Highway Girl Page 2

  Dominic put both hands on Ned’s shoulders. “I will, and gladly,” he said. “We’ll make our way together, and share whatever we meet, both good and ill.”

  Ned held out a handful of coins. “I’ve sold the cart. The cow and the pig can graze until people realize we’re gone.”

  Dominic grinned. “Then we—”

  But he was interrupted by shouts. The coach was laden and ready to go. Two passengers were already aboard.

  “To horse, Ned!” cried Dominic.

  I was glad to see him in such high spirits. Having a companion with him has changed his view of the journey, there’s no doubt about that! I was also glad to be leaving the inn. We were too close to home. There was still a chance that someone might have missed us already, and would come looking for us. Dominic helped me climb aboard, and handed Jack to me. I sat next to a large, jolly-faced woman, who did not mind my little dog in the least. A thin man opposite – so bony I could have cut cheese with his cheekbones – did not look my way once.

  And we were off! I was much comforted that whenever the way was wide enough, Dominic, and sometimes Ned, rode alongside, leaned down and doffed their hats. It made me feel such a lady!

  We stopped at Exeter, and everyone went into the inn, some to eat and some, like me, to find a maidservant and ask directions to a room where I might take care of my needs. Then Dominic, Ned and I sat by the fire, shared our food and drank some very good ale. Dominic gave me some money and told me to hide it in my chemise.

  “You will have need of it, Su,” he said. “I don’t like to think of you penniless.” He smiled, but his front teeth nibbled at his lower lip. “Next time I give you money, my dearest sister, it will be gold! You’ll see!”

  Some new passengers boarded, and soon we were on our way again. The road was dry and the coach sped along. All too soon, Dominic called, “The way parts at the brow of the hill, Su. We must now say farewell.”

  “No!” I cried. “Not so quickly! Stop the coach. Oh, please stop the coach! I must hug you, just one last time. Please, Dominic!”

  I was appalled to see his face flush, and his eyes fill. I leaned out of the window, shouting, “Driver, stop! For pity’s sake, stop!”

  The coach slowed and clattered to a halt. There was much cursing from the front and a gruff snort from the bony man. I clambered out. Poor Jack became entangled in my skirts and tumbled to the ground.

  I hurled myself into Dominic’s arms. Behind me the thin man and the coachmen moaned and grumbled. “Here of all places,” I heard, and, “’Tis not fit for a lady’s eyes,” and, “It do stink, too.”

  Only after I’d had the heartbreaking experience of waving my brother and friend a last goodbye and watching them disappear into a small wood down the lane to the left, did I turn and take in my surroundings.

  I screamed in horror. My cries set Jack barking. I scooped him up and scrambled back into the coach. As we drew away I looked once more at the hideous object which had frightened me so. It was a gibbet: a metal cage that held the rotting remains of what had once been a man.

  “Highwayman,” said the big woman. “Got what he deserved, no doubt, when they hanged him, but does any soul deserve to be left for the birds to peck out his eyes, I wonder?”

  Against my will, I recalled the robber who held us up – was it only the night before? This stinking, gibbeted corpse had once been a living, breathing man like him. If ever there was a warning to stay on the straight and narrow path of goodness, that was it.

  And then I thought of how Dominic and I have strayed from that path. And I wept.

  Remembering our parting brings unwanted tears to my eyes once more. But I am being called! The carriage from Gracy Park must be here!

  February 9th, at Gracy Park

  Lady Anne sent a footman to escort me to church this morning, which was most kind, but I declined. I told the footman to explain that I need to recover from my experiences of the last few days, and I’m sure they will understand.

  Now, listening to the sound of church bells and birdsong, I sit by my little open window, for the weather is still, and this cottage is sheltered. I breathe in soft, clear air, and write at a pretty octagonal pear-wood table. I don’t have the window open in order to admire the view, lovely though it is, but to try to stay awake. I am so tired after yesterday’s journey, but I want to write down my experiences before I forget them. When Dominic returns, it will amuse him to read this and to know how I have fared.

  As the landlord’s good wife took me out to the carriage yesterday, I felt there had been some mistake. With my parents, I travelled in carriages many times, especially in our own modest one, but I had never been in one as grand as this! I do not know which shone more – horses or carriage!

