled sleeves.
“Who rides her then? I hope to cajole Lady Charlotte into going for a ride together,” said Jane with her most charming smile.
“Truth be told, Sir Frederick bought her for the lady, but she and the mare didn’t see eye to eye, and the horse is too skittish altogether for him.” Miles, abashed, stopped talking, as if realizing he had revealed too much about his employer.
At least two dozen stalls and a stack of hay lined the long walls of the stable. Just opposite, a large black horse was being led out of its stall. Jane noted the even gait of the impressive animal.
“That one’s Blandford, Sir Frederick’s own, from a noble line. He scooped him up from under the nose of another bidder at auction. Cost him an arm and a leg.” Miles grinned. “But the other man’s a step ahead when it comes to orchids, or so I’ve heard.” Miles looked around quickly, but there was no one else within earshot. He continued in a low voice. “His lordship spends so much time with his orchids that he hardly has time for anything else. Neglecting that beautiful animal. If I had the say-so around here—”
“But you don’t, Miles!” snapped an older man in boots and riding clothes, appearing from another stall. “Get to it and finish up here. The other horses need seeing to as well!”
The man smacked his boots with his riding crop to add some weight to his words and nodded to Jane. “If you’d like to ride one of our horses, ma’am, then I’d ask you to let me know. I’m Gubbins, the stable master.”
“In about an hour, I would very much like to take Shadow out for a short ride. Perhaps together with Lady Charlotte,” Jane repeated.
Mr. Gubbins wore his beard trimmed short, which emphasized his coarse features. “I’ll pick out a gentler beast, ma’am. Shadow’s not for you,” he replied brusquely.
Taken aback at the man’s tone, Jane opened her mouth to respond, but Mr. Gubbins had already turned to Miles. “Moondancer and Ginger, Miles, understood?”
“Yes, Mr. Gubbins,” Miles murmured and shifted to Shadow’s other hind leg.
“A good day to you, my lady!” said Mr. Gubbi
ns, then stalked away.
Jane exhaled indignantly. “Well, isn’t he the polite gentleman!”
“Oh, that was nothing, ma’am,” sniffed Miles. “He’s only too happy to take a swing with that whip of his, you have my word about that.”
“Gubbins . . . is he related to the housekeeper?” Jane wondered aloud.
Miles nodded. “Her husband,” he said, then set back to work, diligently scraping the hoof clean. Another stableboy pushed past with a wheelbarrow full of straw.
“Poor Rachel. She was probably scared, and that’s why she ran off,” said Jane, as if to herself, pulling her gloves smooth.
“Oh, no, ma’am. That ain’t it at all.” Miles lowered Shadow’s hoof, then lightly slapped the mare’s rump and stroked her neck. He glanced around, then said quietly, “Rachel was something special. Young and very pretty, and there were several who had their eye on her. Mr. Gubbins, for one!”
Hettie, standing right next to Jane, said, “Well! He’s a married man!”
Miles laughed. “Pardon, ma’am, but that ain’t ever stopped a man from chasing a fresh skirt!”
“Miles!” came a cry from another stall. “Help me here, damn it!”
On the way back to the house, Cedric came running toward them. He was not wearing a coat, and he appeared to have been crying.
“Cedric, what’s the matter?” Jane reached a hand toward the boy, but he dodged her, jumped over a bush, and ran across the grass toward the woods.
A moment later, the governess, her face red with anger, followed in his stead. But her heavy skirts hindered her progress, and she stopped and pressed a hand to her corset, gasping for air. “This boy will be . . . the death of me . . .” Melissa Molan took a few deep breaths until she had recovered enough to speak normally again. “His father scolded him this morning.”
They saw the boy glance back just before reaching the steps leading down from the garden. “He’ll be out of sight soon,” said Jane.
“Oh, no! Cedric!” the governess yelled, and she ran after him again.
Hettie shook her head. “Poor woman. I wouldn’t enjoy looking after that boy. Imagine if anything happened to him!”
“Miss Molan will know how to bring him to his senses.” Jane watched the scene at the end of the terrace unfold and noticed that although Cedric ran down the steps, he did so at a noticeably slower pace, as if he was waiting for Miss Molan to catch up.
Before long, they saw the governess reappear among the trees, holding Cedric’s hand. Now at ease, Jane continued back to the house, where she first paid a visit to her bedridden friend, after dispatching Hettie to the kitchen to find out more about Mrs. Gubbins.
Alison lay on her bed in a light-green robe. Her blond hair fanned across the pillows as if in a painting, but she seemed pale. “Jane! You’ve been out walking! Oh, I wish I could go riding with you! The landscape here is so beautiful when it isn’t foggy.” She patted the bedcovers beside her. “Sit and tell me everything.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling well, Ally?” Jane asked and took her friend’s hand. It felt cold.
Alison coughed lightly. “I might have caught a cold. Now I really do feel better lying in bed.” She smiled mirthlessly.
Jane told her what she had heard that morning and relayed her thoughts about it all. “I think it’s vital that we find out exactly what happened to Rachel. She was very pretty, and popular, too, apparently. Why would a girl like that run away, especially in winter? And all her things are still here, aren’t they?”
“I believe so, yes. Nora?” She called for her maid.
“Yes, my lady?” The girl stood at the end of the bed, helplessly staring at the floor.
“Run down to Lady Charlotte and bring her to us!” Alison instructed her.
