by Val Wood
‘I’m not used to sitting around either,’ Anna said. ‘I don’t take kindly to it.’
‘But you have good reason for resting,’ Polly said. ‘I wish that my ma had been able to rest. If she had – well,’ her face was wistful, ‘perhaps she’d still be here. But then I wouldn’t have known any of this.’
Her glance took in the view from the window: the blue sky and the glowing heather, the call of the birds and the bleating of sheep.
‘And we wouldn’t have known you, Polly,’ Anna said softly. ‘And that would have been our loss.’
‘Good thing we don’t know what’s in front of us,’ Polly said brightly. ‘We’d never survive, would we?’
‘Indeed we wouldn’t,’ Anna said. ‘And thank you, Polly.’
‘No need to thank me, Mrs Kingston.’ Polly laughed. ‘It’s onny a breakfast tray.’
Anna shook her head. ‘I didn’t mean the breakfast. I just meant – thank you for being you. You’re such an asset. I don’t know what we’d do without you.’
Polly felt a lump in her throat. Perhaps I could stay here after all, she thought. Mebbe Mrs Kingston will have me as her housekeeper instead of hiring someone else. I’ll ask Rosalie what she thinks about that.
But Rosalie had already gone out. She had overheard Sonny telling Howard the day before that he would go out early to look at the moor before there was too much sun on it.
‘There might still be mist about,’ Howard had said. ‘But try not to disturb the grouse. They’ll still be feeding and we want them well rested before the shooting begins.’
Sonny agreed and Rosalie was intrigued. Why did he particularly want to look at the moor then when it was there every day? She caught up with him at early breakfast and asked if she could go with him.
‘I promise I’ll be very quiet,’ she said. ‘And not talk.’
He smiled and said it would give him the greatest of pleasure if she came with him. ‘I want to look at the heather with the bloom of mist still on it,’ he said. ‘Before the sun dries it off.’
When she raised her eyebrows questioningly he said, ‘I’ll make sketches and do some water colour and then go out later and roughly paint the hunters and the red grouse, and keep the colour of the moor in my head.’
‘And finish it in your studio?’
‘Yes.’ He gazed at her and wondered how else he might paint her. ‘As long as I have the general outline of the subject, I can use my imagination and memory of what I’ve seen.’
‘How clever you are,’ she murmured. ‘I have no talent for anything.’
‘You’re still young. There’s time yet to discover a flair for something.’
She gave a shrug. ‘You’re being kind,’ she said.
‘No,’ he replied. ‘I’m being truthful. You’ve not yet had the chance to make your mark.’
‘Make my mark?’
‘Yes. We all have the opportunity to do that, but not everyone takes it.’
They arranged to meet in the hall. He said he was walking and not riding so she changed into stout shoes and put on a comfortable skirt, taking with her a shawl in case it was cold. Sonny was wearing an ancient jacket and carried a rucksack on his back.
There was a soft breeze blowing as they began their climb up the moor and Sonny said the mist would soon be gone. It lay in hollows and Rosalie saw that it was lifting above the heather.
Sonny pointed. ‘See how it appears to steam,’ he said. ‘And see how the light touches beneath the ridges, dispersing the dark shadows.’
Rosalie looked and saw. She saw as she hadn’t seen before.
‘How unobservant I’ve been,’ she murmured, glancing up at him. ‘But then I’ve never had anyone to teach me before.’
The heather was as thick as a carpet beneath their feet and they trod carefully, avoiding the thicker clumps of ling and rocky outcrops where the grouse might be sheltering. They had walked for about half an hour when Sonny called a halt.
A heap of rocks would be their resting place and Sonny took off his coat for Rosalie to sit on. He unpacked his bag and took out pencils, paints, brushes, a container for water and a pad of paper.
Rosalie sat quietly, determined not to disturb him as he began to sketch. He drew the horizon, etched in a stone wall reaching down into the valley, a thin sparse line of bent trees and a jagged heap of rock, and then marked with crosses where he would put the red grouse.
‘I’ll put in some water colour,’ he murmured, ‘and then later I’ll paint in oils. Oils are my preference; the colour is deeper and richer.’
