by Tania Crosse
‘Oh, I’m sorry if I startled you,’ the voice came again. ‘I was going to say it’s ridiculous still having open fires to heat this mausoleum of a house. It’s nice to have one blazing away in the drawing room, but we ought to have central heating installed. Mother won’t hear of it, though. All that disruption, she says.’
Anna was rooted to the spot. Here was Sir Gilbert Ashcroft, baronet, talking to her like a normal human being. It was bewildering, and she didn’t know what to think, let alone say, as she heard the young man walking about the room.
‘Is there something particularly fascinating about that rug?’ he enquired. ‘You’ve been staring at it solidly for the past minute. You can look up at me, you know, or has Mrs D instilled the fear of God into you about speaking to us? Bit of a harridan, she is. But we have to forgive her. I’ll let you into a secret,’ he said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘She was born on Mars.’
A frown pleated Anna’s forehead. What on earth was he going on about? And then it dawned on her that Sir Gilbert was teasing her. It was so unexpected that moments passed before her lips twitched with a hesitant smile and she dared to raise her eyes.
‘Well, it’s nice to see a pretty face about the place,’ he was saying now with an amiable smile.
Hmm, not so bad yersel, Anna suddenly heard Ethel’s voice in her head, and she had to resist the desire to burst into laughter. Sir Gilbert really was good-looking, with merry brown eyes that danced with good humour.
‘Anna, isn’t it?’ he prompted.
This time Anna didn’t hesitate with her reply. ‘Yes, sir,’ she nodded.
‘Well, then, Anna, I mustn’t detain you from your duties, or you’ll get into trouble with Mrs D.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
She turned her attention back to the fire, feeling confused but more light-hearted than at any time since she had come to work at the Hall. Sir Gilbert was evidently arranging some of his belongings in the room, and Anna didn’t feel afraid now to glance back once or twice as she waited for the first layer of coal to catch properly.
‘Do you serve at dinner, Anna?’ Sir Gilbert asked casually as he moved about the room.
‘Oh, no, sir. I’m not considered, well, I’m sure you know what I mean.’
‘Mmm, pity. Well, I must get down to the tea I asked for, or Mrs D will be after me! And I’m ravenous after the long drive from London.’
‘And … and I’m sorry for mistaking you for … well, I don’t really know who when you came in,’ Anna ventured, feeling herself come out in a hot sweat again.
Sir Gilbert tossed a laugh into the air as he made for the door. ‘You are entirely forgiven, my dear Anna,’ he pronounced, and left Anna floundering in a deep but pleasant quandary.
Anna stood on the platform in a froth of excitement as the little train glided into the station with a gentle hiss of steam and a grinding of brakes. The exertion of the long walk into Princetown had kept her warm, but as she waited on the platform, the biting wind seemed to cut right through her. She could have sought shelter in the waiting room, but she simply couldn’t contain herself by sitting still, and scoured the moor instead. The moment she saw the first puff of white smoke in the distance, she began hopping up and down in anticipation. And now as three doors in the single carriage opened and Ethel climbed down from the last compartment, Anna sprang forward like a jack-in-the-box.
‘Ethel!’
‘Annie!’
They clung onto each other, dancing around in a circle and grinning like Cheshire cats.
‘Oh, you’m just the same!’
‘It’s only been a few weeks!’ Anna laughed aloud. ‘I’m not going to change in that time!’
‘Nearly six weeks,’ Ethel corrected her. ‘And ’aven’t I missed you! But what we’m going to do?’
‘Bowden’s Café.’ Anna bobbed her head in reply, linking her arm through Ethel’s. ‘I’ll have to start walking back about a quarter to two, so we’ve got four whole hours together. I thought we’ll have a cup of tea and then a wander, and then a bite of lunch. Either back at the café or in one of the pubs. Or there’s a fish and chip shop if you fancy that.’
‘Fish an’ chips sounds proper lovely! So long as we can eat ’em out o’ newspaper. Makes ’em taste so much better! But I didn’t realise how big Princetown is,’ Ethel marvelled as they walked briskly into the centre. ‘I imagined a tiny little place, just a few ’ouses, maybe.’