  A footman assisted me in, passed Jack to me, and took care of my boxes. I kept my woollen bag with me. I was afraid that it might be dropped, or perhaps fall, and all would see the breeches and man’s hat which were within!

  The carriage was so much more comfortable than the coach but, of course, the main difference was that I was alone, apart from Jack.

  At first I relaxed and enjoyed my velvet and silken surroundings, but after a while I began to feel sick with all the swaying. I must have dozed a little, but woke suddenly with the feeling that something was wrong. Then I realized. We were stationary. I looked out to ask what was amiss, but the carriage driver came to my door and assured me that all was well.

  “We wait awhile in this village for other travellers,” he said. “See, Mistress Makepeace? There are others waiting too.”

  Indeed there were. “Why do we wait?” I asked.

  “There’s safety in numbers.” He waved his whip, indicating the long, steadily sloping hill. “And ’tis hard to make speed on an upward climb such as that. When carriages and coaches go slowly, well, that’s the time they’re most in danger.”

  “Danger?” I had thought I was safe at last. “Danger from what?”

  “From highwaymen, Mistress,” he replied. “If a highwayman should attack on a hill such as that, he’d know we couldn’t pick up speed and get away, and he’d know he could escape downhill and vanish like a fox into a forest.”

  “Mercy!”

  He smiled. “Don’t be afraid, Mistress. You’ll be well protected.”

  “And indeed, I have nothing worth stealing,” I said, attempting a shaky smile.

  He opened the carriage door. “Most passengers like to wait in the inn yonder.” He pointed to a pretty, low building just across a narrow stream where ducks bobbed and squabbled. “’Tis clean enough, and they provide good food to hungry travellers.”

  “Oh.” I shrank back into my seat. “I, um, I—”

  Bless the man, for he seemed to sense my predicament. “I am instructed to bear all expenses on your behalf, Mistress,” he said. “You go in, and have something to eat and drink, and tell Old Joan I’ll settle your account. Sir Roger has provided,” he went on as I began to protest.

  I was glad to rest inside, and Old Joan – it must have been she, for she was at least forty – knew how to treat a lady, for she took me straight to a little room at the top of her narrow stairs, and said, “Here you may refresh yourself in private, m’lady. Your dinner will be ready directly.”

  I was most relieved to use the facilities inside the room, and returned downstairs shortly, where I ate a good meal of a beef pasty and hot gravy.

  Old Joan gave Jack a bone with much meat on it. He took it outside, as he has been trained to do, and lay on the step in the sunshine, gnawing away happily. I felt much better.

  Soon, the carriage driver, who is called Luke, appeared in the doorway. He removed his hat. “Pardon me, Mistress Makepeace, but we must leave now.”

  I thanked him, called Jack, and went back to the carriage. Luke must have settled Old Joan’s account, for she came out to wave us off.

  Aside from us, the group of travellers consisted of a carriage-and-four, two carters, a farmwife mounted on a mule, three churchm
en on horseback and another on a jittery-looking donkey. There was also a pony pulling a strange-looking contraption that looked as if someone had created a small carriage out of an old cart, like ours.

  Thoughts of our cart brought a wave of melancholy, which I quickly dismissed. For goodness’ sake, Susannah, I thought, take hold of your spirits and stop being such a softling.

  I’d clearly eaten too much, as I felt queasy as soon as we crested the hill. I tried to sleep a little, but when I closed my eyes it felt as if the world moved beneath me. I think it must be how sailors feel on a ship on the ocean. Poor Dominic and Ned.

  I did drift, a little, and came to when I felt Jack jump up beside me. Bless him, he had made a dreadful mess on the floor with his bone. I quickly crouched down to pick up the scraps that remained, and flung them through the window.

  After another hour, I sensed the horses had picked up speed. I feared there might be trouble – perhaps a hold-up. A carriage like Sir Roger de Gracy’s would be a sure target for a highwayman. I peeped out of the window.

  What a sight! An elegant, stone house lying low amid great sweeps of grass, glowing golden in the late afternoon sunshine.

