Very often two of us went with the girls. Daisy thought that was better than one so that there was someone in authority at the head and rear of the party.
The exercise was pleasant and I suppose I did this about twice a week, for the girls rode every day. Then Daisy had given me permission to take a horse whenever I wanted one provided it was not during the girls’ riding time. So it was a very happy arrangement.
I wrote to Aunt Patty that I was settling in and enjoying my work. I would tell her everything in detail when I arrived home for the summer holidays.
***
When I had a free hour or so between lessons, I made a habit of taking out the horse which I usually rode and exploring the countryside. I liked walking but naturally one could only go a certain distance on foot and riding gave me far more scope.
When I walked I liked to do so within the Abbey precincts and I could never do this without experiencing that uncanny feeling that I was stepping back into the past. The atmosphere was overwhelming even in the brightest sunlight and I would find myself fancying I heard footsteps following me on the flags. Once I thought I heard chanting. But I convinced myself it was the whistling of the wind. There were times when I was drawn to the ruins by an irresistible urge to be there; at such times I believe I really expected to see some manifestation of the past.
Eileen Eccles, who had made several drawings of parts of the ruins, said she felt the same. In some of her pictures she had sketched in white-clad figures. “I just found myself putting them in,” she said. “It was as though they belonged.”
I thought that rather strange for she was a very prosaic person on the whole.
But it was true that no one, however matter-of-fact, could live close to such antiquity and not be affected by it.
Eileen often took her classes out to parts of the Abbey and it was not unusual to come across them seated at some vantage point, sketch books in hands.
Miss Hetherington wanted the girls to have a real appreciation of their surroundings, for it was just that environment which set the Academy apart from other schools.
On this particular occasion I had no class until three thirty, and as the midday meal was over at two, I had an hour and a half in which to take a ride.
It was a lovely day. We were in the middle of June and I could scarcely believe I had been so long at the school. I really felt as though I had known it for a long time. I could look back on the last weeks with satisfaction. I could do my work adequately. My English classes were as successful as I could hope for; I had one or two girls who showed great interest and to my amazement Eugenie Verringer was one of them. The Hon. Charlotte continued to be troublesome and to annoy me in a hundred ways—whispering during classes, urging others to disobedience, tormenting Teresa Hurst—in fact generally making a nuisance of herself; and she had her cronies besides Eugenie. But these were minor irritations and the inevitable lot of anyone who taught. The teacher must sometimes expect to be a target, especially if she was not very much older than the pupils.
I had evidently found the right way to keep just ahead of Charlotte and I was thankful for her devotion to horses which gave me a weapon to use against her. She would always fall short of doing something which would deprive her of one moment with her beloved horse.
These were my thoughts as I rode out on that June afternoon. I reminded myself—as I often did—of how I had been lost on my first venture and as there must be no repetition of that I always noted well the way I came. There might not be anyone to show me the way this time. Not that Sir Jason had been much help on that other occasion. I had confirmed my suspicions, since I had been riding round a little on my own, and I knew now that he had taken me a very long way round on my way back to the town.
Why, I wondered. He had known I was anxious to get back. Because he was perverse? Because he knew that I was anxious? Because he wanted me to feel lost and dependent on him? He was not really a very pleasant man, and I hoped that I should not have to see him often. It was a pity that the school was so near the Hall.
I turned away from the town taking a road which I had not taken before, making a special note of the landscape as I passed so that I should know my way back. I passed a tree with its bare branches standing out starkly among others which were in full leaf. It must have been struck by lightning or blasted in some way. It was dead. But how beautiful it was! Strange, in a way it looked ghostly, eerie, menacing even with its bare branches lifted to the sky.
It was a good landmark.
I went up a lane and came to a house. I noticed the tall elms about it and looking up I saw the rooks’ nests high in the trees.
Something someone had said flashed into my mind. I had heard of this place.
And there was the house—simple but beautiful—clearly built at the time when architecture was at its most elegant—uncluttered, with long windows symmetrically placed in its brickwork, very plain so that the door with its fluted Doric-type columns and glass fanlight seemed particularly handsome. The house was shut in by intricate ironwork which looked like lace and made a perfect frame for this charming residence.
I couldn’t help pausing to admire and as I was about to ride on, the door opened and a woman came out. She was holding a child by the hand.
“Good afternoon,” she called. “You can’t go any further. It’s a cul-de-sac.”
“Oh thank you,” I replied. “I was exploring and I paused to admire your house.”
“It is rather pleasant, isn’t it?”
“Very.”
She was coming toward the railing.
“You are from the school, aren’t you?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Well, I’ve seen most of them, but you are new.”
“I came at the beginning of the term.”
“Then you must be Miss Grant.”
“Yes, I am.”
“One hears quite a lot in a place like this,” she said. “How are you liking the school?”
She was up to the fence now. She was strikingly handsome in her dress of lilac-colored muslin. Tall, willowy, she carried herself with an almost studied grace. Her abundant reddish brown hair was piled high on her head; her eyes were enormous, light brown, heavily lashed.
