Highway Girl

by Valerie Wilding

  I came straight to the point. “I am unused to living by the kindness of others, Lady Anne,” I said, “and I find it very difficult. We Makepeaces have independent spirits.”

  She tried to interrupt, but I continued. “I wish to offer my services in some way, in order to help repay you for my board and lodgings.”

  “Dear cousin Susannah,” she said, “that is unnecessary. We are all glad to be of service to you in your time of need. Your mother was my kinswoman, and I like to think that if dear Juliana had been in need, she would have been offered the same hospitality.”

  The idea of Juliana with my mother made a giggle rise into my throat, but without warning, it turned into a sob.

  “My dear, you are overwrought,” said Lady Anne. “Let us have no more talk of performing services – ah, here is the tea. And Godfrey!Come and join us, sweeting.”

  I smiled at Godfrey, who greeted me warmly. He sat at a small table and emptied his pockets on to it. Acorns, pebbles, a cone, a large seed-head. He’s as bad as the keeper!

  As the maid laid out the cups, I began again, “Lady Anne, if only I could—”

  But she put a finger to her lips. “Pas devant la bonne.”

  I wasn’t surprised she didn’t want me to speak in front of the maid. It wouldn’t do to have a member of the de Gracy family – however distant – talking about performing menial services.

  When the tea was poured, I lifted my cup and sipped. It was vile. Strong and dark. My mother and I rarely drank tea, but when we did it was always golden and fragrant.

  “Mama,” said Godfrey, “I wish you would teach me French. You’re always speaking it, and I don’t understand.”

  She smiled. “My pet, my French may impress you, but it is not good at all. You shall have a French tutor one day, of course you shall.”

  “Me!” I blurted.

  They stared.

  “Me!” I said again. “I could teach Godfrey French. I speak it well. I was taught by my mother. Oh, please, Lady Anne, let me do this. It would be one way I could be of service.” I stopped and looked at Godfrey. “If you wish it, too.”

  He grinned. “Only if you teach me at Keeper’s Cottage!”

  Lady Anne looked appalled. “Not there, Godfrey.”

  “I don’t mind it in the daytime, Mama,” he said, “and I can play with Jack afterwards.”

  And so it was agreed. I left in higher spirits than I’ve been in for a while.

  I also realized that Lady Anne let me go to live in Keeper’s Cottage, when she knew about the so-called ghost. Oh, well, I suppose I did insist.

  April 14th

  Godfrey and I had our first French lesson today. The first word I taught him was, of course, chien! He immediately ran out into the garden calling, “Chien! Chien!” Jack would have followed Godfrey even if he’d called him “Chat”! That seemed to be the end of our lesson, so I went out to play, too. But I will take my duty more seriously next time.

  He took me back with him, because Lady Anne wanted to ask me how his lesson went. I quickly taught him to say Bonjour, Maman and merci, so he could at least greet her and thank her for something.

  Lady Anne commented on my peaky looks, which was hardly tactful of her, I must say. I can see where Godfrey gets his honesty from. But with him it’s charming, from Lady Anne it’s insulting.

  She blamed my recent upheavals and said I probably hadn’t been eating properly lately.

  “I will see that Bid brings you extra good things from the kitchen,” she said.

  More charity. More pity! Just what I do not want.

  April 18th

  I caught my boot heel in my skirt today as I dismounted from Moonbeam, and tore a jagged rent in the material. Oh, men do not realize how lucky they are to be able to move freely.

  I decided Moonbeam could wait for me to sort him out, so I just took off his saddle and bridle. Then I sat mending the skirt without taking it off, and when Bid brought in some knot biscuits, still warm from the oven, she looked at my stitching and tutted, and said she would finish it for me. Well, what she actually said was, “For heaven’s sake, Mistress, keep your hands out of that sewing basket or we’ll all be going round looking like something the keeper’s dragged back in. Oooh!” she added, and ran to touch wood as she realized who – or what – she’d been talking about. We have had better nights lately, and I was annoyed that she’d reminded herself of her ghost!