  I shouted to Luke. “Is this—?” but the wind took my breath away.

  “Ay, ’tis Gracy Park, Mistress,” he called back.

  My new home, I thought, and I marvelled at my good fortune.

  Sir Roger and Lady Anne de Gracy actually came out to meet me, with three of their servants. The warmth of their greeting almost overwhelmed me.

  “Come in, my dear, and welcome,” said Lady Anne, and she kissed my cheek.

  “Welcome indeed,” said Sir Roger. “We are delighted to meet you, cousin Susannah.”

  They seemed a little nonplussed by my lack of baggage, but I thought it best to be honest.

  “I have few possessions now,” I said, then in case they thought I was going to beg from them, “but I have more than enough for my needs.”

  Both smiled, but I felt that, at that moment, they felt differently about me.

  Lady Anne noticed Jack for the first time. Bless him, his ears and tail stood up as if a maid had starched them!

  “It is your dog?” asked Lady Anne.

  “Yes. His name is Jack,” I said.

  “How charming.” Her fixed smile spoke differently.

  Sir Roger bade me come inside. I thought it odd that my baggage had not been removed from the carriage, but said nothing.

  Jack was exploring the carriage wheels and I knew what he was about to do, so I called him. “Come, Jack.”

  But Lady Anne stood in the doorway. “No, no, cousin Susannah. He cannot come into the house. My sweet Juliana has a fear of dogs, and will become ill if one comes near.”

  “Oh, but—”

  Luke stepped forward and picked Jack up. “Begging your pardon, m’lady,” he said to Lady Anne, “I’ll look after the little dog in the coach house.”

  I felt panic rising, “But I cannot—”

  “Come, my dear,” said Sir Roger. “Take some refreshment, and then you can come back for your little dog. Luke will take great care of it, I promise.”

  I felt Sir Roger understood my fear of being parted from Jack. “He is all I have,” I explained, as we went into the hall.

  Lady Anne sent a maid scurrying for food and drink. “But you have your brother, too,” she said, showing me to a seat at a small table. “Is he far behind you? We thought you would come together, but perhaps he prefers to—”

  “Lady Anne, Sir Roger… My brother is not to come to Gracy Park.”

  They looked mystified.

  “He has gone to America,” I said. “To make his fortune,” I added, taking advantage of them being stunned into silence. “He will return one day, and then I will not be obliged to take advantage of your kindness and generosity any longer.”

  I am so angry with myself, because what did I do then but burst into tears. It clearly embarrassed them, because they just sat there, as if I wasn’t even in the room. Lady Anne examined the lace at her wrist, and Sir Roger cleared his throat. Twice. “Errk, hmm.”

  When I’d pulled myself together, Lady Anne noticed me again and said, “I’ll tell the maids to prepare a room for you.”

  I was taken aback. They seemed to have expected both Dominic and me. Why, then, were rooms not prepared for us? I think my jaw dropped, for Lady Anne quickly explained. “We thought you and your brother might care to set up home in a cottage in Gracy Park. It is a good-sized one, and we thought – well, we thought you would feel more independent.” She hesitated. “We mean well, dear cousin. Life has been difficult for you, and we do not want you to feel as if you are a poor relation, living off – well, off richer ones. D’you see?”

  But that’s exactly how I do feel.

  Later

  My new maid, Bid, has just been in to see me with a pile of linen, and she interrupted my writing.

  “Do you read, Bid?” I asked.

  She laughed. “No, Mistress Makepeace! I can’t do nothing clever.”

  Good. It means I may safely leave my diary on the octagonal table. But it also means I cannot ask her if I spell her name correctly. Bid or Bidd? Or even Bydd? I do not know.

  I am relieved to be settled here in Keeper’s Cottage. After Lady Anne and Sir Roger had got over their shock at me being on my own, there was a flurry of maids and whispered instructions, and all my protests were brushed aside. I have good ears and it soon became plain that arrangements were going ahead to prepare a room for me in the house. And so it proved.

  “Cousin Susannah,” said Lady Anne, “you are on your own! We cannot let you live alone. You must live in this house. And if you wish, you may take your meals with us and—”

  “And Jack?”

