She said, her voice muffled, ‘You’re sorry?’
‘Yes. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just—’
‘Will you write to him? And apologise?’
I hesitated. She started crying again, more quietly. I told myself it was just a tantrum; but there was a desperate, despairing note in the sound that made me lean back and hiss through my teeth. ‘I suppose. If I must.’
‘And ask him to come and see me, like he said he would?’
‘I – he won’t come, Alta, I’m sure he won’t.’
She rolled over. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright and still brimming with tears. ‘Make him come.’
I ran my hands through my hair. ‘All right,’ I said. ‘Just stop crying.’
‘Thank you.’ She wiped her cheeks with the insides of her wrists. She took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘I’m sorry I shouted, Em.’
‘You know I hate being called that.’
‘Sorry, Emmett.’ She gave me a watery grin and a joking punch on the arm. Out of nowhere a deep, nasty bit of me wanted to punch her back, harder. ‘You’re the best.’
‘Thanks, squirt.’ I reached out and tugged her plait until she flicked it out of my reach. I stood up. ‘You’d better get some more sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘You’ll go tomorrow morning, early?’
I nodded.
‘Good night, then.’ She snuggled down into her blankets and pulled the quilt up to her chin. I was at the door when she said, sleepily, ‘Emmett?’
‘Yes?’
‘I’m going to marry him.’
The driveway to the New House was deep in snow, clogged and white and silent. It was a grey day, heavy with the threat of another snowfall, and I was on horseback so I could get home as soon as I could. Every now and then a tree dropped a slithering load of snow on to the path, or a bird scuttled in a bush; but there was something about the quietness and the light that made me rein in my horse, anxious not to make too much noise.
At first glance, through the trees, the house looked dead: but when I came out on to the wide white space in front I saw that there was smoke coming from one of the chimneys, and the doorstep had been swept clear of snow. In summer the sandstone would have been the colour of honey, but in this light it was grey, like everything else. I scanned the windows for anything that moved, but the reflections clung so thickly to the glass that I couldn’t see anything but pale sky. I jumped down, grabbed the string-and-brown-paper parcel of Darnay’s clothes and crossed the open space to the massive front door. The battlemented tower loomed above me, and I felt a shiver of the same irrational foreboding I’d had in the ruins. But all I had to do was leave the package here, where someone would stumble over it. My letter – tucked behind the knot – was addressed to him, so they’d know who it was for. I hesitated; I wasn’t sure of the right thing to do.
The longer I lingered here, the more chance there was of seeing him. Without giving myself time to think better of it, I pressed the bell-push as hard as I could; and then turned aside and leant against the cold wall of the porch. A bird landed on the roof above me with a scratch and a flurry of wings, and a few handfuls of snow drifted past. The door opened, sooner than I’d expected. It was him.
His eyes narrowed as if he was about to say something. But he didn’t.
‘I’ve got your clothes.’
He dropped his gaze to the parcel I was holding, and then brought it back to my face.
‘Here.’ I held the bundle out. He rocked back on his heels, and I realised he’d half expected me to hit him. Finally he took it from me.
‘I’ve still got yours,’ he said. ‘I would have ridden over with them, only I gathered that I wasn’t welcome.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Thank you.’ He laced his fingers into the string, and looked up at me. ‘It must have gone against the grain, to come here.’
He made it sound innocent; but the mockery was there, like a shard of glass in a bowl of water. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you,’ I said. ‘I thought there’d be a housekeeper.’
‘Oh, of course,’ he said. ‘As you see, this house is run like a well-oiled machine. In fact, I don’t know why you didn’t just leave it with the gatekeeper.’
The gatekeeper’s lodge was a ruin, with holes in the roof and half the windows gone. When I’d ridden past it I’d heard something scurry across the stone floor. I clenched my jaw and turned to leave.
‘What’s this?’ As I looked over my shoulder he pulled the folded bit of paper out from behind the string.
