Eye of the Wind (21 page)

Pulling on his boots, he crossed to the window to check that there was no one about, and caught sight of his reflection in the dressing-table mirror. He stared in shocked revulsion at the bruised, unshaven stranger whose eyes were full of shadows. Then, hearing a sound in the passage, he turned to the door as Lobb opened it.

‘Ready?’

Gabriel nodded.

‘The front door’s open. Everyone’s out the back.’

Seizing the butler’s hand, Gabriel shook it hard. ‘Thank you, Mr Lobb.’

‘No need for that. What I did was for miss. You go on now.’

Walking down the stairs and out of the house was an agony that had nothing to do with physical pain. But it was, he told himself, for the best.

By the time he had crossed the park and entered the woods the stabs had moderated to twinges as exercise loosened him up. Even the pounding in his head had eased to a dull ache. Though by no means fully recovered, he felt well enough to call at the shack for some money then walk on to join the team in the wood. As well as reassuring them and getting everyone back to work, his presence would put a stop to the inevitable rumours and speculation. 

Chapter Sixteen

‘Hey, look who’s ’ere!’ Chirp shouted across the clearing to Zeb, before turning back to Gabriel. ‘Some glad to see you, we are. Young Billy been running round like a blue-arsed fly.’

‘I haven’t! No such thing! It just look like it because you’re so bleddy slow!’

Gabriel grinned. ‘And I was only gone a day.’

Ned stomped out of a thicket, wiping his sweating forehead. ‘Long enough. How are you feeling?’

‘How do I look?’ Gabriel replied.

Ned shook his head. ‘Bleddy awful. Want a drink, do you? There’s still some ale in that there keg.’

‘He won’t want ale,’ Zeb elbowed him, ‘not now he been eating with the gentry up the big house.’

‘What was it like?’ Billy’s young eyes were alight with curiosity. ‘Did they give you rich food and wine and stuff?’

Sensing envy, Gabriel shook his head. ‘No. They gave me beef tea.’

Ned grimaced. ‘I tasted that once. Like’s cat piss it was.’

‘So how would you know what cat’s piss taste like?’ Zeb asked with interest. ‘Got some strange habits you have, boy.’

‘Did Miss Tregonning look after you herself?’ Joe gazed, round-eyed, at Gabriel.

‘Some worried she was,’ Ned nodded.

Gabriel gave a brief laugh. ‘Not about me!’ For Melissa’s sake they must never know the truth.

Zeb’s forehead creased. ‘What do you mean?’

‘As soon as she got me back to the house she turned me over to the servants and went to check on the horse!’

The men loved it, slapping their thighs as they roared with laughter.

‘So who looked after you, then?’ Zeb wanted to know.

‘The butler and a manservant – so I was told later, I was still unconscious.’

‘There was we thinking miss would be doing most of it herself.’ Joe sighed.

‘The gentry only do that for their own,’ Gabriel pointed out with more truth than Joe, or Melissa, would ever realise. ‘When I came around, my head ached fit to burst and I thought my arms had been pulled off.’

‘All right now, are they?’ Billy’s expression mirrored concern as he hefted the huge axe in his left hand. ‘Only they big trees is more than one man can –’

‘Dear life, Billy!’ Chirp elbowed him. ‘Give him a chance. ’Tis a bleddy miracle he’s upright.’

‘I don’t think I can swing an axe today, Billy,’ Gabriel admitted. ‘But I’d like to hear how far you’ve –’

‘Tell you later.’ Billy looked past him at the sound of multiple hooves and the creak of a wagon. ‘I’ll supervise the loading, shall I? I expect there’s other things you want to get on with?’

Glimpsing the hope in Billy’s eyes Gabriel nodded, glad to see the boy eager for responsibility. It was also a timely reminder that, once they could recognise which trees to fell, they would be able to manage without him. ‘Go ahead. I’ll fetch the paint and mark a few more.’

*               *               *

Arriving back at Bosvane, Melissa left Samson with Hocking, and hurried to the house, removing her hat and pulling off her gloves as she crossed the gravel. Lobb greeted her at the door.

‘Good afternoon, miss. I hope you had a pleasant afternoon?’

Reawakened anger at James Chenoweth’s insensitive behaviour and her aunt’s meddling interference burned beneath her breastbone. ‘No, Lobb. I did not.’

‘Sorry to hear that, miss.’

‘It’s of no consequence. But I’m glad to be home.’ They were in the hall now. Trying hard to sound casual, she enquired, ‘How is Gabriel? Is he still in much discomfort?’

‘I understand he is very much better, miss. Before he left he charged me most particularly to thank you for your great kindness.’

Melissa stopped in mid-stride, her hand on the banister, absolutely still as she repeated carefully, ‘Before he left?’