  I felt fidgety as she sewed, and was about to undo my skirt and step out of it so I could be free, when I heard footsteps on the path, and Godfrey poked his head through the window. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle Susannah!”

  “Bonjour, mon cousin,” I replied. “Entrez!”

  He looked puzzled at that instruction, which I have not yet taught him. I repeated it and beckoned, so he would understand. Now I was glad to be still inside my skirt.

  “Jack didn’t warn us of Master Godfrey coming,” Bid pointed out. “They must be firm friends now.”

  Godfrey was pleased at that. We sat for our lesson until my skirt was mended.

  “Thank you, Bid,” I said. “That’s perfect. You may go now.”

  She curtsied. “Merci, Mistress.” And with a cheeky smile, she was gone.

  Bid is not so dim after all. Perhaps I could teach her to read. What a kindness that would be. And it would fill my hours. I must think about it. I would like to be known as a kind mistress. I cannot be a generous one, as I have nothing to give. But I could give my time.

  April 24th

  I feel the need to see Ned. It has been a long time. I would like to know that he is all right. Whenever I ride out on Moonbeam I look for him, but he has not appeared. I cannot blame him. Sir Roger was most threatening.

  I just hope nothing has happened to him at the Stag’s Head. Surely no one would hurt a poor lame boy?

  April 27th

  I am concerned about Ned. I asked Bid if she had ever been to the Stag’s Head.

  “No, but I seen it, o’ course,” was the reply.

  “Is it far?”

  “Oh, ’tis a good way.”

  “Could you walk there?” I asked casually.

  She looked at me as if I were not quite sane. “Mistress, you can walk anywhere. Just some places takes longer than others, see?”

  I did not speak hastily. I would like to have boxed Bid’s ears for impertinence, but I wanted information. “And is the distance to the Stag’s Head one of the longer ones?”

  “Depends,” she said.

  I just looked at her. “Well,” she said defensively, “if you think it’s a long way to the front gate, then it’s a very long way to the Stag’s Head. But if you think it’s not all that far to – well, to some place I never been to – then it’s not far to the Stag’s Head. See?”

  I laughed. I did see.

  “Could I ride there, Bid? Oh, not that I want to,” I said, seeing the expression on her face. “It would just give me an idea of … of how far…”

  “Someone could ride there,” she said, “but not you, Mistress. You’m not wanting to see that Ned friend of yours, are you?”

  “No,” I lied, and my eyes filled with tears. I blinked them away, but the more I blinked, the wetter my face became.

  “You do!” said Bid. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I can get a message to him, no trouble. Oh, here’s Jack, wanting something to eat. Come on, my handsome.”

  Off she went with my beloved dog. I could have kissed her.

  May 2nd

  I was bundling herbs in the kitchen this afternoon, when Bid, who’d been gazing out of the window on and off, suddenly grabbed my hand and pulled me towards her.

  “Look, Mistress,” she said.

  “What?” There were raindrops from the last shower, still dripping off the roof, but that was all.

  “There! In the trees yonder. Down by the gates.”

  At first I could see nothing, then I noticed a flash of something light. A hand, waving!

  “Ned!” I cried.
r />   Indeed it was, and he was soon at the kitchen table, enjoying a big steaming bowl of Bid’s good pottage.

  “Right tasty this is, Mistress,” he said.

  I smiled. “You have Bid to thank for that.”

  He looked up at her. “Thank you, Bid. Is that really your name?”

  “Sort of,” she said. “It’s short for Biddy, which is short for Bridget, which is my long name. I couldn’t say it when I was little, and I used to say Bid. No one calls me Bridget. They all call me Bid.”

  “And my name is Edward,” said Ned. “But no one calls me that any more.”

  “Then we’re two of a kind,” said Bid.

  I decided to stop this private conversation. “Bid,” I said, “Ned is my good friend, and I am glad to see him. I thank you for sending a message to the Stag’s Head—”

  “Right surprised I was to get it, Mistress Susannah, and I came as soon as I could!”

  “Yes, I’m sure, but let me finish, Ned. Bid, please don’t tell anyone at the house that Ned has been here. I think Sir Roger would be quite unforgiving, and that would make life even lonelier for me.”

