She felt like bursting into tears, but there was no time for that. Floundering in wet snow that dragged at her clothes and froze her feet and fingers until she could not feel them, she struggled in what she thought was the direction of home. Johnny had been lost and might be dead, and she was lost and might also soon be dead. Because of her foolishness one tragedy could be turned into two. Poor Mama, poor Papa. But she wasn’t dead yet. She floundered on, talking aloud to herself to keep up her spirits.
The fire crackled and blazed as the footman put more logs on the library fire and withdrew. Myles sat toasting his toes on the fender and sipping a glass of brandy, which his father had poured for him. ‘It’s going to put us weeks behind,’ Myles told him, continuing the conversation that they had begun over dinner which, true to his roots, Henry liked to take in the middle of the day. Only when they had guests was it served in the early evening.
‘Can’t be helped. The weather is something we cannot control. There isn’t a penalty for delay in the contract, is there?’
‘Not for acts of God. It’s just as well the snow came to our aid, because you could not call an invasion by the hunt an act of God and the men would not resume work on the line until they had rebuilt their homes.’
‘They’ve done that now, haven’t they?’
‘Yes. I was vastly overcharged for the wood. The men naturally went to the nearest supplier and that was a sawmill in Peterborough, which I discovered afterwards was owned by Viscount Gorridge. Not that I could have done anything about it. The need was urgent and I could not have kept the men hanging about while I found a cheaper source.’
‘I doubt Gorridge takes much interest in it so long as his rent is paid. He wouldn’t have known you were in the market for wood.’
‘I suppose not, but I still don’t like dealing with him.’
‘You have to deal with all manner of men in business, Myles. It doesn’t mean you have to like them.’
‘Oh, I’ve nothing against the Viscount, except that he tried to foist his no-good son on to Lucy, knowing what he was like.’
‘She won’t be forced to marry him now, will she?’ his mother asked. She had been working on some embroidery and taking no part in the conversation, but had evidently been listening.
‘Lady Luffenham said not, but I am not sure how much influence she has with Lord Luffenham.’
‘Enough, I think,’ his father put in. ‘No man worth his salt would allow his daughter to be molested like that and not do something about it.’
‘Poor child,’ her ladyship said, dropping her sewing in her lap and looking at her son. She felt for him, felt for both the young people, and she could not believe that John Vernley could be so stubborn.
Myles smiled at her. That she had not had a daughter was a source of disappointment to her, though she rarely mentioned it, but it did mean that she was wont to befriend and mother any young girl who seemed to need it and contributed to several charities that helped girls either by finding them schools, homes or jobs. Several had ended up in her own household. ‘Yes, Mama. I wish I knew what was happening over there. I would like to think Edward Gorridge has been banished, but he might have been allowed to stay because of the weather. The roads are impassable. Goodness knows when they will be cleared.’
‘At least the snow has stopped,’ his mother said. ‘I do believe the sky is brightening.’
Myles rose and walked over to the window. The long drive from the road to the house had been cleared by the outside staff, but it was piled high on either side. A weak sun was trying to break through the clouds, making every bush and plant look as if it were bedecked by a myriad of tiny ice diamonds. His found himself thinking of Lucy at Luffenham Hall, perhaps looking from her window on to a similar scene. Was she well? Was she being sympathetically treated? Was she thinking of him and wishing, as he was, that they could be together? How long must he stay away? The Countess had given him hope, but his impatience was making him fidgety.
‘I’m going over to the line.’
‘Myles, whatever for?’ His mother was dismayed.
‘It is pay day and I have never missed a pay day yet.’ He had realised that the next day was the last of the month, indeed of the year, and it set him wondering what 1845 would bring. There was to have been a ball at Luffenham Hall, but he doubted it would take place now. He tried to imagine what might be happening there, but all he could picture was Lucy being mauled by that fiend and it made his blood boil. He could not sit still.
‘The men will understand this once,’ his father said. ‘And what have they got to spend it on, except the grog shop?’
