Marjorie Farrell (18 page)

“Oh, God, and I don’t even
like
him,” she half-laughed, half-cried, and somehow that got her going. The only way she would make it to the top was to crawl. If she stood, she would be pulled right off the edge of the world. If she crawled, hand over hand, one knee in front of the other, she might make it. And so she inched her way up, making claws of her fingers and digging into the grass and stones and sheep droppings. She didn’t care what she held onto as long as she was attached to the earth. There was nothing inside her. She was hollowed out by sheer terror, emptied of every thought and only aware of the next clump of grass. She was sobbing great wrenching sobs, but she kept moving.

At last the dog stopped by what looked like a long black stone, but which Arden realized was Gabriel. She pulled herself over to him and sat down, letting out a long, shuddering sigh. Her hand brushed the grass in gratitude and felt something unfamiliar. She picked it up and saw that it was a small jawbone, with a few teeth left in it, washed white and clean by the wind and the sun and the rain. Her hand tightened reflexively around it and she automatically slipped it into the pocket of her habit.

The dog was alternately licking his master’s face and pushing his nose against the old man’s shoulder. Gabriel moaned, but seemed to be unconscious. Arden examined him gently and saw blood seeping out from underneath his head. She lifted his head and found a sharp stone underneath. The wound did not seem deep, but like all head wounds, was bleeding profusely. She reached under her habit and tore off a piece of her shift and wrapped a makeshift bandage around the cut.

As she sat there, the rain pouring down on all three of them, she also noticed that Gabriel’s right arm was lying at an odd angle. As she reached over and moved it slightly, he groaned again, louder this time, and opened his eyes.

“I fear your arm is broken, Mr. Crabtree, and you have given yourself a mighty crack on the head,” she announced calmly.

Gabriel moved his head, groaned again and muttered a curse. “What art tha doing here, missus?”

“Your dog, sir,” replied Arden. “He came all the way to the house to find a rescuer. I had no choice in the matter.”

The old man struggled to sit up and reached out his good hand to his friend, who immediately started licking his face again.

“Tha’rt a reel good lad, Benjamin,” the old man said.

“Benjamin?” Arden couldn’t help smiling.

“Aye, lass, he were the youngest of the litter. And he be proved well-named now, for he got tha help, just as Benjamin got his brother Joseph’s.”

“You are very right, Mr. Crabtree,” said Arden, reaching out and petting the dog. “But now we must figure out what to do. You can’t be moved and I don’t want to leave you. Do you think Benjamin would go back and lead the doctor to us?”

“He could, lass, but I don’t think he will leave me again. Nor does he need to,” said the old shepherd, struggling to his feet as Arden protested. He swayed a little as he stood there, and grumbled in pain as gravity pulled at his broken arm. Arden was afraid he would faint again and quickly moved over to support him.

“Thank God tha’rt a tall woman, missus,” said Gabriel as he placed his good arm around her shoulder. Arden nearly fainted herself as the smell of wet wool, sheep and unwashed Gabriel assaulted her nostrils. And if that hadn’t done it, standing up on the top of the scree nearly finished her. She had only been able to reach him by crawling. How in God’s name would she make it back down, supporting the old man?

“T’crook, Benjamin,” said Gabriel, and the dog trotted over and dragged the old man’s staff in front of them.

“Take it, lass. Tha’ll need it to help us down.”

The staff did make Arden feel better, more balanced and supported, but she still just stood there.

“Na’ then, missus, let us go.”

“Gabriel, I don’t know if I can get you down,” she whispered. “I am so terrified of height that I had to crawl up.”

Gabriel looked around as if to say “What height? but the terror in Arden’s voice was real, so he just replied, “We’ll help each other, lass,” and took the first step, sensing that she couldn’t.

Arden was just as scared going down as climbing up, but the staff did help her keep her balance. She thanked God for it, for the old man, for all his encouragement, was dizzy and weak. Though not a dead weight, he needed her support, and so they moved down the fell side slowly, with Benjamin leading the way.

When they finally reached the path again, Arden let out a long sigh. It would still be steep and slippery going, but at least the overwhelming urge to put Gabriel down and crawl back home had passed. She giggled somewhat hysterically at the thought of the arrogant Lady Arden Huntly crawling in the mud and sheep manure. She was as dirty and smelly as Gabriel.

