Joan Wolf (4 page)

I went. I took Saladin and rode as hard as I could down the other side of the pass toward the village of Thwaite. And the whole terrible way my mind was filled with visions of that strong, arrogant, splendid body crumpled and broken at the bottom of the Buttertubs.

Chapter 5

I had never been in Thwaite before, but it was a typical Dales village and I galloped into the main street over the small humpbacked bridge and spotted the store his lordship had mentioned almost immediately.

The proprietor, Mr. Hambleton, moved promptly enough to carry out Lord Leyburn’s orders, but he did not appear unduly concerned about the situation. He collected two other men from the town and they hung some lengths of good stout rope over their saddles. “Hurry, can’t you?” I burst out at one point. Mr. Hambleton gave me a surprised look. Then he patted my shoulder. “We’ve moving as fast as we can, lad, but there’s naught to worry about. His lordship is there.”

“If he didn’t fall himself,” I said with anguish, and the horrible picture flashed through my mind again.

“Fall? His lordship?” Mr. Hambleton looked astonished. “He won’t fall, lad,” he said reassuringly. “And he’ll have the child well in hand, believe me. You’ll see.”

I heard before I saw. We were still a little distance from the top of the pass when we heard a clear, resonant voice vigorously declaiming a very funny and extremely vulgar song.

Mr. Hambleton turned to me with a grin. “There, lad, didn’t I tell you?”

We dismounted and went to peer over the rim of the pit. There, below us, seated side by side on the ledge, their legs dangling over an eighty-foot drop, sat the Earl of Leyburn and a small boy. The earl was singing lustily and the boy was convulsed with giggles.

“Well, now, my lord,” Mr. Hambleton called placidly, “what do you want us to do?”

His lordship looked up at us. He appeared to be enjoying himself enormously. “How are you, Archie?” he called back.

“Fine, my lord, thank you.”

“If you would throw some rope down here, perhaps you and the others could pull this young cawker up. Who is that you’ve got with you?”

“It’s us, my lord,” said Mr. Hambleton’s two companions, and they came to peer over the edge of the Buttertubs.

“How are you, Will? Dan, how’s the wife?” his lordship asked amiably. He might have been at a social gathering.

“Better, my lord, thank you. She enjoyed the fruit you sent.”

“Are you ready, my lord?” asked Mr. Hambleton.

“Send it down,” said the earl.

The rope was duly tossed down and Lord Leyburn secured it under the armpits of the child.

“After we pull the boy up, we’ll send the rope back down for you, my lord,” Archie Hambleton said, and then the three men began to draw the child up to safety. When his feet touched the ground at the top of the pit, the boy began to cry. He was quite small; I didn’t think he was more than seven years old.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” I said softly. “You’re perfectly safe now. Let me take that rope off you.”

Still crying, the boy lifted his arms and I began to undo the knot.

“Now, my lord, I said we’d send the rope for you,” said Archie Hambleton’s voice resignedly, and I turned to see a familiar black head rising over the top of the pit.

“You might have slipped,” said Will.

Lord Leyburn’s dark eyes were brilliant in the sunlight. I knew suddenly, with absolute certainty, that it was the danger he had enjoyed more than the climb.

“Well, I didn’t,” he said, and turned his attention to the boy. “What is this, Frank? Crying?”

“N-no, my lord,” the boy said, tears streaming down his face.

“No need to cry,” his lordship said briskly. “If you do, you’ll frighten my horse and then how will you ride with me?”

“R-ride with you, my lord?” The tears stopped and the child’s eyes enlarged noticeably.

“Certainly. I’m going to take you home myself. But first...” His lordship removed his handkerchief and did a very efficient mopping-up job on Frank’s grimy, wet face.

“Perhaps you ought to take Cavalier,” I murmured. “Saladin just had a rather vigorous run to the village.”

His lordship looked amused. “I didn’t tell you to take Saladin.”

“He was faster.”

“Yes, well, I’m afraid that means Frank is going to have to settle for Cavalier. You take Saladin on home, Valentine.”

“Yes, my lord.” I watched as he lifted the boy into the saddle and turned to speak to the men who had come to the rescue. Then I mounted Saladin and turned down the pass toward Hardraw and home.

Mr. Fitzallan was in the stable yard when I came in riding Saladin, and I had to tell him the story of our adventure.

