St James' Fair

by St James Fair (retail) (epub)

  Jesse looked down with a bemused expression. ‘You’d better run after her and ask her yourself. I don’t know her,’ he said and at that moment, Simon heard someone come up behind him and turned to see the furious face of a young gypsy woman who was staring at the back of the disappearing girl on the chestnut horse with fierce and burning hatred.

  ‘Go away. You heard what he said, he doesn’t know her,’ she snapped but Archer was having none of it. This is only some sort of affair of the heart, he surmised, and decided to persist. Turning to Jesse again he asked, ‘But she’s a Romany, isn’t she? She’s black enough.’

  The answer was a shake of the head. ‘I don’t think so, she can’t speak the lingo anyway. I’ve never seen her before today.’ While Jesse spoke Thomassin was standing with a hand on his boot toe as if making a claim to him.

  Odilie had only gone a few yards through the crowd, who were all trying to reach up and shake her hand in congratulation and patting her horse, when a furious-looking Professor Thompson pushed his way towards her. He shook an admonishing finger and scolded, ‘Miss Rutherford, what have you been thinking of! Your father will be scandalised when he hears about this. My God, you could have broken your neck, girl.’

  Odilie flushed scarlet and gathered up her reins hurriedly. There was no use pretending she didn’t know him for they’d dined at the same table the previous evening. ‘Professor Thompson, my father doesn’t know – don’t tell him, please. I’m going home now,’ she said.

  ‘I should think so too. Home you go at once,’ said the outraged Professor and stood with his hands on his hips until Odilie rode out of sight.

  Jesse Bailey broke away from Thomassin and Simon Archer and rode up to the Professor’s party, leaning down to the first of them, who happened to be young Playfair, to ask, ‘Who’s that girl? Do you know her name?’

  The architect looked up and smiled as he replied, ‘Yes, as a matter of fact I do, although I can hardly believe it myself. She’s Odilie Rutherford. Her father’s a rich merchant and they live in that big house by the river called Havanah Court.’

  Jesse sat back in his saddle with an astonished look on his face. ‘God in heaven, no wonder she didn’t want the money,’ he gasped.

  * * *

  Catherine Scott was worried. At the stroke of four o’clock she had a checked cloth spread on the grass in the shade cast by their up-ended pony cart and was directing Leeb and Lily in laying out brown crusted loaves of home baked bread, cheese made from sheep’s milk and an enormous game pie. A bottle of buttermilk and another of cold tea provided liquid refreshment – but nobody came to partake of the feast.

  It was not unusual for Tom or Sandy to be missing from the family meal for they always remained in the ale tent until fished out, but Mary and Adam had never missed the rendezvous before and their mother hoped that nothing bad had befallen them. She stood up in an anxious way and stared across the field but could not catch a glimpse of either of her missing children. ‘Where’s Adam and where’s Mary?’ she fretted.

  ‘Don’t take on,’ said Lily tolerantly. ‘They’re both old enough to look after themselves. Maybe they’ve met up wi’ some lads and lasses.’ She was right.

  At four o’clock, Mary, quite unconscious of the time, was wandering to and fro like someone lost among the bewildering array of stalls with Elsie and the two strangers. Her head was swimming and she found it difficult to focus her eyes because of the beer that was still being pressed on her. By now she had only one wish, to lie down and have a sleep for the heat was oppressive. The young man she was with saw her stifle a yawn and took her elbow, steering her away from the loudly laughing Elsie. ‘Come and sit down in the shade,’ he said and directed her to a quiet place beneath some willows on the river bank.

  Mary hesitated but he was smiling so pleasantly that she gave in and soon they were sitting side by side watching the water flow by. Scattered around them were other couples lying close together in the grass. Mary tried not to notice what they were doing. She yawned again and he patted the grass by his side. ‘Lie down and have a nap. I’ll guard you,’ he suggested. Because she was scandalised by the goings on of the others, she wouldn’t lie down though she leaned her back against the bole of a tree but soon, in spite of herself, a strange numbness overtook her and she felt her head nodding… ‘Oh my God, it must be four o’clock and my mother’ll be looking for me. She’d not be happy if she could see me now,’ was her last thought before sleep overtook her.

