The Binding

by Bridget Collins

  ‘No, I mean – not for ages, not since …’ I stopped. ‘How did you know that, anyway?’

  ‘Alta mentioned it once.’ He shrugged one shoulder, turning away. ‘I remembered the name, that’s all.’

  ‘Right.’ The back of his neck was damp. His shirt had two long creases down his spine like knife-blades. I fiddled with the strap of my gun, wishing I knew what I wanted to say.

  Suddenly he spun on his heel. ‘Splotch! We’d better go on looking. I completely – I can’t believe we—’

  ‘Of course. Let’s go.’

  He set off, running through the trees until his shirt was just a flash of white in the green. I hesitated. I had to follow him, or I’d lose him. But there was something nagging at me, a dislocated feeling like the onset of an illness. Or like I’d left something behind.

  A long way away I heard Splotch bark. I squashed the feeling down until it disappeared, and ran towards her voice.

  After that, Darnay stopped coming to see us.

  At first we thought – we told each other, anyway – that it was nothing, he hadn’t had time that day, and that he’d be there tomorrow. But the days stretched to a week and there was no letter or message from him, and Alta begged me to go with her to the New House to see if he was there. That day I’d been relaying the stones around the cows’ watering pool, and I was glad of the quiet walk and the breeze that dried the sweat on my shirt; but when we walked up the drive and rang the bell there was no answer at all, not even a curt dismissal from the housekeeper. Alta turned and looked at me. She looked shrivelled, like a flower that had been caught out by a frost. ‘What if he’s died, Em?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. We’d have heard by now.’

  ‘What if—’

  ‘Shut up!’

  We walked back in silence. It seemed obvious that he’d gone back to Castleford without a word, without even saying goodbye … But I couldn’t bring myself to tell Alta. Surely he couldn’t be so cruel. But he didn’t come. The atmosphere at home was thick and crackling with tension; Ma and Pa shouted at each other, Alta threw a tantrum in the dairy and let two days’ worth of unskimmed milk turn sour, and Splotch pricked up her ears and whined every time a horse went past the gate. I worked so hard and relentlessly in the heat that I came home every evening with a splitting headache, but even so I struggled to sleep; at night I sat by my window, my forehead pressed against the glass to cool it, wishes and curses so mixed up in my brain I hardly knew which were which.

  Then it was Midsummer Eve. There was a row because Alta refused to show her face at the village bonfire, and a row because I called her a spoilt little madam who’d need to start looking for someone else, and a row because when I apologised she boxed my ears. We went to the bonfire, but it was no fun; every mouthful of beer tasted sour, and Pa drank too much and almost started a fight with Martin Cooper. I turned away and let Ma wrench them apart. But when I stared in the opposite direction, I found myself looking at Alta, standing a little way apart from the other girls. They were all in their best dresses, the way they’d been at Wakening Fair, and they had wreaths of summer flowers around their necks and wrists; but then Alta had been at the centre of the group, sleek with happiness, and the others had given her sidelong glances of envy. Now Cissy Cooper called, ‘Alta, come and listen, Gertie’s engaged,’ and Gertie tossed her head and said, ‘Don’t worry, Alta, you’ll find someone soon,’ and I wanted to slap them both for the smug note in their voices. But I knew Alta was too proud to let me catch her arm and take her home; and so was I, and so were Ma and Pa, and so we stayed and laughed and sang with the others. We walked home at dawn, like unwounded soldiers after a defeat, trying to pretend we hadn’t lost.

  I fell asleep late – well, early, just as the sun was slanting over the gate into the yard – with my face against the window. The image of Alta’s face, withered with misery, haunted me. It was my fault. Somehow, it was my fault. If I had … I didn’t know what I should have done differently, but it was my fault. The thought went round and round; it was maddening, but at least it kept the other thoughts at bay, the ones about Darnay.

  Something rattled on the glass next to my cheek. I jerked upright, out of my doze; then it happened again, and I opened the window and peered out, blinking. It was already mid-morning, and already hot.

  ‘Farmer,’ Darnay called up. ‘Where is everyone?’

