by Val Wood
‘Of course, but how? You said you had the carriage.’
‘Carriage is down at the bottom of the hill. It’ll be nigh on impossible to get up Harwood Dale. I’ve now got two well-shod hosses. If you would travel with us, I’d ride one, young ladies would ride the other, and you could bring up the rear. That way we’d get home in one piece. I’d rather not risk it on my own.’
‘But I can barely ride!’ Rosalie objected, and Polly added, ‘And I’ve onny ever been on ’coal hoss’s back!’
Howard Carleton laughed. He looked from one to the other. ‘Well, this is going to be very interesting!’ He thought for a moment. ‘We can’t risk them coming off, Amos. I suggest that we each take a young lady behind us and I’ll lead the spare mount.’
Amos looked dubious, but then reluctantly agreed. ‘If the young ladies are happy with that?’
‘Yes,’ Rosalie said. ‘I would prefer it. I feel very nervous about riding under these winter conditions. Polly?’
Polly shrugged, and then nodded. Either way she felt it would be a thrill of a lifetime. She felt as if she was entering another world, a world about which she knew nothing.
Their dry coats were brought and they put on warm, though rather damp, boots. The landlady also brought them a warm shawl each. ‘Amos can bring these back when he’s next down this way,’ she said.
Rosalie thanked her. Polly put the shawl over her head and tucked it into her coat. ‘That’s grand,’ she said. ‘We’ll be as warm as toast now.’
But it was still snowing and an icy wind blew, quickly chilling them. A stool was brought for them to stand on and the landlord helped them to mount. Rosalie sat in a sidesaddle position behind Amos, which pleased her. Someone so solid, she surmised, must be very dependable. Polly, who hadn’t been given a choice, sat astride behind Mr Carleton. Or Mr Howard, she thought, or whatever name he gives himself. Amos calls him Mr Howard, but he introduced himself as Howard Carleton. What a funny way of going on, not knowing what to call yourself.
‘Hold on to my belt if you wish, Miss Parker.’ Howard Carleton turned his head as they moved off. She heard the amusement in his voice as he asked, ‘What did you hold on to when you rode the coal hoss?’
Huh, she thought. I suppose you think that’s hilarious. ‘I held on to his mane,’ she said, adding caustically, ‘but I don’t suppose you’d want me to hold on to yours?’
He chuckled and urged on his steed. ‘No. I have a feeling you might tug it if I misbehaved. Where was this coal hoss, Miss Parker?’
‘It was in Hull, where I lived. And I’m Polly,’ she said, grabbing hold of his belt as they moved forward.
‘Polly Parker,’ he murmured. ‘Well, I hope you’ll like it up here. We’re midway between Fylingdale Moor and Howdale Moor, the middle of nowhere really. It will be quite different from what you are used to. No shops, no theatres, only miles and miles of moor, rocks, wild flowers, heather – and sheep, of course. And if I might speak confidentially’ – they’d moved well in front of Amos and Rosalie, but even so he lowered his voice – ‘when you meet Edwin Kingston, make sure you are introduced as Miss Parker, otherwise he will look down on you. He tends to stand on ceremony; likes to know that people fit into their natural order or place. Do you know what I mean, Polly Parker?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I do. You don’t have to explain, Mr Carleton. But I know my position. I’m here as Miss Rosalie’s companion. She pays my wages.’
‘Good,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Then you don’t take orders from anyone else. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said.
‘And my name is Howard,’ he said. ‘Only old Amos and the housekeeper call me Mr Howard. According to my cousins I’m only a hanger-on.’ A note of bitterness had crept into his voice. ‘But I work for my keep just as you do.’
‘Honest work, then,’ Polly said. ‘Nobody need be ashamed o’ that.’ She was about to say more when a screech went up from Rosalie and a shout from Amos.
Howard wheeled their horse round, almost unseating Polly, and they saw that Rosalie was lying in a heap on the snowy ground.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
‘Rosalie! Miss Rosalie. Are you hurt?’
Polly stumbled towards the crumpled heap. Amos had dismounted too and they both bent over her. Howard Carleton looked down at Rosalie from his cob and gave a deep sigh.
‘I’m all right,’ Rosalie said crossly. ‘Just very wet, and I’ve bruised my elbow.’