‘Oh, no. It’s quite a community,’ Anna told her knowledgeably. ‘All the prison staff and their families have to live here, and there’s a lot of people employed by the Duchy of Cornwall. The Duchy owns most of Dartmoor, you see. Well, there is some private property, and then something called the Maristow Estate owns vast areas of the moor as well. So almost everywhere is either rented or what they call leasehold.’
‘You’ve got me there!’ Ethel grinned. ‘But there’s loads o’ shops an’ all! An’ look! They little wild ponies running loose in the streets! Aren’t they cute?’
‘There’s nothing to stop them wandering in off the moor, you see,’ Anna explained, smiling herself at the endearing animals. ‘Oh, that’s Bolt’s on the corner where I bought my new clothes. They sell everything, and they’ll order in anything you like. And back there, there’s a town hall where they hold dances and show the latest films. No good to me, though,’ she grimaced, pulling a long face. ‘Ashcroft Hall’s much too far, and I have to be in by nine, even when I’ve got the afternoon and evening off.’
‘What does you do then? Oh, in yere?’ Ethel asked as Anna opened the door to the café and a bell rang, summoning a pleasantly plump woman in a striped apron.
‘My first customers of the day,’ she beamed. ‘So what can I do for you?’
‘Pot of tea and two mince pies, please, as it’s nearly Christmas.’
‘Won’t be a jiffy, my dears.’
They took a table by the window and Ethel unbuttoned her coat in the warm atmosphere. ‘Seems very friendly, like.’
‘Mmm, she is. I’ve been into Princetown two or three times, but it’s a long walk. I thought I might invest in a bicycle, like Mrs Smudge, our cleaner, has. Then I could go for long rides on the moor instead of walking everywhere.’
‘Doesn’t you feel a bit scared, all alone out on the moor, like?’
‘No, not really. I’ve got a map and I keep to the footpaths. And you can see for miles, so you can see anybody coming and avoid them if you don’t like the look of them. But I’m more frightened if there are cows across the path! Huge, they are, when you get up close! But I want to hear all your news, not mine.’
‘Not much to tell.’ Ethel paused for a minute while the woman brought the tray of steaming tea and hot mince pies. ‘Nort’s ’appened really. Bert an’ me is still going strong. I really thinks I loves ’en,’ she admitted coyly. ‘An ’e says ’e loves me, too. I knows it’s a bit early to say, an’ we’ve no money to set up ’ome as yet, but I feels certain there be a future for us.’
‘Oh, that’s wonderful!’ Anna cried, thrusting aside a little prick of envy. ‘Will you be able to be together over Christmas?’
‘We’ve agreed to ’ave Christmas dinner with our own families, but see each other after that. You knows Bert only lives a few minutes away, so there’s no problem.’ Ethel bit lustily into her mince pie and noisily savoured the taste. ‘What about you?’
‘Oh, all time off is cancelled over Christmas,’ Anna scoffed. ‘Sir Gilbert, Lady Ashcroft’s son, that is, arrived about a week ago and he’ll be staying until well into the new year. Lady Ashcroft has invited some friends of hers. And also some distant cousin with his wife and entire family. There’ll be nine adult guests and a toddler. So we’re going to have our work cut out. I’m dreading it, to be honest.’
‘Oh dear, Annie, that don’t sound like much fun.’
Anna gave a rueful sigh. ‘I don’t suppose it will be. Mrs Davenport’ll be in a dreadful temper, bossing me about and e
xpecting me to do a dozen things at once. I’ll be run ragged. Still …’ she paused, her face brightening, ‘at least Sir Gilbert’s very nice. He talks to me sometimes. I told him the other day how I’d been doing my A levels but had to leave school when Mum … when Mum …’
Whether it was chatting to Ethel again, Anna wasn’t sure, but sorrow suddenly gripped her throat again and, for a split second, she thought she might start to cry. But she really mustn’t when Ethel had been good enough to come all that way and make such an early start. So she managed to swallow down the feeling and smile wanly at Ethel’s concerned face.
‘Anyway,’ she went on, shaking her head, ‘Sir Gilbert said I could borrow any books I wanted from the library. Yes, the Hall has its own library! Mind you, I overheard Lady Ashcroft telling him afterwards not to fraternise with the staff.’