A few minutes later she heard hallooing and in a short while they were met by Jake and the local doctor, who stopped and stared at the bedraggled-looking Arden leaning on a crook and supporting old Mr. Crabtree.

“Lady Arden!” exclaimed the doctor.

“Dr. Braithwaite, how good of you to come,” she replied, as though she were standing in a drawing room. She began to giggle again and took a deep breath. “I fear Gabriel has a broken arm. He injured his head too, but I think not seriously.”

The doctor approached them, looked at the old man’s arm and moved in to relieve Arden of her burden. “I’ll take Mr. Crabtree the rest of the way. Jake, you get Lady Arden back to the house.”

Arden was about to go on ahead when she heard Gabriel mutter, “Thank thee, lass.” She couldn’t leave him, she realized. They would all have to walk slowly down together. And so she walked next to them, still leaning on the crook until they reached the house where a frantic Janie admitted them.

It was decided that the doctor would take Gabriel down into Hawes to the surgery and keep him there overnight.

“I think it is a simple fracture, Lady Arden, and you were right about his head,” announced the doctor after examining the old man carefully.

“Shouldn’t we get him out of his wet clothing?” asked Arden, who was shivering by the fire.

“It won’t take that long to get him down to Hawes in my carriage,” replied the doctor. “I want to set the arm as soon as possible and I’ll need laudanum for that. But I would appreciate any old clothes you may have available for him, since he and I are hardly of a size,” said the doctor with a smile, for he was shorter than Arden.

“Janie, go see if you can find something of Captain Richmond’s that will fit,” asked Arden.

When Janie returned, carrying some old corduroy breeches and a homespun shirt, they supported Gabriel out to the carriage, placed the clothes next to him and sent him off. Arden tried to keep Benjamin from jumping into the carriage too, but Gabriel said, “Let him come, lass,” so she let the sheepdog go. He jumped in right next to his master, and Janie bundled Arden back into the house.

“Tha’ll catch tha death,” muttered the housekeeper. She sent Arden back into the morning room and ran upstairs for dry clothes and a towel. When she returned, Arden was standing right where she had left her, looking dazed and shaking with cold.

“Na’, then, lass, we’ll strip thee reel here and now,” said Janie and proceeded to do just that. She toweled Arden’s body until it was pink and her shivering had stopped, pulled on a dry shift and bundled her up in Lady Elizabeth’s old wool wrapper. Arden let herself be dried and dressed, and only as Janie was leading her over to a chair did she react. The hysterical giggling came back and then turned into sobs as the full impact of the afternoon hit her.

“There, there, lass, coom set thaself down and I’ll dry tha hair,” crooned Janie. Janie pulled out a small piece of toweling and began to undo Arden’s braids, and Arden sat there, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Tha must sit here and let tha hair dry,” whispered Janie into her ear, “and I’ll fetch a cup of tea.”

Arden leaned back, and between her physical exhaustion and the heat of the fire, was asleep by the time Janie returned. The older woman smiled at the sight of her mistress, cheeks pink and black hair wild and wet around her shoulders.

“Tha’rt reel pretty as well as being brave, lass,” she whispered. “I don’t wonder tha captain chose thee.”

* * * *

Gareth arrived home early, driven down from the fells by the weather. When Janie heard him, she rushed to the door, shushing him with her finger on her lips.

“I don’t want thee to wake the poor lass after all she’s been through,” she said, leading him into the morning room. Arden’s head was pillowed against her hand and her hair, flowing over her shoulders, looked like black smoke. Damn the woman, thought Gareth, I respond to her whether I want to or not.

“What happened, Janie? Did she take a fall from her horse?”

Janie softly told him the whole story, repeating several times that the missus had probably saved the old man’s life. Gareth looked at his sleeping wife in amazement. He knew she disliked Gabriel and was afraid of heights, yet she had gone up on the scree and brought the old man down. Who was this woman he had married? Some of the time, nay, most of the time, she was that proud and untouchable woman, and then would come a moment like this when he saw beneath the arrogance she used as armor against him and other people. His anger with himself for marrying her, and with her for her continuing indifference faded away, and he was left only with a great sadness. Here was a woman with whom, under different circumstances, he might have shared a great love. Instead, he would have to let her go. If we had not forced her, he thought. But it had seemed the only way at the time. It had been the only way, but for all that, it was the wrong way, admitted Gareth.

