St James' Fair
Page 45
Odilie looked sombre as she rode along, acutely aware of curious eyes on her. She knew the women were wondering if she’d been ravished by the gypsy and speculating what Canny would do with her now. The men looked on more kindly because they felt grudging pity for Jesse Bailey at having to let such a prize slip out of his grasp – lovely as a summer rose and rich as well!
The summer rose was thinking, ‘I could go back to Jamaica to our estates there. My mother’s sisters and all my cousins will be pleased to see me again. Father won’t object if I tell him that it’s impossible for me to stay here after this. People in this town will never stop gossiping about me. Father might come back to Jamaica as well – but he’s happy here and what about Aunt Martha? She’ll never leave Lauriston.’
She sighed in perplexity as she set the horse trotting to the top of a hill on the road to Ednam. From its eminence she had a good view of the surrounding countryside spreading before her in a luscious and fertile panorama. Fields of corn were turning bright yellow like squares of brilliant patchwork and any day now harvesting would commence. After that the year would be on the turn, scarlet and purple fruits of autumn would start appearing in the hedgerows and the summer birds would fly off to warmer climates; leaves would go yellow, russet, gold and orange before they dropped from the trees. Odilie felt melancholy and shivered as she remembered the sight of Jesse Bailey sitting naked before the fire in the barn. Why didn’t I climb down and put my arms around him? I wanted to, oh how I wanted to, she said to herself. Why had he turned on her so savagely when he heard she’d been about to marry the Duke? Why had he allowed her to leave the circus with so little protest? He had accepted that she was going and never once said, ‘Stay.’ Tears welled up in her eyes at the memory of his indifference.
I wish I could stop thinking about him. I wish I could drive the memory of his face, his laughing mouth, the line of his throat, his broad shoulders and those incredible hands out of my mind, she thought – but to no avail. She was obsessed by him. By the time she turned to go home again, Odilie had convinced herself that the only way to be cured of her passion was to sail to Jamaica as soon as possible.
Canny and Martha were taking tea when she returned. Her father’s appetite had almost recovered and he was managing to despatch a considerable amount of food. He waved a fork at her and exhorted her to try a piece of sponge cake but she refused. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she said dolefully.
Canny then glanced in a significant way at Martha who rose and left the room. At this, Odilie realised the move had been pre-arranged. Her father wanted to talk privately to her. He waved her to a chair.
‘You’re looking very sad. Something’s troubling you – what is it? Everything’s worked out for the best. My stupidity in trying to marry you to the Duke could have cost me ten thousand pounds but I escaped that, though I deserved to suffer a bit for my foolishness. I’m sorry, my dear, I should never have done it. I knew you didn’t like the man and to be quite frank with you, neither did I. It was stupid snobbery and ambition that made me do it. Can you forgive me?’
She nodded, ‘Of course, Father. I understand. I don’t know why I’m so upset. I made up my mind to come back…’
‘Why?’ His eyes were shrewd.
‘I heard that you’d collapsed. I couldn’t ride on with the gypsy and leave you.’
‘Would you have done so if I was well? Now that you find that I’m not dying after all, are you sorry you came back?’
‘Of course not. I love you.’
‘Would you go back to him now if I said you should follow your heart?’
She stared at him in surprise with tears welling up in her eyes. Canny leaned forward and took her hand. ‘Listen to me. This may not sound like the advice that most fathers would give their daughters but I’ve followed my own inclinations since I was eleven years old and rode out of this town on the back of a wool merchant’s cart. I don’t regret any decision I’ve ever made and one of the best was when I saw your mother at the other side of a room and decided there and then I was going to marry her. You know when something like that happens to you: It hits you like a blow.’
She nodded. She knew what he was talking about.
‘Go back and see your gypsy again. Make up your mind if you want to stay with him or not. He must be a remarkable lad to have snatched you the way he did. You’d make an interesting couple. I should have fine grandchildren! Go back to Wooler. Martha and I’ll stay here and you can come back to us whenever you choose. It’s not as if you’re going to the other side of the world – you won’t be as far away as Jamaica, anyway.’
The last sly remark made her realise that he had anticipated what she was planning as a way out of her unhappiness. With a tearful laugh, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you Papa, thank you,’ she said and ran from the room.
* * *
It was dawn on the next day, Friday, when they started. Odilie was mounted on the chestnut mare but Stevens was having such a hard time trying to control Barbary who pranced, reared and arched his neck in such a furious courtship display that the girl remounted on a placid gelding.
They took the road south through Coldstream and it was almost deserted for it had returned to its normal condition after the last of the Fair traffic had passed that way. The only other travellers they saw was the occasional pedlar toiling along under the burden of his pack, or a couple of riders going from farm to farm.
It was afternoon when they reached Wooler, where a large poster fastened to the door of an inn informed them that Archer’s Circus Royale was due to perform in the field by the river that night.
The tents were pitched and people were bustling about when Odilie rode up. No one challenged her as she dismounted and went in search of Simon.
Under the scrutiny of a convalescing El Diavolo, Jesse was rehearsing in the circus ring, circling its circumference over and over again, brows bent in concentration. Sometimes he rose on to the saddle, standing on one leg with his arms outstretched, at other times he put the horse into a gallop and leaned down from the saddle to sweep objects off the ground. He did not notice a group of people enter at the back of the tent and settle down on one of the benches. It was only when he drew on the reins and stretched his legs out that he was startled by the sound of clapping.
‘Well done!’ cried Simon. ‘You’re as good as El Diavolo already, isn’t he, Pat? What you need is a good partner, though. There’s a girl just come in that I’d like you to see. Do you want to have a look at what she can do?’
Jesse shouted, ‘All right, send her in,’ and sat still on his horse in the middle of the ring as the canvas curtain was lifted and a black circus horse swept in at the canter, head down, neck arched and going at a steady pace. The girl on its back was dressed as Britannia and she made the horse pirouette, prance, canter backwards and go sideways crossing its legs in a scissor motion. When she came close to him she lifted her head and smiled at him from under the tall cockade of feathers she was wearing in her hair.
He gasped, ‘Odilie!’
She smiled again and held out a hand in his direction. His horse plunged forward and he grasped her fingers. Together they circled the ring, cantering in step and in perfect harmony, so close that their stirrup irons clanged together. When they finally stopped Jesse reached out an arm to encircle her waist and hugged her close. The horses stood immobile while the couple clung together staring at each other in delight.
It was Simon who broke the spell.
‘Will she do as a partner for you then?’ he called out laughing.
‘Indeed she will if she’ll have me,’ was Jesse’s reply.
First published in Great Britain in 1992 by Random Century Group
This edition published in the United Kingdom in 2019 by
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
57 Shepherds Lane
Beaconsfield, Bucks HP9 2DU
United Kingdom
Copyright © Elisabeth McNeill, 1992
/>
The moral right of Elisabeth McNeill to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781788636353
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Look for more great books at www.canelo.co