Cry of the Peacock (12 page)

“She’s in good hands,” David said, and found he meant it. “If Miss Gray says your daughter will be well looked after, you can rest assured she will be. Now we really must be going.” He slapped the reins and clicked the signal to start, which the animal was ready enough to do.

*   *   *

As they made their way to Fareham, David considered the scene just quitted. What had Miss Gray got herself into? What had she got
him
into? So the laborers didn’t want to move, did they? It was difficult to imagine anyone wanting to stay in those sties, but Mr. Summerson had a point. If there was not enough work to pay them now, how were they expected to keep up with the rent in new cottages? If only the fields had been plowed. If only they had crops to look forward to. When would Ruskin set about doing that which they all knew must be done!

More troublesome still were the insinuations laid against James. Miss Summerson’s state was obvious, but could it really have been James who was responsible? He had not had much opportunity to get himself into trouble, but if anyone knew how to take advantage of an opportunity, however small, it was certainly James.

Upon arriving at the station, David helped the women down. He was prepared to follow, to see them both safely through the crowds and the Summerson girl boarded, but Miss Gray did not wish for his company.

He remained, as bid, and from the shadow of the ticket stall, he watched them make their way through the crowded platform. They had not quite reached the train, however, before they stopped to speak with a gentleman. By their manner of greeting, he was no stranger to Miss Gray. In fact, he was not quite a stranger to David, either. He recognized the fellow. It was the same who had interrupted his interview with Miss Gray the day he had appeared at her aunt’s gate in London.

He was ashamed of that bit of presumptuousness now. It had seemed reasonable enough at the time. She had posed a threat, to his family’s solidarity, to their name, to their fortune, to his elder brother’s future, and the future of the estate. His certainty on these matters had, these last weeks, begun to erode. But though his reservations had begun to give way, they were not entirely to be set aside. They were merely altered. Her true colors had begun to reveal themselves. What would she yet prove to be? And would it be more or less acceptable than what he had first believed her? She posed a threat still; of that he was yet certain. He had never been more certain of anything in his life.

*   *   *

“Miss Summerson, this is Mr. Meredith,” Abbie said upon meeting him and with her arm about Hetty’s shoulders. The girl was still sniffing from her tearful and hasty departure. “I’m sorry if you’ve been kept waiting. It was harder to get away than I had planned.”

“How do you do, Miss Summerson,” he said with a gentlemanly bow. He turned then to Abbie. “You look very well, Miss Gray. And happy.”

“I’m very well, Mr. Meredith. “ She felt herself flush a little under his attentiveness. She was tempted to look back, to find out where David was and if he was still in sight. She resisted the urge. “You will be safe with Mr. Meredith,” Abbie said, addressing Hetty. “He will see you make it safely to London. You may trust him.”

“High praise indeed,” he answered her. And then, more soberly, “You did not travel alone?”

“No. We had someone from Holdaway bring us.”

Mr. Meredith, with a raise of one eyebrow, scanned the crowd, then looked again to her as if to ask, ‘Who?’ But Abbie did not mean to give an answer.

“My sister is well?” she asked instead.

“Yes, very well,” he answered. “She misses you, of course. You are generally missed at Newhaven.”

“Not by my aunt, I think.”

“You misunderstand her, Miss Gray. Her concern and her pride sometimes get confused as one. Not unlike my own, I’m afraid,” he added, then took the bags from them. He stowed them as Abbie said goodbye to her friend, and she reassured her, once more, that she was moving on to better things. Mr. Meredith returned and handed Hetty into the compartment before returning to stand, almost awkwardly, before Abbie.

“Thank you, Mr. Meredith, for coming.”

“Think nothing of it, Miss Gray. Should you ever need me, rest assured I will always come as quickly as I may.”

“You are very kind. Do send my sister my love.”

“I’ll be sure to do it.”

The whistle blew.

“You had best board your train, Mr. Meredith, or it may leave without you.”

“Yes of course,” he said, and lingered still.

“Goodbye, Miss Gray,” he said, at last, and disappeared into the billowing steam. When it cleared again, he was gone.

Abbie returned to find David standing beside the ticket booth, his arms crossed over his chest and a look on his face that was both studious and thoughtful, but, to her relief, not reproachful or accusing. She felt that weight of concern herself. She stopped to stand before him.

“That was rather well done, I think,” he said, with a faint smile. “Are you quite all right?”

“I think so.”

“Are you certain?”

Had he observed the emotion she was struggling to conquer? Or did he, too, feel the weight of the day’s mission?

“I owe you an apology, I think.”

“Do you?”

“I think I do. I cannot know what trouble I’ve caused today in my well-meaning endeavors. Or what trouble I may have got you into as well. I’m grateful to you.”

“You needn’t worry for me. If my brother is to be believed I’ve been wanting a spot of trouble to warm my blood.”

“Do you mean James?” she said, and did not laugh as she might ordinarily have done.

“Yes.” He smiled almost sympathetically.

“Do you think he’s truly responsible?”

“I’ve been wondering the same, myself.”

“Is that what is troubling you?”

“I have a great many things on my mind these days,” he answered. “One more is not likely to make much difference. Shall we go?”

“We had better, I think.”

They mounted the cart once more, and Abbie resumed her former place, facing behind, where she could think undisturbed, of Hetty and the help her sister could give her, of the chance she would have there to redeem herself and to make something of a life that might ordinarily have been thrown away. Of Mr. Summerson’s warnings. They had been quite happy, once, at the prospect of having their new homes. What, since then, had changed?

