‘Lift,’ Miles ordered.
As they carried Philip away, Charlotte moved slowly towards the horse. As she neared him, she spoke quietly and soothingly. At last she was able to grasp the bridle and lead him out of the ring. There was no one about now – they’d all gone up to the house – so she led the animal to the nearest empty stable, settled him as best she could and closed the door on him.
She paused a moment, watching him. He was calmer now, but there was still terror in his eyes.
‘Poor old fellow,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll not let them hurt you.’ Then she turned and made her way to the back door of the house.
Entering the kitchen, she found the servants in turmoil and Lily in floods of tears.
‘Oh, Miss Charlotte. What’s happened? Is he badly hurt?’
Despite her anxiety, Charlotte blinked in surprise. She glanced around. Cook’s face was anxious, the little kitchen maid’s fearful, but Lily’s agitation was excessive. But it was Eddie’s grim expression that startled Charlotte the most as he watched Lily’s weeping and wailing.
‘Calm down, girl,’ Cook snapped at last. ‘Miss Charlotte – tell us what happened. Please.’
Swiftly, she explained and then added, ‘I should go upstairs and see how he is.’
‘The master’s telled me to fetch Dr Markham,’ Eddie muttered.
Lily gasped and cried out. ‘Then what are you waiting for?’ She ran to him and dragged him by the arm towards the door. ‘Go on, go on – fetch him.’
‘I’m going,’ the young man said morosely, his furious gaze still on Lily’s face. ‘But there’s nowt wrong wi’ him that Miss Charlotte couldn’t put right in a jiffy.’
‘Go
on
,’ Lily cried again, pushing him out of the door.
‘I’ll go up,’ Charlotte murmured and turned towards the door leading upstairs, amazed to find that Lily was following her.
‘You stay here, girl,’ Cook snapped.
‘But—’
‘No “buts”.’
Crestfallen, Lily turned away, wiping the tears from her eyes. Charlotte glanced at the cook, but Mrs Beddows avoided meeting her gaze.
Thoughtfully, Charlotte made her way upstairs.
‘Keep her away from me. I don’t want her anywhere near me,’ Philip spat as Charlotte entered the morning room where the young man lay on the couch. ‘She’s done quite enough damage for one day.’
‘You brought it on yourself,’ Charlotte said quietly. ‘Like I said before, whipping a horse is no way to break him in. You’ll make him wilder.’
‘Father, just get her out of here, will you?’
Miles frowned. ‘That’s enough, Philip.’ Now he could see his son was not seriously hurt, he would no longer tolerate the boy’s rudeness to Charlotte. He turned towards Ben. ‘Will you tell me what happened?’
For once Georgie was silent, standing white faced beside his father, his gaze on his brother lying on the couch.
‘We were taking Miss Charlotte to see the horses. Phil was in the training ring with Midnight.’ Ben paused and bit his lip. ‘We stood by the rail to watch. The horse was – ’ again he paused briefly – ‘very agitated. It was sweating and snorting and – and trying to get away from Phil.’
‘That’s a lie. It’s a disobedient beast that needs disciplining,’ Philip spat out, but his words ended in groan. He winced and closed his eyes.
‘Phil went after him – with the whip. He hit him three times on his flank. Then – then – ’ The boy glanced at Charlotte with an apologetic look. ‘Miss Charlotte shouted “no – no” and climbed over the fence. She was running towards them both when Midnight reared. His hoof caught Phil on the shoulder and he fell down.’
Georgie slipped his hand into Miles’s. Tears filled his eyes and his voice trembled as he said, ‘It wasn’t Miss Charlotte’s fault. It was Phil’s. He shouldn’t have hit Midnight, Papa.’
Philip opened his eyes again. ‘It was all her fault. If she hadn’t shouted—’
At that moment, Wilkins opened the door and ushered the doctor into the room. ‘Dr Markham, sir.’
‘Now, what have we here?’ The portly, bewhiskered man’s eyes twinkled through his spectacles. ‘Nothing too serious, I trust. Ah,’ he said, spying Philip on the sofa. ‘This is the patient, I presume.’
