The Heir to Evercrest Hall

by Andrea M. Theobald

  “It is on the Davenport property, but you’ll have to go under the bridge and follow the sheep trail around for a bit,” replied Vera.

  I looked beyond the willow trees, where their branches lazily caressed the water flow, where one could make out the underbelly of the stone bridge.

  “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Jenny started to put on her clothes.

  “You have to climb over a high wall, though,” said Vera, looking down at Jenny’s belly.

  “I don’t know about trespassing. What if we get caught?” I said, distracting Vera’s comment. The thought of meeting Davenport while stealing his fruit caused me great anxiety.

  “That woman will be too busy lording over the servants and taking care of her grown-up charge; and he, well, he’ll be too busy living in his fairy tale world to notice what’s happening on his property,” replied Vera.

  “Don’t say that about him.” I was surprised to be acting in Albert Davenport’s defense. “You can’t tell what he’s like unless you’ve met him.”

  “Everyone knows he’s mad, and his sister too, because madness runs in the whole family.”

  “I’m not hearing this.” I tugged on my dress. Without thinking, I put on my locket, forgetting to tuck it into my bodice; I was too annoyed that Vera judged a person based on hearsay alone.

  Vera laughed. “Aw! It sounds like someone here has the fancies for ‘is lordship.”

  “Let’s go and get something to eat,” said Jenny, leaving us behind.

  Our plan of attack was to invade the Davenport property—unseen, of course—and use the two sacks we had used for carrying our lunch for food collection. I had decided to throw caution to the wind and take on the mutual thought of my friends. Why not? The fruit would go to waste; no one would be the wiser if a few apples disappeared.

  The wall was just as Vera had said—big. It was designed to be high enough to prevent animals from sneaking off the property between the bridge arch and the water’s edge. The obstacle was easily negotiated with the help of each of them aiding the other; the last one, that being me, getting pulled up by Vera.

  The lay of the land from that point meant no one could see us if we stuck close to the edge of the river. For several minutes, we continued walking like that until we rounded a bend, and that was when we saw the gentle upward rise of a bank coated with thick blackberry bushes; higher still, and lording over the delicious gems, a beautiful, flourishing red apple tree.

  “How did you find out about this? You’ve never been one to keep secrets from us before.” I arched an eyebrow at Vera.

  “My brother got a new job as an assistant to one of the farm managers. He told me of this place just the other day.”

  “Billy?”

  “Yes, Jenny, our Billy,” said Vera smartly.

  Jenny furrowed her brow. “He never told me that he’d started work there.”

  “Sometimes a man doesn’t like to expose too much of himself,” remarked Vera, her voice trailing to a mutter, “if he hasn’t done so already.” Tossing her head aside, she added, “And he’s working here, not there!”

  Jenny gave her a hateful stare while Vera regarded her back with a smug face.

  “Come on, old ladies, let’s hurry up and get picking.” I climbed up the bank.

  Before long, we munched away on apples and had packed the sack high enough to take easy turns carrying it home; still, that was not enough. The smaller sack was going to be used for the berries.

  “Aunt will love these for baking pie,” I said with a mouthful of berries. Vera and Jenny, on hearing “pie” immediately squatted and picked enthusiastically.

  There was a sudden thudding sound that interrupted our relaxed chatter and the occasional “ouch” that came with blackberry thorns. We all stopped picking.

  Vera tilted her head to one side. “Is that thunder?”

  We searched the sky for dark clouds, but it was of hazy blue. Then it became apparent that we did not have to give her a reply—the masculine voices shouting had us instantly ducking, so our heads were beneath the brambles. To my dismay, four cantering horses came to a standstill beneath the trees on the top of the opposite bank. Like still life, the three of us stared as the well-dressed riders dismounted and then tethered their horses to the thick, low-lying branches. There was laughter and teasing as they casually shed their clothes toward the river.

  “Oh, my lord, they’re as bare as newborns,” said Vera, interrupting the stillness about us.

