Sons and Daughters (13 page)

The following day, Charlotte and Joe were waiting by the gate, almost as if they’d never left it, when the car bowled into view. Georgie was wide awake bouncing up and down on the back seat. ‘Are we going to deal, Joe, or go to an auction?’

‘We might do both, Master Georgie. It depends on what we see.’

They wandered through the streets that were even more crowded than the day before. There were men in suits and bowler hats or caps, but few women.

‘Joe – the one over there.’ Charlotte touched his arm and whispered. ‘The bay.’

‘Master Ben,’ Joe said at once, taking the hint. ‘Let’s go and have a look at this one.’ As the five of them wove their way through the throng, Georgie asked, ‘Is this one for Ben or Phil? Isn’t it a lovely colour?’

‘He is,’ Charlotte said and, forgetting for a moment to hide her interest, she stepped forward and ran her hand over the horse’s back. Then she patted his nose and murmured soothingly, ‘Now, feller, now then.’

The dark-haired man holding the reins greeted her, ‘Hello, Miss Crawford. Nice to see you again. Looking for a mount for yarsen, a’ ya?’

Charlotte smiled and blushed. Her secret could be out any minute. ‘Not today, Ned, but Mr Thornton here is looking for two horses for his sons.’ She turned quickly before the man could say more. ‘Joe – what do you think?’

Joe was pretending to examine the animal closely, but he knew that Miss Charlotte approved of this horse, otherwise she would already have moved away.

‘He looks all right,’ Joe said carefully.

‘He’s a good trotter,’ the man said. ‘Like to see?’

Joe nodded and Charlotte stepped back as Ned ran with the horse up and down the short stretch of available street.

Charlotte and Joe exchanged a glance and, when everyone else was watching the horse, she gave Joe a slight nod. As the dealer slowed the animal to a walk and came back to them, Joe said, ‘Are you putting him through the auction?’

‘Nah,’ Ned said dismissively. ‘I know there’s not the dealing done in the streets now like there used to be.’ He sniffed. ‘More’s the pity, I reckon. But I like to do me own selling, see who me ’osses are going to. And strike a fair bargain.’

‘How much?’ Joe asked bluntly.

‘Sixteen guineas.’ The man held out his hand as if to strike a deal, but Joe only grinned. ‘Now, Ned, you know you’ll never get that for this ’oss. Not these days, you won’t. ’Tis not like the old days. Prices have gone down since the war.’

Ned laughed, took off his cap, scratched his head and then replaced it. ‘Fourteen, then; I can’t go no lower, Joe. Not even for you.’

Joe pretended to consider and then slowly shook his head again.

‘Papa – Papa.’ Georgie tugged at his father’s sleeve. ‘Can’t you buy him? Ben likes this one.’

‘Shush, Georgie. Leave it to Joe,’ Miles whispered.

But Joe seemed lost and could do no other than look to Charlotte. With an inward sigh, she was obliged to take the risk. ‘Twelve guineas, Ned,’ she said firmly. ‘You know that’s a fair price.’

The man grinned, spat on his hand and held it out to her. ‘I’ll not argue with a lady. ’Specially not you, Miss Crawford. I could never fool you, now, could I?’

Charlotte took his hand and the deal was made.

Leaving Joe to make the arrangements, the others walked away.

‘Ugh, he spat on his hand, Miss Charlotte. And you shook it.’

‘That’s the way Ned makes his deals, Georgie. It means he gives his promise to sell the horse to us. Even if he got a better offer, he won’t break his word. That horse is Ben’s now.’

After a few moments Joe caught them up. ‘Ned says there’s an auction in one of the inn yards at two o’clock. He reckons we might find a good mount there for Master Philip.’

Charlotte glanced at Miles to find him watching her. ‘Is that all right?’ she asked him.

‘Whatever you say, Miss Charlotte.’ He smiled and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he was beginning to guess just exactly who was choosing the horses – and striking the deals.

When the auction began, Georgie got very excited. ‘I can’t see, I can’t see. I want to see when our horse come up.’

They’d already viewed all the horses due to go through the auction and had picked out one they liked for Philip. A grey, docile-looking animal.