  Adam’s mother would have been equally astonished and disturbed if she could have seen how engrossed her son was with a girl in a bondager’s bonnet. He was gazing into her face, smiling in an entranced way and he was talking more than he had ever talked before. The words flowed out of him because he found it amazingly easy to tell this girl things that he had held inside his head for years. For him the passing of the significant hour of four o’clock had simply been forgotten.

  As he walked away from the jumping ring with blue-eyed Grace by his side, he felt immediately proud and resolute for he had come to a momentous decision – this was the girl for him. All his ancestors down through the ages had been obstinate fellows and once Adam made up his mind about something he was impossible to shift. The realisation that he wanted to stay with Grace forever was enough and once it came into his head, he did not question it. He knew that if he missed this opportunity, he would regret it forever.

  For her part Grace walked beside him with a smiling, serene face but inside she was churning with a mixture of emotions. She felt exhilarated, but calm too – daring, but safe – deliciously thrilled but nervous. Every fibre of her body tingled with awareness of Adam’s proximity, for she found him even more handsome than he was in her dreams and she looked at his tanned face with open admiration. She wished she was bold enough to put up a finger and trace it around his firm mouth. By the way he was watching her she knew that he was equally aware of her and for the first time in her life she felt strong and powerful as she smiled sweetly at him, gazing full into his face as she did so.

  They walked along talking as if they had known each other all their lives. He told her about his life in the hills and because their minds were full of the jumping contest she told him about Odilie, who had been born in Jamaica and brought to Lauriston by her father, Canny Rutherford the rich merchant. She confided in Adam how angry Odilie was because of the plan to marry her to the Duke.

  ‘But that’s a good match for a merchant’s daughter, surely?’ he asked in amazement.

  ‘She doesn’t think so. It’s her father and my father who are pushing her into it,’ said Grace.

  He paused and stared at her. ‘What’s your father got to do with it?’ he asked.

  ‘Because he’s the town lawyer. He’s Odilie’s father’s legal adviser. He wants this marriage to go through because if it’s called off the Duke’ll be furious and take it out on him,’ she explained.

  Adam’s brow furrowed. ‘But why are you dressed like a working girl if you’re the lawyer’s daughter? Why the ugli?’ He looked at her bonnet as he spoke and then down at her boots. ‘And only farm lassies wear those…’ He pointed at her feet.

  She laughed. ‘Oh, all this is Odilie’s idea. She said we should dress up like poor lassies so’s we could hide in the crowd and not be recognised. It’s been fun, really. I’ve enjoyed it though I thought I wouldn’t.’

  Adam was looking disappointed. ‘Your father’s the lawyer! But I thought you were off a farm like me. Now it turns out you’re a lady and I’m only a shepherd. Your father won’t let me marry you.’

  The words hung in the air between them and she took his hand. ‘What did you say?’ she asked softly.

  ‘I said your father won’t think I’m good enough to marry you,’ said Adam.

  ‘Why shouldn’t I marry you?’ she asked him.

  ‘Because you’re above me socially,’ he told her but she shook her head.

  ‘That’s nonsense. I am a working lassie. I work as a servan
t in my father’s house. I’m not rich – I haven’t any dowry. No one except Odilie gives a fig for me. My mother was my father’s first wife and now she’s dead I’m not important.’

  ‘You’re important to me,’ said Adam, squeezing her hand tightly.

  As they stood close together she looked up and whispered to him, ‘Say that again. Say what you did about marrying me.’

  He nodded. ‘I want to marry you, Grace. I’ve been dreaming about you all year and now that I’ve found you my dreams have come true. I don’t care if you are the lawyer’s daughter. Let’s go and see your father right away. I’m not going back home to Fairhope till I know we can be married.’

  Her eyes were glistening. ‘I’ve never been so happy in my whole life,’ she told him.

  ‘Does that mean you’ll marry me?’

  ‘Guess,’ she teased. ‘Just look at me and guess.’ Then she leaned forward and boldly kissed him on the mouth. The world stood still for them both as they clung together, not caring that people around them were nudging each other and laughing but it was all right to kiss in the open at St James’ Fair.

