The Sergeant Major's Daughter

by Sheila Walsh

  Felicity cried out in exasperation: “For God’s sake, get that idiot out from under!”

  The boy was dragged away, catching a sharp blow on the head from one flailing hoof for his pains.

  In the confusion, Felicity saw both Stayne and Benson move. In desperation she brought Starlight down sharply, turned her in a tight circle, and while she was still confused, drove her forward; together they streaked past the astonished company, under the archway of the stable yard, and headed out toward open country.

  Once clear, Felicity gave Starlight her head, reveling in the sheer exhilaration of being on horseback once more. Presently she began to look about her. They were on a bridle path where the flying hooves raised a cloud of dust from the dry earth. It was new territory for her and a sharp bend in the path brought new problems. A tree had been recently felled and lay barring the way.

  She selected a place where the larger branches had been lopped and with familiar tightening of stomach muscles, she gathered the horse together. They sailed over in joyous unison, and she laughed aloud.

  The unexpected sound drifted back to Stayne as he thundered in pursuit. He rounded the bend in time to see horse and rider clear the obstacle in such perfect accord that he felt a swift stab of admiration.

  He drew abreast and she turned a glowing face to him. By common assent they slowed to a steady trot.

  “My compliments, Miss Vale. A masterly display by any standards.”

  Felicity’s grin could have been termed impudent.

  “Thank you, my lord. You are very kind—and generous, considering that I must have proved a sad disappointment.”

  “Now, why pray, should you think that?”

  She looked demurely ahead, but a dimple quivered near her mouth. “Because you anticipated I would take a toss.”

  She saw the Earl’s gloved hand tighten on the rein and turned to meet his sharp glance with a very straight one of her own.

  “Oh, you may deny it if you will, sir—but I shall continue to suspect that the whole business was contrived in order to give me a set-down.”

  “What an extraordinarily devious mind you have, Miss Vale.” Stayne’s expression had grown sanguine. “I should be foolish in the extreme to attempt any such stratagem with a young lady so intrepid that she has ridden with fearless courage over perilous mountain passes, through treacherous ravines; who has crossed the Douro on planks, bivouacked in the High Sierras in raging blizzards—and has fought her way gallantly through the parched heat of the Spanish plain...”

  “Enough, sir, I beg you!” cried Felicity, in laughing, blushing confusion. “You must know Jamie has been fabricating stories!”

  “Why—how is this, madam?” The eyebrow rose a little. “Am I to understand that you did none of these things?”

  “No ... that is ... yes, of course I did,” she stammered. “I daresay I may have embellished certain incidents in the telling ... for Jamie’s benefit...”

  The eyebrow rose a little higher and she concluded with spirit, “But never, I swear, to the Gothic proportions you have just catalogued!”

  To her amazement, the Earl uttered a distinct chuckle. “At all events, Miss Vale, you would appear to have led a most extraordinary life. I wonder you can put up with our humdrum ways. Did you never miss the more conventional advantages of a settled home?”

  “I don’t believe I ever considered my life unusual, sir. But I know I should have found a conventional upbringing a dead bore. You can have no idea how much excitement can be derived from a life following the drum!”

  Watching her enthusiasm, his glance grew quizzical. “And were you never lonely—as you grew older, perhaps?”

  Felicity found the suggestion diverting. “Lonely? Glory—no! There was too much to do ever to be lonely or bored.”

  They had by now come to a gateway which led out into the village. She had seen it previously only as a distant cluster of cottages through the trees on her Sunday drives to church. Now she saw that it was quite idyllic, with a well and a duckpond and an even strip of green. It was larger than she had thought, for there were several houses lying back from the road in neat gardens, and on the corner of a lane leading out of the village a cottage was set apart from the rest by reason of its dilapidated appearance. Beyond ran the boundaries of some private land, heavily fenced and barred.