‘Sh,’ Charlotte whispered, hiding her laughter. ‘You mustn’t say which one you like.’

He turned his innocent blue eyes on her. ‘Why?’

‘Because,’ she explained softly, ‘it lets other people know the one you’re interested in and it might make someone bid against your father and drive the price up. You don’t want your papa to have to pay more than he needs to, do you?’

Georgie shook his head and pressed his lips together as if to stop himself speaking. Then unable to help himself he said, ‘But I still want to see.’

‘All right, then. I’ll lift you on to the wall, but you mustn’t say anything or wave your hands because the auctioneer might think you’re making a bid.’

Charlotte sat on the wall beside Georgie and Ben climbed up beside her. Miles and Joe were standing close by. Miles, under Joe’s guidance, was to do the bidding. The two boys were lost in the proceedings, whispering every now and again to Charlotte, asking her questions. Then Georgie wriggled with excitement and squeezed Charlotte’s hand. ‘This is Phil’s.’

The horse was paraded in front of the crowd and the bidding began. As Miles watched and waited but made no move, Georgie became agitated.

‘It’s all right,’ she murmured to the boys. ‘Just wait and see.’

The bidding slowed and two of the men, who’d been making bids, shook their heads. Now there was only one man left who’d made the last bid. The auctioneer raised his gavel, his gaze travelling around the faces in front of him. Georgie, his eyes wide and fearful, drew in a deep breath, just as, close by, they heard Joe mutter, ‘Now, sir. Raise your hand . . .’ And Miles’s hand shot high in the air. The gavel was lowered as the auctioneer nodded towards Miles in acknowledgement. Now bidding between Miles and the other man continued backwards and forwards until, at last, the other man shook his head. The gavel fell and Joe turned with a wide grin to Georgie and Ben. ‘And he’s a fine mount, but gentle. I think he’ll suit your brother.’

Ben nodded and Georgie clapped his hands in glee. ‘What shall we call him, Ben?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe he’s got a name already – like Ned said mine’s called Blaze. Besides, Phil should decide.’

‘It’s Prince,’ Charlotte said, quite forgetting in the excitement, that she was not supposed to know. But having looked around at all the horses together, the boys didn’t seem to notice her slip and question how she came to know the name of the horse.

Only Miles glanced over his shoulder and regarded her curiously yet again.

‘I just hope Philip’s going to take better care of him than he did of Midnight,’ Charlotte said later to Joe, as they waved the family off outside Buckthorn Farm.

‘I had a word with the master. He’s going make sure he does.’

‘Mm.’ Charlotte was doubtful. Miles couldn’t supervise his eldest son every minute of the day. There were bound to be times when the young man was riding alone, and what would happen then?

Two days after the horse fair, Charlotte took Midnight to the beach further north to avoid the treacherous marsh. It was the first time she’d ridden him any distance from the farm. Gentle patience coupled with a firm hand had earned the animal’s trust. Old Matty had always been on hand to offer his advice, but he’d hardly been needed. He’d merely nodded his approval. It had been a few weeks before she could put a saddle on the horse’s back and another week or so before he would let her ride him.

‘You’ve worked wonders with that ’oss, miss,’ Joe marvelled. ‘And in such a short time an’ all. It takes some o’ them so-called experts months sometimes.’

Charlotte smiled and glowed inwardly at his praise as she stroked Midnight’s face. ‘He’s a beautiful animal. All he needed was to be treated with kindness and he responded. That’s all, Joe.’

She made it sound so simple, but all Joe could think was that it was a pity she didn’t receive that same kindness from a certain person. But he held his tongue.

Now Charlotte felt confident enough to take Midnight to the sea. ‘A good canter along the beach will do him the world of good. He’s a big horse and could do with the exercise.’ And it would do her good, too, she couldn’t help thinking, to get away from the gloomy house.

‘Want me to come with you, Miss Charlotte?’

‘I’ll be fine, Joe.’

He nodded. ‘If you say so, miss, but if you’re not back in – let’s say three hours – I’ll come looking for you. I know where you’re going.’

