Prue Phillipson - Hordens of Horden Hall (41 page)

He drew her to the sofa and sat down with her. “Thank God we were in time. Oh, if she had killed you ...! But how did you come here?” He was gazing with those wondering light blue eyes, astonishment and bewilderment there but love too.

“I came because I had to tell you. I couldn’t go on receiving your letters. It was hypocrisy. I couldn’t bear you not to know, even though you would hate me. Those wonderful letters would stop.”

“But what are you trying to tell me? You fired the stack?”

“Not deliberately, but it was my doing. I took a stick from the glowing ashes of the bonfire. But I was frightened and threw it away. It must have caught some straw.”

“But the fat boy?”

“I was wearing breeches over my dress. He saw me slide down the tree. Your Daniel. He was right about everything. He was innocent. When I heard they had hanged him for it –”

She began to choke with sobs again, the picture of the body before her eyes.

“You were a child.”

Now the Reverend Wilson came over to them.

“Nat, there is much here that we would all like to know, but first let us be a little formal. I wish to be introduced to the young lady and bid her welcome.”

Bel saw an older version of Nat, rounder of face, broader of nose, with unruly grey hair round a bald patch and the same benign eyes, open and full of love. He held out his hand to her and she rose at once and clasped his.

“I am truly distressed that I upset your wife so,” she said.

“And I likewise that she greeted you as she did. I do not believe she would have harmed you but it was a shock for her to hear your name. What may we call you?”

“Oh Bel, just B-E-L.”

“You have not travelled alone? How did you come?”

“I walked from Easingwold where I have left a horse and cart, a dear friend and an old groom who has been with our family ever since I can remember.”

“Did you invite Bel in one of your letters, Nat?”

“Letters!” cried the mother, rearing up. “You have been writing to a Horden?”

Bel said quickly, “I came quite uninvited. Something within me urged me to come and confess my guilt. I do not hope to be forgiven, but you all have a right to know the truth.”

“I think we will all go into the kitchen and have some refreshment. Our Jenny is visiting her sister who is ill, but we have bread, cheese, apples, a jug of ale. And perhaps our young visitor can unburden herself of what she wishes us to know.”

It wasn’t how she had hoped to tell the tale. She was too conscious of the mother’s face across the table, the eyes sometimes sharp and focussed, sometimes frowning in bewilderment and interrupting frequently to ask questions. “What did Daniel do next? What did he say to that?” And Nat and his father had to explain that Bel had been locked in her room and knew nothing of the details of the trial.

Bel stopped short of describing how she had gone to look at the gallows and found the body still hanging. She could not inflict that on them even if she had felt able to speak of the sight that had tormented her ever since. But she did tell them of her father and Robert and of the manner and timing of their deaths.

When she was silent, Nat’s mother clenched her fists in the air and shook them at her. “Why did you say you killed Daniel? Why did you make me angry? Why bring it back? If I have understood it all, you never had a chance to own up to being the fat boy. You were a child playing games, a hayrick caught fire and my Daniel was blamed. I know these mobs. They act on rumour. You say your father never recovered from it because he loved justice. Your brother
was
guilty of inciting the mob and you have told us how you yourself were instrumental in his death. It is as I thought. The Hordens have paid the price. And even you, the innocent child, have suffered for it. Joseph, we must be satisfied.”

Bel, looking up in wonder at the words ‘innocent child’, could read the expression passing over the parson’s face.
His
bitterness had been over long ago but it was not the moment to dispute that point with his wife. He just took hold of her hand and lifted it to his lips.

“Anne, my love, I
am
satisfied.”

Bel sat, drained and exhausted. She had eaten little but she picked up the pewter mug of ale and took a refreshing drink. She set it down and looked from one face to the other. Nat was sharing the bench with her so she had to turn and meet his eyes. They were beaming love and admiration at her but she said anyway, “I have disrupted your day. I must go. I have done what I came for.”

She rose. He rose too, pushing back the bench, and took her arm to steady her.

“We are not going to let Bel go, Mother, are we? Father? She has had a long journey.”

“A Horden sleep under our roof?” His mother had risen too.

“No, I will not,” Bel said. “I must go back to the inn or they will be anxious.”

“Then I will walk with you,” Nat said at once.

That would be heaven. She couldn’t refuse that. She met his eyes again. “Oh yes, please.”

“We’ll see you again,” the parson said. “You are staying a while?”

“She’s done what she came for,” the mother said. “I’m glad she did but there’s an end of the matter. She walked here alone. She can walk away alone. It’s finished.”

Bel inclined her head at her. So you say, she was thinking.

His father said, “Will you not stay and rest a little?”

“I need to get back or they will come and look for me. I love walking.”

At the door, out of his wife’s hearing, he said, “We will see you again, my dear, I am sure of that.” He clasped both her hands. “May God bless you for your courage in coming to us. I thank you with all my heart. Nay, don’t cry.” He kissed her on both cheeks and then hugged her close. When they separated he too had tears running down his cheeks. He waved a hand and hurried back into the house.

Nat tucked her arm through his and walked her briskly up the path, past the church and down the other side of the hill. As soon as they were out of sight he drew her towards him. “My father and I are two of a kind. I want to weep too but it is with utter joy. You can have no idea how I have longed to see you again. Writing to you was the only way I could keep that longing satisfied. Nay, it wasn’t satisfied at all but endlessly frustrated. Why could you not reply, I wondered, but I began to understand when you were speaking just now. This thing has hung about you like a cloud ...”

“My cloud! Oh, indeed, my cloud.” She threw back her head and laughed a joyous laugh. It was so spontaneous, that he began to laugh too.