Rosalie nodded. She was fascinated. She had had drawing lessons with her governess but they had simply been copying exercises and she had always suspected that it wasn’t a talent at which her teacher excelled.
‘I’m leaving on Monday,’ he said suddenly, ‘and travel to Italy at the end of the week.’
She took in a breath. Why was he telling her? She knew he was going soon, but it was as if he wanted to remind her once more.
‘So soon?’ she murmured. ‘Is it important that you leave now?’
‘Afraid so.’ He added a few more lines to the sketch. ‘I have the chance of an important commission.’ He turned to look at her. ‘One which might make my reputation and my fortune.’
‘I see.’ She thought steadily for a moment. ‘I’m considering travelling into Hull to, erm, to see my lawyer.’ She swallowed. ‘Perhaps – that is, I could also travel on Monday. Would you be so kind as to – it would save my uncle from sending the carriage twice ...’
‘If we travelled together?’ he finished for her.
‘Yes,’ she said breathlessly.
‘And Polly?’
‘N-no! Not Polly. She’ll be otherwise occupied.’
‘And will you return alone?’ His eyes held hers. ‘Without a companion?’
‘It’s time that I did.’ She lowered her eyes. ‘I’m not a child, after all.’
He gave a little smile and turned back to his drawing. ‘Indeed you are not.’
She felt that strange churning surge of elation that she had felt before when they had sheltered from the rain. She gazed at the back of his neck as he bent over his sketch; his dark hair curled on to his shirt collar and she wanted to reach out and touch it. What was the texture? Was it smooth to the touch or was it wiry and strong as it appeared to be?
He turned suddenly as if about to speak again and caught her gaze. His eyes searched her face and his lips parted. Then he pressed them together, took a breath and looked away.
‘I feel that I must be getting back,’ Rosalie said shortly after. ‘I should have remembered that I might be needed back at the house.’
‘There’ll be plenty of people there,’ he commented. ‘There’s Polly.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Polly is so useful. But I was thinking of Anna. She’s confined to bed.’
‘Her daughter?’ Sonny turned his head. ‘Elizabeth will sit with her.’
‘Ah! So she will. So I’m superfluous.’ Rosalie couldn’t help but hear the sting in her own voice but she looked away from him as she spoke.
‘So am I not worthy of your attention?’ he bantered. ‘Am I not important enough to warrant your presence?’
‘I – I didn’t mean that. You know that I didn’t,’ she protested. ‘But you don’t need me here. I asked if I could come.’
‘And now you are bored with me!’ He sighed. ‘It was ever thus.’
‘No,’ she said, and he turned right round to face her as he heard the rebuke. ‘I’m not. You know I am not. And – and you are simply patronizing me by allowing me to come.’
He seized her hand. ‘Never!’ he exclaimed. ‘How can you say such a thing? I was – overjoyed when you asked. Rosalie!’ He dropped his paintbrush and placed his other hand over hers. ‘You don’t know what you say, and cannot know how I feel. And I’m not at liberty to tell you.’
‘Why?’ she whispered. ‘Why are you not?’
He shook his head. ‘
Because, like you, I’m bound by custom and honour, and I’m a guest in your uncle’s house. This is not the time or the place.’
‘For what?’
Sonny briefly closed his eyes. ‘I can’t say,’ he breathed. ‘When I return in the spring, perhaps then, if your circumstances haven’t changed ... if you are still here ...’
‘Oh, I will be!’ she exclaimed with a sudden surge of happiness. ‘I will be.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
A company of men were already at breakfast when Rosalie arrived back. She had left Sonny behind and walked across the moor alone. She was pleased to be on her own to think about the implications of what he had said, and also to plan.
I shall write to Papa and tell him that I can’t possibly leave here until the spring as Aunt Anna needs me until after her confinement; and I will intimate that it would be cruel to leave her at such a difficult time. I won’t mention Polly so he will perhaps assume that she is no longer here.
She felt joyous and could barely keep a smile from her face as she considered what her future might hold. Then she pondered on what her father might have to say, which sobered her. But I shall be eighteen by then, she thought, and surely can make my own decisions.
