Authors: Angel
“Gerald is not craven!” denied Beth with indignation.
“He has antiquated notions about being honourable,” Angel explained. “Positively Gothic, in fact.”
“Gregory, you will not stop me seeing him, or tell Papa?”
“Has Miss Brand persuaded you that I am an ogre, Beth? I always thought him the man for you, and though I cannot approve of clandestine meetings, I must admit that at present I see little alternative.”
“Just what I thought,” agreed Catherine.
“Are you in this too, Miss Sutton? And you, ma’am?”
“Not I,” said Mrs Sutton. “Though I must confess to strong suspicions.”
“And will you acquiesce in concealing the matter from the earl? If you have other views I shall be happy to hear them, for this is not the kind of situation in which I can call myself an expert!”
“I do not know the young man well, but both Catherine and Clement consider him an unexceptionable, highly principled gentleman and I would accept the judgement of either. If his conscience permits him to court Lady Elizabeth under these conditions, I for one will not cavil. Besides,” she added frankly, “Lord Grisedale has not behaved towards me with such civility that I feel obliged to uphold his rights.”
“Bravo, Mother!” murmured Catherine.
“So you see,” Angel called them back to the original object of the discussion, “you need not come with us tomorrow, Sir Gregory.”
“You have abandoned your desire for a good gallop, Miss Brand? No, no, you shall not escape so easily. I planned to challenge you to a race.”
“Your horse is twice the size of mine!”
“But he carries twice as much. Come, you shall choose any horse in the stables that is safe for a lady, and may choose any horse for me that will bear my weight. I’ll wager a pair of gloves against a handkerchief.”
“Done!”
Catherine offered to accompany Angel to the Hall next day, to pick a mount and decide on a course. The race would be held on Saturday, as the visit to Beckside Farm was set for Friday.
“I’ll take you over to Upthwaite on Friday, Beth,” promised Sir Gregory. “I suspect I ought to have a chat with Mr Leigh fairly soon.”
Beth looked panic-stricken, but Angel was equal to the occasion.
“You had better write him a note saying you are coming,” she suggested quickly. “I have recently discovered that vicars are vastly busy gentlemen.”
Her uncle came into the room in time to hear this.
“You are indeed right, Lyn,” he agreed mournfully. “We are unconscionably overworked. I am come to tell you, Maria, that all is arranged for our little holiday in Ambleside next week!”
Sir Gregory and Lady Elizabeth left soon after. As the baronet was taking his leave of Catherine, she asked him what had possessed him to challenge her cousin.
“I thought you did not like her above half,” she said.
“The impulse of a moment,” he replied. “It may serve to keep her out of mischief for a few days. I do not dislike the child, though I fear she still thinks me odiously interfering.”
She smiled. “A veritable ogre! I will see you tomorrow.”
As soon as the visitors were gone, Angel started counting days. Tomorrow to the Hall, Friday to Beckside Farm, Saturday the race, Sunday church, and Tuesday they were leaving for three days in Ambleside.
She absolutely had to see Lord Dominic on Monday, or it would be over a week!
Chapter 12
The only saddlehorse in the Grisedale stables that could carry Sir Gregory was his own grey charger, Atlas.
“He was chosen for endurance, not speed,” the baronet soothed Angel. “Come and pick a mount for yourself. There is not a great deal of choice, I fear.”
There was not. Angel was about to indulge in scathing comparisons with her father’s stables when the arrival of Lord Welch saved her from giving herself away. He agreed absolutely with her judgement.
“I told you the roan would suit you best,” he pointed out. “It’s no racer though. Tell you what, I’ve the very nag at home. I’ll bring her over tomorrow for you to try. A sporting little mare, she is.”
Angel accepted with alacrity, though it meant postponing the race for a full week. Sir Gregory’s suggested racecourse she rejected out of hand, but at last they found a spot she considered eligible, if not ideal.
When they returned to the house, she managed a moment alone with Beth.
“Here,” she said quickly, “will you give this letter to your brother tomorrow? I know you will not see him, but leave it where he will find it. I have addressed it to Mr Donald Marshall.”
“If you wish.” Beth was dubious. “Why ever are you writing to Dom?”
“If I do not see him on Monday, I shan’t be able to till next Friday.” It was so obvious to Angel that she could not go so long without speaking to him that she was unaware that it might require some explanation. “We can meet them both on the Crag. Beth, I have an idea! Should you like to come with us to Ambleside? I’m sure my uncle and aunt can have no objection.”