  ‘It’s Midsummer Day,’ I said. ‘We’re all asleep. Where have you been?’

  ‘Come down, will you?’ He bent to pat Splotch, who was turning excited circles at his feet.

  I dragged my clothes on and wiped the dried spit from my chin. I paused at Alta’s door, half wanting to pay her back for the slap, but made myself knock. ‘Alta! Darnay’s come back,’ I said, and heard her bedsprings jingle as she sat upright.

  ‘Tell him I don’t want to see him,’ she said, and her feet padded across the room to the chest of drawers where she kept her best nightgown.

  I pelted down the stairs and out into the yard, jamming my boots on as I went. Darnay looked round and laughed. ‘You look … improvised,’ he said.

  ‘The bonfire ends at dawn,’ I said. ‘We come home and feed the animals, and then we can sleep till noon. Even Pa does. It’s a holiday.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry, have I—’

  ‘No,’ I said, too quickly. ‘No, it’s good to see you.’

  There was a silence. Darnay bent to tug Splotch’s ears.

  ‘Alta won’t talk to you,’ I said.

  ‘That’s a shame.’

  ‘I think she wants you to insist on seeing her. Beg her forgiveness. You know.’

  ‘Will you talk to me?’

  ‘Yes. Obviously.’

  ‘That’s all right, then. Come on.’ He clicked to Splotch and walked out of the gate before I had time to tie my bootlaces.

  ‘Darnay,’ I said, catching up with him, ‘where have you been? We thought – Alta thought – I mean, we were worried.’

  ‘I was thinking,’ he said.

  ‘Thinking? For a week?’

  ‘I’m a very slow thinker.’

  It was meant to make me laugh, and it did; but I noticed when we went on walking that he’d dodged the question. I said, ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘We’re walking Splotch.’ I followed him without thinking, glad we were taking a path through the woods, dazzled by the green-gold play of sunlight through the trees; and it wasn’t until he stopped at the edge of the wood that I realised where he’d brought us. At our feet there was a still expanse of water, a little darker blue than the sky; and on the other side was the ruined castle. We’d always avoided the ruins, as if neither of us wanted to be reminded of the day we’d met; but now, overhung with wisteria, with its reflection trembling gently in the moat, the old castle seemed so far from the haunted black-and-red of that winter afternoon that it could have been another place. I breathed in, and from across the water I caught a sweet, rich scent like cloves.

  We circled the moat and sauntered across the bridge while Splotch ran ahead of us. I walked into the little courtyard and leant against the well-head, tilting my head back to feel the sun on my face. I could hardly open my eyes against the light; when I tried, the tower and the walls blurred into a shimmer of sand-coloured stone, dancing water-light, leaves and fierce blue sky. I was breathless and dizzy, as if my blood was too thin, and I wondered if I was still drunk. I wiped the last gritty flecks of sleep from my eyes and turned to shield my face from the sun. Dark shapes flickered over my vision.

  Darnay had paused to look down at the water, staring as if he could read something in the mud at the bottom. At last he said, ‘I wanted to ask you something, Farmer.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘It’s about Alta.’

  ‘She’s just sulking,’ I said. ‘You probably should have banged on her door and pleaded with her to see you, but if you play your cards right it won’t take more than a couple of boxes of candied fruit.’

  ‘That’s not w
hat I was going to ask.’

  I took a deep breath. The sun was too hot, all of a sudden; if only I hadn’t drunk so much last night. ‘She’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘She’s only fifteen. She’ll get over it – only be gentle with her, Darnay, she’s not as tough as she tries to b—’

  ‘Will you shut up!’ He dragged a hand over his face, and for a second it was as if he was the one who hadn’t slept. He paused so long that it seemed deliberate. Then he said, ‘I thought I might ask her to marry me.’

  XVII

  I stared at him. I couldn’t remember when I had really looked at him, at his face: his eyes were dark, but one iris held tiny flecks of amber and ochre where the sun hit it; the skin across his cheekbones was flushed, freckled so faintly it was hardly visible. He bit his lip and I noticed the slight asymmetry of his teeth, and how white they were. I didn’t feel anything. All this time, all these months, we’d waited for him to say that – or something like it; and now he’d said the words, and the rest of our lives could begin. I lowered my head and kicked at a stone on the base of the well-head. The brightness of the sun was stinging my eyes. The warm air smelt flat and flowery, like old rosewater.

