by Anne Hampson
But Kathryn remained acutely conscious of that hostility, and she was glad when Michael at last rose and said he must be going. She rose also and prepared to leave the room along with him.
‘A man wants to consult me about a porcelain group he’s bought. He’s wondering if it could be Meissen.’ Michael smiled a little sceptically. ‘I shouldn’t think it is, not judging by the price he’s paid, but you never know. There are still bargains to be had if one happens to be lucky.’
‘Meissen would be marked,’ asserted Delia with some authority, but instinctively Kathryn shook her head.
‘Early Meissen wasn’t marked,’ she said, and Delia threw her another glance of animosity as John nodded in agreement.
‘Quite correct—and it’s this early stuff, naturally, that’s the most valuable.’ He paused, glancing at Michael. ‘You’ll be able to tell him? You know the characteristics?’
‘It’s difficult, admittedly, but I think I can make a fairly accurate guess. I’ve handled some of this early stuff before.’
‘You must be clever.’ Delia’s tones were suddenly crisp, and faintly sarcastic. ‘And you’re so young to be such an expert.’
‘Michael’s been in the business since he was fifteen,’ Kathryn put in curtly. ‘And his parents and grandparents are also in the antique business.’ She wondered if her dislike of Delia had revealed itself in her voice, for a rather uncomfortable little silence ensued. Then Michael said goodbye and moved to the door. Thankfully Kathryn followed him from the room.
‘I think,’ said John on the following Monday evening, ‘I’ll have that day in Derbyshire which you suggested.’
‘You’ll enjoy it,’ Kathryn returned eagerly. ‘The mountains and moors are really beautiful at this time of the year. When are you going?’
‘Probably tomorrow, because this weather’s too good to be true. It could break any time, and Mr. Slade tells me the roads can be most treacherous when the mists come down.’
‘That’s true. They’re narrow and you have long stretches where there are-sheer drops on one side or the other.’
‘Hmm...’ He paused thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I’ll make it tomorrow. We’ll start out very early and have a long day.’
‘We?’
‘It’s not much use my going alone. You know the way, and the area.’ They had just finished the accounts and were having supper in the sitting-room, before a glowing log fire. ‘You can show me all the interesting places.’
‘But—’ With Michael’s words about the possibility of an engagement between John and Delia still lingering in her mind, Kathryn could only stare at John for a moment, groping for words. A whole day out there on the moors, or wandering in the foothills of the mountains ... Surely he would prefer Delia’s company, Kathryn thought, still unable to find anything to say.
‘But—what?’ He threw her a questioning glance. ‘You’re not doing anything particular, are you?’
She shook her head.
‘Only the silver,’ she murmured, already visualizing the trip, and at the same time becoming vaguely aware of a strange little fluttering of her pulse.
He smiled faintly at her.
‘That can be done any time.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Kathryn picked up her cup and sipped her coffee. ‘Are we taking our food?’
He raised his brows. Obviously roughing it on a hillside with a sandwich in his hand was not his idea of a pleasant meal.
‘Are there no restaurants?’
‘Not on the moors; the landscape’s quite wild and vast areas are completely uninhabited, but we can go into Buxton or Matlock for lunch if you prefer it.’
‘Yes, I do prefer it.’
They began discussing the trip, with John merely putting in the odd suggestion and for the most part leaving it to Kathryn to decide where they should go.
‘The limestone area’s the prettiest,’ she told him. ‘If you like caves there are several open; they’re in the Castleton district.’
‘That sounds attractive,’ he nodded. ‘And we can also do some tramping, can we?’
‘Yes, it’s the National Park; you can go anywhere you like.’
They were still talking when, half an hour later, the front doorbell rang. Kathryn heard Emily’s voice, and then Delia Slade’s softer, more husky tones. Kathryn’s attention was with John; she saw his face relax and his eyes move expectantly to the door. Why, wondered Kathryn again, should he prefer her company on this trip into Derbyshire rather than Delia’s?
