Ragged Rose

by Dilly Court

‘It ain’t natural to travel so fast,’ Maisie cried as the train picked up speed. She pulled her shawl over her head. ‘We’re going to crash. I knows it.’

  ‘The faster we go, the quicker we’ll get there,’ Rose said calmly.

  It was early evening when they finally arrived at Bodmin station, having parted company with Vere at Plymouth where they changed trains. He had once again extended an open invitation for Rose to visit him at Portmorna, extracting a promise from her that she would turn to him for help if matters did not go well.

  ‘I’m too tired to go any further, miss,’ Maisie said wearily. ‘I could sleep on a bed of nails.’

  ‘I’m tired too, but there is still an hour or two of daylight before dark. I really wanted to get to Rosewenna Hall tonight.’

  Maisie shrugged her thin shoulders. ‘They was together last night. The harm’s already been done, miss.’

  ‘We’ve come this far, Maisie. I’m not giving up now.’ Rose beckoned to the porter who had been hovering at a discreet distance with their luggage. ‘We need a carriage to take us to Rosewenna Hall.’

  He edged closer. ‘’Tis a fair way, miss. ’Tis seven mile or more, and you’ll not find anyone wanting to venture onto the moor after dark.’

  ‘But it’s still light.’

  ‘Night’s coming. You’d best put up at the inn.’

  ‘Do you know where I could hire a pony and trap? I need to get to my destination tonight.’

  He pushed his cap back on his head, scratching his scalp while he gave this some thought. ‘Maybe I do.’

  ‘I’d be obliged if you would find one for me as soon as possible, and I need directions to Rosewenna Hall.’

  ‘’Tis a difficult place to find, especially at nightfall.’

  Maisie tugged at Rose’s sleeve. ‘Perhaps we should stay at the inn and start off in the morning.’

  ‘No, my mind is made up. If there’s a vehicle for hire we’ll travel on.’

  The porter dumped their bags at their feet and ambled off, muttering to himself.

  The wait seemed interminable, but at last he reappeared followed by a burly lad holding the reins of an aged nag. The contraption it pulled had also seen better days and was some kind of farm cart, covered in bird droppings, straw and a good helping of mud.

  ‘That’ll be a shilling.’ The porter held out his hand.

  Rose glanced at the boy, but he smiled vacantly and said nothing. She took a shilling from her purse and was about to give it to him when the porter snatched it from her. ‘Don’t give it he. He bain’t all there, miss. He’s a good boy, but a bit simple.’

  The boy nodded and grinned.

  Rose was suddenly assailed with doubts. The vehicle looked decidedly rickety, and the animal in the shafts should have been put out to pasture long ago, but she was desperate to find Cora. She took the reins from the boy. ‘Thank you.’

  He backed away, chuckling as if she had said something hilarious. ‘Thank you,’ he repeated. ‘Thank you, kindly.’

  ‘Don’t pay no heed to him, miss,’ the porter said hastily. ‘Not quite right in the head.’

  Rose climbed onto the driver’s seat. ‘Get in, Maisie.’

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ Maisie hesitated, wrinkling her nose. ‘It’s dirty, miss.’

  The porter slung their bags in the foot well. ‘Do you want a hand, maid?’

  Maisie shook her head. ‘No, ta. Keep your hands to yourself, mister.’

  ‘The boy has gone,’ Rose said hastily. ‘I was going to ask him for directions to Rosewenna Hall.’

  ‘He’d send you a merry dance, miss. You’d end up in a bog if you followed young Sammy Nanpean’s advice. Just follow the road eastwards till you come to Warleggan. Follow the lane for another mile or two and you’ll see Rosewenna Hall. That’s if you get there afore dark.’

  ‘Then we’d best be off. Good day to you, sir. Thank you for your help. I’ll return the trap tomorrow.’ Rose spoke with more conviction than she was feeling. Until this moment she had never ridden a horse, let alone handled one that was harnessed to a cart. She had watched the cabbies in London and had a vague notion of how it all worked, but this was not the time to be faint-hearted. She clicked her tongue against her teeth. ‘Walk on.’ She flicked the reins and to her surprise the animal began to plod forward, albeit at a snail’s pace.

  ‘I didn’t know you could handle a horse, miss.’ Maisie sat beside her, clutching the seat with both hands.

