‘Yes, I swear it.’
He turned on his heel without another word. Lucy stood in the middle of the room, trembling like a leaf. Did he believe her? Did he know that it was Myles who had saved her? If he did, she doubted if he would swallow his pride sufficiently to admit his obligation. But that was not important now. What was important was what he would do about Edward Gorridge. Would he ask him to leave? If he did, there would be a terrible row between him and Lord Gorridge and if, as had been hinted to her, Papa depended on the Viscount’s good will to help him out financially, then she had really put the cat among the pigeons.
‘Come, dear,’ the Countess said gently. ‘It is all over. Mr Gorridge will be asked to leave. What do you want to do now?’
‘Go back to my room, please, Mama.’
She returned to her room and sat down heavily on the bed, facing the window. Already the snow was piling up on the outside window sill. Supposing the weather was too bad for anyone to travel and they had to stay until the snow had gone? It might be weeks. It might be weeks without seeing Myles. He had said they would talk later, but when and how? And what was there to talk about? She did not want to go over what had happened again. She was entirely innocent, but she still felt shame and revulsion, unable to face anyone. He must feel that, too, and might even think she had encouraged that dreadful man. Mr Gorridge had told him he had arrived too late. Would he believe it? And if he didn’t, could he bear to look at her again? He had always buoyed her with hope, but now hope had gone.
Chapter Ten
Lucy was woken next morning from a troubled sleep of exhaustion to find sunshine streaming into her window. She left the bed and went to look out. The snow was deep, crisp and white. Across the lawns and park it lay undisturbed, undulating with the land over which it lay. It balanced itself on the bare branches of the trees, dotted each berry on a holly bush near her window, hung on to the stable roof and covered the stable yard where the hands were busy with brooms sweeping it away. Andrew stood beside the water trough, breaking the ice with a mallet. A solitary robin, its breast a splash of red, sat on the pump, watching him with bright, alert eyes. More staff were using shovels to clear the drive.
She shivered and turned to go back to bed, but a sound halted her in her tracks and she returned to the window. Viscount Gorridge’s carriage was being brought round to the front. Behind it, a groom led Edward’s horse, saddled and ready to go. Lucy moved round from the side window to the one at the front, where she could look down on the roof of the carriage as it halted beside the front door. The four horses that drew it snorted and pranced, their breath steaming in the cold air. A footman ran out with hot bricks and blankets, which he put inside, while another loaded luggage into the boot. Viscount Gorridge escorted his weeping wife out to the carriage and they both disappeared inside it. Nothing happened for a minute or two and Lucy imagined they were debating whether it was safe to proceed. Then she saw Edward leave the house. His riding coat was covered by a thick cloak, which enveloped him almost completely. He stopped beside his horse and turned back to look up at the house. Catching sight of her at the window, he made an elaborate bow, kissed his fingers to her and sprang into the saddle. And then he was gone, cantering down the newly cleared drive. The carriage followed more slowly.
Lucy breathed a sigh of relief and turned back into the room. Her father had believed her and stood by her and the menace was gone, but had he gone for good? That gesture before he left had not been one of remorse, or even embarrassment, and it had unnerved her. Did he think it was only a minor setback to his plans and he would be back? Oh, she prayed he would not. All that was left for her now was to be the dutiful daughter and do nothing to make Papa regret his decision. Life must go on as normally as possible and she must try not to think of Myles, but how could she not? He was in her head and in her heart, part of her. She imagined him with the navvies in their encampment and wondered how the children were faring in the bitter cold. She pictured him at home with his parents, dressed as befitted a gentleman, not in the rough clothes of the navvy. Would he tell them what had happened to her? Perhaps. Perhaps not. He might have decided to forget her after seeing her so compromised. Mr Gorridge’s mocking words came back to her: Pity you’re too late, Moorcroft. She’s mine.
She turned as Sarah came into the room, bearing a breakfast tray. ‘They’ve gone, Miss Lucy.’