  Felicity was amused to observe the bobbed curtsies and pulled forelocks that greeted their arrival; positively medieval! But she had to admit that everyone looked happy and well cared for. She was just wondering at the absence of children when a squealing, struggling mass of small bodies erupted onto the green ... a slight figure was being held and dragged inexorably toward the pond.

  Felicity turned spontaneously to the Earl, expecting some assertion of authority, but there was only a slight frown of distaste.

  The child was making no effort to resist his tormentors and none of the women seemed disposed to intervene. Enraged by this shocking display of indifference, she tossed her rein to the Earl and slid to the ground.

  She plunged into the melee, laying about her with her riding crop, scattering howling children in all directions until she reached their intended victim. He was a boy, not much older than Jamie—vacant eyes stared up at her from a flaccid face. She rounded on the other children in a fury—and they, stunned into silence by the angry whirlwind in their midst, began to get their second wind.

  “You don’t want to bother ’bout him, missus...”

  “... won’t take no ’arm, we’re only goin’ to tumble him in the pond...”

  “He’s a thief, miss ... can’t keep ’is hands to his-self...”

  Felicity shouted at them to be silent and, in astonishment, they complied. “You should be ashamed!”

  A new voice at her shoulder said quietly, “Thank you, madam. It was good of you to trouble, but it happens all the time.”

  Felicity turned to meet light blue eyes filled with dull resignation. She was a slight woman, pale-haired, pale-skinned, and much too thin; the bones of her skin were sharply etched-yet she was well-spoken. She carried a young baby in her arms.

  “The boy is yours?”

  The woman nodded. “He isn’t right in the head,” she explained without emotion. “He doesn’t mean to steal, but when he sees something he wants, he just takes it.”

  “Good morning, Ester. Trouble?”

  Unnoticed, the Earl had dismounted and come to join them. The woman bobbed him a curtsy as the others had done, but there was no trace of servility in the small courtesy.

  “No more than usual, my lord.”

  He inclined his head toward the neglected cottage. “Your fence is down again, I see.”

  “Yes.” There was tiredness in the word. “The hens got out. It’s taken me most of the morning to collect them.”

  “You need to get it fixed quickly, then.” The Earl gestured with his whip. “That chimney looks none too safe.”

  The woman cast an anxious eye over the cottage roof and sighed. “Thank you, my lord. I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Will you manage?” he asked abruptly. “You know my views well enough.”

  “I shall manage,” she said with equal abruptness. “I’ll bid you good day now, my lord—ma’am.”

  She turned on her heel and put an arm around the boy’s shoulder with rough affection to draw him away. His eyes had never left Felicity’s face throughout the conversation and he moved off with reluctance. The other children had long since vanished.

  Felicity and Stayne were alone.

  “Well, Miss Vale—shall we return home?”

  Felicity dragged her gaze away from the retreating figures.

  “Is that woman a widow, my lord?”

  Something in her voice made the Earl regard her curiously. “Ester Graham? Yes. Her husband was killed in an accident on the estate about six months ago.”

  “That must have been soon after the baby was born?”

  “Yes. She’s had a pretty bad time.”
<
br />   “How unfortunate!”

  Stayne frowned, but said nothing. He threw her into the saddle and felt the anger in her. When they had ridden for some distance, still in silence, he turned a sideways glance upon her rigid figure.

  “Miss Vale,” he said mildly, “I have the oddest notion that I have in some way incurred your displeasure—yet I am at a loss to know how.”

  Felicity had striven very hard to contain her wrath; the back of her neck prickled with the effort. “If you do not know, my lord,” she said stiffly, “if your conscience is not stirred, then it is hardly for me to criticize. I will not be brought to book again for not guarding my tongue!”

  The Earl was torn between amusement and exasperation. “Oh, for God’s sake, girl—out with it! You are quite plainly choking on some grievance, imagined or otherwise.”

  “I did not imagine that poor woman’s plight, my lord—nor can I imagine why she must needs repair her own property when you so obviously maintain all the rest in excellent order.”

