A Dream Rides By

  ‘Not that often, actually. He doesn’t sail much nowadays. He has too many other business matters to attend to. A pity though. His seamanship is second to none. Even Uncle Misha still looks up to him, and he’s Father’s chief master.’

  ‘Misha? Now you’re the one with exotic sounding relatives!’

  Toby grinned broadly. ‘Oh, Uncle Misha really is! I mean, not exotic, but he is Russian. I’ve sailed with him more than I have with Father. On the Emily. You see, Father says I must know how to handle a sailing ship first. He’s taught me a great deal of the theory and all about navigation. I’m to finish my general education, and then I’m to sail with Uncle Misha for two years. And after that, Father says I can go to naval training college. It’s steamships I want to sail, mind. Father owns one, but he refuses to captain it himself. It’s sailing he loves.’

  Toby’s eyes were gleaming, and Ling was so pleased she had dared to break the ice. The groom took charge of Charlotte and James, and so Ling and Toby felt able to talk freely as they lounged against the gate to the field where Gospel was kicking up his heels and gambolling in circles, more like a spring lamb than the ageing gentleman that he was.

  ‘Still showing off to Tansy!’ Ling chuckled. ‘I’ve been here nearly two months and I’ve already learnt so much about horses. I knew virtually nothing before.’

  ‘And has Uncle Seth told you about his time in India? Fascinating! I’d love to travel. Would you, Ling, if you don’t mind me calling you that?’

  ‘Well, I’d never really thought about it. I imagined I should always live on the moor and only ever travel as far as Tavistock once a year for the Goose Fair. But now the railway’s come to Princetown, I’ve been there several times. And Mistress Rose has taken me to Plymouth once or twice on the train, which I’d never expected before. But it must be interesting to travel. I imagine you’ve been all over the world.’

  ‘Not at all. I’ve only ever been on short trips. France, mainly. And Spain once or twice. I’ve not been through the Straits of Gibraltar yet. But when I’m fully qualified to master Father’s steamship,’ he said proudly, ‘I shall sail to the West Indies for him to buy rum and sugar and bananas.’

  Ling gave a light-hearted laugh. It appeared that Toby had it all worked out! As well as his shipping line, Captain Bradley owned a wine and spirits merchants, his family’s original business, and he was already grooming his elder son in knowledge of the trade. And then there was the huge estate in Herefordshire that he had inherited. Toby oozed devotion as he told Ling about his stepfather and also his mother whom he adored. The family had just come from spending a week at the river port of Morwellham, the other side of Tavistock, where Rebecca’s father was still Harbour Master. Toby was so interesting that Ling could hardly believe it when Daisy was sent out to fetch them since dinner would be served in an hour and Ling, of course, was required to assist Rose to change.

  ‘Ling, my dear,’ Rose almost sang as Ling unhooked the back of her day-dress. ‘We’re all going to spend a few days at our friends, the Pencarrows, over near Peter Tavy. Richard can’t leave the farm, you see, so we always go to them. You’d love Beth, but I thought perhaps you’d like to take the opportunity to go home for a day or two? I know Beth would be delighted to have you, and I’d love to take you with us, but that would be selfish of me. I’m certain you’d rather spend the time with your family. And then there’s your young man. There’ll be times when the baby comes when I can’t spare you, so you ought to make the most of it now.’

  Ling stared into her mistress’s radiant face. Mistress Rose was being kind and thoughtful, but Ling was astounded and confused by her own reaction. She relished her weekly visits home, when she would sit and chat with her mother while Fanny would sidle up to her, thumb plugged in her mouth. When Arthur finished his work at six o’clock, or at noon if it happened to be Saturday, Ling would relate the serious aspects of life at Fencott Place, business matters and the various campaigns the Warringtons were involved in, or Seth’s stories of India. Mary and Fanny would listen with mesmerized devotion, hardly understanding a word, while Arthur nodded in comprehension, the only one among them to ask intelligent questions.

  And then there was dear Barney. Ling cherished every moment with him, every tender kiss, every strong and protective embrace in his muscled arms. He had just completed his apprenticeship and was beginning to put money aside for the day they would marry. He planned on renting one of the empty cottages, he said, and making her a good quarryman’s home, and Ling had no doubt that he would.