‘How cosy you both look!’ Delia’s voice was pleasant and her smile friendly, but Kathryn was conscious of the animosity lurking beneath her words. This intimate little scene was obviously a surprise to her.
‘Let me have your things, Delia.’ John got up to take them from her. ‘Sit there,’ he invited. ‘I’ll get another chair.’ He draped her coat over the back of the couch and drew up another chair for himself. ‘I didn’t expect you this evening. There isn’t anything wrong at home?’
‘No, of course not. As a matter of fact Mother and Father are dining with some friends and I felt the need of company after sitting there, eating alone.’
‘Why didn’t you give me a ring? You could have come over here.’
‘I did think of it, John, but I wondered if you’d be busy. Monday’s your accounts day, isn’t it?’
‘That wouldn’t have mattered. You know you’re always welcome.’
After a little while Kathryn began to feel uncomfortable, for she was not brought into the conversation either by John or Delia, and at last she rose, saying she would take a walk in the grounds and then go to bed.
‘Good night,’ she said, turning at the door.
John answered quietly, smiling at her; Delia’s answer was also spoken in softly-modulated tones, but in her gaze there was a mixture of triumph and mockery. No doubt about it, she was delighted at having driven Kathryn away.
Would John mention their outing? Kathryn wondered, and then dismissed the matter. She was walking by the lakeside; away on the rise lights in the dovecote glittered, reflecting themselves in the tiny stream that ran down from the hills to the lake. It was a beautiful night and Kathryn walked for over an hour. When she returned Delia was just leaving. She stood by the open door of her car, looking up at John who was standing close beside her.
‘You’ll be dining with us on Wednesday, then?’ she was saying. ‘We’ve some more friends coming whom we think you’d like to meet—’ She broke off as Kathryn reached the steps leading to the front door. Her mouth compressed for a second before she added, smoothly, ‘I hope you have a nice day tomorrow—both of you.’ And with that she got into the car and drove away.
The sun was shining when Kathryn awoke the following morning; on looking out she saw that the mountain summits were covered with mist, but that was not unusual and she thought no more about it as, having taken a bath, she dressed in slacks and a sweater. She had washed her hair last night and it shone, framing her lovely face in gold. She used no make-up other than a hint of colour on her lips, for her cheeks were already enchantingly flushed, flushed with pleasure at the thought of a day up there on the moors, with the fresh wind caressing her face and the scent of heather in her nostrils.
John was also in casual attire, yet he appeared immaculate. Kathryn had never seen him otherwise, never seen so much as a hair out of place. But for all that he was thoroughly masculine ... disconcertingly masculine, Kathryn decided when she saw him after breakfast. The deep tan of his skin, the intense blue of his eyes below dark straight brows, and the leanness of his stem, aristocratic face, all these added to the impression of masculinity, and Kathryn found herself thinking of the girl whom rumour had it he was intending to marry. Delia was so self-possessed, so superior and haughty, that Kathryn could not imagine her submitting to the demands and authority of her husband, yet anyone having John for a husband would most certainly be compelled to do that.
‘Can I phone my mother?’ Kathryn asked when they were almo
st ready to go. ‘I’d just like her to know where I’m going—in case she should ring for some reason and wonder where I am.’
‘I’ve told you before, Miss Ramsey, there’s no need to ask my permission to use the telephone,’ he replied with a flash of anger. ‘Certainly use it—whenever you wish.’
She went away, biting her lip. Ever since the incident of the car she had made a point of asking permission before doing anything to which he could take exception. Her asking to use the telephone annoyed him, and he had in fact snapped at her like this once before, but Kathryn possessed an obstinate little streak which drove her to persist in this rather childish form of retaliation. Now she heartily wished she had used a little more tact, since it would not be a very pleasant drive if John were going to be in a bad temper.
But to her relief he seemed to have forgotten the incident as, taking the road out of Marbeck village, he turned right in the direction of Macclesfield. Passing through this town once famous for its silk, they soon found themselves on the narrow winding road off which ran the valley of the Goyt.