“If that isn’t just like Diccon,” he said with half-exasperated affection. “He could have entertained the child just as well from the top of the pit, but he wanted the risk of the climb.”

“He wouldn’t have been able to reassure the boy half so well from above,” I said. “The poor child was in a panic.”

“Perhaps. But he wouldn’t have moved if Diccon had kept talking to him.”

This was indisputably true, as was the other half of Mr. Fitzallan’s original statement. His lordship had wanted the climb.

“Come along back to the house with me, Valentine,” Mr. Fitzallan said, changing the subject. “I want to talk to you.”

He sounded very grave, and my heart sank. “Yes, sir,” I said obediently; and walked beside him up the drive toward the castle.

We went into the library and he gestured to me to sit down on the old leather sofa. I loved this room. I had been in it a few times since my initial interview with the earl and I looked now at the two dogs comfortably curled near the hearth and snapped my fingers. The big sheep dog came to me immediately and I bent to scratch his ears. The collie stayed where he was. He went to no one but Lord Leyburn.

“The time has come, Valentine, to do something about regularizing your position,” Mr. Fitzallan said.

“Sir?”

“His lordship may think it is all very well to have you spend your days trailing around at his heels, but the fact remains that you are not a servant. In the normal course of events you would be at school.”

My mouth dropped open. “School?”

“I presume you have heard of school.” His voice held not a trace of sarcasm.

“Of course,” I said hastily. “But I’m afraid my education has been rather sketchy, sir. I was never sent to school. I had a—a tutor.” In point of fact, my mother had taught me how to read and write and do my sums, and my father had taught me history. Papa had been devoted to history and I had caught his enthusiasm.

“I see. And what profession had you planned to follow, Valentine? The army?”

I looked at him blankly. “The army, sir?”

“Valentine.” He sounded very patient. “Surely your father discussed your future with you. What were his plans? What did he intend you to do with yourself in life?”

Papa had presumed I would marry, of course, but I could hardly say that to Mr. Fitzallan. Marriage was not considered a career for a boy.

“I beg your pardon, sir. I’m being very stupid. Of course I planned to follow Papa into the army. We didn’t discuss it very much, you see. I always just assumed that is what I would do.”

That’s better, I approved myself. That sounds reasonable.

“And do you still desire a commission?”

“Yes, sir.”

“A commission costs a great deal of money.”

I bit my lip and stared at the pattern on the faded Persian rug. “Well,” I said-uncomfortably, “I know I won’t be able to get a commission now.”

The door opened and the Earl of Leyburn walked into the room. I looked at his dark angel’s face and felt a surge of happiness so intense it was like pain. He glanced at me and then turned to his cousin.

“Am I interrupting you, Ned?” He bent to bestow a brief caress on the collie, who had immediately come over to greet him.

“Valentine and I have been discussing his future,” Mr. Fitzallan said calmly. “He really cannot go on as he has been doing, Diccon. Surely you can see that.”

“Why not?” said his lordship, and sat down in his favorite chair. The sheep dog immediately deserted me and went to lie at his feet. “Are you unhappy, Valentine?”

“No, my lord,” I said fervently.

“Then, what is the difficulty, Ned?” His dark eyes looked enigmatic as they rested on his cousin’s face.

"Diccon, it must be as clear to you as it is to me that Valentine’s future does not lie at Carlton Castle. And it is his future we must be concerned for. He is too young to think of it for himself.”

Mr. Fitzallan meant every word he said. His kind heart was truly concerned for me. He wanted to plan my life for me, set me on the path of self-sufficiency and prosperity. I heartily wished he would keep quiet.

His lordship’s finely modeled dark head turned my way. “And what do you desire to do with your life, Valentine?”

“I want to stay here with you,” I answered promptly.

A slow smile lit his eyes and pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“Why not?” he said.

“For God’s sake, Diccon ...” Mr. Fitzallan began, and Lord Leyburn’s eyes narrowed.

“That’s enough, Ned.” His lordship’s voice had lost its pleasantness and there was the distinct spark of temper in his eyes.
“I
will decide what is to be done with Valentine,” he said, and the edge of the temper was in his voice as well. “It is not a subject you need concern yourself with.”

The room was very quiet. There was a tight look around Mr. Fitzallan’s mouth. The two men looked at each other and then Mr. Fitzallan said, “Very well, Diccon.”