  “Jack?”

  “My dog. He would be with me?”

  Lady Anne became flustered. “Heavens, no! My sweet Juliana couldn’t tolerate an animal in the house. Gracious, no.”

  Sir Roger patted my shoulder. “You will soon get used to living without the dog, my dear. It can live in the stables. The servants will feed it and groom it and whatnot.”

  This was too much! After all I’d been through! “He!” I blurted. “Jack is a he, not an it.”

  Sir Roger stepped back, eyebrows raised, and with an expression of distaste. “Wife, you deal with this,” he said to Lady Anne. “Young girls nowadays … don’t know what the world’s coming to…” He wandered from the room.

  I felt dreadful. How could I be so impertinent to these good people? “I apologize, Lady Anne,” I said, “but I have lost so much – I cannot be parted from Jack.”

  She shrugged. “Then there is no choice. You will live in Keeper’s Cottage. I shall send Bid to be with you.”

  “Bid?”

  “A maid. She is of little enough use to us. She needs to be chivvied the whole time. If there are only two of you in the cottage, you will be well placed to keep a close eye on her.”

  I took a deep breath. It was going to be all right. Odd! Only an hour before I had expected to live in the house. Then when the idea of the cottage was dangled before me, I couldn’t think of anything more desirable than to live alone. “I thank you, Lady Anne,” I said. “May I go to Keeper’s Cottage, to settle in before night falls?”

  “Certainly not, my dear,” she replied. “You will stay and sup with us, then one of the footmen will light you to your new home. In the meantime, Bid can go and unpack your boxes and make sure that all is prepared for you. Why not take a walk around the park until supper time? There is no wind and the snowdrops are lovely. You have an hour.”

  I would sooner have changed my clothes and washed my face, but a walk meant a chance to be with Jack and to check he’d be looked after while I ate.

  A footman called Joseph, who is Luke’s son, showed me to the coach house, where I found Jack looking perfectly happy.

  “Oh, Luke, thank you!” I said, hugging my little treasure. “But may I return with Jack in an
hour? I’m to sup with the family, and then a footman – Joseph, I suppose – will light my way to Keeper’s Cottage. I will collect Jack when I leave.”

  ‘Keeper’s Cottage?’ Luke’s eyes widened. “Do you mean Keeper’s Cottage down by the front gates?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “You won’t be staying there alone, will ’ee, Mistress?”

  “No, I won’t,” I said, “though I am not afraid to be alone. Nor am I frightened of the dark, and I’m sure there will be candles.”

  “Who will be living there, along of ’ee?” he asked.

  “I don’t know if I got the name right,” I said. “Lady Anne mentioned someone called … Bid.”

  “Bid?” he said. “Are you telling me Bid is going to stay with you? She won’t like that. No, she won’t.”

  I felt most offended. “How can you know if she’ll like it? She’s never met me. Come along, Jack. Let’s go and look at the wretched snowdrops.”

  I did my best to sweep out of the coach house, but Luke hurried after me. “No, no, Mistress, I didn’t mean that. Bid will like you, I’ve no doubt. Anybody would like you.”

  I folded my arms. “Then what did you mean?”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a high, thin voice.

  “Mistress Susannah Makepeace?”

  I turned to see a girl, a little taller than myself, and a great deal better-dressed. I went to her. “Yes, I am Susannah Makepeace.”

  “I am glad to meet you,” said the girl, who had thin, pale lips and wide, piercing ice-blue eyes. Her fur-lined cloak, the colour of ripe wheat, almost matched the curls clustered at each side of her face. “I am—” She looked past me. “Aaaaagh!” she screeched. “What is that?”

  I had a job to control myself. First Jack was an “it”, and now he was a “that”.

  “He is my dog – Jack,” I said.

  “Ugh! Take it away, Luke,” she ordered. Then she spun round and stalked away.

  I waited.

  She looked back. “Well, come then. Walk with me.”

  I handed Jack to Luke, whose mouth twitched, I swear it did. Then I followed Juliana. For I was sure that this snapdragon, whom I’d looked forward to meeting, and perhaps to becoming friends with, was my distant cousin, Juliana de Gracy.