‘If you turn left here,’ Kathryn said, ‘we come to a very pretty place. Part of the valley downstream was flooded recently to make a reservoir, but it’s still very beautiful.’
Following her directions, John drove along a road with sheer drops, a road so narrow and winding that passing another car was a very hazardous business at times. However, there was little on the road at this time and they seemed to have the world of mountain and moorland to themselves. John pulled up at the head of the reservoir and they got out of the car.
‘This was a lovely valley, and a settlement—’
‘Settlement? People lived up here?’ He shook his head. ‘Not in this wild outlandish place!’
‘They did,’ she said with a grimace. ‘It must have been a hard life, because the soil’s so thin it must have been almost impossible to grow anything on it.’ She paused, eyeing him uncertainly. ‘I expect these mountains are just like small hills to you,’ she went on, and to her surprise he laughed.
‘They are,’ he replied, but added, ‘They’re very beautiful, though, just as you said. I like your wild mountains and moorlands, Miss Ramsey.’
From there they went back the way they had come and drove on to Edale, once again leaving the car to walk to the famous swallet known as Giant’s Hole down which flowed the water from Rushup Edge. The breeze came and dispersed the mist which had clung to the mountain summits, and Kathryn gave a little sigh of relief. She had been rather anxious, for it was never wise to ignore mist on these wild, uninhabited moorlands. It was so easy to lose one’s bearings.
‘Where do we go from here?’
‘The Winnats Pass. We take this footpath.’ John’s large strides were taking him along far too fast and Kathryn began trotting to keep up with him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he smiled, slowing down to suit her pace. ‘You’re going to be breathless.’
‘I don’t easily tire—especially out here.’
‘You come often?’
‘Whenever I have the opportunity. There wasn’t much time towards the end—when Mr. Southon became ill, that was.’
‘You’d extra work to do then, of course.’
She nodded, brushing a hand through her hair, for the breeze had tossed it into disorder. John’s hair, she noticed, was somewhat awry too, but it merely added to his attractiveness and she stared at him, flushing as he looked down, a question in his eyes.
‘Yes, Mr. Southon’s illness did entail extra work,’ she said quickly. ‘But I didn’t mind.’
A little while later they were looking down the deep limestone gorge of the Pass, then they travelled on to the Blue John Mine.
‘That’s Mam Tor.’ Kathryn pointed out the hill and then asked if he wanted to go into the mine. ‘I think you’ll like the Treak Cliff Cavern better,’ she suggested, ‘but we can go in both if you like.’
‘We’ll settle for the Treak Cliff Cavern.’
The area being one of high rainfall, numerous streams contributed to the spectacular underground drainage by which these beautiful caves were developed. There was a concentration of caves along the margins of the limestone, and more especially along the western and northern edges, for here the rock was reef limestone, which, owing to its purity, was highly soluble.
John seemed most interested, and by the time they came out of the Cavern all trace of that impersonal quality which was rarely absent from his make-up had disappeared. And after that there developed a friendly, almost intimate relationship between them. Perhaps it was the isolation, for as they tramped on again they were the only human beings in this vast and rugged , domain. On reaching the car John sat for a moment regarding Kathryn with an almost quizzical expression.
‘Did we say we’d have lunch in Buxton?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Do you know what time it is?’
‘I know it’s long past lunch time,’ she laughed. ‘We’ll have to call it afternoon tea.’
‘We can call it that, but I’m hoping we can get something more substantial than scones and cakes.’
They managed to get a grill and, feeling much better for the meal, they came out into the main street of Buxton, got into the car, and continued on their way, driving up to the high moors. Eventually John stopped the car on a narrow verge and turned.
‘How about another tramp?’ He looked at her rather uncertainly. ‘Are you tired?’ he asked.
Kathryn shook her head.
‘No, I’m not a bit tired.’
‘Good, then we’ll do some more walking.’
They strode briskly away, taking a sheep track into the hills.
