Odilie clambered aboard the cart and told them, ‘I’ll only ride a little way. I’ve got to decide what I’m going to do. I haven’t made up my mind yet…’
‘We heard about what happened,’ Bella interrupted her. ‘My word, but it’s created a great sensation round about.’
Odilie looked shocked. ‘Has it got so far already?’ she asked.
‘It’ll be in London by the day after tomorrow,’ laughed Simon. ‘It’s moving faster than the King’s messengers.’
They rolled on towards Wooler and when they were near the turnpike toll-cottage at Milfield, they saw another mounted man waiting by the side of the road. As they drew nearer to him, he rode into the middle of the carriageway and held up his hand. Odilie, on the box with Bella and Simon stood up with a gasp and cried, ‘It’s Joe Cannonball! It’s my father’s man.’
When the waggon stopped she leapt down from her seat and ran towards Joe. His face was working with emotion when he saw her, then he leaped from the saddle and asked, ‘Are you all right, Baby? Are you safe? I only stopped the circus to ask because I heard the gypsy was going to join it. I didn’t think he’d have got here so soon.’
‘I’m quite safe, Joe, but you look awful! Did Father send you after me?’
‘No. Poor Canny, he couldn’t send anybody any place. He collapsed when you took off. He’s ill in bed with that man Thompson drawing blood off him as if he’s plenty to spare. He’s in a bad way, Miss Odilie. If you don’t come back, I don’t think he’ll live.’
The girl’s colour drained away and she looked over at Jesse. ‘Did you hear that? My father’s ill. I must go back to Lauriston right away. Please lend me your horse.’
The young gypsy’s face was expressionless as he dismounted from Barbary. Without speaking he cupped his hand so that she could put her foot into it and be hoisted into the saddle. All Jesse then said was, ‘I expected you to go back. Barbary’s easy to ride if he knows you’re not afraid of him. Treat him well. He’s a prince among horses.’ He made no effort to try to change her mind. By the way he acted it was as if he was taking leave of a casual acquaintance, so little did he reveal of the turmoil raging within him.
She gathered up the reins and looked down at the man in the road. His words cut her to the quick and she could not hide her disappointment at his reaction. There was so much she still had to say to Jesse but his distant manner and the presence of Bella, Simon and Joe restrained her. All she managed was, ‘I’m sorry. I have to go. It’s got nothing to do with my marriage. My father’s ill and it’s all my fault.’
Jesse clapped Barbary on the shoulder and said, ‘All right. Goodbye, old man.’ Then he added, ‘I’ll send for him one day. Take good care of him, Miss Rutherford.’
She blushed scarlet and with a touch of her heel urged the horse forward. Soon all that could be seen of her and Joe was the flying mud sent up by their horses’ hooves. Then Jesse shrugged heavily and shook his head before he climbed into the waggon beside the Archers. ‘Do you still have a place for a trick rider without a horse?’ he asked laconically.
* * *
The lane down to Bettymill looked even more like a secret pathway to heaven than before because the rain had brought out a fresh crop of brilliantly coloured wild flowers. The tree branches, lacy with leaves, arched down low and made a damp green tunnel for Jem to walk through when he jumped down from the caravan. Leaving it at the head of the lane he set off, walking very slowly between the thickly clustering trees. He felt that he was stepping into Alice’s youth. There was no sound except for the crackle of dried twigs and last year’s beech mast beneath his boots. The sun dappled the path and there was a sweet smell of flowers and damp moss. This must be what heaven’s like, thought Jem with a strange sense of peace.
Half way up the lane he realised he’d left the pistol on the box so he had to run back for it. It was hanging loosely from his hand as he turned and retraced his steps deeper and deeper into the all-embracing greenery. When he reached the mill, half-hidden in its mossy clearing, he gave a sigh of satisfaction. The broken stone walls looked warm in the sun, the dusty windows seemed to smile upon him.
A sense of timelessness enveloped him. He walked into the middle of the patch of green opposite the mill door and looked around. A faint trickle of falling water came to his ears like distant music from the stone-walled lade, and a little breeze was making the fronds of a clump of ferns growing out of the wall above the broken millwheel wave gently to and fro like beckoning hands, leading him onwards to the waterside.