  ‘Neither did I,’ Rose said with a nervous giggle. ‘Let’s hope the horse doesn’t realise I’m a complete novice.’ She urged the tired creature into a slow trot as they left the town behind and headed towards the moors.

  The lanes were narrow and soon they were surrounded by dense woodland. The sound of tinkling streams and rustling leaves accompanied the clip-clop of the horse’s hoofs, and the rumble of the wheels. It was cool beneath the green canopy and when they emerged from the wood the sun had finally set, leaving the pale blue sky streaked with purple and crimson. The puffy grey clouds were edged with gold from the sun’s dying rays, and birds were flying home to roost as the shadows lengthened. Rose shivered as a cool breeze whipped her cheeks and tugged at her bonnet, but she kept her eyes steadfastly on the road ahead. The lane was narrow, too narrow for any vehicles to pass, and she could only hope that they did not meet any traffic on the way. The high hedgerows obscured most of the view, but as they passed through the pastures filled with sheep and cows, the land grew steadily wilder. Lush grassland gave way to scrub and bracken. Gorse bushes were crowned with yellow flowers, and small trees, made wedge-shaped by the prevailing winds, stood like twisted old men, watching over the vast expanse where wild ponies roamed free. Slabs of granite, exposed by centuries of soil erosion, looked as though a wayward child had piled them randomly on the landscape and then gone off to play with another toy. Rose could not but be impressed by the wild beauty, but darkness would soon be upon them and after they left the small village of Warleggan the narrow road became little more than a track.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ Maisie wailed as one of the wheels hit a rock and they almost tipped over. ‘We should have put up for the night at the inn.’

  ‘It can’t be far now,’ Rose said hopefully. ‘We’ve left the village and we should see the lights of the house very soon.’

  ‘But there’s nothing out there. It’s a wilderness, like in the Bible. I never believed there could be such a place until now. We’re going to die out here, I knows it.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’ Rose spoke more sharply than she had intended. ‘We’ll be all right, Maisie. We must be getting near.’ But as the words left her lips the cart gave a lurch and one of the wheels came off with a sickening sound of splintering wood, and they were pitched onto the ground. Rose was winded, but her concern was for the poor animal who was trapped between the traces. She struggled to her feet, gasping for breath. ‘Are you hurt, Maisie?’

  ‘I don’t know, miss. Everything aches something chronic.’

  ‘I must see to the horse.’ Rose went to the animal’s head and spoke to it gently. ‘Whoa, there. You’ll be fine. I’ll get you out of this.’ She gazed at the complicated harness, wondering where to begin.

  ‘I knows how to do that.’

  Rose turned to see Maisie had risen and was standing at her side. ‘You do?’

  ‘I seen the grooms do it in the mews behind the big house,’ Maisie said proudly. ‘I used to go round there often because the head groom had a daughter same age as me. She was the scullery maid and we shared a bed. Her pa used to give us hot cocoa when it were bitter cold outside and he let us sit by the fire in the tack room.’ She set to work unbuckling leather straps as if she had done it all her life. ‘I like horses,’ she added happily. ‘But I ain’t keen on riding in that old cart. Me bum’s so sore I won’t be able to sit down for a week.’

  Within minutes the animal was free and Rose took hold of the reins. ‘We can’t leave him here. We’ll have to go the re
st of the way on foot. Bring the bags, Maisie. We’ll follow the track and hope for the best.’

  Maisie hesitated, but the sudden cry of a dog fox made her move closer to Rose. ‘What makes a noise like that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Rose said nervously. ‘It sounded like someone screaming.’

  ‘What was that?’ Maisie glanced up as a white shape flew overhead.

  ‘I think it was an owl.’ Rose remembered reading about barn owls in one of her father’s books, although her experience of the countryside had been limited to her brief stay in Lyme Regis and then at Portmorna. She suppressed a shiver. The gentle beauty of the Dorset landscape was far different from the wildness that surrounded them now. She started walking, holding the reins with the horse plodding after her and Maisie muttering as she followed on, carrying the valise and the carpet bag.