  “Ah—I see! Perhaps, my dear Miss Vale, it is because I do not own Mrs. Graham’s cottage. It is her own property.”

  “Oh!” Felicity was momentarily disconcerted. “But ... even so, surely it would not ... hurt you ... to repair it for her.”

  “No, madam, it would not,” he replied curtly, “but try, if you can, to make her accept my offer. She is as deuced independent as you are yourself.”

  She flushed.

  “I pay her a small pension—not enough, for I valued Tom Graham highly—he was our head forester as was his father before him. But it is all she will take. Apart from that, we buy our eggs from her and give her all the sewing work from Cheynings.”

  “And can she manage on that?”

  “Barely, I should think, but I can do no more. She could sell the house, of course, and take a living-in post, but she won’t. It was given to Tom’s father by my father, and it means more to her than a mere roof over her head.”

  Felicity knew exactly how she must feel—how she would feel herself.

  “I believe Captain Hardman made her an offer for it which she turned down very smartly.”

  “Captain Hardman?”

  “Our new neighbor at Manor Court. An unknown quantity as yet,” mused the Earl. “I’m told he acquired the Court in lieu of a gambling debt and is already increasing the rents of some of his tenant farms to the point where they cannot be met, which does not endear him to me.”

  “No—indeed!”

  “By the way, Miss Vale,” Stayne smiled slightly. “I must commend your handling of those young brats ... forceful, but effective.”

  Felicity’s eye flashed with sudden anger. “I abhor persecution of any kind. Have the children no school?”

  “I believe there was one in my mother’s day, though it was primarily concerned with their souls. The schoolroom is still there alongside the church, but it has long since fallen into disuse and I doubt our present incumbent would be keen to revive it.”

  “Well, that is a pity. Apart from the many greater benefits, it would keep the children out of mischief.”

  The Earl looked faintly amused. “A strange remark coming from someone who has had anything but an ordered upbringing. Are you then in favor of education for the masses, Miss Vale?”

  “Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “Perhaps because of my upbringing. I have seen a great deal of downright misery in my travels. Poor people put upon by everyone—by their governments, by the armies of both sides—and submitting because they were too ignorant to assert themselves.

  “And pray, do not seek to tell me, my lord, as I am so often told, that the poor are happy in their lot—it puts me out of all patience!”

  The Earl drew back on his rein and stopped. “Good God!” he exclaimed in mock horror. “Don’t tell me I have been harboring a Radical under my roof all these weeks!”

  His reaction prompted an unwilling trill of laughter, but Felicity’s eyes remained serious. “Perhaps I am. At any rate, it is a subject upon which I feel most strongly.”

  “Palpably so. And you think my estate brats should be given the advantages of a good education, do you, Miss Vale? So that they may later turn and murder me in my bed?”

  “I do not consider that in the least likely, sir,” she said primly. “I would judge you to be a just employer and landlord.”

  “You overwhelm me, ma’am!”

  “But there are many, like your Captain Hardman, who are not,” she persisted. “I have been long enough in England to sense the unrest—and know that it is growing. Surely, in the long term, it is better that people should be well taught, so that they may gain their objectives by reasoned argument, rather than by violence?”

  “H’m!” The Earl gave her one of his long-nosed stares. Then he turned and set his horse in motion again.

  “Very well, ma’am—I am open to conviction.” There was a touch of malice in the harsh voice. “As from now, you are appointed to the post of schoolmistress here.” Felicity’s first reaction to the Earl’s pronouncement was that he had taken temporary leave of his senses, the second was a fervent wish that she had kept her mouth shut. She hastily assembled a string of arguments intended to persuade him that she was quite unequal to such a task.

  He demolished them all. “Don’t underestimate your ability to handle children, Miss Vale. You have already wrought wonders with Jamie.”

  Felicity looked at him closely, but could discern no trace of levity. In desperation she urged, “But what about Jamie?”