‘There’s a tommy shop as well as a grog shop on the site,’ Myles said, a fact his father knew quite well. A tommy shop was a store where the navvies and their families could purchase provisions with tommy tickets, which were issued in advance of their pay. On some sites they were badly run and the men charged so much for inferior quality goods that, when it came to pay day, they did not have enough to cover their debts and so had to ask for more tickets. It put them permanently under an obligation to the tommy-shop keeper, who made a handsome living out of them. Myles would not allow that. He put his own man in charge, made sure the meat was of good quality, the flour free of weevils and all the other goods were fresh, and he personally controlled what was charged for it. ‘The women will want to buy food.’
‘They were roasting a pig yesterday,’ his father said. ‘They are not hungry.’
‘Myles, don’t go,’ his mother pleaded. ‘You will never get through the snow.’
‘I’ll ride along the road to the crossing and then make my way up the line,’ he said. ‘If it really is impassable, I can always turn back.’
‘Must you?’
‘Yes. Something tells me I ought to be there. I don’t know what, but I feel uneasy.’
‘Then wrap up warmly and take a flask with you.’
He smiled indulgently at her and bent to kiss her cheek. ‘Yes, Mama. I’ll be back before dark.’
He left his parents by their warm fire, changed into the warmest clothes he could find—thick cord breeches, woollen jacket, top coat and a big riding cape—put the navvies’ pay in a bag and went and saddled Trojan. He felt better being on the move.
He rode down to the road that led from Peterborough to Leicester and which, until the railway was completed, was still the main artery between the towns. A stretch of it had been cleared by the inmates of a nearby workhouse the day before, but even as he turned along it, it began to snow again and he wondered how long it would remain clear. It did not take him long to reach the turning for the minor road that led to Luffenham. This was a different matter. On parts of it the snow was not deep, but on others, the wind had whipped it into drifts and it was only when Trojan floundered that he was able to tell one from the other. He wondered if it had been such a good idea to come, but something, an inner voice, drove him on.
He did not ride the whole way into Luffenham, but turned off at the level crossing and rode along the track, thankful for his thoroughness when he had surveyed it. He knew every bump and hollow, every tree and bush along the way, almost every blade of grass, except there was no grass to be seen. Everywhere was eerily quiet; there was no sound except for Trojan’s blowing as he struggled manfully on. Even the wind was silent as it whipped up the snow and blew it in clouds across the landscape, stinging his face. He could hardly see where he was going, but he knew he could not be far off the encampment.
A sudden flurry and visibility returned. It was then he noticed a movement on the hill the other side of the river. It was probably an animal, a sheep or even a fox, struggling through snow that threatened to envelop it. He reined in to watch, trying to make out what it was, but then a squall obliterated the hill and he could see it no longer. He went on, wondering if he ought to investigate; he hated to think that an animal was injured and in pain when he could put it out of its misery, but he was disinclined to struggle up the steep slope.
; A keening sound came to him, the sound an animal might make if it was injured, and he stopped to listen. At first he could not hear it, and then it came again more clearly. It sounded human. ‘There’s nothing for it, old fellow,’ he said to his horse. ‘We’ll have to go and investigate.’
He rode Trojan across the river bridge, but the horse was exhausted and Myles did not want to force him up the steep slope. He tethered him to the bridge and set off on foot, falling into snow and getting up to go on. The sound had stopped. Whatever it was must have either recovered and moved off or had died. He decided to go back, but before he did so, he stood and shouted. ‘Is anyone there?’ There was no answer.
‘A fox,’ he said to himself, but he shouted again to make sure and this time there was a weak answering call. There was someone there! He redoubled his efforts. ‘I’m coming,’ he shouted. ‘Keep calling.’
The sound was weak and several times it stopped; he could not be sure he was moving in the right direction. He was right on top of her before he saw her. She was lying in a snowdrift, almost covered. ‘Lucy! My God! Lucy!’ He fell on to his knees beside her and gathered her into his arms. ‘I’m here now. You’re safe.’ He stripped off his cloak and wrapped it round her and then he picked her up and carried her semi-conscious body back through his own footprints to where he had left Trojan. He tried talking soothingly to her as he went, but the struggle was making him breathless and he had to concentrate on not pitching both of them into the snow. Occasionally she moaned softly, which was the only indication he had that she was still alive.