“How I remember your laugh when we were together in Newcastle! I think you are at heart a happy soul.”

“I am now. Oh, how happy I am. My cloud has gone.” She withdrew her hands from his and did a wild dance on the lane, skipping and swirling her skirts.

He watched her in delight. Then, still laughing, he exclaimed, “The village has eyes in all its windows.”

“Let them look. I can’t believe there is such happiness in the world. This horrid world of war and theft and – oh, I must tell you, Nat Wilson – they have taken away Horden Hall. I am a homeless waif.” She took his hand and pranced on, half-dancing still, hand in hand, till they were through the village. “I already told you I have a horse and cart, a bundle of other possessions, a very little money, a very good friend, an old groom, and absolutely nothing else, except that now,” she looked up at him all smiles, “now I have you.”

“Me, you have me, indeed. I also will be a lifelong friend if you let me.”

She stopped and her eyes challenged his. “Friend! I hope you will be more than that.” Doesn’t he realise I am in love? It only needed the cloud between us to vanish for my love to rush out and engulf him. Surely he loves me too. She burst out, “What did your letters mean if it was not love? All those miles of travelling I was longing, longing to be here with you, dreading it of course, oh, how I dreaded being spurned and hated, but what does your father do, kiss me and thank me with all his heart, what does your terrifying mother do – after brandishing a great knife over me – but call me an innocent child, and now, what do you do? Oh Nat Wilson, now I am laid bare, my horrible sin, my deception in letting you write to your brother’s killer, now I have fallen at your feet and been forgiven, oh wonderful, wonderful forgiveness, are you still only my friend?”

He was speechless for a moment but his eyes were speaking love and yearning. Then he began hesitantly, “How can I say more, so soon? This is only the second time I have set eyes on you, though I have
thought
of you often, but you are the daughter of a baronet.”

“Fiddle to that; I am a homeless waif.”

“The war will not go on for ever. You have other family. Horden Hall will be restored to you.”

“That’s what the Scots officer said, but if Parliament win the war the estate is sequestered, though I can fight that. As to other family, my mother and sister are in France and unlikely ever to leave. But I see what it is. I know you from your letters but
you
don’t know
me
at all. I was in a strange state of mind in Newcastle that day, my father ill and yet I must have seemed full of levity. I told you I had almost no experience of men and what I had had not endeared me to the species. But you I took an instant liking to. Then you told me your scant experience of women had also been unhappy. We seemed to have a natural bond. And since then, I have been so blest in hearing of your childhood, your upbringing, your dear brother, your life at Cambridge and you know almost nothing of me. I am a closed book. Of course you hold back.”

He was smiling at her torrent of speech. But she liked and respected his smile. There was no condescension in it and no false modesty either.

They were walking on now, not holding hands but companionably.

He said, “Bel Horden, I do believe I know you quite well now and if all things were equal I would declare that I love you. I don’t want you ever to go away again, but I have no more to offer you than you say you have for me. I have no paid work at present and the way the church is I don’t know whether I ever will have. I could be a schoolmaster if anyone would have me but that is a pittance ...”

“I could teach too. My darling Ursula would do all the work and Tom could be the man about the house. We could keep Juniper – that’s the horse – and the cart too, so there would be no extras for carrying desks and books and such things.”

“Bel, we have no premises. You speak as if we were a married couple ...”

“Well, why not? I
was
never going to marry but now I am never going to marry anyone else. Easingwold is a pleasant little place. We could rent a few rooms. Or there is my old school, Cranmore House. Do you know if it is still empty?”

“You will take my breath away. No, I know nothing of it since it was closed down. I didn’t know you had ever been there. But now are you perhaps forgetting that marriages are usually arranged between families.”

She stood still again. Had she misjudged him? Her tongue had been running away with her. “I’m sorry. I always think fast.” Dear heaven, it was not three hours since she had set off from Ursula. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I must sound out of my mind. We can’t be far from Easingwold now and you had better turn back and go home and forget this whole foolish encounter.”

“That I will never do. Perhaps because I am older and more cautious I have hesitated to travel at your pace. But Bel, I do love you, more and more all the time. The idea of marrying you fills me with joy. Only, I see all the difficulties, the pitfalls. I am nobody and you are Arabella Horden. Your mother would certainly not consent.”

“Oh she would be delighted to find that anybody would marry me at all. And you are not nobody. You are a Cambridge graduate. One day you will be a Bishop.”

“They intend to abolish Bishops.”

“Now you are teasing. Look, there is the little town ahead. You can come as my betrothed and meet my lovely friend or you can turn back now. I was betrothed once at a little ceremony but it was meaningless. I don’t want ceremony. I want our minds and hearts to meet and say this is for life.”

He took her hands then. “I Nat, N-A-T, would like to marry you, Bel, B-E-L, sometime when the good Lord shows us it is right. There, will that do.”

“That will do very well as long as the good Lord is quick about it. Now come and meet Ursula. She is the ugliest and most beautiful person that ever lived.”

Ursula had strung a cord across their small back room and standing on a stool was draping over it Bel’s gown which she had brushed and sponged and her underwear which she had washed.

Hearing footsteps she looked round and Nat had to jump and catch her or she would have overbalanced. Bel looked up at him and saw him make no grimace at the poor twisted face.

“Ursula, my betrothed, Nat Wilson. He is very good at catching falling people. Nat, this is Saint Ursula.”

“Saint!” cried Ursula. “Never.” She too looked up at Nat and then back at Bel, who thought she detected just a flicker of hurt pass across her friend’s bright eyes. Jealous? No, she was not capable of jealousy. But to have been left out of Bel’s confidence ...