Authors: Miranda Powers
“Why should we go to Bath? What’s wrong with Tunbridge Wells? It’s good enough for the Prince Regent.”
“Yes Reginald. Sorry. Whatever you say.” She lowered her eyes in apparent submission but inside her defiance made her heart beat so fast she feared he would hear it.
***
Diana waited by the barouche for Miller to lower the step. She liked Miller. His toothless smile always gladdened her heart and, though only a servant, she’d come to think of him as a sort of uncle, perhaps even the grandfather she never knew. He was certainly old enough to fill that role. She sensed that he felt it too; though neither would speak of it; that would not do at all. She was the Mistress of Eylebourn Hall, and he was the gardener and occasional driver.
He held his gnarled hand out for her to climb into the carriage. It was a beautiful summer’s day, so the roof was down. She settled into the left side leather seat facing forward and put up her parasol. It would never do to get sunburn. She was a Lady, not a farmer.
Miller climbed up to the driver’s seat and with a gentle touch of the whip, set the grey mare, Penelope, and her chestnut partner off along the gravel drive. They passed the marble fountain of Venus pouring water into her bath and out to the open double iron gates with their ornate bars topped with golden spearheads.
Diana sat back and looked at the passing bucolic scene. Out in the fields, labourers, men, women and children, worked hard in the sun that had climbed high in the cloudless sky. She felt a little uncomfortable. Not because of the carriage; no this barouche had four leather seats, cushions for her back and a stool for her feet. It was the thought of her good fortune and their hard life that unsettled her every time she saw such a scene.
Diana’s life was comfortable apart from the Thursday night chore. Sir Reginald owned several thousand acres of Kent, plantations in Virginia and Jamaica, a fleet of trading ships and had investments in scientific studies hence his membership of the Royal Society. Since the British government nine years previously in 1807 had outlawed transporting slaves from West Africa across the Atlantic, he had branched out into other lucrative trades but she suspected he might still be running slaves illegally. There was little she could do about that. She had no
evidence,
and she knew that if he were, and discovered, he would be ruined and therefore so would she. Yes, Lady Diana Charlotte Elizabeth Burke nee Winchester had what so many other women could only dream of; she could buy almost anything she wanted. But Diana knew that many other women had something more, love, and real love could not be bought.
The gentle clip clop of the horses, the warm summer air filled with the fragrance of the hedgerows and the swaying of the carriage brought on heavy eyes and then sleep.
***
She woke to a confusion. They were on the road near the Pantiles in Tunbridge Wells. The carriage, stationary, with no Miller on the driver’s seat. Quickly she sat up and then stood up. Out in front of the horses lay a small boy in the road. His leg was at a terrible angle to his body. Miller and a stranger seemed to be trying to help him.
She jumped down from the barouche and walked quickly, remembering that Ladies don’t run, to the casualty.
“What’s the problem Miller?”
“This ‘ere boy Ma’am. Been hit by a carriage Ma’am.”
“Where’s the carriage?”
“Didn’t stop. Just drove away. Just what you would expect from the likes of them,” said the stranger.
Diana looked down at him as he tended the boy. His rough jacket, collarless shirt and worn trousers suggested to her that he was a workman of some sort, but his voice, deep and strong had the edge of an education. His hair looked an unruly mess of dark brown curls, but his eyes were alert and a deep brown that hinted at the soul dwelling within. This was an unusual man make no mistake, thought Diana.
“Is he your’s?” she said looking at the poorly clothed boy and putting his age at about nine years.
“No, he’s from the orphanage,” said the stranger.
Diana felt there was something insolent in this man’s voice. Nothing she could take immediate offence to, but there was something about him that said he was not a man to bully or treat as inferior.
“Make yourself useful, go over to that shop there, that one with the jam and honey in the window. Ask the woman there to give you two of the slats from the trunk and some cord. She’ll know what you mean.”
“Are you addressing me?” said Diana, taken aback and now taking offence.
“Yes, I’m talking to you. Now do as I say, this boy needs his leg in splints and now, not next week.”