  Bid looked as if she’d been struck dumb. I began to think I’d made a dreadful mistake in trusting her. But then she spoke, through tight lips.

  “Mistress Makepeace, I am your servant. You are the only person in Gracy Park what treats me like a yooman being. I would never tell your secrets.”

  She paused for a moment, then whirled round and stamped up the stairs. Ned and I looked at each other.

  “Oh dear,” I said, “I have hurt her feelings.”

  Footsteps stamped down the stairs. Bid stalked into the room and handed me a book. It was bound in softest brown leather, and when I opened the cover, I saw written inside, “Juliana de Gracy”.

  I looked into my maid’s defiant eyes. “Bid, did you…”

  “Did I what, Mistress? Did I steal it? No! I borrowed it. I borrowed it for you. ’Cos I know you likes to read, and I seen you get fed up with that there Bible. I borrowed it for you to read something different. I was going to take it to you next time you went to sit under the apple tree, as a surprise.” She folded her arms. “Now, would I a done that if I was going to tell your secrets?”

  What could I do? I threw my arms round her and hugged her. I am not so alone.

  May 25th

  With Bid’s help, Ned has visited often. He likes his work at the Stag’s Head, and he says Sykes MacPhee and his wife have been truly kind to him. They warn him to be careful of certain customers, and when to stay clear of a group of men huddled together and whispering.

  “What do they whisper about?” I asked.

  “I dunno, Mistress, but there’s one man who comes in regular. He takes the things they’ve stolen and gives them money. Then he fences the stuff – that means he sells it. Lots of the customers look out for him. He even gets free ale. He just calls for a tankard and then glares at Sykes MacPhee until he goes away.”

  I wish Ned didn’t have to work there, but he says no one even notices him, so I mustn’t worry.

  June 2nd

  I am very suspicious. Juliana is being nice to me. Oh, she still looks down her nose, but she is definitely trying to be pleasant. In church yesterday, she kept catching my eye, and nodding. Most peculiar.

  I wonder why.

  June 7th

  I so enjoy my rides out on Moonbeam. Today I was walking him carefully down the steep hillside into the long narrow valley that borders Gracy Park on the west, when I spied Ned walking along the opposite bank of the fast-flowing river.

  “Ned!” I called.

  He looked up, and I swear he saw me. For a moment I thought he was about to wave. But no, he completely ignored me.

  “Ned!”

  He strode on in his bobbing, dipping fashion.

  At first I was livid that he was deliberately ignoring me, for I was sure he was. And then I felt hurt.

  I swung Moonbeam’s head round and headed back uphill. As I did so, I gasped in fear. Although I was facing the sun, I could see, silhouetted against the skyline, a figure on horseback.

  I thought my heart might stop. Should I flee? I had nothing a highwayman would want – just my clothes and my cloak. But then…

  “Sweet Susan!” the figure cried, and the horse moved towards me.

  Now the sun was no longer behind her, I could see Juliana’s thin-lipped face quite clearly. I attempted to smile, but my mouth was so dry that my lips stuck to my teeth.

  “Juliana,” I croaked, eventually.

  “Why, you look as if you have seen a ghost,” she said. “The keeper isn’t worrying you, is he?”

  A lot you’d care if he was, I thought.

  We trotted along, side by side. Juliana glanced at my bunched-up skirts. “Why do you not ride side-saddle?” she asked. “It is so ungainly, to ride astride, like a man.”

  So I’m ungainly, am I?

  “I have a spare side-saddle that I shall send to you,” she said, firmly. “My father would not care to see you ride in this manner, Susan.”

  Nice as she’s being, she still cannot bring herself to call me Susannah.

  “I thank you, cousin,” I said, “but I manage very well with my own saddle.” In truth, Luke offered to lend me a side-saddle, but I chose not to accept. And I did not mention his kindness, for fear of getting him into trouble.

  Juliana was determined to have her own way. “Nonsense,” she said. “Come now, you mustn’t be too proud to take help. After all, you are not in a position to be so, are you?”

  Witch.

