‘Both,’ Albert declared with a grin that made his moustache curve pleasantly upwards. ‘Pegasus is a joy, so spirited and strong, yet so obedient. I certainly agree with you that it would be a crime to risk him on the battlefield. He’d be a huge asset with his speed and surefootedness, but better to pass those qualities on to many more. I just feel privileged that you’ve allowed me to try him out.’
‘Only because you obviously know what you’re doing. I wouldn’t trust him to just anyone.’
‘Well, I’m honoured. A perfect ride, an amazing landscape.’ Albert turned in the saddle to gaze about him. ‘And a beautiful companion. What more could I ask for?’
Marianne knew she blushed to the roots of her hair, and prayed that Albert would think it was merely the effect of the wind rushing into her face. ‘In a minute you’ll see something less attractive,’ she said, swiftly changing the subject. ‘The prison. It’s pretty formidable but it does have a certain character. It’s built of local granite though, so I suppose it fits in with the landscape.’
‘It must feel a miserable place to be incarcerated in,’ Albert agreed as the said building came into view. ‘I mean, the moor is a fantastic place on a day like this, but it must feel desolate in the depths of winter.’
‘Not if you love it as I do. It’s so wild and free. . . .’
She saw Albert glance at her sideways and a smile played on his lips. ‘Just as I believe you are, Marianne. And with Pegasus to bear you away. . . .’
His voice lifted on a romantic crest and Marianne tossed her head with a merry laugh. ‘What a lovely picture you create! A bit like a fairytale.’
‘If only life could always be like that, rather than the pickle the world has got itself into at the moment,’ Albert grimaced. ‘I would so much rather be here with you without having to think that in a few days’ time, I’ll be back in France fighting against the enemy.’
‘But you’re a regular soldier. That’s what you signed up to, isn’t it?’
Albert’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. ‘It was more or less expected of me and I didn’t see any reason not to. My mother died having me, and my father was a cavalryman so he was away most of the time. An elderly spinster aunt brought me up. I had my first pony when I was three, but I led a fairly claustrophobic life with my aunt. So when I was old enough, it seemed like a huge adventure to join the hussars myself. I served with my father for a few years before he died. Entirely natural causes, I must add. Perforated appendix. And then my old aunt died and there was no one else, so the army became my family. Of course, I didn’t have a crystal ball and had no idea a conflict such as this would ever erupt.’
‘You think it really is going to be bad?’
‘It already is. You only have to look at what’s happened so far. The Hun’s forces are pretty formidable. I’ve been there, remember. This situation isn’t going to resolve itself overnight.’
Marianne saw the grim expression on his face. ‘Were you at Mons, then?’ she asked quietly.
‘No, not Mons. My regiment was, but I was part of regimental HQ which had remained at Longmoor, and I’d been sent down here to procure more quality horses as so many were unhappy with their remounts. But as soon as I got back to Longmoor, I was sent out to take command of A Squadron. Officially the regiment’s there mainly for reconnaissance duties for the first three infantry divisions. That might not sound quite so dangerous, but we’re really just as vulnerable and can be in the thick of it as much as anyone. A Squadron had virtually been wiped out at Mons.’
‘Thank goodness you weren’t there, then.’
Albert shrugged ruefully. ‘I was at the Marne, though, and the Aisne. They weren’t as easy as some people think, believe you me. And I’ll be back out there before the week’s out. But at least I’ll have some happy memories to take back, even if I won’t have this magnificent beast with me,’ he concluded wryly, patting Pegasus’s hairy neck.
Marianne felt a dagger of guilt stab beneath her ribs. A horse with Pegasus’s speed could be invaluable for reconnaissance. Could even save its rider’s life. Could save Albert’s life. She groaned inwardly. How could she suddenly be put to such torture? Her heart had been touched by Major Albert Thorneycroft in the short time they had known each other, and he appeared to be attracted to her, too. But look what had happened last time she had allowed herself to have feelings for a member of the opposite sex. Could she risk the life of her beloved Pegasus for the sake of a virtual stranger, when all was said and done?