  “Shush!” Jenny hissed.

  The men tender-footed it over the river stones and followed each other into the waters. The last of the men I recognized as the heir to Evercrest, Albert Davenport. He cried at his friends to stop splashing him, and to his side was a large shaggy-haired wolf-hound excitedly jumping about.

  Jenny exclaimed, “Look at the size of it.”

  Vera said, “You’re disgusting.”

  “I meant the dog, stupid!”

  Rather than tell the two girls to “shut up” I was secretly in awe of the human form, for never had I seen a naked man before, although I was in a household full of males.

  Davenport leaned forward, and with one swift movement, he hardly disturbed the water as he disappeared into its depths. For a time the men splashed about, ducking underneath the water, pulling one another down playfully, acting like typical young lads, while the dog swam about the group with a piece of wood in its mouth. Tiring of that, the men raced each other across to the river’s edge before dragging and sprawling out their glistening bodies onto the grass, unaware that directly above them, in the shadows of blackberry bushes, was a trio of females all riveted in stone silence.

  “Well, lads, we’ll have to seek out some female refreshments this evening. It’s like a bloody abbey down at Davvie’s.” I noticed it was the man Wilson, the one who had jested to Davenport about talking to a serf. He was handsome in shape and form, and no doubt the type who knew it. I noticed he acted like the group leader whereas Davenport was more subdued than the rest.

  “Perhaps we could dress up as commoners and go down to the village,” suggested the tall and lanky man. “See what there is on offer in the way of les femmes.”

  “I’d rather stick to my own kind,” said the shorter, podgy one of the bunch.

  “I could ask my brother for his naval uniform,” said Wilson.

  “Haven’t you already taken enough from him, you mean devil,” cried Tall-and-Lanky with a bout of laughter.

  “Yes, and being the first in line, I like to remind him of it.” Wilson turned to Davenport. “Well, Davvie. Are you in for a bit of subterfuge to lure the girls out to play, just like the good ole days?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Oh, come now. You could dress up as a footman and have some fun. Your aunt won’t find out the uniforms have gone amiss.” Wilson looked away at the frowning Davenport and toward his two other colleagues. “Did you know he met up with a pretty thing the other week; some peasant creature. It is just a matter of finding out where she lives and perhaps there might be a sister or two requiring our services.” Wilson turned back to face Davenport, who had not lost his frown.

  “The disgusting pig,” I wanted to yell down as the three men laughed. I was relieved to see Davenport had remained silent.

  “What is her name?” asked Tall-and-Lanky.

  “Her name is of no importance to you,” replied Davenport.

  “Oh, come on, man.” Wilson slapped Davenport hard on the bare back. “Why get precious about her? You looked like you were enjoying her company.”

  “He doesn’t want us to know, because he doesn’t want competition,” said Podgy.

  Davenport retorted, “She does not come from around these parts. She was only here on holiday. Now she is gone, end of story. If you lads want to go out and find female company, by all means, do so. I shall not join you, because I have much to do at home.”

  Swiftly changing the subject, Wilson asked, “Where is your sister
? I was hoping to bump into her.” The two other men giggled. Wilson frowned at them. “Not like that, you brutes.” Turning back to Davenport, he repeated his question.

  “She is abroad being trained in the graces of how to become a lady,” replied Davenport, not bothering to give anyone eye contact.

  “Why of course!” exclaimed Wilson, looking about at the other men. “Your aunt has not been fruitful at beating the feral streak out of her niece, so she has sent her off to the strict Germans. Or,” Wilson paused, “there is another reason for sending her away.” The three men broke out in laughter.

  “That’s enough,” yelled Davenport. He climbed to his feet and marched toward the water’s edge. Before he left the soft grass to hobble across the river stone he turned about as the dog barked manically up at the bank; his three friends who were reluctantly getting to their feet did the same.

