‘There is nothing at all unworthy about you, Miss Pentewan,’ he murmured and she watched, speechless, as he carried her fingers to his lips.
* * *
Once it was seen that Major Coale was no longer confining his attentions to the married ladies, those parents with daughters to marry off began to flock around him and he obliged them all by remaining on the floor for the rest of the night, but Zelah could not quell the little thrill of triumph when he led her out for the last dance of the evening.
‘You must be well practised by now, Major.’
‘You have done me a great disservice, madam. Since dancing with you I have been besieged with partners.’
‘Tell me you did not enjoy it.’
His smile was genuine, softening his face, and again she felt the ache of attraction.
‘I have not danced like that since...since I returned from the Peninsula.’
‘Then you should do so more often, Major. You look the better for it.’
His hand tightened on her fingers and her body cried out to respond to the warm invitation in his eyes, but she shook her head at him.
‘I will not allow you to flirt with me, or to tease me, Major. I have a serious point to make and will not be distracted. You see how everyone accepts you and you are much more at ease with them. I consider this a good night’s work.’
‘Have I become your charity? Your good cause?’
A quick glance assured her he was not offended and she smiled up at him
‘Not at all. But it has done you the power of good to come into society, sir, even if it is only country society!’
Chapter Eight
The early morning sunshine poured in through the windows of the breakfast room at Rooks Tower, sending golden bars of light across the floor. Dominic pushed his plate away and sat back, going over his plans for the day. He had arranged to meet Philips in the West Wood and he knew he would enjoy riding out. Even before sitting down to breakfast he had sent word to the stables to have Cloud saddled, but as he crossed the hall his eyes were drawn to the double doors leading off, his mind flying ahead through the darkened room and into the library beyond. It was the work of a moment to turn aside and stride through the shuttered salon. He pushed open the connecting doors and stepped into the library.
Zelah was already at work, a linen apron fastened over her dark-grey gown as she carefully dusted one of the many piles of books. Her bouncing curls had been ruthlessly drawn back into a knot, exposing the slender curve of her neck and the dainty shell of her ear. She presented a demure picture, cool and elegant. Nothing like the carefree, vibrant creature he had danced with last night, but every bit as alluring. His heart lifted when he remembered Maria Buckland’s words—‘Zelah thinks so highly of you.’
‘I hardly expected you to come today,’ he said. ‘And here you are, earlier than usual.’
When she turned to smile it brought the golden sunshine into the room.
‘I could not sleep. Is that not nonsensical, after dancing into the early hours?’ She added shyly, ‘I enjoyed myself so much. I hope you did, too, sir?’
‘Very much. Do they hold many such assemblies in Lesserton?’
‘Oh, I do not think so.’ She picked up another book to dust. ‘Maria says there will not be another until the harvest.’
He tapped his riding crop idly against his boot. The rest of Mrs Buckland’s conversation gnawed away at his brain.
‘I do not believe governesses go to balls, Miss Pentewan.’
She looked up at him, her brows raised in surprise at his comment.
‘I do not think they do, sir.’
‘Then what will you do, since you love to dance?’
‘I shall have to teach my charges the basic steps. Then I will skip around the nursery with them!’ She finished cleaning the book and put it carefully in place on the bookshelf. ‘Have you come to spoil my morning with melancholy thoughts? You will not do it. Last night’s music is still running through my head.’
It was still in Dominic’s head, too. He wanted to sweep her up in his arms and carry her around the room, breathing in her fresh, flowery scent, making her laugh again.
No. To flirt with a pretty girl in a crowded ballroom was acceptable, to do so with an employee here, under his own roof, would be madness. He gripped the riding crop tighter, felt the sting as it slapped hard against his leg. He said curtly, ‘There is still a great deal of work to do here, Miss Pentewan. Do not let last night’s amusements interfere with your duties.’
