Too Close to the Sun (7 page)

Grace looked away and slowed her pace.

‘Oh, Miss Hoity-Toity,’ yelled another young man. ‘Too grand to get up ’ere are we?’ ‘Yeh,’ yelled another, ‘ – ‘fraid of catchin’ summat, are we? Nothin’ to be afraid of ’ere, darlin’.’

‘No, there certainly ain’t,’ said the first young man. ‘And there’s plenty of room – ’specially if you sits on my lap.’

Another half minute of calls from the young men, then the driver called over his shoulder to them, ‘Looks like yer out of luck, lads; some folks don’t know a good thing when they sees it,’ and clicked his tongue and called to the horse. In a few seconds the vehicle was picking up speed and moving on again.

In spite of the good-natured tone of the words from the young men, it was with relief that Grace watched the cart move on ahead.

Three more vehicles passed her during the next ten minutes, but then came a fourth, and Grace’s fortune took a turn.

Hearing yet another vehicle approaching behind her, Grace turned and saw a pony and trap coming over the brow of the hill, and in her brief glimpse made out two men sitting in the driver’s seat. She had turned back to face ahead once more when she now heard a voice from the trap as it drew close up behind:

‘Well, I declare – it’s Miss Harper, out for a walk.’

Hearing the words, Grace at once turned, and saw there Mr Spencer sitting up holding the cob’s reins, an unfamiliar man sitting at his side. Calling out, ‘Whoo-ah, Clarrie,’ Mr Spencer brought the trap to a halt beside Grace, and lifted his hat.

‘Miss Grace,’ he said, ‘to what do I owe such a pleasure? Have you been to the market?’

‘Yes, I have,’ Grace replied. Of all the people she might have wished to meet, Mr Spencer was not one of them. Nevertheless she turned and smiled at him.

‘And now on your way home, I assume,’ he said to her.

Then before she could answer, he added, ‘I’m forgetting my manners here. Rhind, this is Miss Harper. Miss Harper, this is Mr Rhind, my groom and valet and all things good to me.’

Grace murmured a few polite words and the man nodded to her, the trace of a smile touching his mouth. ‘Miss …’ he murmured.

‘And this is my cue to offer my help,’ Mr Spencer said to Grace, ‘ – and my great pleasure. If I can offer you a ride back to Green Shipton, I shall be very happy to do so.’

‘But it’ll mean going out of your way,’ Grace said.

‘Not by so much,’ Mr Spencer replied. ‘And Clarrie here likes a worthwhile walk.’ He smiled at her. ‘So, shall it be yes?’

Without waiting for a reply, Mr Spencer was jumping down to help Grace up into the trap, as he did so saying to Rhind, ‘Say, Rhind, old chap, it’d be as well if you sit in the back, all right?’ and to Grace: ‘And you, Miss Harper, perhaps you’d care to sit up in the front along with me. I have to say you’ll be prettier company than Rhind.’

To her annoyance Grace found herself blushing slightly at his words. She watched as Rhind moved into the back and then she got up and took a seat beside Mr Spencer. Then Mr Spencer called out to the cob and the trap moved off again.

Mr Spencer did most of the talking as they drove, most of the conversation comprising questions and answers between him and Grace. He asked about her visit to
Corster. Throughout the ride the man Rhind said barely a single word. He sat facing the moving scenery, never acknowledging Grace’s presence with more than a glance, and barely more than the odd word, and this only when he was drawn into the conversation by his employer. He was a man of less than average height, wiry in his build, and about forty-five years of age, with black, tightly wavy hair, hair which without restraint curled in spite of its Macassar dressing. The darkness of his hair was also seen in the bluish tint of his shaven chin and cheeks, and in the thick moustache and brows. His eyes, fringed with thick lashes, were almost as dark as his hair. His mouth, with narrow upper lip, and full lower, was set and unsmiling, and Grace, glancing back over her shoulder at him, could only conclude that he was resentful of her company – though why he should be, she could not imagine.

And then at last Green Shipton came in view, and they were soon entering the boundaries of the village.

Mr Spencer pulled up the trap outside Bramble House then jumped down and reached up for Grace’s hand. As he did so, Rhind stood up in the back, ready to step down and resume his earlier position in the front. As his head came within a foot of Grace’s, he leaned over a little closer and said, very softly:

‘You might fool some people, but not me. I can see through you – like glass.’

Then, the next second, as if he had not spoken, he smiled and jumped down out of the trap.