‘Golly, she sounds a right old whatnot!’
‘No, she’s not that bad, really. I feel sorry for her in a way. She seems very lonely to me.’
‘Not surprising if she won’t even let her son talk to you.’
‘Well, there you are.’ Anna sighed, pushing aside her empty cup. ‘Pity, though.’
Ethel raised a teasing eyebrow. ‘Likes ’en, does you, this Sir Gilbert? An’ mortal handsome, I suppose?’
‘Oh, well, he is rather nice,’ Anna stammered, feeling herself flush. ‘I just enjoy having a few moments of proper conversation instead of being ordered about all the time. Still, never mind. It won’t be for long. Even if I buy a bicycle, I reckon in about six months I’ll have saved enough to be able to move on. Rent somewhere of my own and get a more suitable job. In an office or something. I could learn shorthand and typing at evening classes and still become a proper secretary. Which … reminds me.’ She hesitated as the old fears came crashing down around her again. ‘Do you … do you see my dad at all?’
She noticed a shuttered look come over Ethel’s face.
‘Oh, we sees ’en going to an’ from work sometimes,’ she muttered evasively.
‘He’s still in work, then?’
‘Seems so. Maybe you leaving brought ’en to ’is senses, like.’
‘Nothing … happened, then, when he found I’d gone?’
Ethel pushed forward her bottom lip and shrugged. ‘No,’ she lied convincingly, feeling as if she was back at school and talking her way out of some mischief she’d been up to. ‘But my mum saw your last letter arrive, so Mum and Dad knows I knows where you’m be. An’ they wanted to know where I was going today.’
Anna drew in a breath. ‘I suppose they’d have had to find out sometime.’
‘Yes. But no matter.’ Ethel suddenly pushed back her chair and got to her feet. ‘You can show me around this yere Princetown an’ tell me all about this Sir Gilbert fellow. Unattached, is ’e?’
‘Oh!’ Anna looked up in surprise from taking somef coins out of her purse. ‘Do you know, I’ve no idea.’
‘Maybe you’m in with a chance, then,’ Ethel winked.
Anna blinked at her in amazement. The idea was preposterous. And as she realised Ethel was teasing her, the pair of them fell about with laughter as they left the café.
Chapter Eight
‘My goodness, these have kept well,’ Sir Gilbert observed appreciatively.
As Anna had entered the drawing room entrusted with the task of delivering the tray set with afternoon tea, Sir Gilbert had caught her eye as he lounged in an armchair by the blazing fire. One leg was crossed casually over the opposite knee, and without bothering to move the rest of his body, he had reached out and deftly swiped a scone from the passing plate.
‘Mmm, they taste freshly baked,’ he continued, evidently relishing the next mouthful.
Anna gave a little shiver of pleasure. She had been rushed off her feet over Christmas and the New Year, with never a word of thanks from anyone, and nothing but scolding from Mrs Davenport. And the house guests had treated her as invisible – except when they had wanted her to run some errand, of course! For two pins she would have walked out if she’d had anywhere to go. Which she didn’t, of course. Only the odd kind word or secret, knowing wink from Sir Gilbert had kept her going.
It was the thought of those treasured, fleeting moments that filled her with courage now. ‘Oh, but they are, sir,’ she dared to reply even in Lady Ashcroft’s presence. ‘I made them myself this afternoon.’
‘Really?’ Sir Gilbert’s eyebrows lifted. ‘When you’ve so much to do with Mrs D in bed with flu? Well, I reckon they’re up to Mrs D’s standards, wouldn’t you agree, Mother? You’ve done so well, Anna, and worked so hard with all our guests that I think you should have some time off, even if we are a man down on the staff, so to speak.’
‘Really, Gilbert, that is just the time—’
‘Oh, come, Mother!’ he interrupted persuasively. ‘Poor girl looks quite exhausted. Tomorrow afternoon, instead of preparing some ridiculous evening meal we can easily do without, Anna must have a few hours to herself.’
Oh, good Lord. Anna could feel her cheeks turn pink. ‘Oh, but, sir …’ she stuttered, hot with embarrassment.