‘It’s an apology. Alta told me to—’ I stopped. With an effort I added, ‘I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.’
‘Spoken to me? You mean, attacked me?’
I turned round and looked straight into his eyes. ‘Don’t test your luck,’ I said.
A silence. We stared at each other. It felt like being on a narrow bridge, high over a chasm: one tiny nudge and we’d both fall.
At last he lifted one shoulder and gave me a crooked almost-smile. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘What should I do now? Tip you sixpence?’
I didn’t blink. It gave me a tiny flicker of satisfaction when he gave a quick huff of laughter and looked away. I said, ‘My sister would be delighted if you came to visit her.’
‘Visit her? Really?’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘What happened? Did someone find out I was Piers Darnay’s son and heir?’
I took a deep breath. ‘She wants to thank you properly.’
‘I rather got the impression that you didn’t want me to see your family.’
‘Look, what I said … I’m sorry.’ It almost choked me. ‘She’d like to see you. You’d be welcome. That’s all.’
He nodded slowly, turning the envelope over in his fingers.
‘You don’t need to read that, now.’ I reached for it.
Quicker than thought, he whisked it away, out of my reach. ‘That’s for me to decide.’
I fought the impulse to wrestle it off him. I didn’t trust myself to speak. I strode away through the snow, conscious of his eyes following me. It was a small victory when I mounted my horse in one smooth movement.
I wanted to ride away without looking back; but in spite of myself I paused where the drive began, and shot a glance over my shoulder. He was still standing in the doorway, although an icy wind was rattling the slates on the roof. He raised the hand that was holding my letter. ‘Give my regards to your parents,’ he called, his voice clear and flat in the snow-muffled quiet. ‘And tell your sister I’ll see her soon.’
Two days later I came into the yard to find his horse tethered beside the gatepost. I hadn’t looked at her properly before – she was a chestnut mare, heavy and docile, the sort of horse that you’d ride if you were nervous about falling off – but I knew she was his from the quality of the saddle. No one from the village would ride with a saddle like that; if we could afford to own one, it would be too good to use.
I dumped my basket of kindling next to the woodpile. It was getting dark, and I almost tripped over a stray log that had fallen near my feet. I swore and caught myself on one of the new posts that held up the lean-to.
‘Emmett?’
Alta’s voice. The stable door opened and spilt lamplight across the cobbles. I blinked, shielding my eyes against the sudden glare. ‘You should be in bed,’ I said. ‘It’s freezing.’
‘Springle’s had her puppies. Come and look.’
I jumped over the basket and hurried into the stable after her. It was warm with the fug of horses and hay, and Hefty whickered to me in greeting; but I brushed past him with only a quick pat on his nose. ‘How many?’
‘Only two. But they’re both alive.’
I got to the furthest stall, which we’d kept empty, and hung over the end, peering into the straw. Springle was fussing, covering the pups with her body; but then she moved restlessly to the other corner, and I caught a glimpse of two small bodies, whip-tailed, one dark and the other whitish. I f
elt myself grinning.
‘They’ve fed all right, and Pa checked them over, and they look healthy. And they’re so sweet.’
They were. I leant further over the end of the stall. Springle saw me and wagged her tail, but when I stretched my hand to her she ignored it and went back to the pups. They started to feed, their blind faces nuzzling into Springle’s belly, and I would have sworn that I could hear the gulp of milk as it went down their throats.
‘They’re very small.’
Darnay’s cool, flat voice broke the spell, and I nearly lost my balance. He was behind me. ‘Yes,’ I said, steadying myself on a timber upright. ‘They are. Very small.’
He took a step forward out of the shadows and stared down into the stall. He was wearing the same dark, expensive clothes that he’d had on before, and a thread of straw clinging to his lapel caught the light like a fine gold chain. He looked at the puppies as though he was wondering how to make a pair of gloves out of them. ‘Like little furry slugs,’ he said. ‘With tails.’