‘Yes, I saw them from the window.’
‘There was a terrible row last night. Did you hear it?’
‘No.’ She had heard raised voices, her father’s and Viscount Gorridge’s and Edward’s hollow laugh, but had been unable to make out anything of what was said.
‘Viscount Gorridge was shouting at his son. Called him all sorts of names, telling him he’d let him down and he couldn’t trust him an inch, and Mr Gorridge was shouting back and saying it wasn’t his fault, that you flaunted yourself in front of him and tempted him. And Lady Gorridge was crying fit to bust. We could hear them from the servants’ hall, being his lordship had the room directly overhead.’
‘You didn’t say anything about what happened to the other servants?’
‘No, how could you think I would? But it didn’t take a genius to work out that something terrible had happened and it involved you. Anyhow, we’re all glad they’ve gone.’
‘So am I.’
‘Your mama says if you want to stay in bed today, you may, and she will have a fire lit for you.’ A fire in the children’s bedrooms was something the Earl deprecated, unless they were ill. Did he imagine she was ill?
‘No, I will get up,’ she said. ‘I must try to put this behind me and behave as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. Where is my mother?’
‘In the morning room, writing to everyone cancelling the ball. Not that I think anyone would come, anyway, the weather being what it is. Master Johnny is with her, plaguing her to let him take his new sled out.’
Lucy ate her breakfast and then Sarah helped her to dress in the warmest clothes she could find: red flannel petticoat, two more of cotton, a thick wool skirt, two shifts and a velvet jacket, which matched the burgundy of the skirt, and black button boots. She would take Johnny out with his sled.
Rosemary and Esme had the same idea, for Lucy found them dressed to go out in warm clothes, woolly hats and colourful scarves and gloves. Johnny, similarly clad, was dancing about them impatiently. ‘Oh, good, here is Lucy,’ he said. ‘We are going to build a snowman on the front lawn,’ he told her, grabbing her hand. ‘Come on, before the snow melts.’
‘I don’t think it is going to do that,’ Lucy said. She was smiling. Johnny’s enthusiasm was catching and a little strenuous exercise in the open air was just what she needed. She tried not to think of the Gorridge carriage ploughing its way though the snow to reach Gorryham.
They ran outside and began rolling the snow into two balls, fashioning a snowman’s body from a big one and his head from a smaller one. He was given a carrot for a nose and another was cut in the shape of a smiling mouth into which they stuck an old clay pipe. Two lumps of coal made his eyes and some straw inside an old hat was put on his head. Johnny was ecstatic. He had seen snow before, but never in such quantity, and he danced round the snowman and then began making snowballs and flinging them all over the place. Soon a real fight was in progress with Johnny squealing and the girls shouting and laughing. After the tensions of the last two weeks, it was medicine for Lucy’s soul.
While they played, some of the outdoor staff, having little else to do, set off to prepare a suitable hill for tobogganing. The one they selected as being the smoothest, with no protruding rocks to upset the sled and with an incline that would give a good run, but not be so steep as to be dangerous, was the one behind the house that led to the rise from which Lucy had first seen Myles. He would not be there now, of course, but at home in Goodthorpe Manor.
They plodded almost to the top and, while Andrew took the first run down to make sure it was safe for Johnny, Lucy climbed a lit
tle farther to look down into the valley on the other side. It was blanketed by snow. She could hardly make out where the railway line was, except that one or two empty wagons stood waiting for the work to be resumed. The huts were covered in snow and it was piled up against their walls, but paths had been cleared between them and smoke rose on the air from their chimneys. Someone had built a huge campfire and they were roasting a pig on it. A noisy group of children were sliding on frozen, hard-packed snow; others were building a snowman. Children, whatever their rank, rich or poor, did that whenever there was snow, she thought, and they did not seem to feel the cold.
‘Can we go and talk to them?’ Johnny was standing beside her, watching them.
