A Dinner Of Herbs (54 page)

the farmers’ wives she had encountered that morning. But after draining the mug she

gave a small laugh,

saying, “Where’s the fight?”

“That’s me girl.” Hal rose and, pulling her to her feet, laughed too, saying, “Come on, let’s look for

one.”

They were still smiling when, further along the passage, they entered the dining-room.

There, they saw

enacted a little scene.

His wife and two daughters had apparently just preceded them into the room and were

weaving their

way towards the far end to a table that had a view of the garden when a man, one of two sitting at

another table, rose and pushed his chair back without looking behind him, and in doing so almost

overbalanced Florrie. At this the man turned quickly and caught her by the arm, and

when Hal and Kate

reached them he was saying, “My apologies. I’m sorry. It was so clumsy of me. Are you

all right?”

Florrie, smiling now, and in her quiet way said, “Just a few bones broken, that’s all,”

whereupon the

young man let go of her arm and laughed, retorting as quickly, “Dear, dear, that will

make me liable for

compensation.”

He turned his head and looked at his companion, who had also risen to his feet, and now, when this man

spoke, everyone looked at him for his voice was different altogether from that heard in these parts, either

of gentry, farmer, or miner. In a slow, drawling tone, he said, “And I’ll stand as your witness, ma ... am.

And you could claim a mighty fine sum.”

The man spoke English all right, but it was a foreign English, American English.

Hal cut in now saying, “What’s all this? Murder on the king’s highway?”

Then looking at the young man who had caused the slight affray, he said, “Good-day, Mr.

Bentley.”

“Good-day, Mr. Roystan.” Both men inclined their heads towards each other.

“Trying to kill one of me family, are you?”

“No, sir, never that. Just merely attempting to knock her down.” There was laughter now and blushes

from Florrie, and Hal put his hand on her shoulder saying, “Well, away with you, miss, out of harm’s

way.” And the party proceeded to make for the far table.

Kate, coming up last, had to pass round the other man and skirt the chair he was holding by the back,

and when he quickly whipped it under the table and stood aside for her to pass, they stood eye to eye for

a moment, and she looked into his face which was thin and tanned. His eyes looked

almost black, like

his hair, and this was thick and straight and came down almost to the collar of his coat.

He had a thin

figure dressed in good quality cloth and he was taller than herself.

The conversation as they settled at the table was purposely general until they saw the two men leave the

room. And then Florrie enquired quietly, “You know him. Dad?”

“Yes, I know him. He’s Mr. Charles Bentley. He farms over the hills on the outskirts of Lord

Redman’s estate. Well, he’s Redman’s nephew.”

“Lord Redman’s nephew?” It was Maggie, wide-eyed now, repeating the statement.

“What have I just said. Aye, he’s Lord Redman’s nephew, but he’s no better off for that,

‘cos he

works for his living. They laugh at him.”

He nodded towards Mary Ellen now.

“Aye they do, a lot of them around here, the would be clever-Jacks. They think they’re God’s

appointed where farming’s concerned but I think that fellow could teach them a thing or two. I’ve only

seen his place once.

“Tis small, called Little Manor Farm, and it’s not much bigger than me first place.” He looked at Mary

Ellen.

“A couple of cottages knocked into one.” He nudged her, “Those were the days.”

She smiled at him tenderly, saying, “Yes, those were the days. Frozen stiff in winter and the well dried

up in summer.”

They both laughed now. Then Maggie drew their attention by asking, “Do you know the

other one,

too?”

“No, I don’t, miss, but by the sound of him I should imagine he’s just off a boat

somewhere. From the

Americas would be me guess.”

“He’s handsome.”

“Aye, he might be. Handsome is as handsome does. And get that starry look out of your

eye. I’m

havin’ no foreigners in the family.”

“Oh, Dad!” At Maggie’s indignant tone they all laughed. And when he said, “Well, now,

what about

ordering?” Mary Ellen put in, “Aren’t you going to wait for the lads?”