  But . . . go home for a few days? Sleep on the thin, straw mattress on the kitchen floor again? It wasn’t that she had come to look down on her own kind. They were good, God-fearing people and she loved them with every beat of her steadfast heart. But they had no thought beyond the roof over their heads and the food on their plates. It wasn’t their fault. It was what they were conditioned to. Only her father could see beyond the quarry. Not even Barney could understand that there were principles to fight for beyond their own lives. When she thought of the Warringtons and the Bradleys, working tirelessly to help others, of Toby and his desire to see the world . . .

  She had to stifle her gasp of shame. Yes. She would go home for those few days. It would be wrong of her not to.

  But the truth of it was that she didn’t want to, and the realization was crucifying.

  Thirteen

  ‘And how’s my lovely godson, then?’

  Rebecca Bradley swept into the nursery and Ling glanced up, her eyes like warm toffee as she played with nine-month-old Henry Warrington. Although a little angel, Hal, as he was known, was into every mischief imaginable. The Bradley family had been due at any minute, and Ling had carried him upstairs to the nursery until the inevitable chaos caused by the visitors’ arrival had subsided.

  Ling’s favourite occupation in the Warrington’s employment was caring for baby Hal. She had been working at Fencott Place for well over a year, more as one of the family than a servant. Since the day he had been born, Hal had been the core of his parents’ lives, but they also had a business and investments to take care of, and, to give Florrie a break, Ling was often left in charge of the little chap. She had been encouraging him to build a tower with some little wooden bricks as they sat opposite each other, cross-legged, on the rug. The boy’s face burst into a proud grin when he eventually succeeded in balancing one brick upon another, and clapped his chubby hands in glee.

  ‘Oh, clever boy!’ Ling whooped with delight as she heard the noisy advent of the guests down in the hallway. This would be the fourth occasion upon which the Bradleys had come to stay, and each time she and Toby had strengthened their friendship. So that now she looked forward to being in his company with as much eagerness as Seth and Rose anticipated being with Adam and Rebecca.

  ‘Mrs Bradley! How lovely to see you!’

  She leapt to her feet and bobbed a curtsy. Rebecca Bradley gave her vivacious smile and bent to scoop Hal into her arms. He was such a happy soul, surrounded by nothing but love, and he opened his mouth in a wide grin, revealing the tiny front teeth in his otherwise toothless gums.

  ‘Ling, my dear! You’re looking well. And look at you, little man. ’Tis so big you’ve grown since we saw you last!’

  Ling had no need to conceal the smile on her lips. She had come to love her employers and their friends as she loved her own family. Later, when Hal had been put down for his afternoon nap, with Florrie dozing in the chair beside his cot, Ling was free to join the two families in the drawing-room, and she found herself sitting beside Toby. Her hands were clasped loosely in her lap as she watched Charlotte and James lolling on the floor with the dogs, and she almost jumped when she heard Toby clear his throat.

  ‘Ling, I wonder if you’d mind . . .’ he faltered. ‘I’d like to talk to you about something.’

  Ling stole an inquisitive glance at Toby’s dark, earnest eyes. He had grown taller and broader of shoulder in the year they had known each other, and, thou
gh possessed of a wiry, narrow frame, he was altogether a more mature figure. Ling nodded at him and, having politely excused themselves from the adults, Toby offered her his arm and they stepped out on to the terrace. Her fingers rested uneasily in the crook of his elbow. What on earth did he have to say to her that was of such importance? When he finally spoke, his voice was low and solemn.

  ‘Ling, I believe I am in love,’ he told her gravely. ‘No. I know I am.’

  Ling almost stopped in her tracks. They had become good friends, but surely she wasn’t worthy of such a solemn confidence? Unless . . . Oh, dear Lord, surely he didn’t mean . . .?

