Eye of the Wind

by Jane Jackson

  Seeing Joe wince and shudder at the crash of a falling tree, and glimpsing Billy bent over behind a bush, Melissa maintained a tactful distance, appearing not to notice pallid faces and hands that shook. It wasn’t difficult with so much on her mind, not least the prospect of seeing Gabriel again.

  Following the direction of Ned’s trembling finger, she led Captain toward the newly felled trees beset by vivid memories: the meal she and Gabriel had shared, and their own private honouring of St Peter’s Tide.

  In the short time she had known him, an unspoken agreement had evolved between them. When they were alone the guarded formality so carefully maintained in the presence of others might be lowered. How this had happened she wasn’t sure. But the ease with which she found herself confiding in him took her aback.

  Rarely conscious of it at the time, it was only at the day’s end, when she lay in bed replaying their conversations, that it would occur to her how freely she had spoken. Then she was shocked at how much she had told him.

  When she saw him with the other men he was as self-effacing as it was possible for a man of his size to be, remaining silent unless directly addressed. Yet when they were alone, though he volunteered little about his past, and virtually nothing of a personal nature, his posture, his speech, and his manner seemed to her to undergo a subtle change.

  There was still constraint – given the difference in their circumstances how could it be otherwise? – but that too altered in a mysterious way, though a barrier remained beyond which she could not see.

  He did not press her to talk. If some of his rare questions might, on other lips, have sounded impertinent, somehow from him they did not. His understanding, when she found herself blurting out her anxieties, was far beyond what she would have expected.

  With his acceptance of responsibility and skilful organizing of men renowned both for their independence and their suspicion of strangers, he must surely have been a great asset to his previous employer. Why then had he left? Why had he gone to France? How had he ended up in prison? What secrets had he known and kept that warranted such dreadful torture?

  Holding Captain while Ned unfastened the chains around the second log of the morning, she was almost knocked backwards when the big shire jerked his head up, ears pricked as he whinnied softly. Trying to ignore the sudden quickening of her heart, she released her breath, kept her face carefully expressionless, and waited, soothing the shire whose tense muscles quivered beneath her unsteady hand.

  A moment later, she heard the thunder of galloping hooves and, glancing round, saw Hocking hurtle into the clearing on Samson. Seeing her, he hauled frantically on the reins, bringing the huge thoroughbred to a skidding halt.

  ‘Miss, you got to get up to the house right away!’ he gasped.

  ‘What is it? Is there a letter?’ Her brother? Her mother?

  Panting for breath, the groom shook his head. ‘Tis your aunts, miss. Mr Lobb done his best, but they say they aren’t leaving till they seen you.’

  She shut her eyes. Oh no. It was too much.

  ‘Give me a moment.’ Her thoughts raced.

  ‘Why has everyone stopped?’ Gabriel demanded, striding from dense undergrowth and wiping his sweating face with his neckerchief.

  ‘Miss is needed at home urgent,’ Hocking explained, throwing himself off Samson’s back and grabbing the bridle as the thoroughbred danced sideways, nostrils flaring, sides heaving like bellows as he mouthed the foam-flecked bit.

  ‘Not bad news, I hope?’

  Melissa grimaced. ‘Unwelcome visitors.’ She turned to the groom. ‘Will you ride behind me?’

  ‘No, miss. That beast don’t like me no more than I like him. Tried to pitch me off twice he did. I’d sooner walk. Bleddy animal,’ he muttered, glaring at the object of his loathing. ‘Go on, don’t you wait for me. Just leave ’un in the stable.’

  Melissa switched her gaze from Samson to the big shire whose bridle she held. ‘But – what about Captain? He’s too strong for John.’

  Handing his axe to Ned, Gabriel strode forward and took the rein from her suddenly nerveless fingers. ‘I’ll drive him. Go home,’ he urged.

  ‘Best not linger, miss,’ Hocking warned. ‘Time’s wasting, and you can’t go in to them looking like that.’

  ‘Yes. No. You’re right.’ Biting her lip, Melissa hurried to Samson, gathered up the reins, and put her mud-caked boot into Hocking’s cupped hands. As she threw her leg over his back the highly-strung thoroughbred sprang forward, scattering the watching men. Giving him his head, she crouched in the saddle and raced back through the wood. If Lobb had sent a message to Hocking to fetch her, surely he would also have had the foresight to guide her aunts into the small parlour, whose windows faced the garden and not the park.