“No, I’m not going to wait for the lads. They could have been here by now if they’d

liked, it wouldn’t

take all this time to unload. Anyway, I’d like to bet I know where one is. Master Tom

will be hanging

over Cissy Ludley’s stall.”

“Poor Cissy.”

“What do you mean by that?” Hal looked at Maggie.

“Do you mean that you’re sorry for her ‘cos our Tom’s got his eye on her?”

“Don’t be daft, Dad; you know what I mean. Them having the farm and the brick concern

too, and she

having to serve on the stall.”

He leant across the table towards Maggie now.

“And what disgrace is there in serving on the stall? Your mother served on a stall for years.” He

nodded towards Mary Ellen.

“Oh, well’—Maggie shook her head ‘that was different ... well, you were struggling.”

“And so are the Ludleys.”

“Not to that extent, Dad. You know well what I mean. You said yourself, her father

would sell his

grandmother for a decent ewe.”

“I might have, but after seeing his grandmother I knew he’d never be able to bring it off because she

wouldn’t be worth a decent ewe.”

The laughter this evoked brought heads turning from all the tables in the long room, and some smiled.

But others were wont to remark that the Roystan family were the queerest for miles

around. The

daughter left standing at the altar just a few days ago. And wasn’t that her there with the rest of them,

laughing her head off? You couldn’t somehow place the Roystans. Starting from the

bottom, they didn’t

fall into the category of fish, fowl, or good red meat. Oh, certainly not good red meat.

Christmas came. The family, as always, ate well, and they made merry, but it was, in a way, a forced

merriment, especially when there were callers. And on New Year’s Eve, as they all sat

round the fire

waiting for another year to come in, there wasn’t the usual going over of events of the past twelve

months. This they had all agreed was to save Kate’s feelings. The only thing mentioned was the new

road from Guidepost near Catton to Allendale that had recently been started, and which was to lead

straight into the market place. And what advantages was it going to provide? Only to a few, Hugh had

said, for coaches and the mail, perhaps, and those with their open carriages. He had, too, regaled them

with the business his office had dealt with during the past year, such as that of the good people of

Newcastle who were trying to get prison reform. So many tales did he tell of the

hardships of prisoners

and transportees that his father had laughingly asked whose side he was going to

represent once he had

served his articles, only to become more serious for a moment and to enquire quietly

what side of the law

would he be on if a man was transported for seven years for stealing a poker from an inn.

At this the girls had exclaimed, “Never! Never! Dad. Don’t be silly, that couldn’t

happen.” And he

answered, “Oh, yes, it did, in South Shields, and many more cases like it.” But he did add that they had

to be grateful because things at this end of the country weren’t as bad as those in the south. Did they

know that a little girl of twelve had been hanged in Newgate for stealing? Oh, yes! Yes!

And it was on

this sombre note the New Year was brought in, and with it came the atrocious weather.

January, February, and March provided great falls of snow, frozen roads, thaws, and rain.

So it was on

one comparatively warm and sunny day in April that Kate saddled her horse and said she was going for a

ride. It was two o’clock in the afternoon, the time when the women folk usually

adjourned to the

sewing-room, there to work on their dresses or household linen, to hem with minute

stitches pieces of

lawn to make handkerchiefs, which, later, they would embroider with an initial in the

corner.

Mary Ellen looked at her daughter, thinking. That’s going to start again, for right up till Christmas, unless

the weather was very bad, Kate had taken to riding out on her own, pointedly refusing

company of any

kind. So today, neither Florrie nor Maggie offered to ride with her.