“Shall I carry her up to bed?” he asked Janie.

“I think tha should just let her sleep. I’ll go and get t’old afghan from the cupboard to keep her warm.”

Gareth took the old wool coverlet and tucked it gently around his wife. He couldn’t resist a few light kisses as he brushed her hair back from her face, and as Arden stirred a little, he stepped back.

“I’ll carry her up later if she is still sleeping. For now, I’d love my supper.”

* * * *

When Arden awoke, she found herself still in front of the fire wrapped in a comfortable old afghan. She’d had a dream that Gareth had put it around her and kissed her cheek and neck, and as she remembered, her whole being seemed to melt. The coverlet had slipped from around her shoulders, and as she tried to pull it up, she saw that Mott had curled himself on top of it. She smiled and started to stroke his “coat of many colors,” thinking that if old Gabriel’s dog was a Benjamin, then surely Mott should have been Joseph.

Gareth, who had been sitting opposite her, dividing his time between reading and watching her sleep, was amazed to see her stroking the cat, whom she despised. He cleared his throat and said, “I see you are awake at last.”

Arden started in surprise. “How long have I been asleep?” she asked, as she looked around and realized it was late evening.

“For quite some time. But I understand it was a well-deserved rest. The doctor has been by and tells me that Gabriel would have died of exposure had you not brought him down. You saved a life today,” Gareth said quietly.

Arden looked down, embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze. “I did what anyone would have done,” she said, trying to sound cool.

“Someone else might have just sent for the doctor and waited.”

“Someone else would have been dragged up the hill just as I was. Gabriel’s dog was not about to be patient, I can tell you. Benjamin saved his life, if anyone can claim the credit.”

“Hmmmph,” grunted Gareth. “Well, I won’t argue the point with you. I am sure Gabriel is grateful to both of you.”

“He is all right, then?”

“Oh, yes. A little weakened from the blow on his head, but he’ll be back to his hut in a few days. How are you feeling?”

Arden shifted and Mott jumped down and stalked off, annoyed by this disturbance of his rest. “A little stiff, and still tired, although I’ve slept this long.”

“Janie made some chocolate. Let me get you a cup and I’ll help you up to bed.”

Arden was still not completely awake, and she watched the glowing logs shifting and settling as they burned and felt as though she were still dreaming. The house was dark and quiet and she was floating on the tide of sleep and perhaps Gareth was floating there with her?

The cup of cocoa he brought back seemed real enough, however, and she drank it thirstily as he stood and watched. When she finished, he took it from her, placed it on the mantel and reached out his hand.

“Come, I want to get you up to bed.”

As Arden touched the tips of his fingers and began to get up, she knew that this must be a dream. There was such concern in Gareth’s eyes that she knew she could not be awake. She responded to his touch as she had never done to any man’s. She wanted him to pick her up, and lo and behold, as she stumbled because of her stiffness, he scooped her up instantly and she buried her head against his shoulder. It all happened naturally and quietly and she was floating up the stairs in his arms and that could only happen in a dream, couldn’t it? And then he was taking off her wrapper and she was standing there in her shift, unable to move, and he was pulling the covers down and she crawled under them and moved to the other side of the bed, leaving room for him, for surely in this dream he would not leave her alone?

“Good night, Arden,” said Gareth as coolly as he could. “Sleep well.” And he was gone, leaving her alone in her dream, alone in her bed again, and she knew that they were both awake and that her life had become a true nightmare. She was married in word but not in fact. She wanted her husband. Oh, God, how she wanted him near her, kissing her, holding her close, filling her. She wanted him now, at long last, when it was too late. For he clearly did not want her. He was going to send her back home. And now that she was awake and knew it all for real life and not a dream, she realized that
he
was home to her. That living here on this remote sheep farm lost in the middle of moors which reached up to the endless sky was where she wanted to be, so long as Gareth was there with her.