Watch the Wall, My Darling
Page 29
He was as good as his word. Christina had refused even to dismount, pleading that remounting would be too much to bear. “Besides, something tells me I’m best out here, in the dark.”
It seemed hardly any time that she sat her tired horse, exhausted herself, but inexpressibly content. Then Ross was back, with Trevis full of anxious inquiry at his side. She brushed it away. “There’s nothing wrong with me that a good night’s sleep won’t cure.”
“Gallant!” said Trevis. “At least, thank God, we can send you home by carriage. Here it comes.”
“Now that is good news.” Ross was already beside her, to lift her in one powerful movement from the saddle and carry her over to the carriage that had drawn up beside them.
“There.” He deposited her with loving lack of ceremony on the seat and turned back to Trevis. “You’ll lose no time?”
“We march directly.”
“Good. You’ll let me know—I only wish I could come too.”
“In the morning. And I shall hope for good reports of you, Miss Tretton.”
“Thank you.” The carriage was moving forward at last. Ross’s arm reached out, found her in the darkness and pulled her against him so that her head rested against his shoulder. She let out a little sigh of pure happiness as its current ran strong between them once more. Almost too strong. “Ross?” Her voice was teasing.
“Yes, love?”
“Did you really want to go with Trevis and his men?”
“Well—yes”—the strong arm held her closer than ever—“and no. I would not leave you now for anything in the world—but, I confess I would be relieved to know that that woman had obeyed orders.”
“Madge? What orders?”
“I told her to let the smugglers free when she heard the soldiers coming. It will rather spoil our story if she fails to do so.”
“So it will.” She could not make herself care about it. Her head drooped lower on his shoulder. “What a waste …” She was asleep.
She waked when the carriage stopped, and was vaguely aware of Ross carrying her indoors, of anxious faces, of exclamations, and, above all, of Ross, ruthlessly making his way through the little crowd of excited, questioning women and up the stairs to her room, where he deposited her on her bed. “Sleep well, my love.” Their third kiss—ecstasy—but she could not keep her eyes open. Someone pulled off the shoes Madge had lent her. More exclamations, and Ross’s voice, “In the morning. Leave her in peace now.” Then blessed darkness to plunge fathoms down in sleep.
Waking at last to happiness and broad daylight, she winced as her bruised feet felt the floor, and limped across to the window. The marsh below was awash with sunshine, the sea sparkled, the old house was warm with the feeling of another winter safely over. “It’s spring,” she thought, “and I’m home. And … Ross.” Now, thinking of him, she could not dress fast enough. No time to ring, and wait, and answer Betty’s questions. So much to do today, so much to settle, and through it all, the warm glow of happiness, and Ross.
Now, surely, she heard his voice. But raised in anger, in her grandfather’s room. Ross, angry, today? No time to wince as she forced swollen feet into her softest pair of kid slippers. She opened her door and heard her grandfather’s furious voice:
“This is no time for marrying, for engagements … Pah! I tell you, we’ve lost the Grange!”
“I don’t understand.” This was Ross, calmer now, his voice raised to carry above a babble of female ones. Were they all there then? Greg was hanging about outside the half-open door of her grandfather’s rooms. His anxious face lit up at sight of her. “Miss Christina! He ought to be stopped. He’s had bad news. I’m afraid …”
“Yes. I can hear.” Greg stood aside and she crossed the room to put a gentle hand on her grandfather’s shoulder as he made to rise from his chair, his own hands shaking on the cane he used to steady himself. “Don’t, Grandfather. It’ll be all right, I promise you.”
“‘All right!’ she says. Because you and Ross are in a fool’s paradise of happiness everything in the world must be rosy. But you’re wrong, girl. I tell you, as I’ve just told them, we’ve lost the Grange. Here, read it if you don’t believe me, and mock me if you must.” He pushed a letter into her hand. “But I say again, I’d a right to do what I wished with my own. It’s not my fault if it’s all gone wrong. How was I to know this cursed war would drag on forever? We’re ruined, I tell you, ruined.”
“Don’t, Grandfather.” She could feel him shaking under her steadying hand. “Aunt Tretteign, hush! There’s no need for hysterics. Sophie, fetch Grandfather his pills.”
“No! I tell you, I want to die. All my life I’ve worked for the Grange, loved it, lived for it when none of you thought of anything but yourselves, and now—this. I’ll not live to see it go.”
“But, Grandfather, it’s not going. Here, for my sake, take your pill, drink this and listen to me.”
“What do you mean, it’s not going? Can’t you read, girl?” But he took the pill in his shaking hand and swallowed it with a little of the water she held for him.
