Runaway

by Marie-Louise Jensen

  Lord Rutherford moved over to make room and the man climbed up beside him. I stood behind them rigid with horror. I was now absolutely certain I’d been recognized in London and this man had come after me. So far he hadn’t so much as glanced at me, but I dreaded the moment he did. Through a haze of fear, their conversation reached me. ‘So how is our matter going on, Johnson?’ Rutherford was asking.

  ‘I’ve done as you instructed, my lord. I’m afraid the business hasn’t prospered so far. But I’m hopeful there may be some better news soon.’

  ‘That’s capital! I look forward to hearing more. You will dine with us, of course?’

  ‘Your lordship is too kind.’

  We reached the yard and Lawrence reined in the horses. Feeling as though I was caught in a nightmare, I jumped down and ran to the horses’ heads. The magistrate, or Johnson, whoever he really was, climbed down from the chaise and reached up to assist Lord Rutherford. As he did so, his eyes met mine and I knew that he knew me; that he’d expected to see me. His eyes were as hard as stones.

  I watched the three men walk off together. The most insane conjectures ran wild through my mind. How did they all know one another? Were they plotting together? What kind of scheme was this? I’ve done as you instructed. Could Lord Rutherford be implicated in my father’s death? And what of Lawrence? Good to see you! he’d said. An appalling thought struck me. What if it was Lawrence who had told him to follow me here? Had all his sympathy and kindness towards me been a lie? But what about last night? I shivered, my mind in turmoil.

  ‘Come, Charlie, don’t stand around!’ called Steele impatiently. ‘We have a team to see to!’

  I set to work in a daze. Numbly, I helped unhitch the team and lead the horses away one by one. I ran to change out of my livery, hanging it carefully on a hook on the wall before racing back down to help groom the four horses.

  I glanced at Belle’s box as I worked, but she wasn’t looking out over her half-door at me. I longed to run straight over and check on her. Her warm, comforting presence would help soothe my worst terrors. I also wanted to reassure her that I wasn’t going to let them hurt her. Terror for myself had not made me forget Belle’s danger for an instant.

  My last horse stabled at last, I ran to Belle’s box. But as I unlatched the door, I realized the box was empty. ‘Where’s Belle?’ I cried out, fearing the worst at once. ‘Where have they taken her?’

  ‘Belle?’ asked Steele, bemused. ‘Why, she’s there, in her … Oh!’

  Losing all sense of my proper place, I grasped his arm and shook it. ‘Have they shot her? Have they! Tell me at once!’

  ‘Shot her? No! Why would they?’ asked Steele, astonished. He shook himself free of my hand. ‘Have you lost your mind, Charlie?’

  ‘But where is she?’ I demanded.

  ‘Bridges has been in charge of the yard this afternoon while I took Storm to the farrier. Let’s ask him. He’s in the tack room.’

  ‘Belle?’ Bridges asked bewildered. ‘Isn’t she in her box?’

  ‘Her saddle is missing!’ I said, pointing to the empty space on the wall where the side-saddle normally hung. I looked across and saw that the hook for the bridle was also empty. Relief swept through me. It didn’t seem likely that anyone would have saddled and bridled a horse to shoot it. She must have been taken out. But there was only one person who would have taken the side-saddle.

  ‘Has Miss Judith ridden her out?’ I demanded. ‘Belle is not fit enough to be ridden! Her eye!’

  Bridges looked concerned. Steele’s eyes were running along the walls. ‘Two saddle-bags are missing,’ he said, indicating an empty shelf. He looked back at us. ‘Why would she take saddle-bags? Has she run away for real this time? How did this happen?’

  Bridges sank his head in his hands with a groan. ‘She sent me up to the lodge about two hours ago with a message for Mrs Saunders … And like a fool, I fell for it! If she’s eloped, I’ll never forgive myself.’

  ‘Charlie, run across to the house and ask them to give an urgent message to his lordship and to Mr Lawrence,’ ordered Steele. ‘They’ll want to send out a search party. Ask if … ’

  He was interrupted by a sudden clattering of hooves in the yard. We all rushed to the door hoping to see Miss Judith on Belle, both of them safe and sound. But Belle came cantering into the yard without a rider, stirrups flying loose, banging her sides. Her eyes were wild and she was lathered in sweat. Red-flecked foam dripped from her bleeding mouth and the reins dangled, broken.