‘I know,’ Alta said. ‘Aren’t they lovely? Budge up, Emmett.’ She hooked her feet into the crack between two planks and hoisted herself up next to me, squeezing me sideways so that Darnay could see too. ‘Oh look …’
‘The black one’ll be a ratter,’ I said. ‘Bet you.’
‘That’s what Pa said!’ Alta wrinkled her nose at me. The black pup gaped a blind, newborn yawn and settled into the straw. ‘How can you tell? I think you’re both guessing.’
‘He just looks … determined.’ I caught Alta’s eye and started to laugh. ‘He does! I’m not making it up.’
‘Anyway, that’s the one Pa’s keeping. He says we can’t look after another bitch.’
‘So the white one’s going to Alfred Carter?’
‘No, he changed his mind, Mrs Carter said they’ve got too many already. We’ll have to find somewhere else for her.’ A current of icy air slid down the back of my collar.
‘Will you sell her?’ Darnay said.
I glanced at him over Alta’s head, and then away again. ‘She’s a terrier,’ I said. ‘Not a carriage dog or a hunting hound.’
‘So …?’
‘So if no one wants her, no one wants her.’
‘Don’t, Em,’ Alta said. ‘I expect one of the Millers will take her. Or if the gypsies come back this year … They always want more dogs, don’t they?’ But the brightness in her voice was forced.
The little bodies were twitching now, in trusting puppy-sleep. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We’ll find somewhere for her.’
Darnay frowned. ‘What if you don’t?’
I shot a quick look at Alta. She was staring down at the pups. She was pretending not to have heard, but the delight had gone out of her eyes. I said, ‘Don’t worry about it, Darnay.’
‘What happens to her?’
I hesitated. Alta glanced up and down again. She picked up a strand of straw and started to play with it, pulling it through her fingers over and over. Darnay was watching her too.
I said, ‘If we don’t, Pa will drown her.’ There was a silence, filled with the rustle of straw and the splash of one of the horses pissing.
‘But surely—’
‘You asked, Darnay. That’s the answer.’
‘I see.’
‘Do you? We can’t afford to be sentimental about animals, here.’
Alta said, ‘Em, stop it, please don’t—’
At the same moment, Darnay said, ‘Could I have her?’
Alta twisted sideways, hooking one arm over the edge of the stall. We both stared at him. At last I said, ‘What?’
‘Could I …? I’d pay you for her. I’d take care of her. I’ve never – I may not be a farmer, but I’d try and make sure she was looked after.’
‘The puppy?’
‘What? Yes. Who did you think I meant?’
‘Why would you want a terrier?’
‘I just …’ He took a long breath. Something came and went behind his eyes. ‘Does it matter? I promise I’ll look after her.’
‘Oh yes, that’s perfect, thank you so much! And then she’ll have a good home. Isn’t that right, Em? Pa will be so pleased, thank you, Lucian!’ As Alta jumped down Darnay reached past me, offering his arm to steady her. For a split second she hesitated, her hand not quite touching his, her face alight. Darnay smiled down at her, and she smiled back. She said, without looking at me, ‘Em, isn’t he kind?’
‘We can find someone else.’ I was glad when Darnay turned aside, his smile fading.
‘Don’t be silly! Of course you can have her, Lucian. After all, you saved my life. And now you’ve saved hers.’ She took a step towards him, her fingers curling into her palm as if she could still feel his almost-touch.
For a moment he looked into my eyes, with a level, unreadable expression. Whatever it was that had almost surfaced, it was hidden again now. Then he turned and said to Alta, ‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll go and tell Pa.’ Alta walked away. Her eyes were shining. The stable door banged shut behind her, and I heard her start to cough in the cold air. Then it was quiet again.
Darnay peered into the stall, very still. I stared at him until he glanced back towards me. ‘You can’t have her until she’s three months old. At least.’
He nodded. In the lamplight his face was tinged golden, like an ancient idol. A draught swirled a few stems of hay along the floor, and I felt a shiver start at the base of my spine. I clenched my teeth, determined not to let him see.