  Rain clouds obscured the moon and they were enveloped in darkness. A thin veil of mist rose from the damp ground creating ghostly shapes that twisted and moved around them like tormented spirits of the long dead. Rose peered into what seemed like an abyss, hoping to see a pinprick of light in the distance. There was nothing they could do other than keep going forward, despite stumbling into potholes and snagging their clothing on encroaching brambles. Then, suddenly, as the track veered to the left, Rose spotted a light, and as the clouds scudded across the sky like a coven of witches on broomsticks, a fractured beam of moonlight revealed the shape of a large house.

  ‘That must be Rosewenna Hall.’ Her voice broke on a sob of relief. ‘Look over there, Maisie. I’m not imagining it, am I?’

  Maisie staggered up to her and dropped the cases on the ground with a sigh of relief. ‘I hope so, miss. I doubt if I can walk another step.’

  Rose pointed a shaky finger at the flickering light, but the moon was now hidden behind a bank of clouds and they were once again in pitch-darkness. ‘There must be an entrance somewhere close by, or a path that will lead us to the house. We’ve come this far, don’t give up now.’

  Maisie groaned as she hefted the valise in one hand and the carpet bag in the other. ‘This is like a bad dream. Maybe I’ll wake up any minute now.’

  Rose tugged at the reins. ‘Come on, horse. Let’s hope they’ve got a nice warm stable for you.’ She led him on, each step more painful than the last. Her feet were blistered and every bone in her body ached, but the end was in sight and that gave her a much-needed spurt of energy. They followed the track, but to Rose’s horror she realised that it was leading away from the house and she came to a halt by a wooden gate set into a stone wall. ‘We’ll take a short cut,’ she said firmly.

  ‘But it’s moorland, miss. There might be bogs and the like.’

  ‘We’ll allow the horse to lead us. He’s a sure-footed animal bred in these parts. We’ll put our trust in him.’ Rose opened the gate and slackened her hold on the reins. ‘Lead the way, horse. We’re relying on you.’

  Maisie scurried after them, complaining volubly as she tripped over tussocks of grass, but Rose had her sights set on the light, which seemed to come from a ground-floor room in the house. She kept hoping that the clouds would part and allow them to proceed by moonlight, but it had started to rain in earnest and there was nothing for it but to forge ahead. The horse seemed to sense that rest and shelter were close and their pace increased, although it was still slow going over the rough terrain. Rose lengthened her stride, but as Maisie attempted to keep up with them she tripped and fell. The carpet bag containing her things landed just a couple of feet away and as she stopped and turned her head, Rose saw it sink slowly into the bog.

  ‘Don’t move, Maisie,’ she cried, but her warning came too late.

  Maisie had scrambled to her feet and was attempting to pull her bag from the morass when she too began to sink. She uttered a terrified shriek. ‘I can’t move, miss. It’s sucking me down.’

  Rose took a tentative step towards her, but the ground was spongy beneath her feet and she knew that to venture any further would be fatal. She held out her hand, but Maisie was just out of reach, and she was already up to her knees and sinking fast. Rose slipped off her mantle. ‘Catch this, and hold on. I’ll pull you to safety.’

  After several attempts Maisie managed to grab a sleeve, but she was now up to her thighs and panicking. With each frantic movement she sank a little deeper.

  ‘Help me, miss.’ Her voice was a thin wail carried away on the wind that had sprung up, chilling Rose to the bone. She tugged with all her might but she soon realised that she was not strong enough to save Maisie from being swallowed up in the bog. The horse whinnied and rubbed his head against her shoulder, as if understanding her plight.

  ‘Good boy,’ she breathed. ‘Steady.’ She looped one sleeve of her mantle around his breast collar and tied it as tightly as she could. ‘Hold tight, Maisie. We’ll soon have you out of there.’

  Maisie’s answer was lost as she fell forward, her arms stretched out and her hands entwined in the material. Rose backed the horse slowly, praying that the stitching would not give way beneath the strain. ‘That’s the ticket, Maisie. Don’t let go, whatever you do.’

  Gradually, inch by inch, Maisie slithered across the surface of the bog. The moment she was within reach Rose leaped forward and helped to drag her free. She collapsed beside her, laughing and crying with relief. The horse whinnied, as if in agreement, and Rose clambered to her feet. She untied the mantle that had saved Maisie’s life, but was now beyond repair.

  ‘Good boy,’ she said, patting the horse’s neck. ‘Well done.’ She turned to help Maisie to her feet.

  ‘I lost all me things,’ Maisie said tearfully. ‘I got nothing left.’