‘I said you should have sat astride, miss,’ Amos grunted. ‘This ain’t a saddle for sitting ladylike.’
They pulled Rosalie to her feet and Polly brushed her down.
‘I’m all right, Polly,’ Rosalie repeated. ‘Please don’t fuss!’
‘Would you care to swap over, Miss Kingston?’ Howard asked. ‘You could come up in front of me and Pol— Miss Parker can go behind Amos. She’s got the hang of hanging on!’
‘No, thank you.’ Rosalie took exception to the humour in his voice. ‘I’ll sit astride behind Amos.’
Howard Carleton dismounted to help her up behind Amos again. The carriage horse, a Cleveland Bay with powerful shoulders and wide body, was too big for this slight young woman.
Polly looked up at Howard Carleton as Amos and Rosalie began to move off. ‘So how will I get up?’
He grinned. ‘I’ll mount and put out my hand, and you’ll put your foot in the stirrup iron and jump!’
Polly let out a breath. ‘You don’t ask much, do you?’ she said sarcastically.
‘Well, it’s that or walk.’ He took a leap and was astride. ‘Like that,’ he said. ‘Easy!’
‘What were you?’ she jeered. ‘A fairground rider?’
After two failed attempts to mount he found a low ridge of snow-covered rock abutting the track. Balancing on this, she tucked her foot into the iron and launched herself towards his outstretched hand.
‘Good girl! We’ll make a rider out of you yet,’ he exclaimed and she felt a sense of pride and achievement.
‘I haven’t got a hoss,’ she said.
He laughed and dug in his heels. ‘I’m sure we can find a retired coal hoss or small hack for you to ride.’
‘You’re not going to forget that, are you?’ she muttered into his ear. ‘You’ll have a great laugh over this town girl with your gen’lemen friends.’
‘No,’ he said sharply. ‘That I won’t. And I’m no gentleman and nor are my friends, the few that I have,’ he added.
‘What are you, then?’
‘I told you. I’m a farmer and work for my uncle. A hired hand,’ he added. ‘No more, no less.’
They travelled on in silence. Amos and Rosalie were a short distance in front and Polly could just make out their outline through the falling snow, which was rapidly becoming a blizzard. She saw nothing of the terrain, for there was a complete white-out; most of the time she kept her head down with her forehead against Howard Carleton’s back.
After a while she heard him curse. ‘Madness,’ he muttered. ‘Absolute madness! We could get stuck in a drift and be here all night. Amos!’ he shouted. ‘Are you sure we’re on the right track?’
Amos halted until they caught up. ‘No, I’m not, but the hosses seem to know. Bonny here is leading and I’m putting my trust in her. She’ll be after her supper and some warm straw and will know where to find it.’
‘It’s our fault,’ Polly murmured. ‘We should have waited another week or two.’
‘Did Luke suggest you come?’ Howard turned his head to speak to her and she caught a close-up of his right profile and thought how handsome he was with his straight nose and generous mouth. The only other attractive man she knew was Sonny Blake, but he was dark and foreign-looking.
‘He wrote to Miss Rosalie,’ she said. ‘He said ’end of February, so we decided to come in spite of ’weather, but a friend told us it was madness, just like you said. He used to come here when he was a boy.’ She paused. Sonny had seemed as sure about the wea
ther conditions as if he came often. He was a mystery man, she decided, realizing that really she knew very little about him, or what he did for a living.
‘How much further?’ she asked after what seemed an interminable time.
‘I don’t know,’ Howard muttered. ‘I can’t tell where we are. We might even have gone past the road to Nab Farm, except the horses would know. They have a homing instinct like all animals. But we’re climbing again and coming out of a valley bottom.’
They made slow progress. Amos kept calling back to make sure they were still following. At one point he halted for them to catch up. ‘Best stick together,’ he grunted. ‘But I don’t think we’re far off. I’m going to ride t’other hoss for a bit. Give Dancer a break from carrying us both. Missy here says she’ll be able to manage.’
‘I was thinking the same thing,’ Howard said. ‘I’m wearing stout boots, so I’ll walk and lead Kasper.’
He told Polly to duck whilst he dismounted. ‘Take hold of the reins,’ he said. ‘It’s all right, don’t worry. I have tight hold of his nose band, not that he’s likely to bolt. He loves me.’ He laughed. ‘He won’t leave me.’
