Philippa Gregory - Meridon

The weather was getting colder. I shivered as Sea trotted down the cobbled road towards the park. The groom beside me had a blue muffler around a blue chin and looked as if he would have preferred another hour in his bed.

Sea’s ears were back, as they always were when we were riding in town, but they suddenly went forward and he gave a ringing neigh of welcome as a square figure on a heavy bay horse pulled up as if waiting for us at the end of the road.

‘Will Tyacke!’ I declared, and my heart lifted with delight.

He was beaming, his face bright with joy at seeing me, and I reached out my hand to shake his. If we had not been on horseback I would have flung my arms around his neck and hugged him.

‘How are you?’ he said at once. ‘How are they treating you here? You look pale, are you happy here?’

I laughed and put my hand on his shoulder. ‘Stop!’ I said. ‘I am quite well. I was out late last night so perhaps I do look tired, but I am happy enough. Is everything all right on Wideacre?’

‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Well enough. We’ve ploughed and planted winter crops. The apples did well, and the plums. We’ve enough feed and wheat to get through the winter. Things are well at home.’

I swallowed a lump in my throat. Will seemed like a messenger from another world, I could almost smell the cold autumn air of Wideacre on him. I thought of the house nestling in the parkland and the trees turning yellow and gold. I thought of the beech trees going purple and dark and the animals coming down from the higher fields.

‘Does the land look nice?’ I asked. It was a foolish question but I did not have the right words.

Will’s smile was understanding. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘The roses at the Hall are still flowering though it’s getting late in the year. The Fenny is high, you’d hardly recognize it. The trees are turning colour and all the swallows are gone. The owls call very loud at nights. The moon has been very bright and yellow. I miss you.’

I drew my breath in with a little hiss and froze. Will’s gaze dropped from my face to his horse’s mane. ‘I’ve come to town on business of my own,’ he said. ‘But I promised myself I could come and find you and tell you this. I understand that you wanted your Season, that you wanted to see what the Quality life was like.’

He paused and then went on softly, persuasively. ‘You’ve seen it now, you’ve seen it all. You’ve been to balls and danced with lords. Now you should come home. I’m come to tell you that, and I’ll escort you home if you’ve had enough of being here. Your bedroom is ready at the Hall. You could be home by nightfall. We’d all be glad to see you back.’

A cart loaded with milk churns came noisily down the street and Sea flinched and I had to steady him. ‘Come to the park with me,’ I said. ‘Sea needs exercise.’

Will nodded at the groom. ‘I’ll take her,’ he said. ‘Away and get yourself something to eat. You look half clemmed.’

‘I am that,’ the man said gratefully and pulled his dirty cap in my direction. ‘Shall I come round to the house for the horse when you’ve finished your ride, Miss Lacey?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I’ll bring him back.’

He wheeled his horse and trotted down the street back to the stables, and Will and I turned towards the park, riding abreast.

Will told me other news of Wideacre, a baby had been born and was to be called ‘Sarah’, the vicar had been away for a week and was greatly put out on his return to find no one had attended church for the curate he had installed in his absence. A vagrant had come through the village begging and had stolen all the linen off the washing lines. The gypsies were back on the Common where they always camped. They were early which was the sign of a hard winter.

‘Everything the same as ever,’ Will said with a smile.

We rode side by side in a sedate canter. Sea remembered the races on Downland and Common and threw up his head and wanted to gallop but I held him back.

‘And you?’ Will asked. ‘Is it how you expected?’

I shrugged. ‘It passes the time,’ I said. I shot a sideways look at him and then I told him how it was in truth. I told him about the pleasures of the new life: the dresses, the hats, the morning rides. I told him about the extraordinary people who were accepted as normal in this odd new world. I told him about the young men, and I made him laugh until he had to cling to his horse’s mane when I told him about Sir Rupert left gasping on the sofa clutching his balls.

‘And Lady Havering? And Lord Peregrine?’ Will asked. ‘Are they good to you?’

I hesitated. ‘As much as they can be,’ I said. ‘Lady Clara is as cold as ice. I’ve met kindlier women laying-out paupers. She cares for nothing but the Havering estate and the succession.’

Will nodded. ‘I heard she cared for her oldest son well enough,’ he said. ‘The one that died.’

‘Aye,’ I said crudely. ‘Men are always more lovable when they’re dead!’

Will laughed at that. ‘But Lord Peregrine,’ he said and his voice was carefully bright. ‘Do you see much of him now? Is the engagement still on?’

I nodded. I did not look at him. ‘The contracts are with the lawyers,’ I said. ‘I will marry him, you know.’

Will was looking straight ahead, down a little avenue where the pale yellow fronds of the chestnut trees made an archway over our heads. We were quite alone and the clatter of the town in the early morning seemed far away.

‘I thought you might meet someone you fancied better,’ he said. ‘I thought you were using him to get yourself comfortable in London – that you’d throw him over when you were settled.’

I smiled a little wry smile. ‘You think highly of me, don’t you?’ I asked.

He shrugged. ‘It won’t be the first time a girl’s jilted a milksop,’ he said. ‘I thought when you had a chance to look around you’d see someone you fancied more.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever have a fancy for a man.’

‘Hard luck on the man who loves you,’ Will offered neutrally.

‘Very,’ I said. I shot a sideways look at him. ‘A disaster for the man who loves me,’ I repeated. ‘If he married me he would find me always cold. If he did not he could waste his life in loving me and I would never return it.’

‘Because you loved her, and now she is dead?’ he asked very quietly.

I flinched as soon as he even neared the pain that was as sharp and fresh inside me as the evening she died.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Perhaps because of that. But even before, long before that, I think it was already spoiled for me.’

‘Lord Peregrine gets short measure then,’ Will said.

I smiled. ‘He gets what he wants,’ I said. ‘He’s cold. He doesn’t like women much. He’s mortal feared of his ma, he likes me because I don’t fuss him and want petting.’

‘He’s an odd one,’ Will suggested.

I frowned. ‘He’s a drunkard, I think,’ I said. ‘And I think he’s a gambler. He was well enough in the country, but now he is out every night and I think gambling has a hold on him.’

I paused, thinking of men I had seen at fairgrounds losing everything they owned on the turn of a card. ‘I am afraid it might get to him,’ I said. ‘I should like to take him away.’

There was an open stretch of grass before us. We let the horses’ stride lengthen and then Sea threw his head up. I caught his wildness in a moment and in my mind, my gypsy-brat voice said, ‘Damn the rules,’ and I let Sea go. The ground seemed to leap from under us, and I heard Will yell with pleasure behind us as his horse gave chase. We were in the lead, and Sea was going as if he wanted to gallop all the way to Sussex. I had to steady him, I had to pull him up. We were nearly by the road which intersects the park. It would have caused talk if I had been seen galloping, and that with a working man.