‘No, I insist. Surely we can survive on a cold evening meal for once? There must be enough cheese and cold meats and pickles left to feed us for weeks, if I know Mrs D. Isn’t that so, Anna?’
‘Oh, well, yes, I suppose there is,’ she mumbled, averting her eyes.
‘That’s settled, then,’ she heard Sir Gilbert declare since she dared not look at him again.
‘Will … will that be all for now, Lady Ashcroft?’ she asked the carpet.
‘Yes, child. We’ll ring when we wish you to clear. And I must say that you do seem to be coping very well without Mrs Davenport. Well done, Anna.’
Well, that was praise indeed! Anna bobbed a half curtsey and scuttled out of the room. She closed the door quietly behind her and then stood for a moment to gather herself together. She felt all hot and flustered, and waited for the sensation to drain away. But in its place rose a warm contentment as her thoughts settled on Sir Gilbert and the attention he appeared to be paying her.
Three hours she was to have to herself.
After two weeks of working almost non-stop from the minute she rose at the crack of dawn to the moment she fell exhausted into bed at night, three hours seemed to stretch ahead like blissful eternity. Escape. It was the fourth of January and bitterly cold, but there was no question in her mind. Wrap up warm and go for a nice long walk on the moor.
The sky was heavy with iron-grey, slightly jaundiced clouds that raced overhead. The raw, angry wind bit into Anna’s face and she pulled her scarf up over her mouth and nose as she set off down the driveway. She must walk briskly, she decided, or she would surely freeze to a lump of ice. And she must also be careful. To walk alone on a remote part of the moor when the weather looked as if it could be closing in would be foolhardy. Already tiny pinpoints of white dust were being blown about in the air, scurrying in little swirling eddies where the wind caught them up against the stone walls that lined the roadside on that part of the moor. If it came on to snow properly, she might get lost, and so, reluctantly, she decided to keep to the road.
The one direction she hadn’t been in as yet was up towards Postbridge. She had heard it was quite a beauty spot, with the road crossing the East Dart on an old stone bridge, while just a few yards downstream, the river was also spanned by an ancient clapper bridge made of three granite slabs resting on stone pillars. It was known as a favourite spot for tourists to explore, enjoying their summer picnics on the grassy bank. It might not be quite so inviting today, but it was a suitable place for Anna to aim for, although she wasn’t at all sure she would get that far.
The road towards Princetown was now so familiar that she could walk along it blindfold. She dutifully kept to the right-hand verge facing the traffic, not that there was much on such a rotten day as this! The moor appeared at its bleakest, almost in monochrome, the bare twigs of hawthorn bushes and even the pine plantations black again
st the pewter sky. Even the hardy sheep and ponies seemed to have disappeared. Sheltering from the wind in hidden pockets or crouching against the stone walls if they had any sense!
Anna wondered if she wasn’t being a trifle silly to go out in such weather, but despite the blustering wind, she was enjoying her walk. Release, freedom, the sense of peace that always invaded her heart when she was on the moor, even, to her surprise, on such a wintry afternoon as this. The sense of being close to her mum, even though when she had been evacuated and her mum had come to visit her, there had never been enough time to go up on the moor together. And yet Anna felt so close to her there, as if her mum was floating in that great open sky above her, and was listening to every thought that passed through her head.
She was approaching the isolated hotel nestling beside the river at Two Bridges, but instead of dropping down to the bridge, Anna turned sharp right onto the Moretonhampstead Road. The moor on her left swept up to stark tors or rocky outcrops, while to her right, it rolled far away into the distance. Anna found herself imagining what it must have been like to live up there in the days before cars and lorries, and when there were no telephone wires strung out across the open wastes to connect you to civilisation. You must have felt cut off from the rest of the world, Anna mused, and yet those stalwart people would have known nothing else. She even remembered seeing on her map the ruins of an old gunpowder factory not far from the road, with buildings and chimneys scattered along the Cherry Brook and across the hillside beyond.
Ashcroft Hall would probably have been different then, too, with far more servants at the beck and call of whoever had lived there. And without electricity, life as a servant would have been even more difficult with candles and lamps to light and keep clean. Would the servants have been completely downtrodden, or would there have been a kind master like Sir Gilbert?