  ‘Dear God, what’s happened?’ cried Bridges hoarsely.

  ‘That dratted girl … !’ said Steele. He shut his mouth hard on the unwise words and stepped forward to catch Belle’s bridle. Startled at his approach, she dodged him, reins flying.

  ‘Let Charlie catch her,’ called Bridges. ‘She trusts Charlie! Ben, you run to the house! Tell them Belle’s come back riderless and we think it was Miss Judith as took her out!’

  ‘Blimey!’ exclaimed Ben, running off at once, leaving the carriage horse he was grooming. I walked slowly towards Belle, speaking softly to her, but she was badly frightened and skittered away from me as she had from Steele. It took me ten minutes to catch her, and by that time Ben was back.

  ‘We’re to get horses ready for a search,’ he said.

  ‘Ride Merlin up to the lodge,’ Steele ordered him. ‘We need to know if she went that way.’

  As Ben clattered out of the yard on Merlin, I stroked Belle soothingly and tethered her ready for grooming. I was still shaking with the double shock of seeing that man walking boldly up to the house and finding Belle missing.

  I worked steadily, gently washing Belle’s hurt mouth, reapplying ointments to her injured face, then rubbing her down, calming both of us a little in the process. I urgently needed to decide what I should do, but my mind still wasn’t working rationally.

  ‘That’s enough on Belle now, Charlie,’ Steele told me, breaking in on my thoughts. ‘Stable her!’

  I did as I was told and, from the gloom of her box, I watched Ben come back with no news and Lawrence arrive in the yard. I didn’t show myself. I no longer trusted anything he’d ever said to me.

  Lawrence rode straight off on Caspar, who was saddled and waiting for him, to search for Miss Judith. He took the route towards the Bath while Steele rode in the direction of Bristol. Bridges set out to search the rides across the downs. It was all panic and bustle. Once they had all departed, an uneasy peace fell and I could draw breath at last. I carried Belle’s muddied saddle and bridle into the tack room, where Ben was working.

  ‘How do we repair this?’ I asked Ben, holding up the broken rein. It felt unreal to be discussing everyday things. Ben looked at the rein.

  ‘Fetch me the box off the shelf up there and I’ll do it,’ he said. ‘I daresay Miss Judith will want to replace it. You won’t catch her riding with patched-up tack! But it’ll do for now.’

  As I lifted the box down from the shelf, I experienced a spell of dizziness and nausea so acute that I almost fainted. My hands, suddenly numb, lost their grip, and I dropped the box on the floor. It burst open, showering needles, threads, awls, finger guards, and other equipment all over the floor of the tack room.

  I sat down heavily on a bench, my head clutched in my hands, gasping for breath as the dizziness gradually receded.

  ‘You all right, Charlie?’ asked Ben. He squatted down beside me, one hand on my shoulder, looking up into my face. ‘You look as sick as a parrot!’

  ‘I’ll be well enough in a moment,’ I managed to say. Everything was slowly coming back into focus. I could see the mess I’d made. ‘It’s just the shock on top of all these days of heat, I think.’

  Ben looked sympathetic and began to gather up the things I’d spilled. ‘Lid’s broke,’ he observed. ‘They’ll take it out your wages.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ I responded wearily. There would be no more wages for me in any case. My time here was done. But what could I do about Belle? I couldn’t run a
way, leaving her here to be shot.

  I sat watching Ben fit the broken ends of the rein into the small stitching pony that protruded from the wall like a small wooden arm. Carefully, he made holes with an awl ready to stitch the leather back together. As I watched, my mind cleared and it struck me there was a solution that solved all my troubles in one blow: Belle. I could escape on Belle.

  Why had this not occurred to me before? I knew the answer to that. It would be theft. The fact that she was sentenced to death would not weigh with a judge. If I were caught with a valuable stolen horse, I would hang for the crime. I already knew that I was going to do it anyway. I had to run away. If I were to take Belle with me, it would have to be by day while the stable yard was unlocked; in fact, it had to be right now.

  Ben had threaded up two needles and was pushing them through the leather in an experienced manner, stitching the torn pieces back together. ‘Feeling better?’ he asked with a glance at me.