The austere look on his lordship’s face relaxed, He nodded.

Mr. Fitzallan stood up. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I have an appointment with Mowbray.”

“Of course, Ned,” the earl said courteously. Mr. Fitzallan left the room and Lord Leyburn turned to me. “Well, brat,” he said. “What have you to say for yourself?”

I felt sorry for Mr. Fitzallan, but I wasn’t fool enough to say that now. “I like it here,” I told him. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Well, I don’t want you to leave. So that is that.” He stretched and yawned. “Hand me the newspaper, will you, Valentine?”

I leapt to oblige him and put the paper into his outstretched hand. That hand fascinated me— the hard power of it, the beauty. He opened the paper and began to read. My eyes moved from his hand to his absorbed face.

I was looking, I thought, at the last of the great feudal lords. For Lord Leyburn was that—in temperament if not in fact. He ruled here at Carlton Castle as if he were a prince, had done so ever since he had become the earl at the age of sixteen. From boyhood on up he had done as he pleased with never anyone to say him nay. He wouldn’t care if the king himself were after me, I thought. If he wanted me to stay, then stay I would.

I rose to my feet and silently slipped from the room. He didn’t appear to notice my leaving.

Chapter 6

 “What do you think, Val?”

I came back to reality with a start and tried to focus my attention. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said what do you think Sim should do?” I must have continued to look blank, for Georgie, the red-haired groom who was addressing me, looked suddenly exasperated. “Haven’t you been listening to me?”

I had not. We were in the tack room idly rolling dice, and my mind had not been on what Georgie was saying at all.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “My wits were wandering. What did you ask me?”

“It’s about Sim,” Georgie repeated patiently.  “He has a chance to get a farm over by Scarborough. His uncle wants him to come help work it, and then, when the uncle dies, it will be his. Do you think he should do it?”

“What does Sim want to do?” I asked.

“He wants to go. But his mother is against it. There won’t be any wages on the farm, see, and he gives her what he gets here.”

I nodded. “But, Georgie, what can I do? It’s Sim’s decision, surely.”

Georgie’s freckled face looked unhappy. “He’s afraid of his mother, Val. He should take it. It’s a chance for independence for him. But he won’t listen to me.” Georgie picked up the dice and shook them absentmindedly. “He’ll listen to you,” he said.

This was not the first time I had found myself in this sort of position, and it troubled me. I didn’t understand why these boys with whom I had made friends should turn to me for solutions to their problems.

“Does his mother need his wages?” I asked.

“No. Sim’s the youngest and she lives with his older brother on the farm that was Sim’s father’s. They’re Lord Leyburn’s tenants, so you know they want for nothing.”

“Then Sim should accept his uncle’s offer,” I said.

“Will you tell him that, Val?”

I knew from Georgie’s face that this was important. It was Sim’s whole future that was in question. I nodded. “I’ll talk to him.”

Georgie grinned. “Good.”

I looked at him in puzzlement. “But, Georgie, why should Sim listen to me more than to you? I’m younger than you both.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he answered. Then he frowned. “You aren’t like us, Val.”

“Because I speak differently?”

“No.” Georgie stopped jiggling the dice and looked at me curiously. “You’re not afraid of anything, Val, are you?”

I was so surprised I couldn’t answer him.

****

Lord Leyburn had to go into Harrogate for the day and he had left a message for me to ride by the Slaters’ farm to see how young Frank had recovered from his adventure with the Buttertubs. After my conversation with Georgie, I saddled Cavalier and rode off to do my errand.

The Slaters’ farm stretched away over the high moors near Oughtershaw, a piece of starkest Yorkshire. Scattered over the miles upon bare miles of bare hillside were the stone barns I had grown accustomed to seeing all over Yorkshire and the Slater farmhouse was made of the same material.

I had a cozy tea with Mrs. Slater and Frank and rode back home in the sunshine, sniffing the sharp sweetness of the air.

The problem of my future, a problem I had been ignoring determinedly for quite some time now, kept pushing through to the surface of my mind. Lord Leyburn had said I could stay at Carlton Castle, but Lord Leyburn thought I was a boy. What would he say when he found out the truth? I thought of the temper that had flared in his face when Mr. Fitzallan had tried to cross him. How would he feel when he discovered that I had deceived him?