It was agreed amongst the rest of the family, but in private, that Kate was changed: no matter what face

she showed to the outside world she was no longer the Kate they all knew. She could sit in the

sewing-room the whole afternoon and not utter one sentence, unless it was briefly to

answer some

question. And when the nights were long, after the evening meal was over and the dishes washed and the

table set for the following morning’s breakfast, they would gather in the sitting-room, and Maggie would

play the spinet. But seldom now could they get Kate to sing. What spare time she had she would spend

with a book in her hand. She and Gabriel were the great readers in the family, the rest were more for

doing practical things. Hugh, of course, read quite a lot, but it was mostly to do with his legal work.

Mary Ellen was disappointed that none of the girls had shown interest in the making of potions or

satchets of herbs. She herself still continued to go to her cupboard, as they called the little room where

she kept her jars and bottles, and mix up winter medicines for coughs and colds, and

salves and purges

for the cattle.

But whatever pastimes the girls took up after their day’s work, they seemed to do it with a relish. And,

until late, Kate had been the most enthusiastic of them: her embroidery was so fine that on two occasions

it had taken first prize at the Hexham Fair.

Ever anxious that her daughter should not isolate herself from them, Mary Ellen said,

“Your father’s

going into Allendale, why don’t you ride with him? You’ll never guess what he’s going

to do?”

“No? What is he about to take on?” Kate asked flatly.

“Oh.” Mary Ellen forced a jocular note into her voice.

“He’s going to honour them by at last changing his bank. As I’ve said to him for ages, the bank is well

established now and you couldn’t get more honest men than Mr. Arnison and the

Reverend Walton from

Allenheads, and the town auditors. But no, you know what he’s been like, saying that, as they couldn’t

see to the removal of the town dirt, they couldn’t see to his money. But now things are changing.” Her

jocular manner faded as she ended seriously, “This’ll make some of them in different

quarters sit up and

take notice when they see what he’s got to put into their care. By! it will. Anyway, he’ll be glad of your

company.”

“Mam.” Kate’s voice was quiet.

“I know what you’re thinking. I know what you’re trying to do. But believe me, I’m all right. It’s all

over. It’s as if it had never happened. And I’m glad. You won’t believe me when I say

again I’m glad it

turned out as it did; but then.. well, one changes. You know what I mean.”

Yes, in a way, Mary Ellen did know what her daughter meant, for she herself had been

forced to

change. She sighed and said, “All right, dear. Go on, and enjoy your ride. Only be

careful. I wish you

wouldn’t take Ranger, though; he’s hard to handle.”

“I can manage him. We understand each other.” Kate made to go out, then turned and

there was a

mischievous glint in her eye that hadn’t been there for some long time as she said, “You know what I’m

going to do, Mam?”

“No, Kate, no.” Mary Ellen only too gladly capped her daughter’s mood.

“I’m going to get some knickerbockers made.”

Mary Ellen’s chin dropped, her mouth fell into a gape then snapped closed before she

said, “No! No!

Kate, you wouldn’t?”

“I would, and I am. Remember when I was little, I used to ride astride, and barebacked at that. So

why not?”

“It.. it.. Mary Ellen stopped: she had been about to say, “ It could get your name up. “

And it certainly

would, a woman the size of Kate, in fact, any woman, straddling a horse like a man! She said quietly, “

Don’t do it, Kate. Anyway’ she gave a shaky laugh ‘you’re not serious? “

“I am, Mam. And why not? It’s a simple thing after all. Don’t worry.”

She put her hand out and patted Mary Ellen’s arm.

“When I wear them I’ll not ride into Hexham or Allendale, I’ll keep to the hills.” And with this she went

out.

The sky was high. There was only a slight breeze, just enough to cool the sweat on both her and the

horse when, half an hour later, she drew the animal to a halt.

She leant forward now and patted the animal’s neck, saying, “That was good, wasn’t it.

Ranger? All

the cobwebs gone? That’s it, breathe deep.” This was when the horse put his head up and neighed.

For the next ten minutes or so, she walked the animal over land that dropped quite steeply into a

wooded valley through the bottom of which ran a burn, spanned by a small stone bridge.

And now,

crossing it and approaching her, was a man on horseback, whom she recognized