Meridon (Wideacre Trilogy 3) Read online

  ‘No,’ I said husky, and turned my face away so that he should not see that my mouth was turning downwards in an ugly grimace of pain, and my eyes were going red and hot. I dared not start crying. I knew that if I started I would never stop. A lifetime would not be long enough to have my cry out for the loss of her and the loneliness I was left with.

  ‘No,’ I said again.

  ‘We’ll go back over the Common,’ he said suddenly, as if he had forgotten what we had been talking about. ‘There’s some land there which could take trees. I want you to tell me what you think about it. They’re mining a lot of coal quite deep in Kent these days and there’s a good market for small straight timber to prop up the ceilings of the galleries where they dig for coal. We could plant pine trees and they would be ready for cutting in as little as ten years’ time.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. My throat was still tight.

  ‘And you can have a look at the north side of the Common and the Havering estate,’ he went on. He was talking faster, louder than usual, giving me time to pack my heartbreak away again, where no one could see it. ‘You’ve never been around that side, I don’t think, unless you’ve been with Lord Peregrine. D’you ride much with him?’

  ‘Hardly at all,’ I said huskily, but I had myself back in hand.

  Will glanced at me, gave me one of his fleeting sweet smiles. ‘He’ll be off to town soon, I daresay. Or wherever else they go in summer.’

  ‘No,’ I replied. ‘He’s staying with us for a while longer.’

  We were riding side by side in an easy walk, eastwards along the crest of the Downs, following an old drovers’ road which goes all the way into Kent. Will looked sideways at me, his brown eyes questioning.

  ‘He’s never stayed in the country so long before,’ he said. ‘Why’s he stopping now?’

  I gave him a clear look back. I would never trouble to mince words for Will Tyacke. ‘He likes me,’ I said blankly.

  ‘His ma’d have something to say about that,’ he said.

  ‘She likes me,’ I said with a little smile.

  He saw my smile and scowled at me. ‘Is that what you’re after?’ he asked. ‘With all you could have? Is that what you want?’

  I grinned at him, it was funny to see him so vexed. ‘I’m not wedding,’ I said. ‘I’m not the type. I’ll never marry, I don’t burn for a husband, I never have.’

  Will nodded, as if what I had said confirmed a thought of his. His satisfied expression rubbed me wrong. ‘But if I were husband-hunting, I can’t think of a better-looking man,’ I said, my deceitful voice clear. ‘He’s as lovely as an angel, and never out of temper. He’s fun to be with, he makes me laugh. And he’s gentle with me, as sweet as a lover.’

  Will lost the smile from his face as if I had slapped him. ‘Don’t bring him here as squire,’ he warned me with sudden impatience. ‘We’d none of us stand for Havering ways on this land.’

  ‘Oh, leave be,’ I said, suddenly irritable myself. ‘I get sick of hearing what you will and won’t have on Wideacre. I spoke so to vex you, I don’t expect to hear threats for something that’ll never happen.’

  I dug my heel into Sea’s side and let him have his head along the smooth track so that we raced ahead of Will and Beau and increased our lead until they were just a toy-sized horse and rider far away down a grassy track. I pulled up then and waited for him to come alongside me, my temper blown away with the gallop. And when he thundered up, Beau blowing hard, his grin was rueful. He leaned across and slapped me on the shoulder, like he would another lad to mend a quarrel.

  ‘I’m done,’ he said with his open, friendly grin. ‘I know you don’t want him. He sets my teeth on edge with his ways, but I’m glad he’s good company for you. I’d begrudge you nothing, Sarah, you know that. I’m sorry I spoke hard to you.’

  I smiled back, and then we rode together over the Common, and looked at the place where we might plant pine trees, and then checked the blossom in the apple orchard where the petals were falling like snow, before we rode side by side homeward.

  That was the last cross word between us that afternoon, and it was a typical afternoon with laughter and temper. We never bored each other, we never rode in a sullen silence. We might ride quietly through fields, looking all around us, or through hushed woodlands, or stand motionless looking up at the sky where a rare buzzard circled; but we never stayed silent for lack of things to say.

  We often flared up; Will had a knack of igniting my temper, and as I knew him better I grew more and more able to fire up at him and then make friends. He was like a traveller, a wagon dweller. You could flare up in utter and absolute anger and ten minutes later it was forgotten. There was nothing to remember. Everyone had said all they wanted to say, the scene was closed. Only in houses, where people have to keep their voices down and to keep smiles pinned on their faces did quarrels rumble on and on in sweet voices and range over every thing.

  When we clattered in to the stable yard I remembered my instruction and turned to Will with a considering look on my face.

  ‘Would you like a drink of ale, Will? It’s a hot day,’ I said.

  He was about to accept but he checked and looked more closely at me. ‘You have a voice,’ he said pleasantly, ‘and a look in your green eyes which always warns me when something comes from these new-found airs and graces of yours. I suppose if I say “yes” then you tell me I may go to the kitchen?’

  I felt myself flush up.

  ‘Gracious of you,’ he said with irony. ‘I’ll go to the kitchen for a drink of small beer gladly. You’ll come with me?’

  I hesitated, and his face suddenly cleared and he smiled at me with all his heart in his eyes.

  ‘Oh Sarah!’ he said, and he jumped off his horse and came around to me and lifted me down from the side-saddle. ‘Come and have an ale, Sarah!’ he said his voice warm with the invitation. ‘Come with me into the kitchen and have an ale and stop pretending to be what you’re not.’

  I let him hold me, his arms were warm and safe around me, and I suddenly wanted to go with him to the clean kitchen and sit at the scrubbed table and drink a great deep draught of cold ale and watch the cook peeling the vegetables for my dinner.

  His hands on my waist were firm, and he kept one hand around my waist as we turned for the kitchen door. I did not pull away from his touch.

  ‘Sarah!’ the voice was Lady Clara’s, she was standing on the end of the terrace which overlooks the stable yard. I flushed and pulled away from Will. I knew very well she had been watching me.

  ‘Come in out of the sun, Sarah!’ she said. Her voice was low but it carried clearly to me in the stable yard, the Quality voice which does not have to be raised to give orders and be obeyed. ‘You will get as tanned as a field labourer standing there!’

  I moved in unthinking obedience towards her, then I turned back to Will.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘You can see I have to go, I’ll ride with you tomorrow.’

  His face was as black as thunder. He turned back to his horse and swung himself up high on his back.

  ‘No,’ he said curtly. ‘Tomorrow I am busy. You may go up to the Downs barn on Thursday if you want to see some shearing. They will start at seven.’

  ‘Will?’ I called him, but he rode past me without another word. He went so close that Beau’s flicking tail stung me in the face.

  ‘Will?’ I said again, hardly crediting that the warm smile had gone from his face as quickly as a summer storm blows up, just because I had turned to do Lady Clara’s bidding.

  He did not hear me or he chose not to hear me. He hunched low over Beau’s neck and he set him to a canter as soon as he was past the terrace. He went past Lady Clara without a nod or salute. As soon as Beau’s hooves touched the earth of the track towards Wideacre he gave him his head and they went as if all the fiends in hell were after them.

  I turned slowly, and went up the terrace steps to Lady Clara. She smiled at me as if she had seen something which had amused he