He turned on his heel and marched out, leaving Zelah to gaze after him. Well! Did he think her so inept, so petty minded that she would be distracted from her work by an evening’s entertainment? She threw down her duster in disgust. The morning had been so golden, so wonderful that she had been eager to reach Rooks Tower and continue with her work. She had been enjoying herself, carefully cleaning each volume, checking it for damage and putting in its place ready for cataloguing while in her mind she relived the pleasures of the evening, but with a few cold words he had destroyed her pleasure. First he had evoked thoughts of the drudgery that awaited her as a governess, then he had reminded her—quite unnecessarily—of her duties.
With a little huff of anger she stalked across to the window. It would serve him right if she walked out now and left him to organise his own books! Hard on the heels of this mutinous thought was the realisation that Major Coale could quite easily find someone else to take over, possibly someone much more competent that she to do the work. Probably a scholar who understood Greek and Latin and would not need to bother him. Zelah put her hands to her cheeks. If he should turn her off now, before she had secured another position, she would be penniless again, living on her family’s charity. It had felt so rewarding to give her advance wages to Reginald, telling him it was for her keep and to pay Nicky’s school fees. She needed the second instalment to put aside in case she fell upon hard times in the future.
She must finish her task here, whatever the cost. It shocked her to realise how much she wanted to complete it, to make this a library fit for a gentleman. No, to make it fit for Dominic Coale. She also wanted to see how the seasons played out on this terrace, once the gardeners had tamed the overgrown plants and removed the grass and weeds that invaded the cracked paving.
She clenched her fists.
‘I’ll show you, Major Coale. I am no poor, bullied soldier to be frightened by your bluster and ill humour.’
With renewed determination she applied herself to her work and returned to West Barton that evening tired, dusty but content.
* * *
She tried to be pleased when she heard the next day that Major Coale had gone off on business, but she missed his visits to the library, even when he was being odiously difficult. Now that most of the books were on the shelves, she was working her way through each section, recording, cross-referencing, enjoying the experience of being surrounded by so much knowledge. Her father, she knew, would relish such a wide-ranging collection and in her regular letters to her parents she always included details of her progress at Rooks Tower. It helped her to reinforce her growing sense of pride in her achievement.
* * *
‘I thought I might accompany Reginald to Lesserton today, for the hearing. I would be very glad of your company.’
Maria was pouring coffee at the breakfast table as she made this request. Zelah glanced at her brother-in-law.
‘I have told her it is not necessary, but she insists,’ he replied jovially, but Zelah noted the slight shaking of his hand as he took the proffered cup. His was an easy-going nature and she knew he did not relish any sort of confrontation.
‘Of course Maria will want to support you,’ said Zelah stoutly. ‘I shall come with you. Major Coale can spare me for one day, I am sure.’
* * *
They travelled to Lesserton in the carriage, Reginald in his best coat of olive superfine and the ladies suitably veiled. The hearing was to take place in the long room at
the White Hart, the same room that had been used for the assembly, but now it looked very different, stripped of its garlands and the space filled with desks and benches. The room was already full to overflowing and Maria observed that the whole of Lesserton was represented.
‘Which is not surprising,’ agreed Reginald, ‘since they have all been accustomed to grazing their animals on the land Sir Oswald is claiming.’ He looked around the crowded room. ‘My dear, I think after all I would prefer you to wait downstairs for me. The proceedings could become boisterous. Come, I will bespeak a private room for you.’
Maria protested, but Zelah could see her objections were half-hearted. They made their way downstairs to a private parlour overlooking the street, where Reginald left them and went to talk to the farmers gathered in a little knot around a tall, saturnine gentleman in a black frock coat and bagwig.
‘That is Mr Summerson, the lawyer from London,’ whispered Maria, drawing Zelah to the window. ‘Reginald was closeted with him for hours yesterday. He has obtained copies of the charters filed with the Crown—’ She broke off as another carriage pulled up at the door. She gave a little snort. ‘And here is Sir Oswald himself. The rat-faced little man with him is his lawyer. Look how he follows, bowing and scraping. Ugh, quite repulsive.’
Soon everyone had gone upstairs and the ladies settled down to wait. The landlord sent in coffee and they sat in silence, listening to the tread of feet above them and the occasional rumble as the crowd muttered or protested over something that had been said.