  Rose gave her a hug, getting even wetter in the process. ‘You’re alive. That’s all that matters.’

  Maisie stroked the horse’s nose. ‘Ta ever so, horsey.’ She wiped away her tears, leaving streaks of mud across her cheeks. ‘He’s a hero. He ought to have a name.’

  Rose shivered. The night was cold and she was soaked to the skin. ‘We’ll think about that tomorrow. We’d best make our way to the house as quickly as possible, or we’ll both go down with lung fever.’

  ‘I got nothing to change into.’

  ‘Bring my valise. You can have one of my gowns, Maisie. It’s the least of our problems. Keep close behind me and we’ll let Hero find the way.’

  ‘Hero,’ Maisie said softly. ‘I like that. A real hero he is.’

  Rose had nothing to add to this. She gritted her teeth in an attempt to stop them chattering and put her trust in the horse, hoping that he could get them to the house without any further mishaps. Their pace was slow and Rose was hampered by her damp skirts. She knew that Maisie must be struggling even more as she was even muddier, but she was un-usually quiet and that in itself was a worry. They needed to get into the warm and out of their wet garments as soon as humanly possible. Rose stopped, turning to speak to Maisie and found her slumped to her knees. She dragged her to her feet.

  ‘Come along, now. Look, you can see the lighted window. There’ll be a lovely big fire blazing up the chimney and a nice hot cup of tea will set you to rights.’

  Maisie was shivering convulsively. ‘Can’t go another step.’ Her knees sagged and it took all Rose’s strength to keep her on her feet.

  ‘Then you must ride the rest of the way.’ Rose tugged gently on Hero’s reins and the horse ambled up to them. ‘I’ll help you to mount and we’ll get there twice as fast.’

  It was not as easy as Rose had hoped. Maisie was not exactly a dead weight, but she came close. She made a feeble attempt to help herself, but she was exhausted and chilled to the bone. Rose was close to giving up when with a last effort she managed to get Maisie sitting astride Hero’s broad back. Rose handed her the reins. ‘Just hold them loosely. He knows the way better than we do.’ She picked up her valise. ‘Walk on.’

  It was raining hard by the time they reached the house. It was impossible to make out the exact size and shape of the build
ing in the darkness, but a sliver of light illuminated the gravel path that led to the front door. Maisie slid from Hero’s back and walked the last few steps. ‘I thought we’d never make it.’

  Rose raised the iron knocker and let it fall. They waited, whipped by rain and deafened by the wind that had come up and was howling like a banshee as it roared around the house, rattling windows and ripping tiles off the roof. Rose waited for a few seconds and then knocked again. This time she heard footsteps and the door opened. In the dim light of an oil lamp held in his hand, a small ragged boy with jam smeared around his mouth stared up at her.

  ‘What d’you want?’

  It was not the friendliest of welcomes and Rose had been expecting to see a housekeeper or a manservant. She forced her chilled lips into a smile. ‘Is this Rosewenna Hall?’

  ‘What if it be? What be it to you?’

  ‘Will you please let us in? Can’t you see we’re wet and cold and we’ve travelled a long way to come here?’

  ‘Ma said travellers bain’t welcome.’

  Ignoring the child’s protests, Rose stepped inside, dragging Maisie by the hand. ‘Take us to your mother, little boy, and I’d be grateful if you would stable our horse for the night.’

  ‘You’m in trouble now!’ He thrust the lantern into Rose’s hand and ran away, calling for his mother.

  ‘You can’t shut Hero out in the cold,’ Maisie cried passionately as Rose was about to close the door.

  ‘I can’t very well bring him inside.’ Rose held the lamp high, gazing round at the square hall with its granite floor and low-beamed ceiling. The only furniture was a heavily carved oak table where chamber candlesticks were set out in a neat row. Draughts whistled through the mullioned windows and it was almost as cold inside as it was outdoors. ‘It’s not what I expected. I thought it would be a grand house.’

  Maisie said nothing. Even by lamplight Rose could see that her pallor was alarming. She was about to go in search of the housekeeper when a woman appeared, holding the child by the hand. She was barefoot and her calico gown was much darned. Her mop of dark hair was only partially confined beneath a mobcap. She looked like a drudge, but she held herself with pride and she met Rose’s curious stare without blinking.