  When they stood apart again, a clock began chiming over the river. In a daze Adam counted the strokes – one, two, three, four, five. ‘It’s five o’clock! My mother’ll be distracted,’ he cried, seizing Grace’s hand. ‘Come on, we’ll have to go and have our tea.’

  Mary did not have so pleasant an awakening. She came back to consciousness because someone was lying heavily on top of her and grappling with her clothes. She tried to sit up but found that the young man who said he would guard her was wrestling her to the ground ‘Lie still, you silly bitch,’ he grunted as he tried to pull away the neckerchief she wore crossed over her breasts.

  Mary screamed. ‘Let me up! Leave me alone,’ she started to shout.

  He put one hand over her mouth and said through gritted teeth, ‘Stop struggling or I’ll smother you and throw you in the river.’

  She could tell by the staring look in his eyes that he was serious and she started to cry, trying to bite the palm of his hand at the same time. She felt her teeth bite into the flesh but his other hand came swinging over and crashed into the side of her head, half-stunning her.

  ‘Lie still, I tell you! You’ve been asking for it all day,’ he snarled, tearing at her petticoat. Mary sobbed and heaved around but she knew it was useless. He was too big and strong for her. This must be what the gypsy woman foresaw, she thought. I took the wrong road when I came here with this man.

  She had almost given up hope and was ceasing to struggle when she felt the weight suddenly lift off her and heard strange scuffling noises. She opened her eyes in time to see Jockie Armstrong drawing back his arm to hit her assailant in the face. The stranger went down on his knees with the force of the blow and then scuttled away like an ape with Jockie running after him. Still crying, Mary stood up rearranging her tattered finery and brushing grass and twigs out of her skirt. She felt bitterly ashamed of herself for being found in such a compromising situation but when Jockie came back he put an arm around her and seemed to think no less of her for it.

  ‘I heard you yell, Mary,’ he said, ‘and when I saw what he was trying to do, I let him have it. He’ll not try it on again with another lassie in a hurry.’

  There was blood on his cheek but a pleased smile on his face as he spoke. To her he looked like a knight in armour. ‘Oh Jockie,’ she gasped and threw herself into his arms. ‘Thank God you were there.’

  ‘Of course I was here. I’ve been following you about a’ day,’ said the phlegmatic Jockie.

  Then five o’clock struck and it was Mary’s turn to gasp, ‘Oh, my mother’ll be worried about me. Come on and have some tea with us. My family will be awful pleased to meet you.’

  * * *

  There was nothing Professor Thompson liked better than possessing information about someone that they did not know themselves. Although Odilie had asked him not to tell her father about her exploits in the jumping ring, it was impossible for him to keep the secret. This was really something he had over old Canny and Wattie was like a little boy again as he rushed across the grass towards the place he had last seen his old friend. After all, he told himself, it was best that Canny got the news from a friend and was warned in advance before the town was abuzz with the story.

  At every Fair the current Duke always hosted a party in an enormous pavilion erected on a prime site by the side of the river. People of importance were ceremoniously invited to partake of his Grace’s hospitality and this year an invitation had been extended to Mr William Rutherford who turned up accompanied by his black footman to be plied with excellent chilled champagne.

  When the Duke enquired into the whereabouts of Odilie, Canny put on a concerned face and said that she would join them shortly for she had been suffering from a headache brought on by the extreme heat of the day. Then as soon as he could, he whispered to Joe to go back to Havanah Court and fetch the missing girl.

  Time crept by and champagne flowed. The heat outside built up but the green shade inside the tent was cool and comfortable. As they sipped at their glasses, people chatted about the weather and predicted thunder. Canny’s anxiety, though not disappearing, was softened. Joe would be back soon bringing Odilie with him, he told himself.

  He had just accepted a fifth glass of wine when Wattie Thompson popped up by his side with a knowing look on his face.

  ‘Canny,’ he whispered, looking at his old friend through his professorial glasses. ‘Canny, where’s your lassie?’

