Miss Mouse

by Mira Stables

  He hugged her reassuringly close before drawing her towards the hearth where a cheerful fire still glowed and settling her in one of the schoolroom’s shabby but comfortable chairs. “Now tell me all about it,” he bade her.

  “I was afraid you were going to blame Miss Ashley,” she explained, quite unconsciously earning herself a place in her uncle’s respect, “and it was nothing to do with her.”

  The whole story tumbled out. Having been assured that her uncle would not scold her ‘above what was reasonable’, she told a straightforward tale. She had wanted to have her fortune told, and the employment of Jake in the stables had seemed to offer an opportunity of arranging this. That was all she had thought about.

  It was perhaps natural that the recital should end in a burst of tears as she thought of the trouble she had made, not only between Jake and Margarita but also in part for the old grandmother and for Miss Ashley, too. All of them had been caught up in her idle whim, for as such she now saw it. His lordship patted, consoled and reasoned with her. Miss Ashley could not but admire his handling of the situation, and thought what an excellent parent he would make.

  When Beatrice had finally been despatched to bed, with a promise that Graine would come in later to see that she was comfortably settled, his lordship did not at once take his departure.

  “I confess that I was very doubtful about your method of handling this particular problem,” he told Graine soberly. “But I will freely admit that the outcome was admirable. Beatrice made a full confession of her own accord, rather than see you suffer for her fault. One may hope, too, that she will have gained confidence in both of us. Nevertheless, Miss Ashley, I hope that in future you will turn to me, rather than to your brother, when you need masculine support in your duties.”

  “Well as to that, sir, it was thanks to Dominic that the whole business was brought to light, and by that time it was too late to consult anyone else if we were to get Beatrice home before the darkening. But I wish you will comfort Dominic, if you would be so good. It seems that he came by his knowledge of the projected expedition under promise of respecting the confidence reposed in him. I have assured him that his action in coming to me was both sensible and adult, but he only says that females do not properly understand such matters, and he is much exercised in his mind as to how Benedict will regard his breach of faith. I would be very grateful if you would add your assurances to mine.”

  “It is a nice point,” admitted his lordship. “I am deeply grateful for Dominic’s sensible action, yet I fully enter into his feelings about keeping a promise of secrecy. I will certainly do my possible to set his mind at rest. Meanwhile, Miss Ashley, my sincere thanks for your very valuable assistance tonight.”

  Chapter Five

  Graine never knew what passed between her brother and his lordship, but the latter seemed to have succeeded to admiration in the task that she had given him. Beatrice and Dominic were on the best of terms, and Benedict’s admiration for the older boy did not falter.

  Since Benedict was to go to school after the holiday, Mr Read had taken his departure. This to Dominic’s great content, since he felt that the Earl trusted him to exercise a fraternal supervision over Benedict, and that his position was not just a sinecure. To Benedict’s great satisfaction, too, until he realised that his new keeper maintained a much stricter watch on all his comings and goings than ever Mr Read had done, and that it was not near so easy to pull the wool over his eyes. Fortunately they were so much in sympathy that it was generally easy for Dominic to dissuade the younger boy from some of his more hazardous enterprises and to suggest alternatives that were much to his taste. The Earl, strolling out in the evening coolness to cast an amused eye on a game of cricket that was in progress on Gatehouse Green, did not even utter a mild protest about the cutting up of the smooth turf, though the head gardener had earnestly assured him that it would take years to restore it to its pristine perfection. Henry, the young footman, and two of the grooms had been pressed into service to give the opposing teams some substance, and Henry had proved to be a demon bowler of erratic length who could make the ball bounce in a most unpredictable fashion. Benedict was standing up to him manfully, determined not to flinch under the watchful eye of his new mentor.

  The Earl strolled across to the far side of the Green where Miss Ashley had been posted in the field. She had very little to do, since most of Henry’s deliveries were unplayable, so was able to lend a gratified ear to his praise of her brother.

  “Nothing could have answered better,” he told her. “Read was by far too stuffy for a lively youngster, though a hard worker and eminently worthy. But Benedict will learn more from your brother in a sennight. The things that are not to be found in lesson books. I take credit to myself for having assessed Dominic’s quality so swiftly. And I think I owe you an apology for having underestimated yours.”

  She turned her head swiftly to look at him. It was the first time that he had spoken to her naturally as to an equal, and she scarcely knew how to answer.

  She was spared the trouble. At that moment came a concerted yell from the entire fielding side. Benedict had succeeded in smiting one of Henry’s deliveries. He had hit it hard and true, but owing to the peculiarity of its bounce it had gone soaring up into the blue and was descending in the vicinity of the inattentive Miss Ashley.

  The Earl could not be expected to resist. Two long strides to his right and an arm reached up and plucked the ball from the air, tossing it from palm to palm to exaggerate the insult. There was a loud “Huzzah!” from Dominic, captain of the fielding side, and the game broke up in a cheerful wrangle as to whether a man was really out when he was caught by an unauthorised person (Benedict’s argument) interrupted by Henry’s expressions of satisfaction at having someone caught off his bowling by the Earl himself and Benedict’s own pride in that one capital hit that, but for Uncle Ross’s interference, would certainly have gone for four.