  ‘Only, I don’t know how to tell her. It’s Chantal, you see. Chantal Pencarrow. You know we’ve just come from there. You’ve never met her, but she’s . . . Oh, she’s so full of life. And she still has this enchanting French accent. Her mother was French, you see, but she died when Chantal was a baby. She lived in France until she was six and then Uncle Richard brought her back to the family home at Peter Tavy. And then Uncle Richard married Auntie Beth, so Chantal has two half brothers and two half sisters now.’ Toby paused, and when he turned to gaze into Ling’s face, she saw his eyes twinkling with stars. ‘Chantal’s just so beautiful,’ he went on, his voice trembling. ‘The problem is I become tongue-tied when I’m with her. She’s three years older than me, you see, so I’m afraid she’ll just look upon me as a silly child. I’m not though. I’ve known her for years, and, you know, I think I’ve always loved her.’

  Ling’s head swam, the paving slabs seeming to waver beneath her feet. What had she expected? Toby had never been anything other than a good friend. She was way beneath him, so why for one precious, thrilling moment had she thought he was going to confess that he was in love with her? She was overwhelmingly relieved that he hadn’t, of course. She was engaged to Barney! But . . . wouldn’t her life have changed for ever if she had been free and Toby had been in love with her?

  ‘Is there no one else?’ she considered sombrely. ‘For her, I mean?’

  ‘I believe not.’

  ‘Then—’ she lifted her eyes to his face, a natural smile on her lips – ‘just be yourself. I’m sure . . . When will you see her again?’

  ‘I don’t know. Not until Christmas, I don’t suppose.’

  ‘Then write to her. Tell her your feelings for her have grown to more than just affection, and is there any way she might feel the same? Leastways, that’s how I’d like to hear it.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Ling! You think she might like me then?’

  ‘Of course! How could anyone not?’

  ‘Really?’ Toby’s face was so astonished that Ling couldn’t help but chuckle, and she watched his expression change to one of relief. ‘I feel so much better now. Let’s go back inside. By the way, I’ve not mentioned my feelings to anyone else. So you won’t tell anyone, will you? Not until I know how Chantal feels?’

  Ling smiled reassuringly. No. She wouldn’t tell a soul. Why should she when it would bring the secret embarrassment of their conversation back to haunt her? She wouldn’t have wanted Toby to be in love with her, so how could she possibly have thought he might have been? But it had been the same with Elliott Franfield, hadn’t it? They were both so friendly in her company, treating her as an equal. But the truth of it was that she came from a different class.

  ‘Did you see the paper this morning, Adam?’ Seth was saying as they reached the drawing-room again. ‘You know how William Stead purchased that thirteen-year-old girl to show just how easy it is to procure young girls for prostitution?’

  Ling caught the wary glance Captain Bradley threw at his younger children at the unmentionable word. They were, though, too young to understand, even if they hadn’t been so engrossed in playing with the dogs that all conversation was going over their heads. Adam seemed satisfied as he replied, ‘He published the results of his investigation in his paper, the Pall Mall Gazette, didn’t he?’

  ‘And, for his trouble, he and five others have been charged with kidnapping a minor and have been committed for trial at the Old Bailey. Oh, it makes my blood boil! The poor man’s trying to do some good, to open Parliament’s eyes to the appalling situation and . . .’

  Seth Warrington smashed his fist into the arm of the chair and the dull thud brought Ling from her reverie. Normally, she would have been all ears to hear news of the campaign. But, just now, she was lost in her own thoughts about Toby and Chantal Pencarrow.

  ‘No, you stay and enjoy yourself.’ Rose nodded vigorously at Ling’s surprised face. ‘We have to get back to Hal. Poor Florrie will be worn out looking after him all afternoon. But you deserve some time off.’

  ‘And your friends – and one young man in particular, I believe – will be coming along after they finish work, so we insist you stay on. In fact,’ Seth added, pressing several coins into Ling’s hand, ‘that will help you have a really good evening.’

  ‘Why, thank you, sir! I won’t be late back, and I’m sure Barney will walk me home.’

  ‘Enjoy yourself then!’