Holding the pistol carefully, he sat down on the mill-lade bank and stared into the stream that swirled beneath his feet. A fat brown trout was slowly circling in a deep pool floored with multi-coloured pebbles. Big yellow buttercups drooped their heads into the water and wild mint scented the air. Jem raised his eyes to the scraps of sky showing between the treetops and thought of Alice. She’d grown up here, she said. How often she must have played here as a girl, how often she must have sat where he sat now, her head full of dreams. He spoke his thoughts aloud, ‘Oh Alice, I can’t live without you.’
A gentle hand stroked his shoulder and a voice whispered, ‘You’re not going to use that gun on yourself are you, Jem? I love you. I’m glad you knew where to look for me.’
Without turning he laid the pistol down on the grass and raised his left hand to his right shoulder, grasping her hand in his. ‘Is that you, Alice?’ he asked as if he was blind.
‘Turn round and see,’ came her voice. When he turned they reached out for each other like young lovers clinging together with fervour. It took a long time until all their tears were shed and they had assured each other of their love. Then, holding hands, they walked together back to the caravan while she told him what had happened to her.
‘I knew I couldn’t risk being taken by Elliot’s men so when the horse went lame I set it free on the moors. I had no idea it was going to get itself bogged down. Then I found my way back here. It was the only thing I could think to do because I was lost and I knew the other roads into England would be watched. I wondered how to get a message to you so I sat here and thought and thought. I tried to send a message to your mind. I thought if I concentrated hard I’d make you understand – and perhaps it worked. If you hadn’t come I don’t know what I’d have done… but you did come, didn’t you?’
‘I nearly didn’t,’ he admitted. ‘When your horse was found in the bog everyone thought you were dead. I thought so as well. I came here today because you loved this place, that was all.’
She clung to his arm and said, ‘I’ll never leave you, Jem. Never, never. You must believe that now.’
He nodded his head with crystal tears standing in his eyes. He could not trust himself to speak. A long while later he told her, ‘We’ve got to get away from here. Nobody’s looking for you any more because they’re all too taken up with the Duke getting murdered. If anyone tries to bother you, I’ll shoot them.’
Alice had not heard about the Duke’s death and that story had to be told. She held Jem in her arms while he cried tears of remorse for Billy. By the time this recital was finished, it was evening again and they decided to drive the caravan deeper up Bettymill Lane and camp the night by the river. After all the emotion that had engulfed them, they felt cleansed and very peaceful. When the moon rose, Jem sat by the old mill holding Alice’s hand and said, ‘I feel as if I’ve come through Hell into Heaven.’
She nodded. ‘I feel that way, too, but we’d best make tracks out of Scotland as quick as we can. I don’t trust Elliot. I’m sorry to leave here and I’m sorry to leave Grace but she’s going to be very happy and she’ll be rich as well. I’ve done all I can for her. I’ve settled my old scores.’
Jem stroked her hair and whispered, ‘I’ll be glad to go. I don’t know about you, Alice, but I’ve had enough of St James’ Fair to last me a lifetime.’
* * *
The town was clamorous with gossip when Odilie rode across the Rennie Bridge with J
oe Cannonball and the sight of her started a new wave of excitement. Little boys ran from shop to shop calling out, ‘She’s back! Rutherford’s lassie’s back, and she’s riding the gypsy’s big grey horse!’
Before she reached the gates of Havanah Court, people were peeping out of their front doors to gaze down the street in the hope of catching a sight of her. All the heads nodded at once and tongues wagged, for there hadn’t been such goings-on in the town since the Provost stood in the square eleven years ago and, amid the ringing of bells, announced the death of Nelson and the victory at Trafalgar.
Stevens the head groom was idling in the stableyard when Odilie rode in under the stone arch. He ran forward with his hands held out to greet her. ‘My word but I’m glad to see you, Miss Odilie! Your father’s in an awful state. That’s a fine horse you’ve got there – isn’t that the one that took the big race?’
She threw him the reins and said, ‘Look after it well, Stevens. It belongs to a friend.’ Then lifting her skirt she ran towards the house.