Polly felt insecure to begin with, but after a while she began to enjoy the sensation of being astride the horse. Better than walking, anyway, she thought. She called out to Rosalie and asked if she was all right.
‘Y-yes,’ Rosalie said. ‘But a little scared. If only we could see where we’re going! It’s like riding into a white wall, and I’m so cold.’
It was cold, Polly agreed, and they were very wet. But no wetter than the two men, she thought, although they were better prepared than the girls were, with heavy footwear and thick coats.
After about another half-hour or so, the track became very steep and Howard couldn’t keep up with Amos and Rosalie. ‘You keep going,’ he shouted to Amos. ‘I think we’ll reach the turn soon. Call out when you get there.’
Shortly after, Amos shouted, ‘Here we are, sir. Here’s the turning for Nab. Nearly home.’
‘Thank God,’ Howard muttered. ‘I’m just about beat.’ They reached a gate, just visible against the snow, and Kasper turned towards it. ‘Good lad.’ Howard patted the horse on the nose. ‘Soon have you in a warm bed.’
Kasper snickered and increased his pace. ‘Whoa, boy.’ Howard hauled him back. ‘I’ll have to ride this last mile,’ he said to Polly. ‘The track is too steep and the snow’s too deep for me to walk. So shift forward, Polly Parker, and I’ll come up.’
She took her feet out of the stirrups and with one swift movement he was behind her with his arms round her waist, taking the reins from her hands.
‘Very cosy,’ he murmured into her ear. ‘Bet you’ve not done this before?’
She heard the smile in his voice and guessed he was as relieved as she was that the journey was almost at an end. She felt secure now and warmer with him behind her. ‘I might have done,’ she retaliated. ‘But I’m not going to tell you!’
‘Quite right,’ he laughed. ‘Everybody should have some secrets.’
‘Have you any?’ she asked.
‘Might have,’ he said. ‘Or more like secret thoughts and wishes.’
‘I’ve never gone in for them,’ she said. ‘Never thought owt nice would ever happen.’ She paused and took a deep breath. ‘But it has, and I’m very, very lucky.’
He gave a chuckle. ‘What a strange girl you are, Polly Parker. Here you are in cold bleak surroundings; you don’t know where you’re going, you’re wet through, and you consider yourself lucky!’
‘You haven’t seen where I come from, Mr Carleton,’ she said. ‘If it hadn’t been for Sonny Blake finding me work with Miss Rosalie I might be spending my time on ’streets of Hull rather than looking forward to a warm fire and a bed for ’night.’
‘Sonny Blake!’
‘Yes. He’s ’one I was telling you about, that said we shouldn’t travel yet.’
‘Is he, by Jove? Well, well. And – erm, how do you know this admirable fellow?’
She gave a little shrug. ‘Known him for years. He was a friend of my ma’s. But he’s a lot younger than her – than she was, I mean.’ Her words trailed away. Polly hadn’t thought of her mother at all today. Usually she thought of her often, but today had been full of adventure and incidents. I’m inhabiting a different world now, Ma, and you’re not in it, she thought, and suddenly she felt sad and missed her terribly.
Rosalie felt like weeping as she rode alone. She had started her flux that evening as they waited at the inn, which was why she was so uncomfortable riding. She had a blinding headache and a griping ache inside as well as a tender elbow from her fall. But worse, she felt really miserable. I don’t know where I am or what I am doing. I’m not in charge of my life; but then, she considered, I never really have been. How good it would be to make my own decisions; if only I knew how to.
They were now on the last lap to what Amos called home. The horses had turned in at a gate and increased their pace up a hill or rutted track. She still couldn’t see a hand in front of her, but Amos had assured her that it wouldn’t be long before they were inside in front of a good fire.
‘Mrs Moody’ll have some hot soup waiting, I expect,’ he called to her from his position in front. ‘And a warm bed with a hot brick in it. Dunno about t’other young lady,’ he’d added. ‘Can’t say if she’s expected or not.’
‘Is Mrs Moody the housekeeper?’ Rosalie asked, ignoring his comment about Polly.
‘Aye, she is. Been there for years. She looked after Mr Edwin and Miss Clementina after their mother died. They can do no wrong in her eyes,’ he added, and Rosalie thought she detected a note of disapproval.