The child surveyed me with interest in her bright dark eyes.
“This is Miranda,” said the woman.
“Hello, Miranda,” I said.
Miranda continued to regard me with an unblinking stare.
“Would you like to come in? I’d show you the house. It’s quite interesting.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t time. I have a class at three thirty.”
“Perhaps another time. I’m Marcia Martindale.”
Marcia Martindale! Sir Jason’s mistress. Then the child was his. I felt myself recoil a little. I hoped she did not notice. I felt an immense pity for her. It must be most unpleasant to be a woman in her position. She would have placed herself in it, of course, but in what circumstances? My dislike for Sir Jason Verringer increased in that moment. What sort of man could he be to bring his mistress so near to his home and blatantly set her up in her own establishment with their child?
“Thank you,” I heard myself say. “Another time…”
“I’d be so glad to see you at Rooks’ Rest.”
I looked up at the tall elms. “Do the birds disturb you with their cawing?”
“One gets used to it. It wouldn’t be the same without them.”
“It is a beautiful house. It looks cool…and aloof, as it were…almost modern when compared with the Abbey and the Tudor Hall.”
“It is very comfortable and I am fond of it.”
“You have lived in it for a long time, I suppose?”
“No. I came here just before Miranda was born. We’re on the Verringer estate, you know. Well, most of the land about here is.”
“Yes,” I said coolly.
“Do come again. I like to hear about the school. Come when you have time. Have a cup of tea or
a glass of something…whatever you fancy. I hear that you are doing well at the school.”
“Oh, where did you hear that?”
“One hears…” She turned to the child. “I don’t think we are going to persuade her to come in, Miranda,” she said.
Miranda continued to regard me stolidly.
“She seems very interested in me at least,” I said.
“Miranda is interested in everything about her and particularly people. Do promise to come and see me. I love to see people and I see so few.”
“Thank you. I will. I’ll wait until I have a free afternoon. That doesn’t happen often but it does come round now and then.”
“Do please do that.”
“Goodbye,” I said.
She stood waving to me, raising the child’s arm and urging her to do the same.
I came quickly out of the lane past the dead tree which was raising its arms to the sky, despairingly it now seemed to me.
What a friendly woman! I thought. She is really beautiful. How could she so demean herself? His mistress…bearing his child…perhaps in the hope that because she could bring about such an achievement, when he was free he would marry her. Well, he was free now.
My revulsion against him was increasing every minute. He was arrogant, I knew. Could it really be that he was a murderer? He appeared to believe he had a right to take what he wanted no matter what he did to others who were in his way.
Thinking of that woman I felt very depressed. I wished I had not let my afternoon’s relaxation take me past Rooks’ Rest.
***
June was almost over and at the end of July we should break up for holidays. I was very much looking forward to seeing Aunt Patty and how she had settled into her new home, although of course she wrote often and told me the details of her new friendships and the frolics and mishaps which for her turned out to be hilarious adventures.
That afternoon I had a free session and was to take the girls on their ride. Miss Barston was to accompany me. I would rather have had Eileen Eccles or Miss Parker because Miss Barston was not the best of riders and was, I fancied, more nervous on a horse than she should be.
On another occasion she had made excuses, so I was not surprised when Daisy called me to her study just as we were about to leave.
“Miss Barston says she has a great deal of preparation to do if she is to get the samplers ready for next lesson. She was planning to do it this afternoon. None of the others has any spare time.”
“That’s all right,” I said. “I can manage. It is the older girls and most of them are good riders.”
Daisy looked relieved. “I am so glad you add this accomplishment to your others.”
“The riding sessions are very enjoyable,” I said.
And that was how we came to set out that afternoon with only one mistress in charge—myself.
There were ten girls. Teresa was there. I knew that she would be riding close to me. She had never lost her nervousness but seemed to feel that I was a sort of talisman or lucky charm and when she was close to me she lost much of that tension which conveyed itself to the horse—and that could mean trouble.
Charlotte was there with the two Verringer girls.
We trotted through the lanes in good order, Charlotte keeping up the rear with Fiona and Eugenie. I often had a niggling fear that when Charlotte was of the party she would attempt to show her superiority in some way and cause trouble. She was quite capable of urging some of them, who did not have her skill, to take risks. I had warned her of this with the only threat which would work with her. Unless her behavior was beyond reproach she would find she was not riding so often.
Teresa trotted along beside me, a little uneasy as she would always be on a horse, but the improvement in her was amazing. In time she would lose her nervousness, I assured myself.
We were talking about the trees and the plants, a subject in which Teresa was very interested and in which she certainly excelled; and she was delighted when she could tell me the names of plants of which I had never heard.
Ahead of us I could see the Hall. It was a most imposing house built in the Tudor style but seeming of an earlier age, because instead of the customary red brick it was in the gray stone of the Abbey. Much of the stone had been taken from the Abbey which gave it its distinction. I could see the broad low arch flanked on either side by tall octagonal towers. Many gables and turrets caught the eye—all dominated by the tall gatehouse.
