14 Stepping Stones
Cora lost no time in telling Ben Lovell of Hester’s thoughts on the perpetrator of the tainted tea.
“I should not like you to worry about it,” she told him when she found him drinking an end of day ale with Cal at the hut. “These mysteries can prey on the mind rather, as Mr Hammond is living proof.”
“Hannah Billings!” he said, setting his tankard down on the table. “Of course! I should’ve thought of her. I’ve supplied the Billings pharmacy for years.”
“With Red Jenny?” Cora said.
“Don’t remember exactly, but… yes, bound to have done. Well, so that’s settled. Mystery solved. I’ll be off home then. See you at the Duck later, Cal?”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Aye, up to yourself. Welcome any time. Good day to you, Mrs Merrington.”
“Good day, Ben.”
Cora made herself a cup of tea and settled on the bench beside Cal.
He sat leaning back, arms folded, his long legs stretched out under the table.
He had his sleeves rolled up in the heat of the afternoon sun, and Cora had a sudden yearning to reach out and touch those bare arms, to run her fingers over his sun-browned skin and feel the muscles beneath.
But still the butterfly lay trapped in her cocoon, so instead she sipped her tea quietly.
“Do you think it’s this Hannah Billings?” Cal said.
“I cannot say. I barely remember the girl. She was a shadowy creature who faded into the background, if you understand me. Do you think there will be a sunset this evening?”
“Perhaps. We could do with some rain, though. It’s been hot for a few days now, and the air feels… heavy, somehow. Might get a storm before too long.”
“Is your roof solid enough to withstand it?”
He chuckled. “Aye, it’ll do. There were a couple of tiles loose, but I’ve fixed those. I’ll be snug enough here.”
“Such a cosy little house,” she said. “Sometimes, when I am walking from one end of Staineybank to the other, I think it must be most convenient to live in a house only a few paces from end to end.”
He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling in the way that warmed her inside.
“It suits me. I can’t be at ease in a great place like that, all high ceilings and echoes like a cathedral.
It’s fitting for a duke but we lesser mortals can manage with something less grandiose.
” He paused, and then went on, “I hear there’s some gallivanting being planned. ”
“Now how do you know about that? The invitation only arrived this morning.”
“Ben told me. It’s all over the servants’ hall, seemingly. Packing to be done and carriages arranged and footmen and grooms chosen. Somewhere to the south of Brinchester, I understand.”
“Brinwood… Brinford, something like that. The lady of the house has a baby the same age as Rowena’s and Sophia’s, so they are to go off and discuss…
well, teething remedies, I dare say, or the iniquities of nursery maids.
Then the Staineybank ladies will politely admire the hostess’s child while secretly feeling that their own children are far more advanced and stouter and superior in every way.
Even Charlotte is to give herself a brief holiday from her labours and go with them. ”
“And you?”
“No, I shall stay here. With everyone away, I should not like the domestic management to fall onto Hester’s shoulders.
She is a little better but not well enough to be tramping up and down stairs.
The servants can manage very well without supervision most of the time, but if there should be a crisis, I shall be on hand. ”
“You need a holiday too, Cora. Perhaps we could spend another day in Frickham Wood?”
“I should like that.”
For three days, the house was in turmoil.
Neither Rowena nor Sophia had ever travelled with a baby before, so it was necessary to take every object that might conceivably be required, even though the family they were visiting would certainly be able to supply any deficiency.
Simon Payne and Lady Juliet contrived to keep well out of the way, as Cora did, but Richard grew very tetchy and complained that Rowena was hopping about like a hare, even at night, leaping out of bed to add to one of her myriad Lists of Essential Items. Cora was relieved when the appointed day and hour arrived, and the depleted household gathered in the Marble Hall to bid farewell to those departing.
“We are not very far away, if any crisis should arrive,” Richard said, gazing down at Cora.
He was not much above average height, but ever since he had attained the age of fourteen, he had towered over her.
And Cal was even taller… but she must not be distracted, not now.
Later perhaps, when the house was quiet.
“We shall manage,” Cora said brightly.
“I am sorry you would not come with us, but…” he lowered his voice.