  It was unfortunate that a week of very wet weather should interfere with their pleasant existence. There could be no prospect of rides or picnic excursions while the rain was teeming down, and even Graine’s ingenuity was taxed by the effort of devising entertainment for her charges. When all the time-honoured expedients had been tried, she coaxed them into devising a play, which, she promised, if it was good enough, they could perform for the visiting notabilities and the village folk at a forthcoming Public Day.

  But interest was spasmodic. Beatrice was enthusiastic, Dominic dutiful. The younger children copied their elders and Benedict was the genie out of the bottle. If he was in the right mood he could bring the whole thing to life. If he was not he could disrupt it entirely. Graine could only be thankful when the rain eased up and it was possible to get the children out of doors again.

  It was a soaked and dripping world after a night of steady rain, and the weather was still unsettled. Graine felt that it would be too risky to go far afield, but the children pleaded for a picnic.

  “Couldn’t we go to the glen?” suggested Benedict. “The stones by the brookside soon dry and the waterfalls will be very pretty after the rain.”

  It was quite a sensible suggestion. The glen was a favourite place with the whole family. A small stream ran through it and descended in several modest falls from the moorland heights that had given it birth to the gentle levels of the water garden. The skill of the landscape gardener had been employed to make the most of this promising material. Paths had been laid to follow the course of the stream, steps had been skilfully contrived to make the changing levels easy of access, and the whole had been framed in a ‘wild’ garden where flowering shrubs brought from foreign lands had been planted to add colour to nature’s own provision. The glen was lovely at any season, even in severe winters when the stream froze and turned the little waterfalls into fantastic castles and fairy palaces of ice. And it was true that the stones that bordered the stream would dry out more quickly than other possible picnic spots.

  “Very well,” agreed Grai
ne. “A picnic lunch. Do you go and tell Mrs Palmer, Beatrice.”

  As soon as the girl had gone she turned swiftly to Benedict. “And if you go by the top road I could take the lower path and meet you at the Cavern Fall with picnic baskets. That would give me half the morning to finish the lining of Bea’s work-box.”

  The box in question was designed as a gift for Beatrice, whose birthday fell in a few days’ time. Benedict had made it, working industriously and for once obedient to advice, keeping it a close secret in the carpenter’s shop, and Graine had undertaken to line it. But the lining must be quilted, the edges ruched and scalloped, and it was difficult to find time to work on it when Beatrice was not present. Graine was a little uneasy at the thought of sending the children off on their own, bursting with energy and high spirits as they were after the long confinement to the house. But Dominic and Beatrice were sensible enough and they would not be going outside the bounds of the Valminster estates. It was difficult to see what mischief they could fall into in one short morning walk. She could put in an hour’s work on the box lining and by taking the short cut along the lower road to the glen could keep her rendezvous with the rest of the party before their appetites became too sharp-set.

  She was unaware that at that very moment Dominic was hastily changing into riding breeches, his lordship having requested the pleasure of his company on a ride to one of the outlying farms.

  “I want to see how you can handle Crusader,” he had said bluntly. “He might be a little too strong for you, but he hasn’t a scrap of vice. See how he goes for you. He could do with regular exercise – more than he gets. I mean to hunt him next season.”

  Dominic completed his hasty toilet, glanced in the mirror to make sure that his stock was setting properly, and ran down to the hall where he found Graine putting letters in the postbag. His face was alight with excitement as he told her of milord’s suggestion. She could not bear to see him dashed down, so good and helpful as he had been.

  “Oh dear!” she sighed. “And I did want to finish Bea’s work-box. Never mind. I will go with the children this morning, and perhaps you can think of some ploy to keep Bea out of the way at another time.”

  “He will do no such thing,” announced a quiet voice behind her. His lordship had come into the hall from the library and had overheard the latter part of the conversation. “You have had no time to yourself ever since you came. We have all been very selfish, but I am to blame for the oversight. Except that you yourself are partly to blame, because you seem so much one of the family that one tends to impose on your good nature. Now, what is the problem?”

  Graine, her blushes at the delightful compliment fortunately masked by grease paint, explained that she had been relying on Dominic to keep superabundant high spirits within bounds. “They pay more heed to him than they do to Bea,” she ended apologetically. “Probably because he is not their brother.”

  “For which, no doubt, he renders daily thanks,” nodded his lordship. “Well the matter is quite simple. The picnic will proceed as arranged, and you will stay at home and devote your free morning to the embellishment of Beatrice’s birthday gift. The children can come to no harm if they do as you have planned. And once Beatrice’s birthday is safely past, you must have a really free day. Do something of your own choosing, not necessarily designed for the enjoyment and betterment of your charges.”

  She gave a little chuckle for that. Dominic was all a-grin, so pleased he was that the morning’s ride need not be abandoned. And his lordship was even better than his word. He himself charged Bea and Benedict as to their behaviour on the excursion. They were to do precisely as Miss Ashley – he had not yet fallen into the habit of addressing her as Rainey, as the others did, though once or twice it had risen unbidden to his lips – had arranged, and they were not to stray away from the agreed meeting point until she arrived.