The following week, on Saturday, soon after breakfast Grace set about preparing her things to pack in her box, for the following morning she was due to leave for Remmer Ridge to stay for a week with her Aunt Edie, her father’s elder sister. Grace had made the trip on several occasions over the past few years, and now that her aunt was widowed felt that her company was even more welcome. This particular sojourn had been decided upon three weeks earlier, planned to coincide with Grace’s employment with the Marrens coming to an end. Grace was looking forward to the break; it would be good to have no responsibilities for a while, and though Aunt Edie could be a little exacting at times, nevertheless her heart was in the right place, and she had a fine, irreverent sense of humour. All in all, Grace’s stays with her had generally proved to be fun and entertaining.

In the kitchen her father poured two mugs of water to take into his workshop, one for himself and one for Billy.

‘How’s Billy managing?’ Grace asked.

‘Oh, well enough. I’ve got him doing some sanding for me. It’s a simple enough job. I’ve told him that when he’s done he can go on over to the farm. He’d much rather do that. And I can’t say as I blame him.’

As he moved to pick up one of the mugs Grace noticed the condition of his thumb.

‘Pappy,’ she said at once, ‘are you all right? Your thumb doesn’t look too good.’

He nodded. ‘It’s still a bit sore, I’m afraid. That damned splinter.’

‘Come into the light – let me look at it.’

In the light close to the window she examined his thumb. It was swollen, the flesh about the nail red and angry-looking. When she gently pressed the nail he winced.

‘Oh, dear,’ she said, ‘I think you have a little infection there.’

‘Yes, I’ll bathe it before I go to bed.’

As he finished speaking Mrs Tanner came into the room carrying a basket of clothes, ready for ironing. As she set the basket down, Mr Harper picked up the other mug, excused himself and went out into the yard and to his workshop.

‘So,’ said Mrs Tanner as she began to sort through the clothes, ‘have you got everything ready for tomorrow?’

‘Just two or three things to iron,’ Grace replied, ‘and then it’ll be done.’ She added, ‘I bought some cotton in Corster. I might take it with me and work on it there.’

‘Your father told me as how you was lucky enough to get a ride home – with Mr Spencer from Berron Wick.’

‘Yes – I was very fortunate.’ Grace had thought several times about the journey back from Corster in Mr Spencer’s trap, her thoughts for the most part focusing on his man-servant, Rhind. And still she could hardly believe that he had said such words to her: ‘
You might fool some people, but not me. I can see through you – like glass
.’ What had he meant? His words had been uttered so softly – so softly that only she had heard them. Now Mrs Tanner’s words had brought it all back.

‘Mr Spencer’s manservant was with him,’ Grace said. ‘A man by the name of Rhind – I think that’s his name. A very – dour sort of character.’

She had half-hoped that her words would prompt some recognition from Mrs Tanner, but there was none.

‘Rhind? No, I never heard anything about him,’ the
woman said, ‘but there was a bit of talk in the past about his master.’

‘Oh? And what would that be?’ Grace asked.

‘Well, nothing against him, as such.’ Mrs Tanner took from a cupboard two smoothing irons and began to wipe their surfaces. ‘But people do say as he fell on his feet, so to speak.’

‘Fell on his feet? What d’you mean?’

‘Well, marrying as he did. The Addison woman. She had everything – and he had nothing. Not even a name.’

This was interesting, and nothing now could have prevented Grace from saying: ‘Not even a name? I don’t understand.’

Mrs Tanner hesitated before answering. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘there was a bit of talk when he was a child – not much, but I recall it happening. About his birth.’

‘Tell me,’ Grace said. The ironing was now forgotten.

‘Well,’ Mrs Tanner said again, ‘ – they said as he was only born the right side of the blanket by the skin of his teeth, as you might say. That was the talk, anyway. I mean – well, the fact is that his mother married when she was already well on the way with him – and on her wedding day holding her bouquet much higher than usual. The way they do. She married a much older man. There were lots of rumours about, but it was only a nine days’ wonder, you understand, and without fuel gossip soon dies down. While he was still a boy he went off – to London, some said, and also to foreign parts. And then didn’t come back to Berron Wick until he came back with his wife – Mrs Spencer. Miss Addison as was. So there you are –’ another shrug, ‘whatever the truth of it, there’s no denying that he made the best of his beginnings. Certainly he’s now got everything he can possibly want.’

‘The house is huge,’ Grace said. ‘It’s so grand. It’s like a palace.’

Mrs Tanner nodded. ‘Yes. Mr Gresham certainly left his niece well off. Nice to have an uncle so well placed, don’t you reckon? And be the only beneficiary. And if you’re a man, how nice to have your wife come into so much money.’

