4 #2
“Indeed, I left him pacing around the hall, irritated that his grandmother had yet to make an appearance. Lady Goddard is a law unto herself and even Archer has to bow to her will, although I fear one of these days he will rebel.”
Jane found herself smiling as she pictured that tall, arrogant man having to sit and politely sip tea with the ladies of the district and be forced to listen to their chatter and gossip, then chided herself quickly for having such mean thoughts.
***
Archer Maitland had had a very frustrating and irritating morning.
He hadn’t slept well for months; he had been extremely busy with his law practice in London which had been involved with the distressing case of the six Dorset men from the village of Tolpuddle, who had been deported to Australia for treason.
He had hoped that a couple of weeks of placid boredom would help him recover his energies.
But memories of the previous evening’s events kept flashing though his mind as he wrestled with his bed sheets.
He finally gave up trying to sleep and at dawn strode out through the grounds to a lake that lay a quarter of a mile from the house. The water here was fed by an underground source and so the level of the water had not been lessened by the drought.
Archer stripped off, hoping that an icy cold plunge would drive away his bad mood, but when he returned to the house, he realised he was still thinking of ice houses, cold gooseberry desserts and a pair of very chilly blue eyes.
Breakfast did nothing to help his temper and the final straw was the half hour he spent in the hall, with the horses and carriage outside, waiting for his grandmother to appear.
The tradition of calling and leaving cards, of sometimes taking a cup of chocolate or tea he felt was a complete waste of his time.
Usually he gave in to his grandmother’s insistence on his attendance, but for some reason this morning his patience snapped; he left word with a footman that, with apologies, he would not be accompanying Lady Goddard, tore off his choking cravat, changed from his visiting clothes to plain shirt, linen coat and breeches and set out to walk off his bad mood.
He deliberately did not aim his steps towards Deerwood Park; he would leave Andrew to the joys of those ladies’ company. No, he just wanted to stretch his legs and enjoy the fresh air.
With the house behind him, he strode out across the rough turf towards the hills.
The steep climb up the chalky track made him realise how lazy he had become in London and he was more than grateful to reach the top where a breeze from the sea felt good on his hot skin and he was able to look down the far slope.
Not completely to his surprise, he realised that below him spread the woodlands of Deerwood Park.
Then, to his astonishment, a yard or two before the summit of the hill, he could see the figure of a girl, hatless, the wind making a halo of her fair hair, reaching up to find a handhold on the giant boulder that lay just beneath his feet.
He was about to shout down at her, angry that anyone could be so foolish, when he saw that there was nothing except her own balance in stubby little boots, holding her on the rocky path and a hundred foot drop to the hard ground below.
***
The ancient stone circle was one of the oddest things in the district and Jane was eager to show it to Dr Moore.
Where a waterfall cascading down the chalky hillside—although no more than a gleaming trickle of water at the moment—fell into a deep, green pool, a wide circle had been cut into the woods and there were the strange grey stones, some standing buried in the turf, others lying sideways where they had fallen over the centuries.
Susannah exclaimed in interest and Dr Moore gave every indication of pleasure.
Jane sat on a fallen tree trunk and watched as they moved round the circle, examining each stone in turn.
Dr Moore had produced a small notebook and was making sketches and measuring distances with a piece of string that Susannah held for him.
Jane could recall her papa and eldest brother doing the same thing one far distant time when they had spent a few weeks one summer at Deerwood Park, apparently fascinated—as certain men obviously were—by how equally the stones were laid out and full of explanations and wonder at their existence.
Staring up the rock face, she wondered if it was possible to find the source of the waterfall, where the water sprung out of the hillside.
Normally it was far too wet with spray and moss to venture higher—although she knew her brothers and Bennetta had all made the climb at some time when they were young—but this year the drought had made every path firm underfoot.
Memories of a far away picnic crowded in on her—everyone happy and busy, exploring, climbing, Mama sketching, Anne taking off her shoes and stockings and paddling in the pool where the waterfall cascaded.
But why did she have no memories of what she had done? All she could recall was being seated in the shade with her sketch book, being told not to tire herself after the walk and certainly not to plunge her hot feet in the cold water in case she took a chill.
Bennetta and Henry had scampered away to clamber up the rocks, pretending not to hear their papa call out after them.
She could have gone with them, but she hadn’t, she had been obedient and quiet and—the word ‘dull’ blazed through her mind and she pushed it aside.
It was only right that her mama had worried over her health; Jane had been told from a very early age that she was not strong and mustn’t tire herself without good cause.
Now her companions were busy on the far side of the stone circle and she realised that, although she had always found them interesting, she did not have the same feeling for the old stones as they obviously did.
She stood up and quietly clambered across the first few rocks that led upwards in easy steps.
“Be careful! Don’t go too far, Jane dear!” That was Susannah: once more someone was making her hesitate, tempting her to sit down, to be quiet and obedient.
Was this what Digby Frobisher expected? Probably! That she would forgive and forget, marry him and settle down quietly in the country to lead a blameless and loveless life, knowing she was second best, as always, to her sister.
Spurred on by sudden anger at herself for being so feeble, Jane looped up her skirt and petticoats and tucked them into her belt as she scrambled higher and higher.
She looked down once and felt the world swing round her as she realised just how precarious her footing was.
If the rough stones should start to slip and slide, she would go down, head over heels, to the bottom of the path.
A quiver of fear coursed through her and she could hear in her head all the voices warning her of putting herself into danger, the voices that had been part of her life for ever. She hesitated and then pushed the voices aside. For once she was going to accomplish a goal she had set herself.
A few feet more and she felt a thrill of victory! There was a dark opening between two rocks, where a trickle of water wandered out and disappeared over the edge. She had found the source of the waterfall.