‘No, sweetheart, the slope is too steep.’ She turned away. ‘And besides, I thought you wanted to ride on your sled. Andrew is bringing it back for you.’
‘I could ride it down there.’
‘No, Johnny. The men have made you a run down this way. Look how smooth it is. Shall I come down with you?’
They settled themselves on the sled and propelled themselves downwards. Johnny shrieked with delight and could not wait to drag the sled back up to the top and go down again, this time with Esme. After that it was Rosemary’s turn, and then they did it all again. With each run the snow became packed harder and the speed at which they hurtled down increased. Miss Bannister, who had accompanied them, became fearful and insisted that the servants put fresh snow down. It was while they were doing this that the Earl and Countess arrived.
‘My goodness, I have never seen Johnny so animated,’ his father said. ‘I hope he isn’t overexciting himself.’
‘Papa! Mama! Come and see me go down.’
The Countess put her hand to her mouth as he hurtled down the slope and tumbled off at the end, rolling in the heap of soft snow at the bottom. He was soon on his feet and plodding back to them, dragging the toboggan. ‘Did you see me? Did you?’ he called out before he reached them.
‘Yes, we saw.’ His father smiled. ‘How strong is that thing?’
‘It’s well made, Papa,’ Lucy told him. ‘Andrew and some of the other men tested it.’
‘Right,’ he said, sitting on it. ‘Come on, son, let’s go down together.’
Johnny seated himself in front of his father and off they went. The Countess smiled indulgently at them and then turned to draw Lucy away from the others. ‘How are you, sweetheart?’
‘I’m fine, Mama. None the worse, but I’m glad Mr Gorridge has gone. I was afraid Papa did not believe me.’
‘Lucy, we brought you up to tell the truth and he knew you would not lie. He only wanted to be sure there was no possibility that you had misunderstood the situation. I showed him your torn dress and told him what I had seen, which helped to convince him. He ordered Mr Gorridge out of the house and when the Viscount heard of it, he was all apologies and said he and Lady Gorridge would go, too, though Papa said it was not necessary, it was snowing too hard for the carriage to leave, but Edward could go and stay in the village because he would not entertain him in the house a second longer.’
‘But he was here this morning. I saw him from the window.’
‘Yes, his mother begged that he be allowed to stay the night and Papa realised it would not do for half the village to be wondering why he did not sleep at the house.’
‘Does Papa know it was Mr Moorcroft who saved me?’
‘I did not intend to tell him. I thought it better that he did not know Mr Moorcroft had been up at the house again, but unfortunately Mr Gorridge made some scathing remark about him, which I will not repeat, and so I could not remain silent.’
‘I can guess. He said I had already been spoiled by the navvy.’
‘Yes.’
‘What did Papa say?’
‘He was very, very angry.’
‘With me?’
‘No, of course not, with Edward Gorridge.’ She put a gloved hand on Lucy’s arm. ‘I beg you not to say anything more of it to your father. He might acknowledge his debt to Mr Moorcroft, but it will take time for him to come round to agreeing he was perhaps wrong to condemn the man out of hand.’
‘What about you, Mama?’
‘Lucy, child, all I want is your happiness and the happiness of everyone else in the family, including your papa, but it cannot be had with everyone at each other’s throats and so I told Mr Moorcroft and he agreed with me.’
‘You spoke to him?’
‘Yes, in the yard, after he had taken Midge back to the stables. I wanted to thank him. But, Lucy, there must be a time of calm, a time for the navvies to finish their work and move on, you do understand that?’
‘Yes, Mama, I want it, too.’
‘Good, now here they come back. We will enjoy this time together and put everything else behind us.’
A few more runs were made, then, as the sky darkened, they returned home warm and glowing and ready for a good dinner.
It was the next morning that Johnny was missed. Miss Bannister came downstairs looking for him. ‘The young rascal is hiding,’ she said, when the Countess and Lucy said they had not seen him. ‘He did not want to do the Latin exercise I set him and could not sit still. It was all the excitement of yesterday, I suppose. I only turned my back on him for a moment and he disappeared.’