“I wanted to see if she’d go riding with me,” said Jane. “She’s so closed off, and from what I’ve heard, her husband doesn’t make it any easier. Has she always been so terrified of Sir Frederick?”
Alison looked at her in surprise and pressed a handkerchief to her nose. “I never had that impression. Quite the contrary, actually. Charlotte seemed very taken with him at the start, which I personally can’t understand at all, but I try to keep my nose out of other people’s marriages. Frederick was always very serious, and it took him a long time to get over the early death of his first wife, Eunice. She was just twenty-one when she died.”
“She isn’t in one of those portraits in the stairway, is she?” Jane could not remember seeing the likeness of a young woman.
“No, but Eunice was supposed to have been very beautiful. I think I’ve seen her picture in Frederick’s study. She had black hair, a very light complexion, and large, dark eyes. A classical beauty. Now that you mention it, she probably looked very much like poor Rachel.”
“How long has Rachel been missing now?” Jane asked, handing her friend a glass of water as Alison began to cough.
“Almost two weeks.” Alison sank back into her pillows.
“And no one has asked after her? Her family lives close by, don’t they?”
Alison sighed. “Jane, you know just how it is so often with families like that. They’re simply happy when there’s one less mouth to feed.”
“But that doesn’t mean that it is like that. They might be crazed with worry and simply don’t have the courage to ask about her. I’m going to visit them and ask them myself!” Jane decided.
Ally’s eyes widened, and she took Jane’s hand. “You always see the good in people. I admire that so much.”
There was a knock at the door, and Nora entered with Charlotte. “What is it, Ally? Oh, it’s so nice to have you both here!” Charlotte’s cheeks were mottled, and she seemed tense, as if she had been very upset recently. “Lady Jane, you—”
“Enough formalities, Charlotte,” Alison interrupted her with a laugh. “No more ‘Lady-this’ and ‘Lady-that.’ You too, Jane, or I can’t talk to either of you anymore!”
Jane and Charlotte embraced and kissed each other on the cheek. “My dear Jane, what must you think of me?”
“That you’re the cousin of my best friend in the world, and because of that, you already have a place in my heart,” said Jane. “We’ve been sitting here worrying about Rachel, the poor girl. Charlotte, did she actually leave her things behind?”
Charlotte was clearly taken by surprise. “Rachel? What do you want with her? Young things like her run away all the time; they have love affairs and I don’t know what else. She wasn’t with us very long, but yes, she did leave all of her things here. I had one of the servants pack them up. In case she comes back, she can take her things with her and start searching for a new position.”
“But that makes no sense! Why would she leave all of her possessions behind?” Jane said. “She already has so little, and I’m sure she valued her clothes, in any case!”
Ally coughed. “I agree, but I’m tired. Go ride for a while together! Charlotte, it will do you good.”
Charlotte leaned over Ally and placed a hand on her forehead. “You’re feverish, Ally! I will have the kitchen staff make you some tea using my herbs; meanwhile, you should get under your blankets and keep warm. Laura shall bring you some hot stones, and I have a copper pan, too, which will keep the water warm longer.”
“Oh, it’s just a little sniffle,” said Ally.
“You’re pregnant! You can’t take anything lightly in your condition. Jane, I can’t come along with you, but Frederick loves to go out riding!”
9.
As it turned out, Sir Frederick had other business to attend to and thus did not have time to accompany Jane. He would ride later by himself and sent O’Connor to escort Jane instead. Now the gamekeeper stood in front of the stables with two saddled horses at the ready. His dog ran around them excitedly, and Jane felt a remorseful stab inside. She missed Rufus and the rides she took with David. O’Connor helped her onto the sidesaddle. She never rode sidesaddle in Cornwall, but Sir Frederick would hardly tolerate such u
nseemly behavior, so Jane resigned herself to the situation and clucked her tongue to rouse Moondancer to a walk. The brown mare started to move, and O’Connor, riding next to her on a black thoroughbred, asked, “And where would the lady like to ride?”
“Out onto the moor! Earlier you said that I should take care. Why?” The horses walked along the gravel paths.
“One of my responsibilities is to make sure that nothing happens to Winton Park’s guests. You don’t know your way around here.” He was a good rider and brought his horse up to a trot with a little pressure from his legs.
At first, Jane had to get used to the mare she was riding, but the patient beast soon easily followed the lead set by O’Connor’s horse. Riding side by side along a path bordering the forest, Jane breathed in the cool, fresh air. The River Coquet meandered between the hills, flowing at a leisurely pace. The river was well populated with fish, and the forests offered rich hunting opportunities, both indications that Sir Frederick was one of the wealthiest landowners in Northumberland. Though one might not guess it from looking at Winton Park, thought Jane.
“It’s true that I don’t know my way around here, Mr. O’Connor, but I learn fast. Rachel’s disappearance strikes me as a mystery. Why isn’t anyone looking into it?” Jane knew nothing about O’Connor, but of all the people she had met so far at Winton Park, he seemed to be one of the few who were not afraid of Sir Frederick.
“My lady, I’m just the gamekeeper, no more. You’re asking the wrong man. The moor begins around the next curve. I’ll ride in front, and you follow. Give Moondancer a slack rein; the animals have better instincts than you and I.”
The fog had thinned, and the hilly landscape spread out before them. The forest retreated, giving way to the grasses and low bushes more typical of the marshy regions. Only an occasional birch or pine was rooted in the moor’s acidic soil. The hills were picturesque and no doubt even lovelier in summer, but Jane still preferred the raw coastal landscape of Cornwall.