  ‘Right,’ I said.

  He went on watching me with an open, direct gaze that made me feel like he was waiting for something more.

  ‘Won’t you …’ I cleared my throat. ‘We’re only farmers. Will your parents – your father—’

  ‘He can’t stop me. We could marry in secret, and then …’ His eyes slid away and then back to my face. ‘I’ll look after her. It’ll be all right.’

  ‘Then … good,’ I said. ‘Alta’ll be delighted.’

  He nodded. I turned away and went to look through the arch into the ruined hall. The sun slanted through the wisteria-hung windows and patterned the grass with squares of brighter green. My head ached.

  ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

  ‘I am.’ I forced myself to smile at him over my shoulder. ‘Of course I’m pleased. We were all hoping this would happen.’

  He didn’t return the smile. ‘Were you?’

  ‘Naturally. I mean – yes.’ Naturally made it sound as if we were after his money. But then, if he’d been poor, Ma and Pa would never have … I pressed my knuckle into a gap between the stones of the arch and leant my whole weight on it. ‘I hope you’ll both be very happy together.’

  Silence. A stock dove called from the foliage above me, with a sound like a clanking bell.

  ‘Is that it, then? No spontaneous outburst of joy? No fraternal handshake?’

  ‘I said I was pleased. It’s not about me, is it? I’m sure Alta will more than make up for my bad manners.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that.’ He scuffed his shoe against the base of the wall. His face was lit from below by the sun dancing off the water. Shadows flickered across his eyes. ‘What’s the matter, Farmer? Do you still think I’ll break her heart?’

  ‘No.’ It was true. Somehow, without knowing when, I’d learnt to trust him.

  ‘You still hate me, then? It’s fine, you can tell me the truth.’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’

  ‘Then what? I really care about her. I won’t let you down.’

  I pushed my knuckle harder into the sharp-edged stone. When I took it out again the skin was beaded with tiny specks of blood. He was right. I should be pleased. I should be relieved. Now Alta could have her long veil with pearls embroidered on the edge; and she could have a house in Castleford, and a lady’s maid; and she could have Darnay. Everything she wanted – in that order. Distantly I knew that was unfair, but I didn’t care.

  ‘Why are you asking me?’ I said. ‘Ask Ma and Pa. Ask Alta. Why does it matter what I think?’

  ‘Because—’ But I didn’t wait to hear his answer. I went through the arch into the high roofless hall and stood at one end of it, breathing as slowly as I could, trying to focus on what was here and now: the roses that spilt down the walls, the wide mossy band of paving stones, the short grass … Someone looked after it, I realised, it was a garden, not just a ruin. Funny, when Lord Archimbolt let everything else fall apart.

  ‘Emmett. Talk to me. What’s wrong? If you don’t want …’

  ‘Please don’t marry her,’ I said, and put my hands over my face.

  ‘All right.’

  I heard the words, but they didn’t make sense. ‘Sorry,’ I said, forcing the words past the fierce ache in my throat. ‘No, you should marry her, of course, I’m just – it’s – I don’t know why, it’s stupid, I didn’t sleep much last night, that’s all – forget it, I didn’t mean—’

  He took hold of my arm and pulled me round to face him.

  Then he kissed me.

  A bell chimed six o’clock. I knew it was the clock on the New House stables, nearly a mile away, but the warm air was so still it could have been just the other side of the moat. A few moments later it repeated the hour – another six notes – and it was as if time itself had paused. I’d never felt such quietness; nothing moved, except the faintest tremor in the water, the flick of a fish breaking the mirror. Birds sang suddenly and then lapsed back into silence. The sun had dipped behind the trees on the hill, but the sky was still bright; it was the longest day, it would be hours before it was dark.

  ‘Emmett?’

  I looked round. Darnay was standing in the half-ruined doorway. His shirt was buttoned wrong, and one corner hung lower than the other. I opened my mouth to speak, but all I could do was smile.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good.’ He gestured to the grass next to me. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘No.’ He turned away, and my heart contracted. ‘I don’t mind, I mean.’