“It looks bad, I agree.” She dropped the letter carelessly on a side table. “But I promise you, it’s not so bad as it looks. Do you feel better now? Can you stand another shock—a pleasant one, I hope you’ll think it?”
“What do you mean?” His voice was easier. She had contrived, as she intended, to lower the tension in the room.
“That I’ve a confession to make.” Her eyes met Ross’s across the room. “I had meant to tell Ross first, since it concerns him. You’ll forgive me, Ross?”
“Anything.”
“Well then.” It was oddly difficult to say it now. “Grandfather, you must forgive me too. You see, I promised Father. He … he wanted, more than anything for me to be happy. He said that to be sure, to be safe, I must come and live here for six months before I told you.”
‘Told me what, girl?” He was beginning to shake again. She must make it quick.
“Grandfather, that I’m rich, quite dreadfully rich. Will you forgive me?”
“I don’t understand.” He had aged appallingly since she saw him last. “Rich? You can’t be. How?”
“D’you remember how Father used to go off to Battle to work in the iron mines there?”
“Of course I do! Quite unsuitable for a Tretteign, and so I told him. But what’s that to the purpose?”
“Just this.” There was no way she could sweeten it for him. “After Mother went, he gave up trapping. I don’t think he could bear it any more, alone in the wilds. I’m sorry, Mother.” Their eyes met in friendly comprehension across the room. “He went down to Pennsylvania. And, Grandfather, he discovered an iron mine. When he died he was one of the richest men in the Union. It’s all right, Grandfather. We can pay off this”—a light tap made the letter unimportant—“buy back the land you’ve had to part with—we’ll still be dreadfully rich. I don’t entirely understand about iron, but it seems to be excessively important.”
“It’s important all right.” This was Ross. “Have you still control, Chris?”
“Through my man of business. Yes. You must advise me what I should do.”
“Wash your hands of the lot of us!” Violently. “You’re an heiress. What should you be doing here?”
“Ross! I came home, don’t you understand?” And I met you on the marsh. But don’t say that. Just give him time.
“He’s right” Explosively from the old man. “What have we done for you, that you should spend your fortune on the Dark House?”
“Taken me in. Liked me a little, I hope. Don’t you see—I came here, an American, a stranger. Now—I knew it when I thought I might never see it again—the Dark House is my home. It doesn’t matter what you say, Grandfather, we’re going to keep it. If we can keep the iron mine, too, so much the better, but what’s an iron mine compared to the Dark House?”
“But—for me? I can’t let you.” He was shaking again.
“I didn’t say for
you.” She had thought hard about his. Her eyes appealed to Ross for understanding. “For all of us, the Tretteigns. You made Ross and me get engaged, remember, back before Christmas, because you wanted an heir for the Grange. Well, we save the Grange … for the heir.”
“Well I’ll be damned,” said Ross. For a moment his eyes met hers, angry and challenging. Then, deliciously, like sunshine, laughter crept into them. “Chris.” He came across the room to her. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” But his arm was around her again, warm as sunlight, warm as happiness.
“Oh, I am.” She raised her face to his. “Forgive me, Ross?”
“Well …” Slowly, as his head bent to hers. “What else can I do?”
“Upon my soul,” said Mrs. Tretteign, “I was never so shocked in my life.”
A Note on the Author
Jane Aiken Hodge was born in Massachusetts to Pulitzer prize-winning poet, Conrad Aiken, and his first wife, writer Jessie McDonald. Hodge was 3 years old when her family moved to Great Britain, settling in Rye, East Sussex, where her younger sister, Joan, who would become a novelist and a children’s writer, was born.
From 1935, Jane Hodge read English at Somerville College, Oxford University, and in 1938 she took a second degree in English at Radcliffe College in Massachusetts. She was a civil servant, and also worked for Time magazine, before returning to the UK in 1947. Her works of fiction include historical novels and contemporary detective novels. In 1972 she renounced her United States citizenship and became a British subject.
Discover books by Jane Aiken Hodge published by Bloomsbury Reader
at www.bloomsbury.com/JaneAikenHodge
A Death in Two Parts
Greek Wedding
Leading Lady
Polonaise
Rebel Heiress
Strangers in Company
Wide Is the Water
Last Act
Red Sky at Night Lovers’ Delight
The Winding Stair
Watch the Wall, My Darling
Whispering
For copyright reasons, any images not belonging to the original author have been
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This electronic edition published in 2014 by Bloomsbury Reader
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First published in Great Britain in 1966 by Fawcett Publications
Copyright © 1966 Jane Aiken Hodge
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eISBN: 9781448213979
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