‘The heather—’ Kathryn pointed to the purple heights in the distance. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’
‘Very. And those tumbling streams—this is a most charming landscape, Miss Ramsey.’
She smiled, trotting beside him, and feeling disproportionately happy. Nothing seemed important except the fact that she was here with John, and although she sensed a mist falling, it did not impress her deeply enough to awaken her to the possibility of danger.
Then suddenly it was there, masking the hills and swiftly enveloping the moors.
‘We must turn back,’ John said urgently, ‘or we’ll be completely lost.’ But they had come a long way from the car, and Kathryn could not imagine their being able to reach it before visibility was cut down to only a few feet. They began to run, and as John was too fast for Kathryn he took her hand in order to help her along.
‘We’ll never make it,’ she cried, breathless by this time. ‘It’s impossible. We’ve come too far.’
‘The car’s below, somewhere there—’John stopped for a second to peer downwards through the mist. And then to Kathryn’s dismay he shook his head.
‘You’re right, Miss Ramsey, we’ll never make it.’ Nevertheless he began to run again, taking giant strides and pulling Kathryn along behind him. Her chest began to hurt, and then the hurt became a searing pain.
‘I can’t—can’t—oh, I’ll have to take a rest,’ she almost sobbed. ‘I’m so—so s-sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault, Kathryn. I shouldn’t have run you off your feet like that. Take a rest and we’ll go on again.’
Kathryn ... It registered, though only vaguely, for her whole mind was occupied with their plight.
‘Do you know which way to go?’ she said, still gasping for breath.
‘I think so. If only I can keep my bearings we’re sure to find the car.’
‘But if we find it you can’t possibly drive in this,’ she cried, wondering if they would ever get home at all that night.
‘Perhaps not,’ he admitted. ‘But at least it will be more comfortable in the car than sitting on a hillside all night—’
‘Sitting—? We can’t do that!’
‘I hope we won’t have to.’ A pause and then, anxiously, ‘Can you go on now?’
‘Yes, I’m all right.’ She wasn’t all right, but she managed to keep up with
him as he began to walk in the direction which he surmised would lead them to the car. But by now the mist had become a thick grey fog; John reached for Kathryn’s hand again, this time having to grope for it. She shivered and he said soothingly,
‘Don’t be frightened; we’ll find the car eventually, though it might take some time.’
‘But it’s going dark as well,’ she said, unconsciously tightening her hold on his hand. ‘Oh, what will we do!’
‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said again. ‘If we can find the road we can start walking; we’re bound to reach civilization some time.’
‘I’m sure we won’t find the road,’ Kathryn murmured. They were walking together and yet John was only a vague dark shape beside her. Visibility could not be more than a few inches. ‘How can we?’
John was silent, and they walked on—on and on, until at last he stopped.
‘I’ve completely lost my direction,’ he said, adding, ‘I expect I lost it some time ago, but I kept on hoping we’d feel the gravel of the road beneath our feet. What’s to be done now?’ He paused in thought. ‘There’s a hut somewhere about here,’ he said. ‘I saw it as we came along—I expect you did too.’ He moved this way and that, peering through the fog. Kathryn said fearfully,
‘Aren’t we going to try to find the car?’
‘It’s no use. The wisest thing is to search around for that hut; it isn’t far away. We’ll have to stay there for the night.’
‘Stay—stay—’ Kathryn choked and the words would not come for a while. ‘Mr. Hyland, we can’t stay in a hut all night!’
‘Would you prefer to wander around—with probably the danger of falling down a ravine?’
‘No—oh, no!’ she exclaimed swiftly.
‘Well then...’ Still keeping hold of her, he moved about, always peering, searching for the hut. ‘Ah,’ he said at last, ‘I see it.’ The dark shape loomed up before them; soon they were stumbling over great stones and boulders that appeared to have fallen about the entrance. Once inside it seemed warmer, but it was only relative, and Kathryn shivered, for her clothes were damp and already her slacks were clinging to her legs, clammy and icy cold.