“Oh, Lyn, I should like it of all things! It is so long since I have gone anywhere. But even if Papa agreed, Mr and Mrs Sutton will not want another to take care of.”
Catherine and Sir Gregory reappeared at that moment, and agreed to use their influence on the Suttons and Lord Grisedale respectively. Sir Gregory even managed to persuade his lordship to lend the Grisedale carriage. Angel was invited to spend Monday night at the Hall, and in the morning the two girls would pick up the rest of the party in Barrows End.
In the meantime, the visit to Beckside Farm took place. The Burchetts welcomed them with open arms. Dick and two small sisters awaited them at the farmyard gate and escorted them to the house.
“Mind your slippers, ladies,” he advised genially. “Pa had a path laid down but it keeps vanishing. Told him it would. Can’t keep beasts out of the yard.”
“Do you still have kittens?” Angel demanded. “And calves and chicks and . . .”
“Foal born two days ago. Chicks getting big, but kittens still cuddly. In the kitchen here. Come in, do.”
Mrs Burchett was setting a kettle on the hob.
“Now, Dick, your pa said to take the Reverend round to the parlour,” she reminded, wiping her hands on her apron and bustling forward. “Good day, Mrs Sutton, it’s a right treat to see you here. Good day, sir; good day, young ladies.”
“May we see the kittens first?” asked Angel.
“O’ course, Miss Brand. Jenny, Nora, stop gawking and find them dratted kittens! Always underfoot they be, now they’s a-growing older.”
Catherine and Angel cooed equally over the kittens and the shy little girls, then Dick took them on a tour of the farmyard. They returned to find Mrs Sutton ensconced at the kitchen table, which was now loaded with food.
A cold ham took pride of place, flanked by cakes and loaves fresh from the oven, slabs of golden butter, a mutton pie, a large bowl of strawberries and another of cream, honey, preserves, and pickles. Mrs Burchett was frying bacon and sausages, and as they came in after washing at the pump, she began breaking eggs into another skillet.
“This,” Mrs Sutton announced, “is tea!”
Mr Burchett had taken the vicar off to the parlour for a man-to-man chat. Nora was sent to fetch them, and soon they were all seated round the munificent spread.
“Ye’ll ask a blessing, Reverend?” requested Mrs Burchett.
Some two hours later, the Craythorns’ unfortunate horse drew the gig back down the hill. Besides the increased weight of the passengers themselves, the vehicle was loaded with farm produce they had been unable to refuse.
“I never want to move again,” groaned Angel. “If that was tea, I wonder what they eat for dinner? No wonder they are all so large and jolly!”
“Yes, even Mr Burchett cheered up after his third slice of ham,” agreed Catherine. “Papa, did you speak to him about Dick’s Betsy?”
“I believe I have prevailed upon him to regard her with complaisance,” the vicar said.
“Good,” said Angel. “I expect they will soon be married and I shall give them a wedding present. The piglets were adorable. What a pity they grow up to be pigs!”
The next day, Lord Welch brought his mare Star over to Grisedale Hall. Angel tried her paces and was delighted with her. However, Beth had disappointing news. She would be unable to go up Dowen Crag on Monday, as Mrs Daventry insisted that she rest in preparation for Tuesday’s travelling.
Undeterred, Angel told her she would like to go riding anyway, with just the groom. She coaxed Aunt Maria into letting her take an hour away from the packing to get a breath of fresh air, and when Abel arrived she was ready. Together they rode up Dowen Crag, in spite of Abel’s shaking his head and tutting.
“Her’d bring Old Nick hisself around her thumb,” he muttered admiringly to himself. “Master Dom don’t have a chance.”
No one was there when they arrived. Angel went out on the rock and looked towards Upthwaite, but it was several minutes before she saw a horseman top the valley’s rim, and then it was a solitary rider. A white speck accompanied him: Osa.
“You’re late,” she accused impatiently when at last Lord Dominic appeared. “Beth couldn’t come and I only have a few minutes. Where’s Mr Leigh?”
“Called out on an emergency. I waited to see if he would return in time to come. I didn’t know you were in a hurry, Linnet.”
“No, I’m sorry I was twitty. I’ve just realised that we have been here four weeks already and there are only four to go. Beth has all the time in the world.”