Her attention was required as soon as she arrived at the house. Polly suggested that she should act as hostess to the gentlemen whilst Polly herself concentrated on making sure that everything ran smoothly between the kitchen and the dining room.
‘You look like ’cat that’s got ’cream,’ Polly said, gazing at Rosalie with her head on one side. ‘What ’you been up to?’
‘Absolutely nothing,’ Rosalie beamed. ‘Nothing at all!’
Luke was delighted with them both. He had been very sombre since the incident with Edwin, but with Howard taking over the arrangements for the shooting party and Rosalie and Polly so efficiently attending to the guests’ needs, he seemed more relaxed.
‘I wish that Clemmie could have been here,’ he said to Rosalie. ‘Usually she comes back for this event, although I must admit that she doesn’t have your flair for conversation.’
‘I’m pleased to have been useful, Uncle Luke,’ she said. ‘I wonder if I might speak to you later about something? I need your advice.’
‘Of course you may, m’dear. I shall be pleased to help in any way I can.’
She thought how approachable he was and how easy-going compared with her father, with whom she felt restrained.
She and Polly ate a second breakfast after the men had gone and then went to sit with Anna. Anna said she felt a fraud being in bed and was adamant that she would get up the next day.
‘Would you mind if I went to Hull on Monday?’ Rosalie asked her. ‘Sonny is going then and I could travel with him. I’ll only be away a few days.’
She felt her cheeks getting hot and out of the corner of her eye could see Polly’s amused expression; Anna didn’t seem to notice and she didn’t enquire how she would come back, but simply said that she must do whatever was necessary, and added that the weather was good for travelling.
‘I wish that Clementina would come home,’ she added. ‘I think that her father would like her here. I must persuade him to write and tell her about Edwin.’
Howard asked Rosalie when she planned to come back and whether she would like to arrange a day so that he or Amos could collect her.
‘I really don’t know,’ she prevaricated. ‘I have to see the lawyer and ask his advice on one or two things.’
‘But that’ll only take a day or two at the most,’ he said. ‘Suppose I arrange for say – Thursday? That will give you two full days to attend to whatever business you need.’
‘She doesn’t want to tie herself down to a timetable,’ Sonny interrupted. ‘I’m not leaving Hull until the end of the week. Rosalie can send Polly a postcard with details of her arrival and I’ll see her on to the Scarborough train before I depart.’
‘Yes,’ Rosalie agreed. ‘That will be perfect.’
Howard was uneasy about it. ‘Be careful,’ he murmured to Sonny later, when they were alone. ‘She’s a vulnerable young woman. Don’t compromise her.’
‘As if I would!’ Sonny said sharply. ‘It wasn’t my idea that Rosalie should travel with me. It was hers.’
‘I realize that,’ Howard said. ‘And that’s what worries me. She’s unskilled in the ways of men. She’s been overprotected. She probably doesn’t even know the facts of life.’
‘Well it’s not my intention to teach her,’ Sonny declared. ‘But I think you’re wrong. She is not as aware as Polly, I grant you, but she’s discerning and enlightened.’
Howard scrutinized him. Then he laughed. ‘And you are going away!’
Sonny grinned. ‘Yes. But I’m coming back!’
‘You’ll be all right with Sonny,’ Polly said.
Rosalie turned to her. ‘I know that,’ she asserted. ‘I wouldn’t have asked him otherwise.’
‘Oh ho!’ Polly grinned. ‘So it was you. I thought as much!’
‘It seemed the sensible thing as he was travelling into Hull.’ Rosalie shrugged as if it was of no account. ‘I could have gone on my own, but—’
‘I’ll come with you if you like,’ Polly ventured. ‘I’m sure Mrs Kingston wouldn’t—’
‘I won’t hear of it,’ Rosalie interrupted. ‘I wouldn’t go if I thought you were not here to look after her. I’ll tell you why I’m really going, Polly,’ she said softly and Polly came closer. ‘I was going to discuss it with Uncle Luke but now I’ve decided that I’ll speak to our lawyer instead. I want to ask Mr Benjamin about an inheritance from my mother. I feel sure that she mentioned something when I was about fourteen. At the time I didn’t really take much notice, but I’m almost sure that Mama said I would come into some money on my eighteenth birthday.’