He was a very strong man and able to carry someone of Lucy’s weight with ease, but in such conditions, and desperate as he was to reach warmth and safety, it seemed to take for ever to reach his horse. Even then his problems were not over. He could not put Lucy on the stallion’s back because she could not support herself and he could not mount with her in his arms. He put Trojan’s reins over his shoulder and the horse followed as he continued on foot. The railway had moved on and was now beyond the bridge and higher up the slope, but here it was sheltered from the wind and the snow had not drifted so badly. He was able to move a little more quickly. As soon as he came within sight of the camp, he was seen and Adam came running to meet him.
‘Fetch your father,’ Myles said. ‘Hurry.’
The boy obeyed and Pat was soon running towards him. ‘What’s happened? What have you got there?’
‘Lady Lucinda. I found her in the snow.’
‘Is she alive?’
‘Yes. Just.’
‘Bring her into our hut. Kathy will look after her.’
Lucy was carried into the hut and all the other occupants, half a dozen men who lodged with them, were sent out to find other huts where they would be welcomed and find a spot by a fire. ‘Leave her with me,’ Kathy O’Malley told Myles. ‘I’ll see to her.’
He put his burden into a chair beside the stove and stood looking down at her, reluctant to leave her. Her eyes were closed. There was not a vestige of colour in her face; even her lips were white. It was only the slight fluttering of her chest that told him she was still in the land of the living. He could not imagine why she would leave the house in such weather, let alone come so far. Unless…Surely to God nothing terrible had happened at Luffenham Hall and she had felt compelled to flee? What was her father thinking of? And her mother? Where was Gorridge? He was on tenterhooks until he could ask her himself.
‘Go on,’ Kathy said. ‘I need to strip her clothes off and I can’t do that with you there. Go to the grog shop. You look as though you could do with a drink. You, too, Pat. I’ll call you when you can come back.’
‘She’ll be all right, won’t she?’ Myles was still hesitating.
‘God willing. Now shoo.’ She waved her hand at him and he turned and followed Pat out of the hut.
‘How did you find her?’ Pat asked, as they sat beside the stove in the grog shop, with a double tot of rum each.
‘I was on my way here, when I saw something struggling in the snow up on the other hill. Then I heard a cry and went to investigate. She was almost buried. If anything happens to her…’ He dare not go on, could not bear to think of a world without Lucy.
‘It won’t. Kathy is a wonder when it comes to upsets and disasters and looking after sick people. She’ll know what to do.’
‘Yes, I know. I nearly didn’t come. Thank God I did.’
‘Why did you? Think we’d be working, did you? Or worried we might go and raid Luffenham Hall if you didn’t keep an eye on us?’
Myles grinned. ‘You gave me your word you wouldn’t and I accepted that. Nor did I expect you to be working. But it’s pay day.’
‘Good Lord, you didn’t venture out just to bring us our pay, did you?’
‘I’ve never missed a pay day yet.’
‘Not like some. I’ve known men wait three months for their pay and living on tommy tickets the whole while. We know you’d not keep us waiting, Mr Moorcroft, you needn’t have worried.’
‘In the circumstances, it was as well I did.’
‘Amen to that. What do you suppose she was doing up there?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What are you going to do now? When she comes round, I mean.’ He glanced out of the window. ‘It’s snowing harder than ever. You’ll never be able to take her home.’
‘No, we’ll have to make her comfortable here. Will your wife mind?’
‘’Course not, Mr Moorcroft. We all like the little lady. And she is a lady, too.’
‘Yes.’
They were silent for a moment or two, contemplating the snow driving against the window. If it had come earlier, Myles would never have set out and Lucy would still be lying out there on the hill and she could not have survived many more minutes. He shuddered to think what a close call it had been. Had she been missed at the Hall? Were they even now searching for her?
He looked up as Adam burst into the hut. ‘Ma says you can come back now.’