‘That’s right, miss. He said he had given enough trouble, and that his presence in the house, if your family learnt of it, was bound to cause you more problems which he didn’t want to happen especially after you’d been so good to him.’

‘Oh.’ Her throat closed. She swallowed painfully. ‘I see. Thank you, Lobb.’

The butler took a step forward and, lowering his voice, said gently, ‘It’s all for the best, miss. That young man has secrets it’s better we don’t know about. He showed sense and consideration leaving like he did. With respect, miss, it’s time you were thinking of other things. Indeed, though I’ve done my best during your absence these past days, the household needs your attention. Mrs Betts is most anxious to speak to you in connection with the pass books?’

The tradesmen’s accounts. Melissa made a valiant effort. ‘Of course. Thank you, Lobb. Would you bring some tea to the study? And kindly tell Mrs Betts she may come as soon as she wishes.’

He bowed. ‘Yes, miss. Thank you, miss.’

Melissa spent the next hour with the cook-housekeeper discussing the repair and replacement of various domestic items. She checked the pass books for the butcher, baker, grocer, and hardware shop, and counted out the money into separate piles for Mrs Betts to take to the village the following morning to settle the monthly accounts.

Then it was time to change for dinner. Leaving Sarah tidying up, Melissa walked along the passage and opened the door to her brother’s room. The bed had been stripped and re-made. The counterpane lay flat. The bedside table was bare. Apart from the faint herbal scent of the salves she had applied to his wounds, there was no sign that Gabriel had ever been there. The longer they spent in each other’s company the less she knew him.

Last night she had held him, nursed him, listened to his feverish ramblings. Yet he was more of a stranger than ever. She knew she shouldn’t. She knew it was wrong. But she missed him, and ached with the sense of loss. Closing the door quietly, she went downstairs.

Gabriel remained in the wood until the faint sound of the horn in the yard signalled the end of the working day. He walked wearily toward the clearing. His head throbbed and his shoulders were stiff and sore. But he had selected and marked 20 more trees. Bidding the others goodnight, he headed for Daisy Mitchell’s to buy a pie for his evening meal.

The surprised pleasure on her rosy face as he ducked into the shop was swept aside by concern when she saw the rainbow-hued bruises and dark, lumpy scab above his eyebrow.

‘Dear life, my handsome! You should never be out.’

‘It’s not as bad as it looks.’

She folded her arms. ‘Think I’m stupid, do you?’

‘Can I have a meat and potato pie?’ Gabriel asked meekly.

‘I’ll get ’un. Now you sit down before you fall down,’ Daisy ordered, nodding toward the wooden chair near the door used by older villagers whose legs needed a brief respite before setting off home again. ‘White as a sheet you are. Well, parts of you. As for the rest …’ She shook her head.

Gabriel folded his tall frame onto the chair, and rested his elbows on his knees. Though he had paced himself, the afternoon had taken more out of him than he’d expected. He sat, his head hanging, while Daisy bustled about. He heard the scrape of metal, the clink of china, the sound of liquid being poured, and brisk footsteps.

‘Here.’ Daisy was standing beside him. ‘You get this down your throat. Look dreadful, you do.’

Gabriel glanced at the cup and saucer then up at her plump face. It was puckered with anxiety.

In his past life he had drunk tea without a moment’s thought. Born into a wealthy family where luxury and quality were taken for granted, it would never have occurred to him to ask the cost of the food or the wines that graced the table at every mealtime.

But this past year had taught him different values. As he looked at the strong, steaming tea, a treat hoarded for special occasions, he was touched and humbled by Daisy’s generosity.

‘Don’t worry, Mother,’ he tried to grin. ‘It will take a lot more than a frightened horse to see me off.’ He took the cup, surprised to see his hand shaking.

‘Oh yes?’ She tossed her head. ‘Men! Haven’t got the sense they was born with. Not going to go off in a swoon, are you?’

‘Swoon? Me?’ He was genuinely astonished. ‘Of course not.’

‘You can’t see what I can see,’ Daisy sniffed. ‘You sure now? ’Cos I couldn’t lift you up. And a great lump like you on the floor wouldn’t do my business no good at all.’

‘I’ll be all right, Mother,’ he promised.

She patted his shoulder, her brief grip saying far more than words, and waddled back behind the counter.

As he sipped the strong brew and felt his strength returning, he realised for the first time how close he had been to collapse.

‘Was it right what I heard? About Miss Tregonning?’

‘What did you hear?’

‘That she led the horse what took you up to the big house? What was she doing down there in the first place, I’d like to know? Nothing against her, she’s some lovely maid. If she wasn’t so tall she’d be married long since. ’Tis a shame, dear of her.’