  Later

  It is only now that I’ve realized why Ned ignored me. Of course! He’d already seen Juliana, and did not wish me to get into trouble with Sir Roger. For if I had been caught actually talking to Ned, there’s no doubt that Juliana would have gone straight to her father.

  June 9th

  The side-saddle has arrived, and Luke took the trouble to show me how to fit it. When I was small I watched our groom do it often enough, and it is not so different from an ordinary saddle, for goodness’ sake. I have had to learn how to do that.

  I hate the side-saddle already. I do not want anything associated with Juliana near my Moonbeam. I shall not use it.

  June 13th

  Of course I do use the side-saddle. At least, I use it whenever I think I’m likely to meet anyone in Gracy Park. But in the evenings, when the light is beginning to go, and I know they are all indoors, I put the old saddle on Moonbeam and go for a gallop. I do not feel safe even cantering when riding side-saddle. Because you sit that little bit higher, it makes a lot of difference when riding beneath trees. I don’t want a branch to knock my head off!

  However, when I ride astride, I can fly like the wind!

  June 16th

  I find it difficult to concentrate at the moment. Oh, for a magic bird to bring me word from across the ocean that my Dominic has arrived on the shores of the new world; that he is safe. A letter will take as long as his own journey to reach me.

  I must be patient.

  June 18th

  Oh, now I think I see why Juliana’s being nice to me.

  “We are having a neighbour of ours to dine soon,” she said when she met me walking through the orchard this morning. Jack is most intelligent, and knows she dislikes him, so he keeps out of the way. (I expect there are people who feel as Jack does!)

  “He is very rich,” she continued, “so he is very important. You will like him.”

  That felt a little like an order. “Me?” I said. “What have I to do with him?”

  “My mother and father wish you to join us at dinner on the last Saturday of the month.”

  “Me?” I said again.

  “Yes, you, you goose,” she said, with a silly, affected giggle.

  I’m sure her parents would say that Juliana’s giggle is sweet and girlish but, personally, I find it most off-putting. Why is she doing it?

  June 21st

  This afternoon I cal
led Bid in from the garden to clean the curling tongs. She gets them too hot and my hair sticks and breaks off. The smell when she heats them again is revolting. As she took them, Jack barked, and I looked over Bid’s shoulder to see Ned slip through the gates. I ran to meet him and hurried him inside. “Quickly! Juliana and her mother have ridden out to visit friends, and might return at any time.” I was very much afraid they would, as the sky was greying, and we were clearly due for rain.

  I told him about my bad thoughts when I saw him last, and apologized.

  “I would never willingly bring you trouble, Mistress Susannah,” he said, “and I would do all in my power to help you if you did need it.”

  “Oh, Ned, that is so good to hear,” I said. “Isn’t it, Bid?”

  My maid immediately began picking singed hair off the curling tongs. “If you say so, Mistress,” she said with a sniff.

  Now what’s the matter with her?

  Ned was able to stay for a while, as it is his day off. As he and Bid and I drank ale and nibbled cold ham (from Sir Roger’s kitchen), he happened to glance through the window. “Lor, Mistress, look at that weather! It’s coming down like a Dartmoor waterfall!”

  Indeed it was. The sky was dark and threatening. “Ned, you cannot walk all the way to the Stag’s Head in this storm,” I said. “Can he, Bid?”

  “Course not.” She used a taper to light an extra candle. “But it’s late. Even if the storm passes, it’ll soon be proper dark. ’Twill be dangerous being out on the roads.”

  Ned started to protest that he would be fine, but I said, “Bid’s right. You must stay here for the night.”

  Her eyes went as big as boiled eggs! “Here? In this house?”

  “Why not?” I said. “We know him well. He’s hardly likely to murder us as we sleep, is he?”

  “But it’s not proper, Mistress, for you to have a man sleeping here.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Bid, you are here. You are my chaperone. And we have a spare bed – yours. Unless you wish to use it tonight, and sleep alone?”

  She shivered and shook her head violently, making her cheeks wobble. I tried not to laugh, but I couldn’t help it. “Then that’s settled. Ned will stay here. Who knows?” I continued. “He might even catch the keeper’s ghost!”