‘He can’t have gone out,’ the Countess said. ‘We’ll search the house.’
The house was old and rambling and there were many nooks and crannies where a six-year-old could hide and, even with the help of the indoor servants, it took some time to establish that Johnny was not indoors.
The stables and outbuildings were searched next and by now everyone was becoming very worried and the Earl had to be told. More fruitless searching and calling the boy’s name followed, but it was not until Lucy thought to look in the coach house where the sled had been put away the day before that she discovered it was missing, and realised where her brother was.
‘He must have taken it up to the hill,’ Lucy said when she reported it to her father, who had gone up into the hayloft above the stables to search there for himself.
He fairly flew down the ladder. ‘Someone saddle my horse,’ he shouted and rushed indoors to put on his riding boots and a big waterproof cape.
‘I’m coming, too, Papa.’ Lucy ran indoors to change into her habit and cloak while Andrew saddled Midge. By the time that was done, her father, too impatient to wait for her, had gone. She set off after him. More snow had fallen in the night and would have obliterated the run and on the hills. It was easy to lose one’s way when everything looked a uniform white. Johnny might be anywhere, fallen down a hole, into a drift, anything. Two pairs of eyes were better than one.
The snow started again in earnest before she had gone very far. It obliterated everything except Midge and even her thick coat was soon spotted with white flakes. She was a sturdy little mare and plodded slowly onwards and upwards. Lucy shouted Johnny’s name over and over again, but there was only an eerie silence. No birds sang, no sheep bleated, not even a dog barking disturbed the silent world of the snow. Even the sound of the river, which could usually be heard from some distance away, had been stilled under ice. Not only could she see no sign of her brother, no footmarks, no sign of a toboggan, she could not see her father, who was undoubtedly some way ahead of her and on a bigger horse. Again and again she shouted while Midge floundered in drifts that came up to her stomach.
She considered turning back, but the thought of her little brother being out in this wilderness of white kept her going. He would die if he were not found and rescued soon. She floundered about, calling his name, making little headway, wondering why she had not caught up with her father. The snow seemed to be coming from every direction, now in her face, now behind her, now to the side. When she came upon disturbed snow, which looked as though a horse had been that way not long before, she thought she had found her father and shouted again, calling his name alternately with Johnny’s. When there was no answer, she realised it wasn�
�t her father’s horse that had made the marks, but her own, and she had been going round in circles. Only two or three miles from home and she was lost.
Luffenham Hall was a substantial building. Its chimneys must be spewing smoke, but she could see nothing and had no idea of its direction, except that it must be downhill. In any case, there were roads in the valley and she ought to be able to find those. But could she abandon her search? If Johnny was lying buried in snow only a few yards from where she gave up and turned back, she would never forgive herself. She called again and again in more and more desperation, urging Midge to keep going, though the little mare was all but exhausted. Supposing Johnny had found his own way home hours ago and was sitting cosily by the fire, being scolded by their mother for frightening them so? Supposing someone had simply moved the sled and he had not come out at all? Supposing her father had found him and taken him home, not realising she was also out on the hill? She realised how foolish she had been and urged Midge to turn about and start making her way downhill.
‘Home, Midge,’ she said. ‘You know the way.’
The mare seemed unable to obey. She resisted the pressure on her mouth to turn round, floundered in a drift that threatened to swallow both horse and rider and then slipped. The next second, they were both down in the snow. Lucy had the presence of mind to roll out of the way of the mare’s flailing hooves and then sat up. She had lost her crop and her hat and sat shaking her head before getting to her knees and trying to stand. She had landed in a drift that was almost up to her waist, but she could see that Midge was on her feet and where she stood was not nearly so deep. Lucy struggled to reach her, but the mare had been frightened and was cold and missing her warm stable. She set off at a canter and was soon lost to sight. Lucy was on foot, alone on the hill.
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