‘Oh!’ Polly was round-eyed. ‘And what will you do with it if you do?’
Rosalie smiled. ‘I have not yet formulated my plans,’ she said mysteriously. ‘But you’ll be the first to know, Polly.’
For the next few days the moor echoed with the sound of gunfire and the air was filled with the smell of smoke, both acrid gunsmoke and sweet tobacco smoke from the pipes which it seemed were an essential item for most of the men as they waited for the red grouse to appear.
Rosalie went towards the stables. She hadn’t ridden for a few days and wanted to make sure that Damon and Hero were all right. Luke had taken on another stable lad who had been exercising the two ponies away from the area where the guns were employed. Sam had gone home to his parents to convalesce and no decision had yet been made about his future, but Dora had gone to work at Anna’s house where she seemed to be content and accepting the fact that she was going to be a mother.
Rosalie walked across the cobbled courtyard and came to a full stop. The bodies of red grouse were laid in neat rows, their glorious colours bedraggled, their bodies limp. She counted the rows and stopped at one hundred birds, gazing at them, and as she did so Sonny followed her into the yard.
He saw her with his artist’s eye: her face in profile, her downcast head as she sorrowfully surveyed the dead birds. In his mind he dressed her in servant’s clothing: a dark skirt muddied at the hem, black stockings and worn boots, a white apron and cap and a basket over her arm.
Rosalie turned and saw him. There were tears in her eyes.
‘They’ve had a good life,’ he said softly. ‘They are wild free creatures and have not been bred for the pot. They have a sporting chance.’
‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘I understand what you say, what you all say. But it is still so very sad.’
***
Anna was up and dressed on the Monday morning and said she felt quite refreshed and able to attend to her duties. She had always been a busy woman and didn’t take kindly to being confined to bed.
‘Bearing children is a perfectly natural occurrence,’ she said to Polly and Rosalie. ‘And although I realize that both your mothers died in childbirth, I don’t intend that t
o happen to me. I’m a fit strong woman and you mustn’t worry about me.’
Howard had volunteered to drive Rosalie and Sonny to Scarborough as he felt that Amos’s presence would be more useful on the moor than his own.
‘I’m sorry,’ Sonny said as they stood by the pony and trap. ‘I’ve chosen a bad time.’
Howard ran his hand over his chin. ‘I was just thinking; suppose ... no, maybe not, but on the other hand ...’
‘What?’ Sonny questioned.
Howard looked at Rosalie and bit his lip, and then back at Sonny. ‘Suppose you drive the trap to Scarborough and leave it with my grandmother, and then when Rosalie returns from Hull she could come back with Clemmie. She’s due back any time now and maybe Luke would write and tell her.’
Sonny nodded. ‘That sounds all right. And then you needn’t make any unnecessary journeys. What do you think, Rosalie?’
‘Yes, that sounds agreeable.’ She was elated to be journeying with Sonny, but less so at the thought of returning with Clemmie.
So Howard, with some considerable relief, shook hands with Sonny and the two men said they looked forward to meeting again in the spring. Then he urged Rosalie to be careful when travelling alone by train.
She gave him a wide open smile and said that she would. ‘I’m quite capable, you know,’ she told him.
Rosalie vowed to herself that she would remember for ever that ride across the moor with Sonny as they made their way towards Scarborough. It was a glorious day, the sun warm though not too hot and the heather glowing in rich shades of purple. The landscape changed as they descended into valleys of varying hues of lush green and wandering sheep cropped the grass. They skirted rushing becks and sparkling waterfalls, splashed through shallow streams and led the horse as they walked on foot over narrow stone bridges.
Sonny from time to time turned his head to look at her but didn’t speak, simply giving her a tender smile. She gazed at his long brown fingers as he lightly held the reins and saw the dark hair at his wrist escaping from his sleeve and she wanted to reach out and put her hand on his. They stopped at an inn and bought bread and ham. Sonny had a glass of ale and she had lemonade and they sat on the grass outside and spoke only in snatches of conversation which later she couldn’t recall.