  Shutting Samson – still saddled and bridled – in his stall, she raced across the yard and into the house through a rear door. Wrenching off her filthy boots, she left them on the flagged floor of the passage and sprinted up the back stairs. Sarah was waiting for her with hot water, clean stockings, kid slippers, and a demure black gown.

  Ten minutes later, washed and changed, her hair brushed and pinned into a neat chignon with soft curls fringing her forehead and in front of her ears, Melissa stood in front of the mirror and pressed her hands to shiny glowing cheeks.

  ‘I look like a beetroot!’

  ‘Shall I fetch some of master’s wig powder, miss? That would take off the shine a bit.’

  Melissa shook her head. ‘Aunt Louisa would be bound to notice. She does not approve of cosmetics. In her opinion, one should be neither too proud nor too humble to present to the world whatever complexion one has been blessed with by nature.’

  Sarah snorted. ‘One rule for she, and another for everyone else, is it?’

  ‘Sarah!’ Melissa admonished.

  ‘Well, I aren’t so stupid to believe nature made her hair that colour. I swear each time she come calling ’tis a different shade.’

  Melissa scrutinised her reflection. ‘I must go. I dare not keep them waiting any longer. Do I look all right?’

  Clutching Melissa’s discarded skirt and jacket, Sarah gazed critically at her young mistress. ‘You do look handsome. If you got a bit of colour ’tis no surprise, seeing how you just walked up quick from the park.’

  ‘Yes. Of course!’ Flashing a grateful smile, Melissa hurried out to the landing, and peered over the balustrade. Waiting in the hall below, Lobb glanced up and nodded.

  Running swiftly down the stairs, her slippers silent on the wide, carpeted treads, Melissa paused outside the door of the morning room to square her shoulders and lift her chin. Then, taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

  ‘Aunt Louisa! Aunt Sophie! What a lovely surprise! How kind of you to call again so soon. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to welcome you. It’s such a lovely morning I thought I should get some fresh air. I had planned to go no further than the garden, but when Medlyn told me about the damage, I thought I should take a look.’

  ‘What damage?’ demanded Aunt Louisa, elder and more forceful of the two sisters-in-law, resplendent in black satin with quantities of lace.

  ‘The horse chestnut in the park,’ Melissa replied, her gaze straying involuntarily to that part of her aunt’s elaborate coiffure not hidden by the plumes decorating her hat. Sarah was right. Normally brown, the carefully dressed curls had acquired a definite hint of red. ‘The recent heavy rain has caused a large branch to break off. I understand,’ she plunged on, trusting in her aunt’s total lack of interest in any subject not of her own choosing, ‘that the gales we had in early June have brought down a number of trees in the wood.’

  ‘Indeed?’ her aunt interrupted. ‘Well, I’m sure your brother will take care of it when he returns.’

  The door opened and Lobb appeared with a silver tray bearing ratafia and a dish of macaroons. ‘I trust you’ll forgive the liberty, miss, but I thought the ladies might welcome some refreshment after their journey.’

  �
�Thank you, Lobb.’ Melissa’s smile was heartfelt. ‘I was just about to ring.’

  ‘Will there be anything else, miss?’

  ‘Not at the moment.’ With a stately bow, the butler made his exit.

  ‘Takes a lot upon himself.’ Aunt Louisa frowned as the door closed.

  ‘I’m sure his intention is good,’ her sister-in-law placated. Smaller, plumper, and ever conciliatory, Sophie hated what she termed “upsets”. But as she was her sister-in-law’s confidante and companion, accompanying her on the morning-calls required by civility, and less formal visits to various members of the family, she spent much of her time smoothing the ruffled feathers Louisa invariably left in her wake.

  ‘He is invaluable, Aunt Sophie,’ Melissa said with unfeigned warmth. ‘I don’t know how I should have managed without him these past weeks.’

  ‘Yes, well, never mind that.’ Louisa was dismissive. ‘Let me look at you.’