“Well really!” But she did as instructed.
Diana briskly entered the shop in question. She couldn’t see anyone inside but found a curtain drawn across a doorway. She pulled back the curtain and saw an old woman sitting on a chair knitting, in what looked like a store room with barrels, bottles and chests.
“There’s been an accident outside. A man has asked for two slats and some cord from a trunk that apparently he believes you to have on your premises.”
The old woman looked Diana up and down. “He did, did he? Well, if he wants them he must need them. Wait here Miss.”
The old woman trundled off to the back of the storeroom. Diana followed. Her soft shoes made no sound.
With a heave, the old woman pulled a trunk from under a shelf and lifted the lid. She jumped in shock as she turned to see Diana standing behind her.
“I said wait over there,” grumbled the old woman.
“Just give me what I asked for, and I’ll be gone,” said Diana.
She watched as the old woman lifted the lid of the trunk. Bottles of brandy were stood in the trunk with slats of wood between them, apparently to stop them banging together when transported. The old woman lifted two slats out and handed them to Diana. Then she reached to a shelf and pulled out a length of white cord.
“He’ll be the death of me that one… sending strangers in here like that,” said the old woman.
Diana took the cord and slats and headed back out to the road. It didn’t take a brilliant scientific mind to work out what was going one in the shop. Smugglers, and the stranger must be involved if he knew about the slats.
She handed the requested, no demanded, items to the stranger. He didn’t say thank-you.
Diana could see that there was no way the carriage could proceed until the boy had been moved out of the way, so she stood and watched.
Miller held the reins of the horses to keep them quiet in case they decided to go forward, over the boy.
The stranger carefully straightened the boy’s leg. He was fully conscious but apart from a tear escaping and a grimace as the leg straightened, he showed no fear.
When the stranger had the leg straight, he put the slats along each side and tied them with the cord.
“That’s your carriage, take us to the orphanage,” said the stranger.
“Now just a minute…”
“Obviously the boy can’t walk; it’s two miles to the orphanage, so I’m not going to carry him there when there is a carriage here to take us. Now, please, take us to the orphanage.”
Diana looked at Miller. He shrugged.
“Well, since you said please, all right. Put him in the back.”
The stranger picked the boy up while Diana tried to help keep his leg straight. With a heave, the stranger had the boy up in the carriage and lay him across the front passengers’ seats. Miller handed Diana up to the carriage and climbed up into the driver’s seat.
The stranger was about to sit down next to Diana.
“I don’t think so. Up there, next to the driver,” she said.
He looked at her, and she was sure that he detected the ghost of a smile hovering around the side of her mouth.
He touched his forelock and bowed. “Yes Ma’am.” But it was anything but subservient.
She could see a reciprocal smile hiding at the side of his face too.
He climbed up next to Miller. “It’s…”
“I know where the orphanage is. I grew up there,” said Miller.
***
Diana had passed the orphanage many times as it was only about two miles from Eylebourne Hall, but she had never been inside. It looked terribly foreboding with its enormous red brick edifice and a central clock tower. The iron gates were ajar. Miller trotted the barouche into the yard.
A fat woman in a greasy apron, which may have once been white, came out of a side door. “What’s going on? What do you want?”
The stranger climbed down. “One of the boys had an accident.”
“Who?”
“Charlie.”
“Him… where is he?”
The stranger lifted the boy from the back of the carriage.
“Where’s the sixpence I gave you to buy my… where’s the sixpence?”
The boy reached into his pocket and handed over a sixpence.
“You’d better take him inside, to the dormitory. I can’t be expected to carry him… not with my back,” said the woman.
The stranger carried the boy through the side door and down a long corridor following the fat woman. Diana followed the stranger. She couldn’t help noticing his firm bottom and strong shoulders.
The woman stopped and turned to Diana: “Where do you think you are going?”
Diana’s patience had at last run out which was unfortunate for the fat woman. “I’m going to see that this boy is settled and gets proper care so shut up and lead the way.”