  We had been crouching, listening to the male conversation. Vera had been clumsy in distributing her weight, when her foot had budged the full-to-the-brim sack, triggering an avalanche of apples downhill through the berry bushes. Jenny and Vera managed to take flight by running along the direction of the wall, leaving the angry shouts of men far behind them, but as I raised to get up, the neckline of my dress snagged; not only that, something tugged at the back of my neck. To my horror, my locket fell deep into the jungle of thorny stems.

  I crouched and extended my arm into the painful thorns, but the locket had fallen just out of reach of my fingertips. Hearing the sound of someone climbing up the bank, I had no option but to abandon my precious keepsake and run.

  “Hey, Davenport, there’s another one!”

  As a child, I had always been a fast runner, even to the extent of outrunning many of the older boys. Yet, in spite of discovering a speed that I never thought I had, I could not separate myself from the swift footfalls behind, and they sounded as if they were closing in fast.

  Instead of following the wall toward the bridge, which the girls had done, I aimed for the forest of large, antiquated oak trees, hoping this would be the shortcut leading me to the secret hole that Alby had once shown me; but just as I reached the tree shadows, sharp teeth wrapped around my ankle and toppled me like a tree into the spindly grass undergrowth.

  Rolling over slowly, it was only to face the dripping fangs of the dog bearing down over my head, followed by his owner’s command, “Max, leave her alone.” The naked man, with damp hair, stood over me, heaving for breath; his face showed a mixture of anger and surprise. Moments later, his three companions, in order of fitness, came to a halt alongside him.

  “Well, well, well, look what we have here,” said Wilson with his hands on his hips, who was all teeth and wild, manic eyes just like the dog. “It’s a feral creature!”

  “What are you doing on my property?” demanded Davenport.

  I dared not say a thing. In fact, so shocked was I that I pushed my body backward with my feet, creating distance between the nude anatomy that dangled so disgracefully before my eyes, only for all four men to narrow the gap in one step. Sliding backward again, and luck being on my side, my hand pressed down on something hard, and when I dug my fingernails into the ground and about the object, I freed it from its hiding place. I scrambled to my feet, not daring to break eye contact with Davenport.

  “Stay away from me,” I bawled. “If you come one step farther, I shall not hesitate to beat you with this.” The stick was not exactly the best choice. It was about two feet long with a colony of woodlice falling from it.

  “Oh, Davenport, you’ve got a wild one here,” said the tall and lanky man, whose narrow, ugly face looked as if it had been pressed between two solid doors. “You had better be careful, or she will give you a spanking with that there piece of rotten wood.” He sniggered along with Wilson and Podgy.

  Davenport ignored the lads’ behavior at either side of him; with a gentler voice, he asked, “What are you doing on my property?”

  “I got lost that was all. Now kindly let me be on my way, and all of you will be left unharmed.”

  The three men roared with laughter, with Podgy and Tall-and-Lanky letting out obscene bellowing noises.

  “Well, all right then, I shall let you off. I would hate for you to injure us with your weapon of choice,” said Davenport. There was that amused twinkle in his eye as he had had the day I’d fallen off my horse.

  “That is very prudent of you,” I replied, backing warily from the group.

  “Davenport, aw, that is very prudent of you. What a cheek!” cried Podgy.

  I swished the stick back and forth as the men looked about at one another as if reading each other’s minds. They parted ways, panning out, while Davenport remained before me. The men deployed a tactic of cunning, a strategy of the huntsmen to divert the prey’s attention—to surround it, or in this case, me.

  My mind screamed, Run! Run! Run! I whirled about and sprinted, bounding over fallen branches until I met the sunlight. I saw the wall, my escape, my hope of freedom, but suddenly large arms enveloped my shoulders, like a lion bearing down on an antelope, causing my legs to give out beneath me, and the ground to hit me hard.

  I was turned about and pinned down by the weight of a man’s entire body pressed against the full length of mine.

  “There you go, Davenport. I’ll be next,” yelled someone between breaths.