  ‘Yes, thank you. Ben, I’ve suddenly remembered something.’ I got to my feet.

  ‘Course,’ Ben shrugged. ‘Off you go. Don’t worry ’bout leaving me with all the work.’

  I summoned up a grin for him. Running to the stables, I grabbed my satchel from the cupboard it was stored in and snatched up my blanket and my cloak. I retrieved my father’s papers and ring from their hiding place thinking of the address inscribed on my father’s note to me: Henry Palmer, Sea View Cottage, Studland, Dorset. Henry was a good friend. He would be willing to help me for old times’ sake. Well, now at last I would go to him.

  With the papers tucked inside my shirt, I emerged into the yard. I was in luck. Ben was heading to the latrines. With everyone else out looking for Miss Judith, the yard was deserted.

  Dropping my bulging bag into Belle’s box, I slipped quietly into the tack room, picked up Belle’s newly repaired bridle and an old saddle. I also picked up a halter, a leading rope and a bag of oats. It was a long way to Dorset from South Gloucestershire.

  Belle seemed surprised to be saddled again so soon, but was patient and co-operative with me. I slipped the bit very gently into her sore mouth. ‘I’m sorry, Belle,’ I whispered. ‘Believe me, the alternative is worse.’

  The yard was still empty as I emerged, leading Belle to the mounting block. I’d just climbed into the saddle and was adjusting my stirrups when Ben emerged from the latrines and stared at me on Belle’s back.

  ‘What you doing?’ he asked, puzzled.

  ‘I’ve had an idea where Miss Judith might be,’ I said, improvising hurriedly. ‘I’m going to look for her.’

  Ben’s eyes ran over the full satchel slung on my back and his face went so pale his freckles stood out. ‘No, you’re not! You’re cutting your stick. Charlie, they’ll hang you if you go an’ steal that horse! And likely as not me too, for letting you do it!’

  I leaned down and grasped his shoulder. ‘Ben, they’re shooting her in the morning.’

  Ben looked from me to Belle, his face a picture of shock and indecision. ‘They’d never … ?’

  ‘They will. I heard Lord Rutherford himself say so. I’ve gone looking for Miss Judith, remember? Or better still, you didn’t see me at all. Take care!’

  I urged Belle forward and we trotted briskly under the archway and out of the yard. I followed the carriageway a short distance up the hill, hoping there were no eyes watching me from the house, then struck out across the park, avoiding the lodge house. I was distressed to leave without a word to Mr and Mrs Saunders … my grandparents. My sudden disappearance would be a new grief to Mrs Saunders. There were still so many questions unanswered about my connection to them and to Deerhurst. However, I couldn’t take the risk of saying farewell. Perhaps I would never know the truth now.

  Belle cantered across the smooth turf to the edge of the park. There we passed through a gate and struck out southwards, leaving both the house and our old lives behind us for ever.

  It was almost dark when I pulled Belle up in a small wood miles from Deerhurst. She’d kept going valiantly with only short breaks to drink from a stream or mill-pond, but she was flagging now.

  Concealed among the trees, I unsaddled her and wiped her damp hide down with a cloth, praising her efforts. She’d barely recovered from Miss Judith’s savage beating and I’d asked a great deal of her.

  ‘This is to save you, you beautiful, brave-hearted horse,’ I told her, patting her neck. She nosed me wearily and I remembered the oats in the saddle-bag. Dipping my cupped hands into them, I held some up for her to eat, which she did eagerly.

  I covered her with my blanket and tethered her loosely to a tree, leaning against her warm body in the darkness. It seemed unreal that we had run away together. Like a dream. Perhaps I would wake up tomorrow in Belle’s stable at Deerhurst and all would be well. How I wished that could be so.

  ‘There’s no one I’d rather run away with than you,’ I assured her.

  An image of Lawrence rose in my mind, his hazel eyes looking into mine, but I pushed it firmly away. I was very afraid he was not the person I’d thought him. And even if he should be innocent of all blame, there was no possible future for the two of us together. I must try to put him out of my mind and be glad that I’d escaped and saved both my own life and Belle’s.

  I woke in the night, cold and stiff from sleeping on the ground, to the sound of Belle grazing beside me. She was cropping the grass hungrily with little tearing sounds. I opened my eyes and saw her head close to mine, little clouds of steam around her nostrils. It was the first cool night in weeks. I sat up and yawned, wishing I’d thought to bring food for myself as well as for Belle. It was time to move on.