Presently she called to him, ‘Can you see a light? Will that be the house?’
‘Yes, miss. That’s Nab Farm. There’s nowt else it can be. No other dwellings for miles.’
The comment didn’t hearten her at all, rather the opposite. Whatever are we going to do in this isolated place? Oh, I’m so pleased that I asked Polly to come with me, she thought for the hundredth time.
The blizzard began to ease and through the thinning curtain of snow she saw two and then three lights, and the blurred outline of a large square house. One flickering light – firelight, she hoped – was in a downstairs window, one showed from an upstairs room, and the third came from a sconce set on the wall beside the door, up to which led a short flight of steps.
‘Here we are, miss.’ Amos dismounted and came to help her down. ‘This is Nab Farm.’
She couldn’t move; she felt as if she had seized up completely.
‘Put your arm round my shoulder, miss,’ Amos said. ‘That’s it. Now lean on me; let me tek your weight. I’ll not let you drop.’
Rosalie did as she was bid and let herself topple off the horse into Amos’s arms. ‘I’m very sorry,’ she apologized as he placed her on the ground. ‘I’m so stiff.’
‘Aye, well, it’s been a long hard journey,’ he agreed. ‘I’ll be glad to get to my bed tonight.’
‘Yes. You must be very tired too,’ she said, realizing that Amos had also been out all day on his mission to collect them from Scarborough.
Polly and Howard Carleton rode up. Polly was gazing open-mouthed at the house. ‘Is this it?’ she said breathlessly. ‘Is this where we’re staying?’
‘Yes,’ Howard said. ‘This is Nab Farm, your new abode, Miss Parker. I trust you will be very happy here.’ He dismounted and held out his hand, but she slid off on her own, landing with a bump.
‘Oh,’ she gasped. ‘Isn’t it magnificent? So huge! I’ve never seen such a grand place before.’
He smiled. ‘There’s more,’ he said. ‘This is only the front. I reckon we shall lose you in the first few days and have to send out a search party.’
Polly grinned back at him. Her eyelashes were tipped with glistening snow and her nose was red. ‘I shall enjoy exploring,’ she said. ‘If I’m allowed to,’ she added, and then called to Rosalie, who appeared to
be leaning heavily on Amos. ‘Rosalie! Isn’t it exciting?’
‘Yes,’ Rosalie said half-heartedly. ‘Very!’
The door opened and several dogs bounded towards them, hurtling towards Howard Carleton and Amos, their tails wagging, and then rushing to sniff at Rosalie and Polly. Rosalie stepped back in alarm. She wasn’t used to dogs, but Polly bent to pat them and received exuberant licks on her face.
‘Down!’ Howard shouted. ‘Inside!’
The dogs obeyed immediately and raced back to the house, where a woman in a woollen dressing robe and a night cap was now standing by the door.
‘The dogs woke me,’ she said to Howard as he escorted the two girls up the steps. ‘I never thought you’d get home tonight, nor Amos either.’ She looked curiously at Rosalie and Polly. ‘Have you travelled together?’
‘We have,’ Howard said. ‘But quite by chance.’ He turned to Rosalie. ‘This is Mrs Moody, Uncle Luke’s housekeeper. Mrs Moody,’ he said, ‘here at last, after a long and arduous journey, are Rosalie Kingston and her companion Miss Parker.’
Mrs Moody gave them a cursory nod. ‘You’d better come in. The fire’s gone down; I kept it in till an hour ago but then give up. I nivver reckoned anybody’d be foolish enough to travel in such weather. Madness, I’d say!’
Rosalie and Polly exchanged po-faced glances. Everyone seemed to agree it was madness. Well, maybe it was, but they were here at last.
Dominating the hall was an immense carved wood inglenook. Comfortable chairs were placed on each side of the hearth, where a low fire still burned and the dogs had settled themselves on a rag rug. To one side of the hearth was a bookcase, each shelf packed with books, and to the other a gun cupboard. Large paintings and tapestries hung on the walls, which were painted dark red, and the wood floor was scattered with carpets and rugs. Several doors led off to other realms.
‘How do you do, Mrs Moody?’ Rosalie was determined to assert herself from the start. ‘We are both very tired indeed. I expect it is late for you to be up, but if we might have a hot drink before retiring we should be most grateful.’