As we came close to it suddenly a light carriage appeared on the road. It was drawn by two magnificent gray horses and was pelting along at a dangerous speed. It appeared to be coming straight for us. I called to the girls to slow down and draw in to the side of the road.
The carriage was close. I heard Teresa cry out and then her horse was off. It bolted right in front of the carriage and across the road to the Hall.
I spurred up my horse and galloped after her. “Don’t be frightened, Teresa,” I shouted…
She wouldn’t hear me, of course.
I reached her just as she was thrown out of the saddle onto the grass in front of the Hall. I dismounted and ran to her. She lay still and was very pale.
“Teresa…” I cried. “Oh, Teresa…”
To my immense relief she opened her eyes and looked at me. I thanked God she was alive.
The carriage was close by and a man jumped out of the driver’s seat and ran toward us.
It was Jason Verringer.
My greatest emotion then was anger. “So it was you,” I cried. “You’re mad…This child…”
He took no notice of me but knelt and bent over Teresa.
“Here,” he said. “You’ve taken a toss. We all do that at some time. Anything broken? Let’s see if you can stand up.”
Teresa shrank from him. “Miss Grant,” she whispered.
I said: “It’s all right, Teresa. I’m here to take care of you. You don’t appear to be badly hurt. Let’s see if you can stand.”
Jason Verringer helped her to get up. It was clear that she could stand without pain.
“I don’t think there are any bones broken,” he said. “I’ll get the doctor to have a look at her right away. Now I’m going to carry you in,” he said to Teresa.
She looked at me appealingly.
“I’ll be with you,” I said. “Don’t be afraid, Teresa. I’m going to stay with you.”
I remembered then that I was in charge of the whole party. I saw the girls on their horses, watching, appalled by what had happened.
My horse was quietly nibbling the grass. I could not see Teresa’s.
I went over to the girls.
I said: “You’ve seen what happened to Teresa. They are going to send for a doctor. I don’t think she is badly hurt. I want you all to go back to the school and tell Miss Hetherington what has happened.” I looked at Charlotte. I went on: “Charlotte, I am putting you in charge.”
There was a faint flush on her cheeks and I saw her head shoot up and the look of pride on her face.
“You are a good horsewoman and you are in the lead. Look after everyone. Make sure they keep with you.” I had cast my eyes over the party and made sure that they were all there. “Get the girls back as soon as you can and tell Miss Hetherington that Teresa is at the Hall and that I shall stay with her until she is fit to ride back. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Miss Grant,” said Charlotte earnestly.
“Now go,” I said. “All follow Charlotte and do as she says. There is nothing to be afraid of. Teresa is not badly hurt.”
I watched them ride off. Then I turned toward the Hall.
My fear was rapidly turning to anger. He had done this. He was the one who had thoughtlessly driven out at such a fast and furious pace. He had startled the horses and Teresa had been unable to control hers. And I was in charge!
I walked hastily into the Hall, through the door over which was an ornate coat of arms carved into the stone. I was in a vast hall with a vaulted ceiling. Weapons adorned
the walls and a family tree was carved over the fireplace. Several people stood in the hall and they all looked scared.
“The little girl is in the blue bedroom, Miss,” said a man who was clearly an important person in his own right—a butler or majordomo, I imagined. “The doctor has already been sent for and Sir Jason says would you be so good as to go up there as soon as possible. One of the maids will take you.”
I nodded and followed a girl up the carved staircase, the posts of which were decorated with Tudor roses and fleurs-de-lis.
In a bedroom with blue curtains and touches of the same color throughout the room, Teresa lay on a bed. Her relief at the sight of me was obvious.
Jason Verringer turned as I entered.
“The doctor should be here within half an hour. I have told him he is urgently needed. I am sure she is not badly hurt, but it is wise to have a doctor in such cases. No bones are broken evidently. There may be a little shock, concussion…”
“Stay here, Miss Grant,” said Teresa.
“Of course I will.”
“Miss Grant will stay here as long as you do,” said Jason Verringer in a gentle voice which seemed somehow incongruous coming from him.
I could not look at him. I was so angry. This was his fault. He had no right to be driving at such speed through narrow lanes.
He brought a chair so that I could sit down by the bed.
“Miss Grant,” whispered Teresa. “What of the others? Where are they?”
“They’ve gone back to school. I put Charlotte in charge. She’s the best horsewoman. She’ll manage.”
“I don’t want to ride again…ever. I never did. I was so frightened.”
“Don’t worry about it now. Just lie quietly.”
One of the maids came.
She said: “It’s hot sweet tea. Mrs. Keel says it do be the best thing times like these.”
“It can’t do any harm,” said Jason Verringer.
“Could you drink it, Teresa?” I asked.
She hesitated. I put my arm about her and lifted her up. She sipped it and a little color came back into her cheeks.
The minutes ticked by and it seemed more like an hour before the doctor came.
The Time of the Hunter's Moon Page 12