  He hesitated before he sat down next to me. I glanced at him, and the peace was overlaid with something else. It was like sitting next to a stranger. I didn’t know this Darnay, this voice, this naked unmasked face; and yet I did, I knew him better than the other one, this was the Darnay I had always known, from the moment I set eyes on him. I pulled my knees up to my chest, trying to stop the shivers that had started running down my spine.

  ‘Are you cold?’

  ‘It’s getting chilly.’

  ‘It’s warmer in the sunshine.’

  ‘It’s nice here.’ We looked at each other briefly and smiled, and looked away again.

  After a long time he said, ‘Are you hungry?’

  ‘No. You?’

  ‘Not really.’

  Another pause. Splotch barked suddenly and then whined, and we both looked automatically towards the gap in the wall. ‘It’s the frogs,’ Darnay said. ‘Good job she’s tied up.’

  ‘Yes.’

  A wood-pigeon called sleepily to its mate. Just in front of us a fish arched its back and sank again, leaving arrow-trails of brightness in the green water. I tried to summon the serene emptiness I’d felt a moment before; but I couldn’t, not with him next to me.

  ‘Listen, Emmett.’

  ‘What?’ It came out like an attack, from nowhere. We stared at each other, frozen.

  ‘I want you to know,’ he said, so carefully it was as if he was giving dictation, ‘that if you want to pretend all this never happened …’

  I had earth under my fingernails. I concentrated on getting it out. ‘Is that what you want?’

  ‘It’s up to you.’

  ‘I asked what you wanted.’ I didn’t mean to look at him, but I couldn’t stop myself. ‘Don’t worry about my feelings, Darnay. The agricultural classes have earthy, primitive appetites that are easily sated.’

  ‘Stop it!’ He flung up his arm as if he was warding off a blow. ‘What’s the matter? All I said was—’

  ‘That you want to run away. That – all this – didn’t mean anything.’ I hated myself for saying it aloud.

  ‘Don’t be such an idiot.’ He caught my eye. I set my jaw and tried to stare him out. If I let him see how I felt, it would be the final humiliation.

  I don’t know w
hat I did; but I failed. Abruptly his whole face lit up with a huge, relieved, joyous grin. ‘So you don’t want that, then?’ he said. ‘Good. Neither do I.’

  I felt my breath hiccup in my throat. Then, with a quiet jolt, something inside me fell apart: like a pot that had been broken years ago but somehow managed to cling to its shape until someone nudged it. I started to laugh too.

  After a long time he reached out and brushed my cheek with the back of his knuckles; and something in the gesture made my heart turn over as much as anything else he’d done that afternoon.

  Later. Was it when Midsummer Day dissolved into Midsummer Night that we stumbled home like drunkards, kissing in the dark at the crossroads before we separated? I remember that kiss, reckless and breathless, we were so desperate not to let go of each other that we left bruises. Or was that another later, the night after that when I crept out through the summer dark to meet him? The time blurred, thick as honey. The days after midsummer, while Alta was still sulking, ran into one another, shining. Nothing had changed, and everything had: life went on, overflowing with sweetness, ordinary and extraordinary at once. He helped me while I worked – we worked together – stripped to the waist in the heat, both of us running with sweat; when we stopped to drink the ginger beer that Ma had brought us he drank so quickly he almost choked, wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist and looked up at me, grinning. And later, later, later … There was one twilight – dusk or dawn, after or before, I don’t know – when Darnay took my hand and laced his fingers through mine; a moment under the stars when I kissed his forehead, my heart hammering – stupid, after everything we’d done, but I was afraid he’d shy away. There was a rose he picked in the shadow of the wall and pushed into the buttonhole of my shirt, and when I winced he leant forward and licked away the tiny line of blood where a thorn had scratched me. And a hot, late afternoon – was it our last, before Alta forgave him? – when we had snatched an hour together, alone, in the ruins, and he turned to me and said, with a new gentleness that made me shiver, ‘Maybe now you could call me Lucian.’