She smiled down at him from her lofty seat on the horse’s back, but she was touched by the man’s concern. At walking pace, she and Midnight left the stable yard, but she could feel Joe’s anxious eyes watching her a long way into the distance.

She turned north, along the lanes, until she came to the area near the seaside town’s golf course where there was no marsh between the sea bank and the beach. The stretch of hard sand left by the receding tide was firm enough for the horse to feel surefooted. As she urged him up the sand hill and on to the beach, Midnight whinnied, unused to the softness beneath his hooves. But she soothed him gently and, trusting her, he obeyed her commands. Gaining the top of the rise, Charlotte lifted her face to the sea breeze and breathed in deeply. How she loved the sea! She loved it in all its moods. Calm, like today, when the waves seemed almost too lazy to lap the shoreline, or ferocious, when the gales whipped the waves into a raging frenzy, crashing on to the beach in fury. But she loved it best when its mood was somewhere between the two extremes; when the waters seemed playful, the waves bowling to the shore, trying to catch anyone unawares who dared to step too close.

Charlotte encouraged Midnight down the slope. When they gained the firmer sand near the water’s edge, she urged him into a brisk trot, then a canter and, finally, a gallop.

Breathless but exhilarated she reined the horse in and slowed him to a walk again.

She saw three horses in the distance coming towards her. As they drew nearer, she could see the little figure on the smallest mount, waving excitedly. Georgie, she thought, and then recognized Ben and Miles Thornton alongside him.

‘Did you see, Miss Charlotte? Did you see me riding, Gypsy?’

Charlotte laughed, her face pink from the fresh air. ‘I did indeed, Georgie. And very well you ride, too. Good afternoon, Mr Thornton – Ben.’

They were staring at her, but both of them touched their caps with their riding crops, which Charlotte fervently hoped were more for show than use.

‘You’re not wearing your spectacles,’ Georgie said suddenly.

‘Now, son, don’t make personal remarks,’ his father rebuked gently. ‘It’s not gentlemanly.’ But the young boy only grinned.

‘Then is it gentlemanly, Papa, to tell her she looks so much prettier without them?’

‘Well . . .’

‘I take it as a lovely compliment,’ Charlotte put in swiftly to save them any further embarrassment. ‘Thank you.’ She forbore to say that this was the only time she was sure her father wouldn’t find out that she’d taken them off. She hoped fervently that the little chatterbox would not let her secret slip out.

‘I say,’ Ben said, ‘I’ve just realized. You’re riding Midnight. Father – she’s riding Phil’s horse.’

‘So I see,’ Miles said quietly. ‘But it’s no longer Philip’s horse. It’s Miss Charlotte’s.’

‘Except that you haven’t let me pay you for it yet.’ She laughed, then turned to ask Ben, ‘How are you getting along with Blaze?’

She turned Midnight round and they began to walk alongside each other back the way Charlotte had come.

‘He’s great,’ Ben said.

‘And the horse you got for Philip?’ She wanted to ask if the young man was treating the animal kindly. She hesitated and bit her lip. But Georgie came to her rescue.

‘He’s being good with him, Miss Charlotte,’ he giggled, ‘but he calls him an old nag and doesn’t ride him much. He wanted Ben’s horse instead, but Papa said no.’

‘He’s decided he wants a motorcycle or a car,’ Miles put in. ‘But I shall hold out against that as long as I can. I don’t think he’d be safe with either.’

They rode together companionably until they came to the end of the short lane where Charlotte turned for home.

‘I must get back or Joe will be worried. This is the first time I’ve brought Midnight away from the farm.’ She leaned forward and patted his neck. ‘But he’s done very well, haven’t you, old feller?’

Having bade them goodbye, Charlotte rode towards Buckthorn Farm, unaware of Miles’s thoughtful gaze following her.

‘But she
was
prettier without her glasses,’ Georgie said to no one in particular.

The wheat was ready for cutting and the extra hands arrived at Buckthorn Farm. Mary and Peggy had been baking for a week to provide food for the workers, but on the days when the corn was cut even they went out into the fields to help put the sheaves into stooks. Then, when all the fields at Buckthorn Farm had been cut, everyone moved on to the other farms to help out where needed.