As Diana was now alongside the stranger, she saw him grin. She smiled back at him.
The dormitory held twelve beds in two neat rows with six feet between each and a cupboard.
The woman pointed at a bed with an iron bedstead and a grey blanket for cover. The stranger laid the boy on it.
Diana said: “This boy needs to see a doctor. Please arrange it without any delay.”
The fat woman looked her up and down. “Doctors is expensive.”
Diana reached into her purse and took out five shillings. “This will pay for the doctor and some proper nourishment for the boy. See to it.”
She handed the five shillings to the woman and watched her put it in her apron pocket.
“I shall return and I expect the boy to have been seen and treated by the doctor and to have received decent food. If you fail to do that I shall have a word with the board of governors, and you will be looking for a new position. Do I make myself clear?”
The fat woman shuffled and frowned. “Yes, Ma’am.”
Diana looked down at Charlie. “You’ll be all right young man… I shall make sure of that.”
“Thanks Miss.”
These were the first words that she heard Charlie speak since she saw him lying in the road. She patted his head and smoothed down his hair. Then she squeezed his hand before turning to leave.
The stranger walked with her along the corridor.
“Where did you learn the skills to set that poor boy’s leg?”
He looked at her but said nothing.
“I said…”
“I know what you said. Don’t go prying. No offence. I keep myself to myself.”
“That’s not strictly true is it? I saw what was in that store room where the slats came from.”
“Are you going to tell the Revenue?”
“I ought to.”
“But are you?”
“And what if I do?”
“You’ll get an old woman hanged.”
“And you?”
“No… there’s not enough to convict me.”
“You seem very sure of yourself.”
“In this business you have to be.”
They arrived at the courtyard.
Without any further comment, the stranger walked away to leave Diana looking after him feeling more than a little annoyed at his manner.
Miller handed her up to the carriage.
“Back to Tunbridge Wells Ma’am?”
“I think not. We’ll go home. I’ve had enough for one day.”
Chapter 2
Diana lay in bed, thinking through the day’s events, pleased that her husband’s side was empty. He’d be in bed with his actress.
The stranger intrigued her. The lower classes, whatever they thought of her and her kind, seldom had the nerve to be brusque with their betters. They knew their place. This stranger did not seem to know his, and this kindled her imagination.
He wasn’t exactly her fantasy dashing captain from Wellington’s army, but he was none the less a good looking specimen and interesting too. The way he spoke was not like a workman, more like, well more like her except of course he wasn’t like her. He wore workman’s clothes, smuggled for a living and was rude to his betters. Perhaps he had some medical training, the way he fixed the boy’s leg suggested that he knew something about that. Perhaps he worked in a hospital as a porter or cook. No, he didn’t look much like that either.
She drifted off into the arms of Morpheus pondering about her stranger.
***
After breakfast, Miller saddled Persephone, her grey mare, as requested.
“Are you sure Ma’am? I could drive you over in the barouche.”
“Thank you but I am sure. The ride will be good for me.”
Miller put the riding step beside the horse and offered his hand to help her climb. The thick long skirt didn’t help.
In the side saddle, she flicked her riding crop and off went Persephone at a gentle trot.
The sunken lanes would take her to the orphanage, but she decided to ride cross country to exercise Persephone. The thrill of the gallop was also something she enjoyed though she preferred to be astride for that rather than sidesaddle.
After the cut hay fields and through the woods she saw the orphanage in the distance. It’s central tower stood out like an accusing finger pointing at the sky.
She cantered Persephone across a field recently cut leaving stalks of straw spread out like three-day-old stubble on a man’s chin. She saw a figure sitting on a row of bales over by the exit gate. She cantered over then reigned in Persephone when she recognized him.
He chewed on a straw and watched her approach.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“I may ask you the same,” he said.
“I’ve come to check on the boy to make sure he has the treatment he needs.”
“He has. I’ve just come from there. I was sitting here thinking about whether to walk over to your house and tell you he was fine. He asked me to thank you.”