* * *
An hour had gone by, two, and still the hearing had continued. There was a cheer at one point, and Maria had looked up hopefully, but it was another full hour before the thunder of movement above them told them that the hearing was over. They waited impatiently, listening to the clatter of feet on the stairs and watching the villagers pour out onto the street.
‘They do not look particularly elated,’ Zelah observed, not knowing how to interpret the expressions of the crowd.
She turned expectantly towards the door as her brother-in-law came in. Maria ran to him.
‘Well?’
He took her outstretched hands and forced a smile. ‘All is not lost.’
He guided the ladies back to the table as a servant came in with more coffee and a jug of ale and they sat down, waiting in silence until they were alone once more.
‘It was going very well. Mr Summerson brought a charter that describes the common land and mentions the stream that forms the westernmost boundary. The description fits the Lightwater, which runs down from Rooks Ford and to the west of Prickett Wood. I thought we had it then, until Evanshaw’s man pointed out that it could just as easily refer to the ditch that runs along the edge of the bluebell wood.’ Reginald shook his head. ‘Evanshaw then produced a map, which clearly shows the ditch as the boundary.’
Maria snorted.
‘A forgery!’
‘Very likely, my dear, but with that and the charter, Sir Arthur is minded to agree that Prickett Wood and the hill grazing does belong to Sir Oswald.’ He sighed. ‘Some of the older villagers claim their parents told them of a boundary stone, but it hasn’t been seen in living memory, and Sir Oswald’s man claims it will have been removed when the lane at the edge of bluebell wood was widened.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Zelah. ‘Then the villagers have lost their fight. No wonder they were looking so downcast.’
‘Well, not quite. Sir Arthur is not wholly convinced, and he has given us until the end of June to find more evidence to prove our case.’
‘And must Sir Oswald allow the villagers access until then?’
‘I’m afraid not. Evanshaw’s lawyer argued most successfully against it. However, Sir Arthur has ordered that he remove the mantraps, but he has conceded that Evanshaw has the right to shoot any deer that wander into the wood, since they damage his valuable woodland.’
‘It would seem Sir Arthur is well nigh convinced the land belongs to Lydcombe Park,’ sighed Zelah.
‘If that is the case, can we afford to fight it?’ asked Maria. ‘I know how hard it was for everyone to find the money to pay for the lawyer to come down for just this one visit.’
‘You can perhaps find someone local,’ suggested Zelah.
Maria looked doubtful. ‘Perhaps, but it will still be costly.’
Reginald took his wife’s hands. ‘Perhaps I should have discussed this with you first, my love, but I have pledged that I will bear the costs for the next hearing. If we win then the farmers and villagers will pay me back, if we lose... I know that would leave us sadly short,’ he said quickly, seeing the dismay in her face, ‘but we shall come about, with a little economy. We have to try.’
‘What is the alternative?’ asked Zelah. ‘What will happen if the villagers lose the hill grazing and the right to forage in Prickett Wood?’
Reginald shrugged. ‘Many of them will not be able to survive. Some of them are our tenants and if they cannot pay their rents then that will affect us, too.’
‘Then of course we must do what we can to avoid that,’ said Maria. She glanced at the little bracket clock on the shelf. ‘Pray order more refreshments, Reginald. If we wait another hour, we can collect Nicky from Mr Netherby’s on our way home.’
* * *
When Dominic walked into the taproom of the White Hart that evening he found the mood distinctly sombre. He was on his way back from Exeter and had made good time, but the warm weather had left him parched and he decided to slake his thirst in Lesserton before the final stage of his journey.
He entered the inn, his coat collar turned up and his hat pulled down to shade the left side of his face, as was his habit, but several of the locals recognised him and nodded. Giles Grundy was sitting at one end of the bench beside the long central table and he shifted up to make room. Dominic hesitated, but he knew it would be churlish to ignore this small sign of friendship so he went over to join him, saying as he sat down, ‘How went the hearing today?’
Giles grunted and after taking a long draught from his tankard he gave Dominic a brief account.