  “Oh, Jamie will do well enough,” he said crisply. “We will engage some suitable young woman to play the nursemaid until Mr. Burnett arrives. And you may give him an hour or so’s tuition each day at some period best suited to yourself.”

  She was fast adapting herself to the Earl’s odd, abrupt ways, yet this calm assumption that all was decided roused conflicting emotions. She longed to give him a sharp set-down, but was lured by the challenge of starting a school.

  “Very well, my lord. I am willing to consider your proposition. What salary are you offering?”

  Stayne looked taken aback. “I have no idea, Miss Vale. What is the current stipend for schoolteachers, I wonder? How does forty pounds per annum sound to you?”

  It sounded like music. “Make it forty-five, sir—and I will accept.”

  “O—ho! So we are to haggle, are we? I seem to remember, not many days since, you were all for throwing my money back at me!”

  “That was quite different,” Felicity maintained. “More in the nature of a favor for a favor. This is business.”

  He gave a short bark of laughter. “A woman of principle, egad! Well, madam—I shall not haggle with you. You shall have your forty-five pounds, but I warn you that in return I shall demand nothing short of excellence!”

  5

  The schoolhouse was in a sad state of dilapidation. It stood back from the lane, screened from the church by a small coppice. Felicity viewed it with Mr. Becket, his lordship’s agent, and together they decided how to make it not only habitable, but also cheerful to work in. Mr. Becket’s instructions were to equip it exactly to Miss Vale’s requirements.

  A gig, together with a delightfully mannered black gelding, had been put at her disposal, and there was a tacit understanding that she might also ride Starlight whenever she wished, but a tentative proposal that she should take up residence in the diminutive dwelling adjoining the schoolroom was firmly rejected.

  “No, Miss Vale,” said the Earl. “Under no circumstances will I entertain such a notion. You will continue to live at Cheynings. Not only is the schoolhouse totally unsuited to a young girl living alone...”

  “You flatter me, my lord,” she put in, amused. “I am two and twenty, you know—and have been out of leading strings for years. I am well able to take care of myself.”

  I do not doubt it, ma’am. I cannot imagine you were ever easy to lead, but my decision remains unaltered Putting other considerations aside, there is Ja
mie. Would you desert him?”

  Of course she would not—and so all her hastily assembled arguments were quashed before they ever found utterance.

  A nursemaid had been found locally for Jamie—a sensible country girl who had grown up in a large family and knew exactly how a small boy’s mind worked. Amaryllis was not overly pleased by Rose Hibberd’s appointment, but this was due mostly to a perverse resentment of Felicity’s new-found independence.

  Miss Vale and her gig were soon a familiar sight in the village. News of a proposed school had traveled fast, and if the children were unsure, their parents were not. Offers of help flooded in, but it was Ester Graham who haunted the schoolroom, drawn there from the very first; it was Ester who helped to lay out benches and to unpack the shiny new slates, while young Willie stood staring at Felicity, unblinking and expressionless, and the baby crooned in a basket nearby.

  Felicity had been unsure how many the school was to cater for and in the end she had been obliged to consult Lord Stayne.

  “I am in some difficulty, my lord,” she began. “Do you wish me to take only the children of your own workers and tenants, or is the school to be open to all?”

  “I have given the matter very little thought, Miss Vale. Is it important?”

  “Well, sir, I have been approached by several people...”

  “From the Manor Court estate?”

  “Yes,” said Felicity. “They seem very keen.”

  “Then you must do as you think best,” said the Earl with patent disinterest. “I would not hazard a guess as to Hardman’s views. He is away at present, I believe. He has iron foundries in Shropshire which take a great deal of his time. I doubt he will concern himself overmuch. Yes. Do as you please in the matter.”

  Felicity took a deep breath. “Then ... may I make a suggestion, sir?”

  He viewed her with deep misgivings. “I have the oddest conviction that I am about to be cozened.”