  As usual, Benedict had the last word. “Not likely, sir,” he assured his uncle. “She will have the food.”

  The party dispersed about their various activities, Graine assuring herself that all the younger children were wearing sturdy shoes that would stand up to walking on wet rock before waving them away on their expedition and retiring to her own room and her needle.

  With nothing to distract her she made good progress, and was ready to set out a little before noon, which was just as well since the picnic baskets were quite heavy and slowed her speed considerably. Almost she wished that she had requested the services of Henry to carry them for her, and was still smiling at the thought that they would be a good deal lighter on the return journey when she reached the bank of the stream which she must follow for the last part of her walk. She gave a gasp of amazement. The gentle little brook that normally shrank in places to the merest trickle had been transformed into a rushing, turbulent flood of brown, foam-flecked water.

  Her heart-beats quickened with apprehension. She ought to have realised that the persistent rain of the previous week, crowned by yesterday’s downpour, must naturally swell the stream. This was no safe place to send children to play. The pretty little brook was a potential killer. She set down the baskets and began to run towards the Cavern Fall, thankful for the well-laid paths that permitted her to make good speed.

  Her fears were well founded. She had run no more than a hundred yards or so when she recognised a small figure racing towards her. Benedict. And only disaster in one form or another could have caused him to break his word to his uncle and leave the appointed rendezvous.

  She ran on till she was breathless and had a stitch in her side, and sank gasping on to a boulder that edged the path as Benedict came up to her. His face was crimson with his exertions and he was sobbing for breath, his whole appearance that of shock and desperation.

  “It’s Adam and Bridget,” he panted out as soon as he had breath enough. “They were in the cave behind the fall when the flood came down. It came so suddenly. They can’t get back till the water goes down, and they’re frightened. They were both crying. I left Beatrice to watch over them and came for help.”

  “And you did very right,” she told him in as calm a voice as she could muster, for she herself was badly frightened but must make what effort she could to calm the shaken boy.

  As long as the children stayed where they were, they were fairly safe. The cave behind the Cavern Fall wasn’t really a cave at all. Its peculiarity was that over the centuries the falling water had hollowed out the perpendicular face of the rock so that now, when there was a moderate fall of water, it was possible to walk along a narrow ledge between the rock face and the falling water, perfectly safe and dry, gazing out through the veil of water at the lower reaches of the stream. Graine herself had done it several times, and the children loved it, though Graine had once or twice suspected that young Bridget had to nerve herself to take the narrow path. But to be trapped on that ledge while the present peat-brown torrent hurtled over one was a very different matter. It would be terrifying. The noise would be stunning, the sliding speed of the flood almost hypnotic. Graine could only feel deeply anxious. She said, “If you have got your wind, run on up to the house. Get some of the grooms – young, strong ones – to bring the longest ladders they can find to the Cavern Fall. And ropes. It might be possible to push a ladder along the ledge behind the water, and a man, securely held by ropes from the bank, could make his way along it to reach the children. It would give them comfort and confidence, even if they must wait some hours for actual rescue.”

  Benedict was off again almost before she had finished speaking, and she herself wasted no time in setting off upstream.

  The sight that met her eyes at the Cavern Fall was a shocking one by any standards, quite appalling in the eyes of a governess who could only feel that she had failed in her duty. Beatrice was crouched alone on the verge of the stream. She had been trying to call messages of encouragement to her brother and sister, but it was impossible to tell if they could hear her above the thunder of the flood. Certainly she could not hear their r
eplies if they made any. And she no sooner set eyes on Graine than she burst into tears and had to be rather firmly quieted.

  It was impossible to see the trapped children through the volume of water that was pouring over the fall, but a tearful Beatrice, still gulping back sobs, showed her how one could just pick out the two figures huddled together against the wet rock face by peering round the edge of it. There was no indication that they had noticed Graine’s arrival. They did not wave or call out – or if they did their childish voices were lost in the howling tumult.

  Anxiously Graine calculated that it would take at least another half hour for help to arrive. The children must already be soaked to the skin, for the ledge on which they were sitting was under water. If they grew numbed with cold it would be even more difficult for them to cling to their precarious perch. And the pool into which the stream emptied itself was deep enough to drown a child in normal conditions. With the present flood beating down on its surface, neither of them would stand a chance. She looked at the path that led to the ledge and made up her mind. There was only one really dangerous place, where a break in the lip at the edge of the fall permitted a quantity of water to slide down the face of the rock. It was no more than a foot wide, but for the time that it took to cross it the person who ventured to challenge the power of the flood would be subjected to its full fury. The only comfort she could see was a very solid looking lump of rock some three feet high on the outer edge of the path. It did not quite match the break at the top of the fall, but it should be possible to cling to it. At least it might prevent a would-be rescuer from being swept into the abyss.

  “I’m going across to them,” she told Beatrice. “At least I can tell them that help is on the way, and try to support their spirits.”

  Beatrice stared at her, wide-eyed, but could not reject any proposal that might bring a morsel of comfort to the children.