  I wriggled and screamed. The stick was useless now that my capturer had snatched it and tossed it out of the way. I tried to scratch him, but he grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head. His heaving breath was against my face, and his angry gaze bore deeply into mine.

  This was it. I was going to be raped.

  I saw my mother’s face, remembering how she had scratched the arms of the man before he had placed his hands around her neck and muted her cries. Unlike her, I was able to let out an almighty scream.

  “Please don’t,” Davenport said softly; the water from his hair dripped onto my lips; the anger from his face now turned to compassion. “I won’t hurt you.” His voice lowered to above a whisper. “I would never hurt you.”

  “If you don’t want her, I’ll have her,” cried the voice of Tall-and-Lanky.

  “Stand in line like the rest of us.” It was the voice of Wilson.

  Davenport’s face contorted. He relinquished his grip about my hands and pushed himself upward to look over his shoulders at the men. “The three of you are just—” The instant Davenport became distracted, I reached for the hand-sized stone lying to my side, and with one single motion, I caused the weapon to smash against his temple.

  I slid out from beneath the man, who had rolled onto his back and held the side of his head. I was about to be set upon by his friends when I observed the scattered stones all about the place. One-by-one I launched them like cannonballs, getting the men fair and square on their focused body parts. Too much for them to bear, they covered their most sacred areas with their hands. Davenport moved to a seated position and divided his deadpan expression with me throwing stones at his friends and the blood on his hand. Since target practice had been a pastime with him and I, despite the lapse of many years, my skill of excellence had not waned in the least. With another arsenal of stones, this time quickly collected into the convenient scoop of my skirt, the men were forced to retreat, giving me safe passage toward the secret wall access. To my surprise, the stones had been conveniently removed, granting me a quick escape and leaving the argument of whether “the little bitch” should be pursued or not.

  »»•««

  I hadn’t had time to unlatch the gate when the voice of Aunt carried across from the front porch. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, my girl.”

  If I had been a child, Aunt Pam would most certainly have clouted my ear. Instead I walked past her and into the heat of the living area.

  Vera and Jenny were seated side-by-side at the table, each with a cup of tea, before a half-emptied plate of tea cakes.

  “You’ve told her everything, haven’t you?” I
yelled.

  “Now, now; don’t you be hard on them, miss. I’ve already given the young ladies an earful. I want to know what happened to you!”

  “Well, seeing my friends could not report the remainder of what happened, because they were too busy saving their own hides, I was pursued by four naked men.”

  “Naked!” cried Aunt Pam. Her hands automatically clapped each side of her face.

  “Oh, did the young ladies,” I again glared at the two girls, “not care to mention the fact? Well, it happened that we were stealing berries when on the opposite side of the river, arrived four gentlemen.” I said “gentlemen” sarcastically. “We watched hidden in the bushes whilst their lordships disrobed. We would not have been discovered if it hadn’t been for a certain somebody disturbing a large sack of apples.” Vera looked into her teacup when I regarded her with scorn.

  “Oh my, did…did they see you?” Aunt quivered, with palms still glued to her cheeks.

  “Yes, that is why we fled the scene.”

  “No, I mean, did they get a good look at you, Maria?”

  “Yes, they did, and now they will be hunting for me until I’m found.”

  “Oh, dear Lord, did they hurt you?” Aunt Pam’s voice trembled. She looked at the state of my filthy dress, with the rip of fabric near the neckline. “Look at your arms, they’re covered in scratches.” She had a look of terror. “Did they…?”

  “I took a tumble that was all.” I cared to omit the part that a naked man had been lying on top of me; otherwise, I would have been banned from venturing outside the house forevermore. “I was able to escape unharmed. I did not lose my innocence if that is what is concerning you.”

  Aunt Pam let out a huge sigh, taking a seat at the table. “So, you outran them? Thank goodness. I must admit, God gave you the legs to run like a horse.” She blew out her cheeks. “I’m glad they didn’t catch you. If the young man knew who you were…well, he would be quick to have us thrown out for sure.”