‘Ah, ’tis all over,’ grunted Abraham Judd, puffing morosely on his pipe at the other end of the table. ‘Even Mr Buckland bringing down a fine Lunnon lawyer didn’t make no difference. Evanshaw claims the ditch is the boundary stream and Sir Arthur do believe ’un.’ He turned to spit into the fireplace at his back. ‘Stream! There’s more water in my pisspot than that there ditch, and allus has been!’
He stopped and glared at the doorway. Dominic felt the tension around him and looked up to see Miller, Sir Oswald’s bailiff, had entered. His glance at the long table was met with sullen stares. With a scowl he turned away, then thought better of it and came over to the long table.
‘Drownin’ yer sorrows?’ His lip curled. ‘I heard how it went today, so here’s a warnin’ to you all to keep off Sir Oswald’s land.’
‘But ’tedn’t his land yet, Miller,’ growled Giles Grundy. ‘Not fer another month.’
Miller shrugged.
‘As near as damn it, an’ I’ll be out with me gun every night, as will my men. Should any of ’ee want to argue the point, we’d be only too pleased to shoot ye.’
‘I really don’t think Sir Arthur would approve of that,’ remarked Dominic. He raised his head as he spoke and saw the bailiff’s eyes widen slightly as he recognised the face beneath the wide-brimmed hat.
‘Beggin’ yer pardon, Major. I’m merely passin’ on a message from my master. Besides, we’re permitted to shoot the deer, and how are we to know what’s man and what’s beast in the dark?’
‘Aye, well now you’ve passed on yer message, get yerself back to the Three Tuns with the rest of yer cronies,’ muttered Abraham Judd. ‘You bain’t welcome here.’
Miller scowled, and with a reluctant tug at his forelock towards Dominic he slouched off to the corner, nursing his mug of ale. The men around the table looked at each other.
‘Well, ’tedn’t too bad at the
moment,’ remarked one, shaking his head, ‘but come summer we needs the high pasture for grazing. And in the autumn we’ll need to be collectin’ firewood. You’ve been very good, Major, lettin’ us forage in your own grounds, but that won’t be enough to keep us all going.’
‘Then we must hope you find the evidence you need to win your case.’ Dominic finished his ale and rose. ‘Now I’ll bid you goodnight.’
He strode out of the door, buttoning his coat, ready to continue his journey. Since the assembly he had been making a conscious effort not to drag his right leg and his stride was becoming easier. Perhaps the doctors were right, after all. There was nothing wrong with his leg. He grinned to himself. He had not been prepared to make the effort for the sawbones, but to please an impertinent slip of a girl...
‘Ooomph!’
As he stepped out of the inn a shambling, unsteady figure cannoned into him and collapsed on to the ground, cursing roundly. Dominic grinned as he recognised the ragged heap.
‘Old Robin.’ He held out his hand. ‘Up you come, man, and look where you are going next time.’
As he pulled the old man to his feet he turned his head away, grimacing at the stench of beer and onions on his breath.
‘Major Coale,’ he hiccupped and swayed alarmingly. ‘Just goin’ to wet me whistle...’
‘You should be going home, man.’
Robin gave a grunt. ‘A fine night like this, I’ll be sleepin’ in the woods.’
Dominic laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Then take care where you lay your head. Evanshaw has armed men patrolling Prickett Wood.’
‘That’s very kind o’ you, Major, but I’ve been followin’ the deer into Prickett Wood since I was a boy an’ I don’t plan to stop now. It’ll take more’n Sir Oswald’s men to keep me out!’
With a nod he shuffled off into the inn, singing roisterously as he bounced from wall to wall.
Shaking his head, Dominic went off to collect his horse.
* * *
Summer was nearly here. Zelah could smell it in the air as she walked across the lawn towards Rooks Tower. Even in the few weeks she had been coming to the house she could see the changes Major Coale had wrought. The new road was only one of the improvements he had made—clinging ivy had been stripped away from the windows, which had been cleaned and painted and gleamed in the morning sunshine. The gates from the new road had been repaired and oiled and now opened easily on to the freshly gravelled drive. The house stood proudly amid its scythed lawns and seemed to welcome her. The weather was so glorious that Zelah was reluctant to go indoors and once she had reached the library she lost no time in throwing up the windows.
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