Myles went at a run.
Lucy had been stripped of her clothes, put into a flannelette nightdress of Kathy’s and tucked into a bed in a section of the hut which had been curtained off with a sheet of canvas. The pot-bellied stove in the centre of the room had been stoked up and glowed almost red with heat. Kathy was stirring soup in a big black pot on the top of it. When Myles arrived, she nodded in the direction of the curtain. ‘She’s thawing out nicely.’ It was said with a smile.
He pushed aside the makeshift curtain, dropped on to his knees beside Lucy and took her hand. She was restless and kept flinging her head from side to side and mumbling something he could not understand. ‘Lucy,’ he said. ‘It’s me. Open your eyes, sweetheart, let me see you smile.’
Her head thrashed. ‘Johnny. Johnny,’ she mumbled.
‘That’s all she’s said,’ Kathy put in. ‘Seems to be worrying her.’
‘It’s her brother’s name.’
‘James Middleton is looking after a bratling his daughter found wandering down by the bridge early this morning. He’s no bigger than a sixpence and says he’s called John and comes from the big house. Chirpy little fellow he is, but Mary said they couldn’t do anything about taking him back to his parents until the snow cleared.’
‘I’ll wager it’s Lucy’s brother,’ he said, remembering that Lottie Middleton was the girl he had found with Edward Gorridge. ‘But what was he doing out alone? He’s never left unguarded for a second. Baby of the family he is, doted on by the whole household. If it is him, every spare man in the county will be out looking for him. Unless they think he is safely with Lucy at someone else’s house.’
‘No one has been here looking for either of them,’ Kathy said. ‘And mayhap it’s as well they haven’t. Lord Luffenham would find some way of blaming us for his disappearance, you may be sure. I think Lottie is expecting a reward for his safe return.’
Myles grinned wryly. ‘No doubt she is, but his sister has risked her life looking for him and she wo
n’t rest until she knows he is safe, so we’ll have him fetched here. We’ll talk about rewards later.’
‘I’ll go.’ Pat was standing in the doorway, unwilling to intrude, though it was his bed Lucy occupied.
‘Thanks.’ He turned back to Lucy and took her hand again, rubbing it gently to warm it. She had a little more colour and he fervently thanked God he had found her in time. ‘Lucy, wake up.’
Her eyes flickered open. ‘Myles. What are you doing here?’ She stared up at the wooden ceiling and the canvas curtain, a puzzled frown on her face. ‘Where am I?’
‘In one of the huts. You are safe now. As soon as you are ready you shall have some hot soup.’
‘How did you find me?’ she asked, managing a weak smile. ‘I had been shouting for ages, but I couldn’t make anyone hear and I was lost. I thought I knew the hills, but I just didn’t know which way to turn. Oh, Myles, if you hadn’t found me…’
‘I think God guided my footsteps. I was at home and something told me I was needed here. I couldn’t rest until I came. I saw something dark in the snow and then I heard you cry out. What were you doing out in such weather?’
‘Looking for Johnny. He managed to slip out of the house very early and when we found his sled was missing, we guessed he had taken it to ride down the hill like he did yesterday. We all went out looking for him, Papa, the servants, everyone, but I missed my way. Then Midge stumbled in a drift and threw me. Did you see her?’
‘No, she probably went home.’
‘Oh, if she goes home without me, they will be worried to death. I must go.’ She struggled to sit up. ‘And I have to tell them I couldn’t find Johnny. Oh, I cannot bear to think of him lying in the snow like I did. Perhaps he’s been found, perhaps he’s safely at home all the time. I have to go.’
He pushed her gently back on to the bed. ‘Johnny’s safe, Lucy. It’s you we’re worried about.’
‘Safe? Are you sure? How do you know?’
Her answer came in the shape of Johnny himself, who tore into the room and flung himself on the bed beside her. He was dressed in a borrowed fustian jacket and cord trousers that were so big they had to be held up with string. ‘Lucy, Lucy, you came. I knew you would. I’ve had such adventures, but now I want to go home.’
Mary Nichols Page 23