Inside, everything was unusually still and silent as if time had stopped. Odilie paused in the hall with her heart pounding in terror for it seemed like a house of mourning. Even the dust-motes in the sunlight slanting through the window looked suspended, motionless and waiting. Her father was not dead, surely? Oh no, he couldn’t be dead! She took the stairs in a most unladylike way, oblivious of the scandalised faces of the servants watching her from the door to the kitchens. In the upper hall, she kept on running, heading for her father’s room and burst in without knocking. Aunt Martha was sitting by the bed and she turned around, her mouth making an ‘O’ of disapproval, but this changed to a gasp of delight when she saw that the intruder was Odilie.
‘Odilie, dear lassie,’ gasped the old woman and surprised even herself by bursting into tears. It was the first time that stoical Martha Rutherford had wept since the year her mother died when she was twelve years old.
Odilie ran towards her with her arms extended, calling out, ‘How’s my father? How is he? Joe rode to Wooler to tell me he’d been taken ill.’
‘And no wonder he’s ill,’ scolded Martha, recovering herself quickly. ‘Seeing you jump into the arms of a gypsy and ride off like that was enough to give him an apoplexy.’
‘An apoplexy! Is that what he’s had? Is that what Thompson says?’ asked Odilie.
A voice came from the bed and the women turned towards the patient whom they thought to be asleep. ‘He says that I’ll live – and I certainly will now that you’ve come back,’ said Canny Rutherford weakly.
Odilie ran towards him. ‘Oh, Papa, I’m sorry I rode off like that without thinking. It wasn’t the gypsy’s fault – I willed him into it, I think.’
‘I guessed as much. I know you, Odilie. Wild geese eggs…’ Cannie’s voice was feeble but his eye was brighter.
‘I’ve come back. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll even marry the Duke if he’ll still have me and not say a word of protest. The gypsy was honourable. He never touched me, I promise you that…’ said Odilie fervently.
Martha was standing facing the bed with both hands up to her mouth as she listened. Then she spoke solemnly. ‘You needn’t worry about marrying the Duke, my love. That sinner is dead. The wild man from the Fair tore his heart out.’
‘At least he tried to, but he found he hadn’t got one. I’m sorry I got you into that situation through my stupidity, lass,’ said Canny.
Martha went on, ‘Dead as mutton is our Duke, and they say there’s going to be a court case about who’s to inherit the title.
‘In any case, there’s not going to be a wedding,’ sighed Canny and closed his eyes again.
Odilie looked at her aunt in bewilderment. ‘The Duke is dead? Oh dear, my legs feel wobbly. Does that mean that the betrothal arrangement’s null and void – Father doesn’t lose my dowry?’
Martha nodded. ‘That Elliot’s been here already, all sly and confidential, saying Canny can have the whole lot back – all except what’s gone into the pocket of that young architect from Edinburgh.’
‘That’s not too bad. At least I liked him. Thank goodness Father won’t be ruined. Elliot told me he would be utterly destroyed if I backed out and I was so worried about that.’
‘It’s Elliot himself that looks like being ruined. Folk are saying Grace’ll take most of his property now she’s married. But let’s hear what’s happened to you – where’s the young gypsy for a start?’ said her aunt.
‘He’s in Wooler with the circus. But I’ve come back, Aunt Martha, isn’t that enough for you?’
‘I suppose so. Sit down by your father and talk to him for a while. You half-killed him, you ungrateful girl!’ Odilie sat down looking abashed for Aunt Martha had rarely been so hard on her before.
She was quietly holding her sleeping father’s hand when a maid entered and announced that a Mr and Mrs Scott were in the hall asking to see Miss Odilie.
‘Go down and tell Grace what’s happened,’ whispered Martha. ‘She probably doesn’t even know about your gypsy elopement.’
‘Oh Aunt Martha, don’t talk about it like that,’ the girl protested but Martha was not interested in the romantic aspect of the affair.
‘Go on down, miss,’ she scolded and Odilie ran downstairs to the salon where she found Grace and her young husband who looked ill at ease among Canny’s grand furniture. Adam brought the air of the moors into the elegant drawing room and made everything there seem artificial and unsettled.