They had reached the park entrance when she became aware, once more, of her surroundings. She waited for the house to come into view, and when it did not, she looked around to find they had taken a detour. This was Whiteheath land they traversed now. Land that might once have been hers. That might be again should Ruskin’s hintings prove to have the results she suspected he desired.

In the distance she could see her Oak Lodge nestled against the hillside, and the copse that rose up above it, marking the barrier between Holdaway and Whiteheath. She watched as it disappeared behind the rolling hills of the Downs.

And then they came to a stop.

Before she could enquire as to David’s purpose, he looked back at her and nodded toward a spot in the field ahead of them. Abbie had to stand to see around him, but found she had to sit again upon seeing the reason. Before them was a bustling throng of workmen, digging, excavating, erecting. She watched them in troubled awe.

“What do you think?” he said, and did not seem to like too much what he saw.

“But I thought…”

“So did I.”

“But why? Why here? This is not what we had planned. The new cottages were to be built just behind the old ones, so that the gardens would not be disturbed. So that the inconvenience of moving would not be too great. To ask them to move to the farthest corner of the estate… How are they to accomplish it?”

David did not answer.

“I understand now what Mrs. Summerson meant. Of course she is foolish to think that the land should be cursed simply because the family who once owned it has been ruined.”

“It’s nothing but rustic superstition,” he said, as if such a dismissal should be a comfort to her.

“If they believe it, does it matter?”

“Perhaps not. Does it trouble you to find them here? To know that Holdaway cottages will be built on Whiteheath land?”

“For myself, do you mean?”

His silent gaze was answer enough.

“Why should I have any personal objection to where the cottages are built? I have no claims upon this land now.” And yet she did object, and not for the laborers alone. There was something unsettling about it all. If only she understood what it meant.

“You do object,” he observed, watching her. “I can see it.”

“As do you, unless I’m very much mistaken. Will you tell me why?”

He turned to look once more of the construction. “You are right,” he said at last. “It’s as if they mean to move the laborers out of sight, to dispose of them, if you will.”

“In newly built cottages that your family can barely afford to build?”

“It makes no sense.”

“That is your answer?” she said to him, in frustration she knew she had no right to inflict on him. He was clearly as puzzled by this turn of events as was she, yet he must have brought her here for a reason. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“I overheard a piece of conversation and was curious. It was confirmed by certain of Mr. Summerson’s remarks. I cannot say, however, that I quite expected this.”

“They blame me, you know. I have betrayed them. Without knowing it, I have broken my word. How am I to help them if they will not trust me?”

“It isn’t so bad as that, surely. They will be grateful by and by.”

“And if you are wrong?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to think better of it and closed it again.

“Say it. Say what you mean to say. Do not spare me.”

“What would happen if they did not? It is not as if you are without a home now, or people to care for you. To take care
of
you. If you are admired, regarded…” he cleared his throat before continuing, “does it really matter by whom?”

For a moment she looked at him. It was a question she could not answer, or feared to, and rather than attempting it, she turned from him. Only there was nowhere to go. She needed some time to herself, to sort out her emotions, to consider what all this meant. To consider what David had meant by his question—and how to answer it, even if it was only for her own peace of mind. She descended from the cart.

“Miss Gray?”

She did not answer him, but began walking, back to the house. If only he would let her.

“It was bold. I beg your pardon. I should not have said—”

She stopped and turned back to him. “I do not care what you did or did not mean to say, Mr. Crawford. Clearly you regard the opinion of your peers more than those who rely upon you. You assume I should do the same. I can’t say that I do. You needn’t make any excuses for me. I’ve inconvenienced you quite enough for one day.”

“Miss Gray,” he said again, but with apparently weakened resolve.

Turning her back to him once more, Abbie walked on, back toward Holdaway Hall, as quickly and purposefully as she could. She slowed again when the old Whiteheath manor house came into view. Cautiously she approached the great ruins, the idea of curses and hauntings still prominent in her thoughts. That there might be ghosts here did not frighten her. She almost welcomed the idea. What might they tell her about the noble family that had been crushed under the weight of hardship and scandal and was now scattered as so much rubble? Questions remained regarding the connection between the Crawford family and her own. If they could answer them now, would her way be any clearer? If they were here to advise her now, what counsel might they give?

She sat meditating in this way for a long while before a sound, the cracking of a stick, and then the sudden winging of birds from the window sills and overgrown shrubberies, awoke her from her meditations. It was growing dark. She would certainly be missed by now. She raised herself from her cold, hard seat, and, bidding a somber farewell to this graveyard of a building, she made her way back to the Hall.

Despite her detour and subsequent delay, she entered the house at nearly the same moment as David. They had both arrived at the back entrance, she from the direction of the rear gardens, he from the path that led from the stable. They stood and stared at each other for half a moment before he opened the outer door for her.

It struck her as strange that they should arrive at the house at the same time, but she was too distracted by her own thoughts to draw an immediate conclusion. The conclusion came, nevertheless.  She stopped midway upon the stairs and turned back. “Were you following me?”

He did not answer, but removed his gloves and hat. And then his coat.

“I suppose you thought you were watching out for—”

“There you are at last!” Lady Crawford demanded as she entered the back passage, Sarah following close behind. “Where have you been, Arabella?”

David opened his mouth to answer, but Abbie would not allow him to make any excuses for her.