  Melissa regarded her aunt, her brows slightly raised as she waited for the inevitable criticism.

  ‘You’re looking tired,’ her aunt observed. ‘And you have a high colour. I hope you are not starting a fever. These summer colds can be most unpleasant. Fortunately I am rarely troubled by the minor afflictions to which so many of our acquaintance succumb.’

  Melissa wondered if the illnesses claimed by her aunt’s friends were on occasion more diplomatic than real: the only way to limit the frequency and duration of her aunt’s social calls.

  ‘I am perfectly well, thank you. I confess I went into the garden without my bonnet. I had not intended to stay out above a few minutes. But then …’ She made a small helpless gesture. ‘I fear I may have caught the sun a little.’

  ‘A little?’ sniffed Louisa, shaking her head. Sophie echoed the movement, though more in anxious concern than irritation. ‘Melissa, such behaviour cannot be condoned. As one already disadvantaged you really cannot afford to be so careless. How can you hope to attract a husband when you are so unmindful of the things that matter?’

  ‘Indeed, Aunt Louisa, you are perfectly right,’ Melissa agreed humbly. ‘I cannot see myself ever becoming the wife of a man who would choose his life partner on the basis of her complexion.’

  Catching her Aunt Sophie’s shocked and widening gaze for a fleeting instant, Melissa quickly lowered her eyes, waiting for Aunt Louisa’s wrath to break over her deserving head. But, having made her point, the redoubtable lady’s attention had already passed to more pressing matters.

  ‘When is your mother coming home?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Has she not written to you?’

  Melissa shook her head. ‘Not yet. I am sure she will as soon as she is feeling better. Dr Wherry thinks it far wiser for her to remain with Aunt Lucy until she is properly recovered. I must agree with him, though I do miss her.’

  It was the truth. She loved her mother very much. Perhaps not quite to the same extent that she had loved her father, for she had had more in common with him. Nor was it easy to love without reservation someone whose love for her daughter was less than her love for her sons, despite her efforts to pretend otherwise. It was the fact that she had to try so hard that hurt.

  ‘I have found Dr Wherry to be a most able man,’ Louisa announced. ‘Perhaps his manner on occasion tends toward the brusque. But that is not to be wondered at when so many people call upon him over trifling matters. However, though his advice concerning your mother may indeed be sound, I cannot feel it at all the thing for you to be alone in this house.’

  Melissa masked her stirring alarm with a display of mild bewilderment. ‘I do not understand you, Aunt. I am not alone. I have Lobb, and Mrs Betts, and Sarah, and Hocking in the stables, Medlyn in the garden, all taking excellent care of me.’

  ‘So I should hope,’ Louisa sniffed. ‘That is their purpose. But that is not what I meant, and well you know it.’

  ‘Indeed, Aunt, I hope you are not concerned on my account. Truly, I do not wish for company other than family just now. Besides, while I am in mourning, it would not be fitting.’

  ‘I am glad to hear you say so. I must allow, Melissa, that your attitude does you credit. I would not have expected you to show such sensibility. Though it pains me to say so, and one hesitates to speak ill of the dead, in the matter of appropriate behaviour your father did not deal with you as he should. As a result you have too often shown a disturbing lack of decorum. However, if that is now all in the past, I yield to no one in my delight that you have recognised the error into which you had fallen.’

  Trying desperately to ignore the swift succession of images of her appallingly indecorous behaviour, each one painfully vivid, Melissa dipped her head as guilt burned from her toes to the roots of her hair. ‘You are too kind.’

  ‘One should always give credit where it is due.’ Louisa settled herself more comfortably and permitted herself a satisfied smile. ‘Well, this is most pleasant.’ She turned to her sister-in-law. ‘Is this not delightful, Sophie?’

  ‘Indeed, it is, Louisa. Such a pleasure.’ She beamed at her niece. ‘We see you so rarely, Melissa. Of course, I know how much you used to enjoy being with your dear father.’

  Melissa winced inwardly. Her Aunt Sophie was totally without malice. But she could have said nothing more likely to provoke another tirade.