Besieged by unfamiliar and powerful emotions, Gabriel stared into the teacup, wondering who had talked. But it was too late to worry about that now. He shrugged, wincing at the knife-like twinge, and responded only to the first part of her question.

‘You tell me. I was dead to the world. Don’t remember a thing.’ He stood up, and set the empty cup and saucer on the counter. ‘Thank you, I needed that.’ Taking money from his pocket, he laid it on the counter and picked up the pie and buns she pushed toward him.

‘You should still be in your bed, not out scaring decent folks to death.’

‘I’ve got to eat.’

‘What you need is a good woman to take care of you.’

‘True.’ Gabriel nodded, then winked at her. ‘But I’m too late, you’re already spoken for.’

‘Get on with you.’ She blushed, and came round the counter, pausing just long enough for him to drop a kiss on her cheek before she shooed him out.

Next morning, Melissa came downstairs to the news that if she so wished she could have mackerel for breakfast as six had been found outside the back door. As he imparted the information, Lobb’s expression was carefully blank.

Matching it, Melissa tucked away her pleasure at the gift, whose significance she would ponder over when she had more time.

‘Thank you, I should like that. A thoughtful token of thanks, don’t you agree? Far more practical than – say – flowers.’

‘Indeed, miss,’ Lobb agreed blandly as he poured her coffee. ‘It’s nice to see that our efforts were appreciated. Though I can’t help but wonder what we were being thanked for on the last occasion six fresh mackerel appeared on the doorstep.’ Without giving her a chance to respond, he sailed out.

The postman brought a letter from Mr Rogers. When she came to Truro to collect the money for the men’s pay, might she spare him a few minutes, as there were some minor matters he wished to discuss with her.

She decided to go that morning. Captain would be better for an extra day’s rest. So would she. Reaction to the accident and its aftermath had left her more shaken than she cared to admit and feeling ridiculously vulnerable. With John and Duchess still working there would be enough trees cut, stripped, and stacked to keep the haulier’s wagons busy for a couple more days at least.

Late that afternoon, Gabriel and the team left the woods, returned to the yard and joined the line to collect their pay. Aware of the men watching as he reached the table, Gabriel wondered how Melissa would react to the curious and speculative glances. Hating his inability to make it easier for her, he kept his eyes lowered, the additional tension painful in his shoulders.

‘Ah, Gabriel,’ she said calmly, apparently oblivious to their avid audience, ‘I am glad to see you recovered.’

‘Thank you, miss.’ Their eyes met for an instant before he looked quickly away, anxious not to unsettle her.

‘Mr Rogers has heard from Mr Nankivell that next month he would like to increase the loads to three a day. Will your team be able to manage that?’

‘We’ll do our best, miss.’ He knuckled his forehead and bent to sign the ledger. As he picked up his money and moved on, passing Tom with a nod, he could hear Melissa thanking a blushing, tongue-tied Billy. She was magnificent. He could only guess what the effort was costing her. Ahead of him, Tansey turned.

‘Coming for a drink, are you? You look like you need it. Come on,’ he urged as Gabriel hesitated. ‘All the lads is going down.’

‘I don’t know, Tansey …’

‘Got something better to do have you?’

‘Sleep.’

‘Get on with you, plenty of time for that. What you want is a nice glass of Cousin Jacky. Ben have had a new delivery.’ He tapped the side of his nose and winked. ‘Take the pain away lovely that will. If it don’t, well, least you won’t care no more.’

Up early that morning to go fishing, now weary and aching, Gabriel longed for his bed. But refusing the invitation would seem churlish. Nor did he want to provoke even the mildest speculation. The thought of a glass of cognac was very tempting.

The tavern was crowded with men talking, laughing, and arguing. The atmosphere, a compound of ale, wet sawdust, and sweaty bodies, was thick enough to slice. Smoke curled from clay pipes toward the low-beamed, yellow-brown ceiling. The grimy windows were firmly closed, so the only fresh air came in with the customers down a short narrow passage from the open door.

In deference to Gabriel’s injuries as well as his height, which meant he either had to stand with his head between the beams or hunched between his shoulders, he had been urged into one of the pew-like benches in a corner. The rest of the group had filled the remainder of that bench and the one at right angles to it, then closed the circle by drawing up stools.

After several minutes of serious drinking during which thirsts were quenched by tankards of ale, the order was given for Cousin Jacky. Gabriel struggled with disbelief and laughter as he listened to Walter, Zeb, Ned and Tansey arguing over the brandy’s quality in the same thoughtful tones – if different vocabulary – used by connoisseur friends of his father. His father. Gabriel tried to picture the marquis’s face were he to walk in here now and see his younger son. He failed. Then jumped as an elbow dug into his ribs.

‘That’s how you got back, wasn’t it?’ Tansey said expectantly.