“It is a kindness to Hester, in her sad illness.” He pulled on one of his gloves, then the other, before looking at Cora with an odd expression on his face.
“Mother… I confess I was somewhat suspicious of your friendship with Garford just at first. I was not sure he was a suitable companion for you, but a man who reads Latin and Greek cannot be entirely ignorant. Thus I have come to believe there is no harm in it. At your age there is no likelihood that a man of his class would prey on you, and besides, I trust you to behave with decorum. So you may see him, if you wish, and I will say nothing about it.”
Cora was too astonished to respond, and within a very short time the carriages were loaded, the accompanying riders were mounted, and with only one false start to check for some necessity for the infants without which the journey would be intolerable, the little train of vehicles and riders made its ponderous way down the drive and rounded the corner out of sight.
Dinner that night was in the breakfast parlour, there being only seven diners.
Cora would have been happy if it had only been the Hammonds and Hester, for they all got on very well and could have got up a four for cards afterwards had they wished it.
Mr Godley and Mr Pyott were more of a trial, the one paying studied compliments to the ladies, and the other saying nothing at all.
Fortunately, Mr Chamberlain was also there to lighten the atmosphere, and draw the gentlemen to the card table, leaving the ladies free to sit together, Cora and Georgie with their embroidery and Hester to sit fanning herself.
Hester soon retired to her room and Georgie went off to see to the baby.
For a little while, Cora sat on, her embroidery abandoned, plying her own fan.
It was such a hot, sticky evening, even with the windows open.
The gentlemen did not look up from their cards as she passed silently out of the drawing room into the Marble Hall.
The high ceiling and eastern aspect kept it cool, and the footmen had opened the heavy front doors to let in a draught of air.
She stood on the threshold for a moment, looking out over the lawns and across the lake to the woods. It was still daylight, although the shadows were long and outside the hut a lantern was already lit.
Smiling, she stepped outside. Then, pulling her shawl more firmly around her, she began to walk.
***
Cal washed up his dinner pots and plates, and tidied everything away.
Then he poured himself a pot of ale and took his place on the bench.
She had not come that afternoon, so perhaps she would come now?
That would be the best way to end the day, an hour watching the sunset with Cora and then a stroll through the woods to take her back to the orangery.
He always slept better when he had spent time with her.
He saw her the moment she left the house.
No cloak, no bonnet, just her evening gown and one of her delicate shawls.
Was she just taking the air? No! On she came, down the lawn, past the summer house, her steps sure and confident.
For a few seconds she was out of sight, hidden by the trees that sheltered the stepping stones, but then there she was again, still striding purposefully forward.
Nearer she came and nearer… then stopped. He held his breath. Would she turn away at the last minute, the stepping stones defeating her still?
She moved forward, onto the first stone, then the second… no more hesitation. Inwardly he cheered. Finally, the butterfly had escaped from her chrysalis! How wonderful! Halfway across she stopped again, looked up, waved.
He laughed out loud then, waving back to her. His splendid Cora, free at last!
Then she was across, plunging into the trees below him and out of his sight. Even though he was listening for her, he could barely hear her light footsteps on the path and so she took him by surprise when she rounded the corner of the hut.
“So hot!” she murmured. “I shall just make myself some tea.”
He abandoned his ale, and poured himself a glass of wine. It seemed an appropriate way to celebrate the butterfly’s escape from her cocoon.
There was something magical about sitting with her in the evening.
Her daytime visits were enjoyable too, and he would take them and be glad if that was the only time she could visit him, but he loved their quiet evening hours.
Sometimes, they barely talked at all, but simply sat, listening to the forest settling itself for the night, and watching the light slowly failing.
Then there would be the lantern-lit walk back to the house, pursued by dizzily flapping moths and tiny eyes peering from the undergrowth, brilliant as stars in the passing light.
Tonight she wanted to talk. She asked him about his childhood, and once again he turned her questions aside. She never pursued these points, merely smiling at him as if she understood him completely, turning instead to his adult life.
“At the Priory, were you a gardener who also knew about the woods, or were you a woodsman who did a bit of gardening on the side?”