  Louisa drew herself up. ‘Yes, well, it is certainly not my place to question the wisdom of my brother-in-law’s actions. But I would be less than truthful if I did not admit to grave concern at the way he permitted – no, I would go so far as to say, encouraged – Melissa’s interest in matters of no concern to members of our sex.’

  Melissa had hoped their visit would be a short one, but neither of her aunts was showing any inclination to leave. Resigning herself to the inevitable, she forced a smile. ‘I was just thinking, if you are not expected elsewhere, could I persuade you to stay a little longer and join me in a light luncheon?’

  Thrown off her stride by the abrupt change of subject, Louisa blinked. But Sophie, acutely aware of her own faux pas, and visibly anxious to retrieve the situation, responded with instant and genuine pleasure.

  ‘What a delightful idea, is it not, Louisa? That is most considerate of you, my dear. I’m sure we should enjoy it excessively.’

  Louisa frowned. ‘I am not generally in favour of eating at midday. However,’ she added graciously, ‘I am aware that the desire for frequent nourishment is more pronounced in young people, and those –’ she glanced at her sister-in-law ‘– of less stringent habits than my own. But in a spirit of charity I daresay I could manage a morsel or two. For I am persuaded that having been without company these past weeks you will be glad to have us remain a while longer.’

  ‘You are too good,’ Melissa murmured and rose to tug the bell. The conversation turned to the sister-in-laws’ own offspring, their families and social lives. By interspersing murmurs of interest with the occasional question, Melissa was able to maintain an appearance of interest and keep the conversation going while taking very little part in it, allowing her thoughts to drift. They strayed ever more frequently to the woods.

  With Gabriel driving Captain, at least the stripped trunks could still be dragged out at the same rate. But if he was driving Captain he could not be felling. Billy by himself would not be able to fell quickly enough to keep both horses working …

  She was jolted back to awareness by Lobb’s arrival with the announcement that a cold collation had been set out in the dining room.

  Mrs Betts had excelled herself, preparing an array of platters and dishes that occupied a large area of the table. As they took their seats, Louisa fixed her niece with a very speaking look, flicked her gaze toward the butler, and gave her head an infinitesimal jerk.

  ‘You may go, Lobb,’ Melissa said, wondering with some trepidation what her aunt wished to say that could not be mentioned in front of a servant. ‘We will serve ourselves.’

  He caught her eye as he bowed. ‘Perhaps a tray of tea in the
parlour in an hour, miss?’

  ‘Yes, that will do very well.’ Surely then they would leave? But would she have enough time to return to the wood? ‘Thank you, Lobb.’

  Knowing she needed fuel to maintain her strength, and hungry despite her anxiety, Melissa took a portion of pie and some thin slices of meat. She murmured agreement as Aunt Sophie complimented the succulence of the cold roast beef and the delightful piquancy of Mrs Betts’s tomato pickle.

  Aunt Louisa, determinedly overcoming her reluctance for midday eating, had helped herself from every bowl and dish on the table, and did not speak at all until she had devoured half the contents of her heaped plate. Then, knife and fork poised, she leant forward, her voice heavy with significance.

  ‘I had not intended – indeed I would not mention it now, except that your mother gave me to understand – of course that was before the scandal – besides, it is better that you hear from us rather than from servants’ gossip what is being said.’

  Melissa tried to swallow, but the food had become a solid, choking lump. Setting down her fork, she reached for her glass. The lemonade lubricated her throat, allowing the lump to go down. She had to ask, though she dreaded the answer.

  ‘What is being said, Aunt Louisa?’

  ‘That Lord Stratton has returned to England.’

  Is that all? She stopped the words just before they spilled out. Her aunt clearly thought the news of great importance. At least it was nothing to do with her father, or his debts. Dizzy with relief, Melissa raised her glass again. The tremor in her hand rattled it against her teeth as she took another sip. ‘Who is saying it?’

  ‘The person who told me is connected to one of the families intimately involved in the unfortunate affair. More than that I cannot divulge, for it would betray a confidence.’

  As it was highly unlikely Aunt Louisa was intimate with any of the Marquis of Lansdowne’s family – for she would not have been able to resist boasting of the connection, however tenuous – her confidante must rank among the Poldyces.

  Melissa shook her head. ‘I must say I think it most unlikely, Aunt. Why would he return?’