  Canny gazed casually around as if Odilie had been merely mislaid somewhere in the crowd. ‘She’s coming, Wattie. She’s coming, of course,’ he said affably.

  His assumption of ease and lack of anxiety deceived the Professor. ‘So you know about her being at the jumping then?’ he asked in tones of amazement.

  Odilie’s father’s poise slipped. ‘Jumping? What jumping?’

  Thompson beamed. ‘I’ve just seen your lassie all dressed up like a bondager over at the horse jumping,’ he said, lowering his voice and looking around shiftily as he spoke.

  Canny heaved a sigh of relief. If that was all he didn’t really care. ‘Of course, I should have guessed she’d go there. She’s mad on horses. Joe’ll find her because he’ll look beside the horses first. He knows her as well as I do.’ He took another swig of champagne and beamed happily at Thompson but a restraining hand was laid on his arm.

  ‘He’ll not find her there now – I sent her home. But by God, Canny, you shouldn’t let her take such chances. Even though she’s a fine horsewoman she could have broken her neck jumping out there against those cutthroats of gypsies. She gave a great display though, I’ll say that for her. The crowd loved it.’

  Canny gaped at him. ‘Broken her neck? How? The crowd loved it – what crowd?’

  Thompson was thoroughly enjoying himself. ‘Man, don’t you know! Your girl won the jumping contest. She beat that good-looking gypsy laddie, the one to whom I offered ten pounds to come to Edinburgh for my anatomy class. What a physical specimen! But that’s another matter altogether.’

  Canny shook his head to clear the ringing from his ears. ‘She did what?’ He still couldn’t believe what he was hearing. At that moment Joe entered the tent looking solemn and shaking his head. Canny reeled and the bearer of the astonishing news was gratified by the way his tidings had been received for he liked causing a sensation, especially back home in Lauriston. He bent nearer to Canny’s ear and whispered urgently, ‘Listen to what I’m saying. Your girl won the gypsy jumping contest. She cleared nearly six foot on a chestnut mare and she was all dressed up as a bondager so I didn’t recognise her at first but it was her right enough. The gypsies are as mad as wasps about it – especially the women.’

  Thompson stood back smiling, remembering the look on the face of the girl in the red shawl as she gazed after Odilie Rutherford. But now he found he was speaking to an empty space for his schoolfriend was bustling towards the tent flap wi
thout so much as a goodbye.

  When Odilie reached home she only had time to hand over her horse to the waiting grooms and hurry across the courtyard to the house before her father appeared with Joe driving their gig at a furious pace. Canny’s face was scarlet and he was puffing like a grampus so she looked extremely guilty when she saw him advancing towards her.

  ‘Papa, sit down. Don’t get so excited, it’s not good for you,’ she cried.

  ‘Not good for me! You’ll be the death of me! Thompson’s in the Duke’s tent talking about you winning some jumping contest and you’re here cool as a cucumber telling me not to get excited. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.’

  She folded her hands in a beseeching attitude and looked over her father’s shoulder at Joe, whom she could see was vastly amused by what had happened. ‘Yes, I admit it. I did win the jumping. I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d mind. It was all on impulse. I knew the mare could do it. But no one knew who I am. Look how I’m dressed.’ She held out the striped working skirt with one hand.

  ‘My God, does that make it better? Thompson knew you quick enough and his tongue’s wagging already,’ cried her father.

  Odilie tried soothing him. ‘But he’s the only one. Surely if you ask him to keep quiet, he will. I’m sorry, Papa. I promise that for the rest of the Fair I’ll be such a lady that you’ll hardly know me. I promise I won’t let you down from this minute on.’

  She walked up and put her arms around his neck, kissing him on the cheek. Canny visibly melted and his thunderous expression became more benign. ‘Oh Odilie, why don’t you think first before you do things? I’m afraid you’ve taken after me in that respect. Oh heavens bless us, how are we going to stop this whole town hearing about all your doings before nightfall?’

  She stepped back a little from him with her eyes dancing. ‘But I won, Papa, didn’t I? You should have seen that contest – you’d have been so proud. The mare jumped like a bird. What a feeling it was – I thought I was flying.’ Her voice was ecstatic.