‘Have you ever seen Mrs Spencer?’

‘No, but there’s been a bit of chatter about her too. She lived in Swindon before she married Mr Spencer. And she was no spring chicken either when they were wed.’

‘I met her,’ Grace said. ‘The other day when Billy and I went to Asterleigh House to deliver some pictures for Father.’

‘And?’ Mrs Tanner looked at her curiously. ‘What was she like? I hear she walks with a limp.’

‘Yes, she does,’ Grace replied. ‘Though I don’t think it’s so very bad. What I did notice is that she has beautiful skin. She’s very well preserved.’

Mrs Tanner laughed. ‘And I’m sure she’d thank you for saying so, my dear.’

After Mrs Tanner had proceeded with the ironing for a while, Grace took over. Not only ironing her own things, but those of her father and Billy. This would give the older woman’s back a rest, and allow her to start preparing vegetables for the main meal.

Grace was coming to the end of the basket of clothes to be ironed and Mrs Tanner had gone to another part of the house when Billy came in. ‘You look a little warm,’ Grace said as she exchanged the cooling iron for the hotter one that waited on the stove.

‘I am,’ he said, then added, by way of explanation, ‘I’ve been sanding wood. It’s thirsty work. Now I’m off to see Mr Timmins. Pappy told me I can go and help him. Mr Timmins says the harvest will be starting soon. He’ll need all the help he can get.’ These days Billy was spending so much of his time at Timmins’s farm, helping out in any way
he could. He loved to be active and thrived on being useful.

Moving to the wall beside the kitchen door, he stretched up, reached down his hat and put it on. ‘Mr Timmins says not to forget my hat. This hot sunny weather, he says I mustn’t risk sunstroke.’

‘No, you certainly must not,’ Grace said.

Billy was turning in the doorway now.

‘When’ll you be back?’ Grace asked. ‘Are we likely to see anything more of you today?’

‘Later,’ he said, ‘when I’ve finished.’

‘You be back by six, all right?’

‘All right.’ He turned, tapped his forehead as if prompting memory. ‘I meant to tell you, I saw your Mr Stephen.’

‘You what?’ She asked the question but she had heard him, clearly. ‘You saw Mr Stephen? Mr Stephen Cantrell?’

‘I saw him yesterday. He was near the post office.’

Grace stood there with the smoothing iron raised in the air, then carefully set it down on the stove again. ‘And – and what did he say?’

‘He didn’t say anything. He didn’t see me.’ He took a step away, eager to be gone.

‘Where was he? Tell me.’

‘I told you, near the post office. He was on his horse, riding along the street.’

‘You’re sure it was him?’

‘Of course I’m sure.’

‘How come he didn’t see you?’

‘He had his back to me. As I turned the corner I saw him riding away.’

‘Perhaps you’re mistaken. Perhaps it was somebody else.’

‘No.’ He frowned and shook his head as if such an error was beyond him. ‘I know what he looks like.’ He paused. ‘I must go.’

‘What? Yes, you go on, then. And have a nice time.’

‘I’m going to
work
,’ he said, as if work and nice times couldn’t go together. And adding, ‘I’ll see you later on,’ stepped out into the yard and was gone.

After a moment Grace left the ironing and went out into the yard. Another few steps and she was turning in at the door of her father’s workshop. He looked round at her expectantly as she entered and came to a stop in the room. When she didn’t speak, he said, ‘Yes, Gracious? Was there something?’

‘What?’ She gave a little laugh. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing here.’ She put a hand to her forehead. ‘My mind is going. Too much sun.’ His woodworking tools were all around, sitting on shelves, hanging on the walls, lying on the bench. Her eyes saw it all but took nothing in.

‘What’s the matter?’ her father said.

After a moment she said, ‘Billy – Billy had some foolish story that Stephen is back home. He said he saw him yesterday in the village.’ She shook her head. ‘Billy couldn’t have seen him. It must have been someone else he saw.’

As she spoke, she heard the sound of hoofs, and turning, saw a horse and rider trot into the yard. As they passed the window she said, ‘It’s the Cantrells’ groom. What does he want?’

With her words she passed through the open door into the yard. As she emerged, the young man, the visitor, turned the mare and got out of the saddle. Seeing Grace, he straightened and put fingers to his cap. ‘Miss Harper,’ he said, ‘ – just the one I’ve come to see.’ He took an envelope from his pocket and held it out. ‘A note for you from Mr Stephen. He says I’m to wait for an answer.’