Swiftly, Miles explained what had happened and the doctor examined the young man gently. ‘Dislocated shoulder,’ he pronounced. He glanced around the room and spotted Charlotte. ‘Ah, the very person. Charlotte, if you’d assist me, we’ll soon have—’
‘I don’t want her anywhere near me. Get – her – out – of – here.’
‘My dear boy,’ Dr Markham regarded him benignly over his spectacles, ‘there is no one better to help me put your shoulder back in place than Miss Crawford, I can assure you. And unless you want a very uncomfortable half-hour ride in your father’s motor car to the nearest hospital and a possible wait of anything up to an hour, then I suggest you let us help you.’
‘Father – are you going to stand there and let these – these
yokels
pull me limb from limb?’
Before Miles could answer, Dr Markham laughed. ‘Come now, my boy, that’s a trifle harsh. Country folk we may be, but we know a thing or two when it comes to dislocated bones, now don’t we, Charlotte? Now – ’ a note of firmness crept into the man’s tone as he beckoned Charlotte to his side – ‘this may hurt a bit . . .’
They heard Philip’s scream down in the kitchens as between them the doctor and Charlotte clicked his dislocated shoulder back into place.
‘Now – we need to bind it to keep it in place. See he takes two of these . . .’ Dr Markham pulled a bottle of tablets from his bag and handed it to Miles – ‘every four hours. That’ll ease the pain. Rest and quiet for a day or two. I’ll call in again.’
When the doctor had departed, Charlotte faced Miles. ‘Mr Thornton, if you are seriously contemplating getting rid of Midnight, then let me have him. I’ll buy him from you.’
Miles stared at her. ‘You know someone who can tame him?’
Charlotte hid her smile. ‘I do,’ was all she said quietly.
‘The damned animal needs putting down,’ Philip muttered.
‘Papa,’ Georgie tugged on Miles’s hand, ‘don’t have Midnight killed. He’s not old and ill like Ben’s pony was. Let Miss Charlotte have him. Please, Papa. Or – ’ his face brightened as another idea came to him – ‘sell him at the horse fair.’
‘The – the what?’
‘The horse fair. Miss Charlotte told me about it. She said you might be able to get a horse from there for Ben. You promised he could have another when we got settled in here.’
‘And you can get me another. I don’t want that devil,’ Philip muttered.
‘Where is this horse fair?’ Miles asked.
‘It’s at Horncastle at the beginning of August,’ Charlotte said.
Miles appeared to consider. ‘I only bought Midnight recently,’ he murmured. ‘Perhaps I should sell him and get Philip something more – suitable.’
‘I’d still like to buy Midnight from you. I’ll give you whatever you paid for him.’ She held out her right hand to him. After a moment’s hesitation, Miles took it and she felt his firm, warm grasp.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘If you’re sure.’
‘Oh, I am. In fact, I’ll take him home with me now.’
‘Don’t you have to ask your father first?’ Now Miles was puzzled. The girl had seemed so downtrodden, so meek and subservient. And yet, here she was giving her word to buy the unbroken animal without even conferring with her father. And she’d taken charge over Philip, telling everyone – even him – what to do. And, it seemed, she’d been right about the dislocated shoulder too.
He was even more puzzled when she said quietly, ‘Not on this occasion – no.’
A week later, on the last day of May, Joe came to the farm office.
Charlotte was seated behind the desk and looked up as he entered. ‘Good morning, Joe. Please sit down.’ She waved towards the chair in front of the desk. They talked for a while about the farm.
‘It’ll be haymaking before we know it,’ Charlotte said. ‘And then harvest.’
‘Aye, and talking of August time, there’s something else I’d like to ask you, Miss Charlotte. Mr Thornton drove over yesterday to ask my advice about buying a couple of horses for his sons.’ Joe smiled. ‘To replace the one you brought back from there and another for the middle boy – Benjamin, is it?’
‘That’s right. But everyone calls him Ben.’
‘He said you’d mentioned the horse fair at Horncastle in August. I was wondering if we could take Mr Thornton. I mean, you could look over the horses there and then . . .’ His voice petered out.
Charlotte was thoughtful before she said, ‘Can we do it without him guessing?’
‘Would it really matter, miss, if he did find out?’
She sighed. ‘My father . . .’ she murmured and needed to say no more.
Joe’s mouth tightened. ‘It’s high time you got the credit, Miss Charlotte, for everything you do, if you’ll forgive me saying so.’