‘I’d like to visit her, though. So that she gets to know me.’
I had been about to walk away. I stumbled and caught myself; the hobnails on my soles scraped so loudly on the floor that Hefty shifted and blew through his mouth. Darnay’s face was open and guileless; I let my eyes travel over his white collar, the stray strand of straw on his lapel, all the way down to his polished black boots. Somehow he had walked across the farmyard without getting them dirty.
I held out my hand. ‘Well played.’
‘What?’
‘It’s what you were after, isn’t it? A standing invitation?’
He looked down at my outstretched hand. I pulled it back before he could shake it and use my own gesture to make me feel small.
‘I’ve always wanted a dog, as it happens.’
‘Of course you have.’
‘And if your father would drown it, otherwise—’
I hissed air through my teeth. ‘Forget it. You’ve won.’
‘Look, I don’t know what you think we’re fighting about—’
‘You don’t have to try to charm me. You’ve already got the others kneeling at your feet.’
He stared at me, a faint line between his brows. It made heat run through me like the beginning of a fever.
The door banged open. Alta said, ‘Pa’s so pleased, Lucian. I knew he would be. Now let me get her out of the stall and you can hold her, only quickly ’cause Springle won’t like it, but she can get a sniff of you at least, and – what’s up with you two?’ She looked from me to Lucian and back again. ‘Emmett, you look like you’re constipated.’
‘Don’t stay out long, Alta.’
I walked away and left them together.
XIV
I hoped Darnay would change his mind; but when he didn’t come the next day I was filled with a perverse disappointment, as if someone I wanted to fight had apologised. The week after that was blank, white weather – not snowing, but with a sky that matched the drifts so closely that my eyes played tricks with distance. I tried not to think about Darnay, but it was easy to let my mind wander and my gaze slide over the unfamiliar softness of the contours, the smoothness of fields that should have been a different shape, and then … Once, slogging back through the deepest snow at the bottom of the High Field, I tripped over a hidden stone and went flying; and when I caught my breath again I didn’t know where I was. It was only when I stumbled to my feet and steadied myself on the wall that I recognised the repair that I had been meaning to
do for months, and shook my head incredulously that I had been – just for a second – lost, here. That night I slept badly, and all the day after that I felt itchy and irritable. Everything seemed to go wrong – I kicked over a bucket of milk, a pig got into the dairy when I was careless with the latch, the threshing barn roof threatened to give way and another of the ewes was killed by a fox. Pa was in as foul a mood as I was, and Ma didn’t have time to worry about us, except when she set me to hauling water for laundry while she fed the chickens and did Alta’s other chores. Finally I nearly took my finger off in the turnip-slicing machine; that brought me to my senses. I pilfered a slice of bread pudding while Ma’s back was turned and took it into the stables to eat it while I watched Springle suckling her pups. But even the new pups were an irritant; for a long time I didn’t know exactly why, until I realised they were a reminder of how he’d looked at me, and the way he could somehow make his disdain stick, even when he wasn’t there …
‘Lucian!’
I didn’t know how long Alta had been calling. I shoved the last mouthful of pudding into my mouth and went out into the yard. She was at the window, waving; and there was the sound of hooves on the road beyond the yard, steadily getting nearer. But the snow muffled everything, so it took me off-guard when, hardly a moment later, he rode past the end of the wall and dismounted in front of me. We stared at each other. At last he nodded, with a sort of wary acknowledgement, and brushed himself down with exaggerated care. He’d been riding, and his coat smelt of horse and his high boots were flecked with mud; but I’d been working all day, and I knew that I stank of sweat and was covered with dirt and cobwebs and sheep muck. It should have made us even, but I turned away from him, feeling my cheeks flush. There was an axe lying next to the chopping block, and I reached for it stupidly, as if I’d been busy splitting logs; I grabbed the nearest chunk of wood and split it down the middle with a thunk.
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