“For what?”
“Oh, for adventures and things,” said Angel vaguely.
“Poor Linnet, is your usual life so dull? I must try to arrange some excitement for you. I know, how about a moonlight tryst? There’s a full moon tonight. We could meet by the lake.”
“Someone might see us. Why not up here? If it’s moonlight it won’t be dangerous.”
“I was not serious! You cannot possibly come out alone at night to meet me! Indeed, you should not be here now.”
“No, I should be on my way back, so we will have to arrange this quickly. I will tell Beth I am coming to meet you and ask her to come too for propriety’s sake. I am to spend the night at the Hall, you must know. And you will persuade Mr Leigh to come for the same reason. If neither knows the other will be there, they are more likely to agree, do you not think?”
“Probably.” Lord Dominic entered into the spirit. “We should meet at midnight. But I do not want you riding up the Crag at night. We will wait where the path leaves the woods. How will you get horses?”
“Oh, I had not thought.”
“That sounds familiar. Abel! Miss Brand and Lady Elizabeth will need horses tonight at eleven. See that they are provided.”
“Aye, sir . . . What, Master Dom? Nay, ‘tis not seemly for my lady to ride out at such an hour!”
“Please, Abel,” coaxed Angel. “We do not mean mischief, but Lady Elizabeth was not allowed to come out today and she will not see her brother for another four days if you do not help.”
The groom was at last won over and sworn to secrecy. Angel hurried home bursting with excitement, which she had considerable difficulty in hiding from her aunt and cousin. The rest of the busy day seemed endless, but finally the moment came when she took her overnight valise and set off for the Hall. Not even the prospect of dining with Lord Grisedale, Mrs Daventry, and Sir Gregory could dampen her spirits.
“She’s up to something,” Catherine told her mother. “Thank goodness she is out of my hands for this evening. I can even find it in me to hope that the earl carries out whatever threat it was he started to make!”
It was some six hours later that Catherine was awakened from her dreams by a noise she could not at first identify. Then it came again: a handful of pebbles rattling against her window. The casement was open, and several stones thudded to the floor.
Too sleepy to be alarmed, she threw back the covers and went to the window. Leaning out, she saw clearly in the bright moonlight a large figure that could only be Sir Gregory. He was stooping to pick up another load of pebbles.
“Psst!” she hissed. “What in the world are you about?”
“Miss Sutton, I must talk with you,” he hissed hack. “Pray come down at once.”
“Sir Gregory, I cannot! I am . . . I was asleep.”
“Get dressed. I need your help, Kate.”
She disappeared, and he waited impatiently until the back door opened and she came out. She had scrambled into a gown, but had not taken time to put up her hair. It flowed in a rippling river to well below her waist, cloaking her in mystery, while the pallid light lent an enigmatic air to her features.
“Kate!” he murmured hoarsely, moving towards her with both arms outstretched.
She stepped back. “If you call me that, I shall go in,” she threatened breathlessly.
“Miss Sutton, I beg your pardon. Blame the moon. Did you not call me once ‘half lunatic’? The goddess steals my wits: ‘O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate, and then—’”
“Enough! Was it for this you called me down?”
“No, indeed! You have made me forget my errand, which is, I think you will agree, of some importance. Your cousin and mine have slipped out of the house and away, an hour since. Have you any idea where they might have gone?”
“Oh, dear, I knew Angel was up to something! Let me think. She and Beth are used to meet . . . Mr Leigh upon Dowen Crag. Perhaps they are there?”
“I cannot believe Leigh would be so unprincipled as to invite Beth out at night! If this is so, he must look elsewhere for support.”
“Do not be angry with him. I’ll wager this is largely Angel’s idea. We must go after them at once.”
“I have brought you a horse. ‘First kiss me, Kate, and we will.’”
“Sir, you take advantage of me!”
“Shamelessly. Come here.” Taking her in his arms he silenced her protests with his lips, a brief, gentle kiss that left her shaken to the core. She looked up at him as he released her, but his face was unreadable in the moon’s uncertain light. “Come,” he said roughly, and led her to where he had tethered the horses. Atlas whinnied softly as they approached.
In a dream, Catherine let him toss her up onto the bay. They splashed across the gleaming beck and cantered down the track. The balmy night air lifted the weight of her hair and she felt as if, like the moon above, she floated serenely in a pool of light.