‘Well, I expect you’d like another gallop on him, then,’ she said enigmatically, and squeezed her heels into Hermes’s sides.
‘Goodbye, Major.’
‘Goodbye, Mr and Mrs Warrington. And thank you so much for letting me stay. You don’t know what your hospitality has meant to me.’
‘I can imagine,’ Seth replied sombrely. ‘Take care of yourself.’
‘I’ll do my best. And goodbye to you, Marianne. Thank you for some wonderful rides across the moor.’
He held out his hand, and Marianne took it, hoping he couldn’t feel her trembling. ‘I’m . . . so sorry I couldn’t let you have Pegasus,’ she faltered, even now wondering if she shouldn’t change her mind.
But Albert gave a compassionate smile. ‘I fully understand.’ He bowed his head with a slight jerk, letting go her hand, and a few moments later, was turning his motorcar out of the driveway.
‘God speed,’ Marianne mumbled almost inaudibly.
Her father turned back into the house, but Rose remained beside her as the noise of the engine faded into the distance. ‘Best not to know what happens to him, my dear,’ she whispered to her daughter.
Marianne nodded, not turning her head since she didn’t want her mother to see that her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. If Albert was killed on the battlefield, would it be her fault because she didn’t let him take the horse whose speed might have saved him? No. Her mother was right. Although her soul had ached to ask Albert to write to her, let her know he was all right, it was better that she didn’t hear from him again. That way the guilty wound would slowly heal. Nevertheless, as she stared blindly down the empty driveway, she felt a piece of her heart tear.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘Happy Boxing Day!’
‘Welcome! Come in, all of you. Richard and Beth and everyone are already here. Elliott picked them up in the car.’
‘It was a bit of a squeeze, mind,’ Elliott grinned as he joined his wife, Ling, in the hallway of their home in one of the opulent Victorian villas along Tavistock’s Plymouth Road. When he had inherited his parents’ residence in Watts Road, he had sold both it and his own little house in Chapel Street and bought this fine abode instead. Being near the centre of the town, it was more convenient for the majority of his patients, and its spacious rooms made it perfect for social gatherings. All the same members of the Pencarrow and Warrington families who had been at Rose’s party had come to visit. Only Adam and Rebecca had not made the long journey from Herefordshire.
‘I was so pleased I managed to wangle Christmas off,’ Mary told Marianne when after all the boisterous greetings, they found themselves seated together on a sofa in the drawing room. ‘Not everyone did, of course.’
‘Still enjoying your training, then?’
‘Absolutely! It was definitely the right choice. I love every aspect of it, but best of all is when patients are well enough to go home.’
‘That must be so gratifying,’ Marianne agreed. ‘Like when we’ve finished breaking a young horse and know we’ve turned it into a reliable mount. Mind you, when we start getting these wild horses from North America to train for the army, I’m not sure we’ll achieve it with every one of them. But we’ll do our best.’
‘Yes, the war’s putting all sorts of demands on people,’ Elliott put in. ‘If I were a few years younger, I might’ve volunteered for the Medical Corps.
But as it is, some of my younger colleagues have gone, so I’m working twice as hard here to cover for them instead.’
‘That’s happening everywhere as more and more men enlist,’ Richard concurred, joining in the conversation. ‘They say women are stepping into the breach all over the country.’
‘I wish there was something more I could do for the war effort,’ Marianne declared with a frustrated sigh. ‘I’ll be helping to train these horses, of course, but I’d like to be more directly involved.’
‘Perhaps you can be.’ It was Beth who spoke now as everyone was drawn into the discussion. ‘Have you heard about the healing properties of sphagnum moss? It’s antiseptic, and it can hold twenty times its own weight in liquid, such as blood. So the army are starting to use it as a wound dressing.’
‘So you’re suggesting we could collect it from the moor?’