  After that first afternoon, we rode through the night to avoid being seen. I was too distinctive a figure, a working boy astride a valuable horse. Anyone spotting us might well remember me if asked, and I didn’t want that. So we used the darkness as cover and slipped unseen through countryside and villages.

  Belle was tired the first night so I rode her slowly, picking our way through woods and across fields, avoiding the roads wherever I could. Every now and then, I would join a road to pick up my bearings, then I would leave it again for the onward ride.

  I risked leaving Belle tethered in a copse on the second day while I went into a small market down to purchase a map and food for us both. I was terrified all the time I was gone that she would be discovered or even stolen, but thankfully she was waiting for me, ears pricked eagerly, when I returned. I hugged her in relief and fed her the carrots I’d bought for her.

  We found an empty barn to hide in for the day. I slept a few hours and then we moved onwards before dusk, riding with the setting sun on our right. Belle was alert and willing, perked up by the oats I’d fed her and by the day’s rest.

  Jumping a small hedge into a field, we almost landed on a fox on the far side. Startled, the fox leapt away from us and disappeared into the hedge with a flash of his white tail. Belle threw up her head and whinnied indignantly. I laughed for the first time since our mad flight began.

  Belle’s injuries were healing and she was growing leaner and fitter day by day. As I stroked her neck and shoulder, I felt the firm muscles bunched under the skin. Her stride grew in power and speed as we covered the long miles.

  As the nights passed, Belle grew to understand and interpret the lightest command from me, changing speed and direction fluently. She was a joy to ride: calm, trustworthy, and willing. The flow of communication passed unspoken between us. I knew when she tired and I eased the pace at once. She sensed when I was anxious and moved more quietly or more swiftly in response. Once, as we hid in a copse from some men who’d frightened me, she stood as still as a carved statue, not twitching so much as a nostril, until I breathed freely again and told her with a pat that they had gone and we might move on.

  ‘You’re a queen among horses, Belle, my beauty,’ I told her, feeding her oats from my cupped hands after a long night’s ride. In reply, she blew down her nostrils into the oats, shower
ing them onto the grass. I laughed, letting her eat them from the ground instead, nibbling the fresh summer grass at the same time. I leaned my head against her shoulder and sighed. ‘We’ve escaped,’ I told her. ‘We’re well and truly away from Deerhurst. All we have to do now is conceal ourselves so they never, ever find us.’

  The following evening, Belle woke me at dusk, nuzzling my face and blowing her sweet, grass-scented breath over me. I opened my eyes, fending her off, realizing I’d overslept. Belle nudged me forcefully, as if telling me to get up and resume our usual routine. I sat up, yawned, and stretched. Once more I was grubby and probably smelly, if only I knew it.

  ‘When we reach our destination, I shall bathe in the sea,’ I promised myself aloud. ‘And you can see how you like the salt water too!’ I told Belle. ‘Not far now.’

  I prayed I would find Henry where my father’s note told me, and that he would be willing to help us. No matter how carefully I’d watched my small store of coins, they’d diminished frighteningly quickly on the journey. The few items of food I’d bought for us had cost far more than I’d expected. I squared my shoulders and pushed the anxiety away. No point worrying until I was sure there was a need.

  That night we climbed some high downs under cover of darkness. Belle took the slope steadily, pacing herself, but towards the top she was pulling hard, puffing with effort. I slipped out of the saddle, pulled the reins over her head and walked beside her. The grass was sparkling with dew in the moonlight. There was a chill in the air and I could tell the long summer was drawing to a close.

  We reached the top of the down where the wind was fresh. At long last I could smell the sea. I breathed deeply, excited, knowing we were close to our destination now. A few steps more and the ground sloped away ahead of us, the view of the distant sea bursting upon us, shining vast and silver in the moonlight.

  I halted and Belle stopped beside me as I gazed down at the English Channel, drinking in the beauty of the silvery sea. The landscape spread out at our feet was so different to Deerhurst; the hillsides were criss-crossed with dry-stone walls and dotted with sheep, the grass was rough and interspersed with dark gorse. Belle stirred restlessly beside me. When I didn’t respond she butted me.