  Ling watched, bursting with happiness, as her master and mistress wended their way through the crowds. It was Princetown’s annual September fair, and people had come from all the outlying farms. The occasion differed from the August cattle fair, being more of a general celebration. Seth was always on the lookout for good breeding stock in the horse sale, and so Ling had provided company for Rose as they wandered among the booths and stalls and other entertainments. While many farmers, agricultural labourers and off-duty prison warders were able to come to the fair during the day, others, such as miners and quarrymen, could not join the festivities until later. The revelries therefore extended throughout the evening, when the public houses expected to have one of the best night’s business of the year.

  Ling found her mother and sister laughing at the Punch and Judy show, and she was proud to be able to treat them to some supper from the money her master had given her. The setting sun was hidden behind a gathering layer of cloud when Mary decided it was time to take Fanny home, and Ling perched on a boulder not far from the station so that she could meet Barney as he walked into Princetown with their friends from Foggintor.

  She sat motionless, a smile on her lips as she recalled amusing moments of the day and caught the distant sounds of merriment from the village. She gazed out over the moor, her heart lulled in contentment. She worked for generous, progressive-thinking people – yet her family were nearby, and they all lived in one of the most breathtaking, spectacular places on earth: Dartmoor. She had Barney who loved her and whom, in a few years’ time, she would marry. And if she never got to see any of the places she had learnt about, that Toby, Mister Seth and the captain had spoken of . . . well, she couldn’t complain.

  And yet . . .

  Way across the moor, the last train of the day was chugging towards Princetown with a fine wisp of smoke trailing from the engine chimney. It looked so tiny from here, like a toy, and yet she knew better than most how monstrously huge it was at close quarters. On a foggy day, the engine would loom out of the ether like some megalithic dragon, spitting sparks and flames from the firebox in the cab as it rumbled past and dissipated into thin air again. And yet what pleasure, what freedom, it had brought to the people of the area, despite the irony of its chief purpose being to serve the prison. The new station at Yelverton allowed passengers to change on to the main line long before Horrabridge, making the journey to Plymouth even quicker. It was to Tavistock, though, that Ling travelled most, taking Fanny to the swimming baths most weeks during the summer on her day off. They frequently met Mrs Penrith there, the lady who had helped them on their very first visit, and they had become good friends.

  ‘Boo!’

  Ling started so violently that she slipped from the boulder and on to her feet. She spun on her heel to glare into Barney’s grin to the derision of their friends grouped behind him, especially Harry Spence, who was almost splitting his sides.

  ‘Oh, very funny!’
Ling snapped with a withering glance aimed particularly at Harry.

  ‘Oh, come on, Ling.’ Barney’s handsome face stretched. ‘Where be your sense of humour gone?’

  He nudged her playfully in the ribs, his head tipped pleadingly to one side, and Ling felt the irritation slide away. She could never be cross with Barney for more than a minute, especially when he smiled at her with that warmth in his eyes that was reserved for her alone. After all, he wasn’t to know he had intruded into her wistful reverie. And perhaps it was just as well. The sooner she came down to earth, accepted that her destiny lay with Barney, the better.

  Her face burst into a broad grin, and before Barney knew it she had pulled his cap down over his eyes and skipped away. A madcap game of cat and mouse ensued, everyone joining in as they made their noisy way into the village. The Prince of Wales was their destination, females being accepted on fair days, and someone struck up a tune on a fiddle. Tables were cleared away to make room, and Ling found herself being whisked around to the lively jigs and reels that were being played. As the evening wore on, they continued to skip beneath an archway of arms and make wheels of eight, faces bright and flushed with exertion. Ling was swept up in a whirlpool of exhilaration as merry faces and the vibrant colours of neckties and hair ribbons flashed across her vision.

  She was quite out of breath as she gazed into Barney’s jubilant face, and they broke off once again for ten minutes to recover. Barney bought her her third glass of still, sharp cider to quench her thirst, and soon they were romping about to the music once more. The blood rushed around her head as she spun in circles, her senses reeling away as Barney’s strong hand guided her through the jovial crowd. Then another drink, the room swimming about her in twirling disarray until she nearly tripped over her own unsteady feet.

  ‘Oh dear, I’m worn out!’ she said, giggling up at Barney’s animated grin.

  ‘And I think ’tis time I walked you home. Some of us has work in the morning. Proper work!’ he teased.