‘We could set up a centre in Princetown!’ Rose declared, effervescent with enthusiasm. ‘I could appeal to the Prince of Wales himself through the Duchy Office, because we’d need somewhere to store it, and presumably it’ll need processing of some sort.’
‘It’d certainly have to be dried,’ Elliott confirmed. ‘It also needs thorough cleansing before it can be made into dressings, but whether or not that could be done at a collection centre is another matter.’
‘I’ll go into the Duchy Office tomorrow if it’s open,’ Rose announced. ‘Marianne and I can organize a work force. Get local people involved, advertise in the Gazette. We’ll need people who know the moor intimately. The moss grows best in the great bogs and they can be dangerous if you don’t know them. You couldn’t possibly start collecting it until the spring, but it’d take that long to set it all up anyway.’
‘I’m afraid I won’t be able to help, then, with the baby due in April.’
Marianne glanced across at her sister. Kate didn’t appear too mortified at the idea of not spending her days knee-deep in the smelly moorland mires gathering sack-loads of lustrous sphagnum. Marianne could understand that it wouldn’t be many people’s idea of fun, but in their younger days, Kate had relished romping over the moor in all weathers as much as she had. But Kate had changed since having Adam. She still had a zest for life and was almost as outspoken as her younger sister, but her enthusiasm was channelled in a different direction nowadays.
‘You can sit at home knitting socks and balaclavas for the troops instead, then,’ Marianne retorted scathingly. ‘I’m sure we can manage without you and find plenty of volunteers elsewhere.’
‘Well, I think it’s a splendid idea,’ Mary put in brightly, sensing the tension between the two sisters. ‘We can all do our bit, no matter how small. If I hadn’t already enrolled for professional nursing, I’d have volunteered as a VAD.’
‘I’m not sure I could do anything connected with nursing,’ Marianne grimaced. ‘All those bodily functions would make me heave.’
‘VADs can do all sorts of things, though. But it looks as if you’re going to have your hands full with this moss project. Look! Your mum’s engaged Dad in an animated discussion on it!’ Mary chuckled, jabbing her head at Rose and Elliott deep in conversation. ‘And you’ll be helping with those horses. When will they start arriving?’
‘Soon, now. Hal will be pleased to be doing something at last. Otherwise I think he’d have enlisted by now.’
Mary lowered her eyes. ‘Mum and Dad don’t know it yet,’ she whispered, her gaze flicking across to where her elder half-brother was talking to Richard. ‘But Artie’s going to enlist in the New Year. You know he took over the antiques business when Grandad died, but trade has plummeted since the war started. He has a trusted assistant who’s too old to join up, so he’s going to leave it in his hands until he comes back. If he comes back,’ she finished under her breath.
Marianne shuddered involuntarily. The war slithered its evil tentacles into every nook and cranny, even a happy gathering such as this. ‘And how is Michael?’ she couldn’t stop herself asking. It wasn’t exactly changing the subject since he could well be in danger, too, but she was sure her friend would want to talk about him.
‘Very well, thank you.’ Mary couldn’t prevent the glow that came into her cheeks. ‘He was docked in London for a few days recently, and we were able to see each other a couple of times. It would’ve been nice to see him over Christmas, but you can’t have everything. Not when there’s a war on.’
No, Marianne thought glumly to herself. Not when there’s a war on. It was enough that all those she held dear were safe. For now, at least. Her romantic feelings for Michael were long buried, but it was still a relief to know he was all right.
As she smiled back at Mary’s flushed expression, the handsome face of Major Albert Thorneycroft slipped, unbidden and unexpected, into her mind.
Joe Tyler stood beneath the archway in the wall that separated the terrace from the stable yard at the side of the house, and nodded approvingly. The family had all gone down to celebrate Boxing Day with the Franfields in Tavistock, and he was about to set off for Princetown to spend the day with his daughter Henrietta, her prison-warder husband and the grandchildren. He was indescribably happy that Henry had produced three little tykes. His darling Molly had only given him the one daughter before she began to have problems down below that had eventually led to her death in her mid-fifties. Heart-broken though he was, Joe was hugely relieved that it didn’t appear to be a condition their daughter had inherited.