Grace, however, was beautiful. The old fear and tension had gone from her face and she looked relaxed and tranquil which meant that her real beauty was magnificently revealed. It was as if a curtain had been dropped from before her and she smiled on Odilie like a Madonna when the girls embraced, hugging each other tight. Grace told her friend, ‘I’ve just come from my father’s house. It was wonderful to be able to tell him what to do for once! I really laid down the law, stipulating which farms I wanted and what I’d allow him to keep. He didn’t utter a word of protest, did he Adam?’ She laughed and then her eyes searched her friend’s face. ‘But he said you’ve had quite an adventure – running away with a gypsy. Oh Odilie, you’re so daring!’
‘It wasn’t me that was daring. It was him,’ said Odilie who felt a sharp pang of pain when she remembered the dark young man who had swept her off her feet. It all seemed to have happened long ago to someone else.
Now that she was back in Havanah Court such things seemed only to be the stuff of storybooks.
‘But why did you come back?’ asked Grace suddenly. What a strange question from Grace who’s always been so amenable, thought Odilie looking at her friend. But there was something new in Grace’s eye. She had been wakened up by the silent young man who was watching them so intently from the other side of the room.
‘I came back because of my father. I heard he’d been taken ill… I felt as if it was my fault.’
‘But he’s all right, isn’t he? He’s going to recover. And the Duke’s dead – nobody minds that, at least nobody that I’ve heard about. So what are you going to do now, Odilie?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t seem to be able to think clearly.’ The answer was a whisper.
‘Then I think you must be in love,’ said Grace gently. ‘Don’t lose it, Odilie. Whatever you do, don’t lose it.’
Chapter 17
Thursday, 6 August
On the following day, Canny Rutherford was sufficiently recovered to rise from his bed and be dressed by Joe. Then he reclined in a chair on the terrace overlooking the river while his sister and the servants danced attendance on him. His constant companion was Odilie who would not leave his side.
In the afternoon, Professor Thompson called and examined Canny. ‘You’re on the mend, old friend. Lead a quiet life for a few weeks and you’ll be as good as ever,’ he pronounced and shot a look from beneath his grey eyebrows at Odilie. ‘Don’t you go running off with any more gypsies, Miss.’ He was only joking but she did not laugh.
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When Wattie Thompson had left, her father told her, ‘Why don’t you go out for a ride, my dear? You ought to take some exercise because you’ve been sitting here all day. I don’t mind.’
As Stevens saddled her chestnut mare he sang the praises of the stallion that was standing in a box at the far end of the stableyard. When Barbary saw the mare being led out he set up a tremendous whinnying and started kicking at the box door. ‘He’s in love,’ laughed the groom.
‘Has no message come about him yet?’ asked the girl.
Stevens shook his head. ‘I hope we don’t hear anything either because that’s a valuable animal. If the gypsies don’t fetch him back, we’ll have a real treasure.’
Odilie’s face was angry as she told him, ‘We can’t keep him. No matter what happens I won’t keep him. When they come for Barbary, you must let him go at once.’
The town was hushed as she rode out. The excitement and gossip of the previous two days was dwindling and because of the Duke’s death, the tolling of the town clock was muffled. Black crepe ribbons were looped over house doors and garlands of mourning ribbon were displayed in shop windows. People going about their day to day business seemed to walk on tiptoe and their voices were hushed. The dead man was lying on his bier in the Castle and it was arranged that his funeral was to take place inside the nave of the ruined abbey in a week’s time. Workmen were already digging his grave when Odilie passed and she hoped that she would not be expected to attend the ceremony. There had been no communication between Sloebank and Havanah Court since the race meeting afternoon so she reckoned that she was not on the guest list and gave a sigh of relief; the prospect of attending the funeral or pretending to mourn appalled her.
Members of the Duke’s family, every distant second cousin and third nephew from far and near, were gathering in Lauriston, and servants’ gossip informed the town’s people that many of the relatives were hopeful of their chances of succeeding to the title, despite the curse. There had already been several disputes about genealogy and at least three court actions were threatened. There was obviously potential for several years of town gossip brewing up at the big house.
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