Other than losing Molly before her time, Joe considered he had led a charmed life. A workhouse foundling, he had been rescued from the cruel, livery-owner master he had been apprenticed to by a vivacious and beautiful young girl little older than himself. The memory of the accusing tirade Rose had launched at his astounded master brought a smile to Joe’s face even now. He had served her with unquestioning loyalty ever since, but for a few years when she had married and moved to Fencott Place, and her first husband had employed that sly reprobate from Princetown, Ned Cornish, as their groom instead.
Joe already had his job at the Cherrybrook Gunpowder Mills the other side of Princetown where Rose’s father had been manager. So it wasn’t as if he had been put out of work. But he had never trusted Ned, and of course he knew exactly why Rose had dismissed the devil the moment she had buried that equally untrustworthy husband of hers! But before too long, she had taken Joe on as her new groom, and insisted that Molly and Henrietta came to live in the comfortable rooms over the tackroom as well.
And there Joe had remained, caring unfailingly for the family’s horses until Rose and Seth had established the stud farm which, with them all working together, had mushroomed into the fine affair it was now. All their trained animals had gone to the army back in the summer, with the next batch to follow shortly, poor beasts. But before long, they would have those wild creatures to tame, which was at least a challenge Joe was looking forward to.
Now, satisfied all was secure, he went into the house to collect Patsy. She too, had served Rose most of her life. She’d never had any family of her own, and so she was going to Henrietta’s with Joe. Nobody could ever replace Molly in Joe’s heart, but Patsy made a very pleasant companion.
As they walked the rutted road, hard with frost, that would lead them into Princetown, neither of them saw the figure crouching on the other side of the field wall. He had found the spot again instantly on his first sortie out onto the moor to check out Fencott Place. For hadn’t he met his dairymaid lover there on numerous occasions in his youth, since no one could see what they were up to there. The thought of her eager, open thighs sent a delicious shiver down his spine even now.
But he had more serious matters on his mind at the minute. With no friends to celebrate the Yuletide with, in a moment of malicious loneliness, he had decided to book into Princetown’s Duchy Hotel – wearing his disguise, of course, just to be safe. At least he could indulge his passion for seeking a way to bring down Miss Fan
cy Breeches – or Rose Warrington as she was apparently called now.
Using the best binoculars money could buy, he had ascertained on his previous spying trips all the members of the household. To count them out one by one and find the place deserted was the best Christmas present anyone could have given him. As soon as the groom and the housekeeper were out of sight, he scaled the wall with an agility that belied his sixty-two years and scuttled along the road to the grand, isolated house that had once been his home – at least, the cosy rooms over the stables had been – until the bitch had thrown him out. His heart was thumping with the delightful prospect of wreaking some revenge.
He was out of luck. Every single downstairs door and window was firmly locked or bolted. Damn. Perhaps he should smash a window pane, but whenever he went up close to peer in, he was met by two dogs on the inside, growling at him suspiciously. They must be loose in the house, and although they were a breed known for its friendly nature, he didn’t want to risk being bitten any more than he did cutting himself on broken glass.
Perhaps he’d have better luck at the back of the house which he could get round to via the stable yard. But, oh, bugger! Since his time, a wall had been built across the entrance with a pair of solid wooden gates – locked, of course – so that he couldn’t even see through! Burglary wasn’t his forte. He had always been the boss, employing lock-pickers and safe-breakers for that sort of thing. He would need to find someone he could trust implicitly, and that would take time. But then, he smirked, he had plenty of that commodity, and the wait would make his vengeance so much the sweeter when it came.
It would also give him the chance to plan that much more meticulously how he would make the bloody vixen suffer.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘Got a couple of sacks of the stuff outside, I has.’ The elderly man, trousers drenched to above the knee in oily, malodorous water, doffed his cap wearily. ‘Where does you want it, missus?’
Teardrops in the Moon Page 8