Charlotte’s smile was pensive. ‘It’s kind of you to say so, Joe, but you know that’s not possible. There’s only you and the Morgans who know the truth.’ She sighed. ‘And that’s the way it’s got to stay.’
‘Miss Charlotte, it’s 1926 for heaven’s sake. You’re living the life of a daughter in the Victorian age.’ He bit back the words, ‘And dressing like one too.’
‘I can’t see a way out, Joe. Unless I pack my bags and leave. And where would I go? I’ve no money of my own. No relatives. No – ’ There was a catch in her voice as she realized just what an isolated, lonely life she led. ‘No friends.’ Then she added swiftly, ‘Apart from everyone around here, of course. And besides,’ she added with wry amusement, ‘who’d care for my father? Mary and Edward only stay here because of me. If I went, they’d go too. They’ve told me so.’
‘I know that,’ Joe said boldly. ‘And my Peg only comes to help out here because of you, an’ all. By heck, I’m opening me mouth and letting me tongue run away with itsen’. I don’t mean no disrespect, miss, but all of us don’t like to see you treated the way you are. And him hitting you last week at morning service, well, it riled us all.’ He leaned forward. ‘Don’t think it wasn’t noticed, ’cos it was. Does he often hit you, Miss Charlotte?’
‘Not – often. Not now, anyway. Only when I anger him. His punishment when I was younger was to lock me in my room for hours on end. If it hadn’t been for Mary and Edward . . .’
Joe’s face was grim.
‘Please, Joe, not a word to anyone. I’ve said more than I should. Promise me.’
Reluctantly, Joe nodded, hoping that his promise didn’t include keeping secrets from his Peggy, because he had no intention of doing that. Not any more. Now she, too, worked at Buckthorn Farm occasionally, she was seeing for herself how things were.
‘So,’ Charlotte went on, briskly bringing them back to the topic that had caused the shared confidences, ‘Mr Thornton and the Horncastle horse fair. I suggest you offer to go with him and just ask, casually, if he minds if I come along. He knows of my fondness for horses – ’ she grimaced comically, ‘so I don’t think he’ll be surprised to see me amongst them. And, somehow, I will communicate to you which animals I think might be suitable. It’s worth a try. I’d like to see Ben with a nice mount.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘But as for Philip, I’m not sure he deserves to be in charge of a horse. Still, perhaps I can find him a nice docile one.’
Joe laughed. ‘There’s nothing docile about that young man. Anyway, we can but try.’
June was a busy month for haymaking and all the farmers in the district helped each other not only with machinery and horses, but also with manpower. It was a time of the year that Charlotte loved, for it gave her an excuse to work alongside the farm labourers each day, spreading the cut grass out to dry and then, just before nightfall, raking it into long rows down the fields.
Eddie Norton and two other workers from Home Farm, the farm attached to the manor, came to help at Buckthorn Farm and, in turn, the Warren family and old Matty went to work on Miles Thornton’s fields. Even her father had not been able to stop Charlotte mixing with the workers on neighbouring farms at haymaking and, later, at harvest time. Her help was needed.
‘The new master dun’t know the first thing about farming, Joe,’ Charlotte overheard Eddie say as she raked the cut grass into windrows alongside Peggy. ‘But Master Thornton’s such a nice feller. We all like him. And we know how lucky we are to’ve been kept on. And I’ll tell you summat else an’ all, that second son of his – Ben, is it? He’ll mek a grand farmer one day. He listens and learns and he’s been working out in the fields as good as any man.’
As they worked, Georgie and his three friends scampered about the field, playing.
‘Now, Master Georgie,’ Jackson warned, ‘don’t you go trampling down the grass before the mower comes, else it won’t get cut proper.’ He frowned at his own brother and the other two local lads. ‘You should ’a known better, our Tommy. Don’t go leading this little lad into bother. He dun’t know country ways. Not yet.’
Georgie stood still and regarded Jackson solemnly. ‘Why mustn’t we trample it?’
Jackson leaned on the wide rake he was using and smiled at the boy, whose golden curls glinted in the sunlight.
‘Because,’ Jackson explained patiently, ‘if the grass is lying flat, the mower can’t cut it. You go and watch it, Master Georgie, then you’ll see what I mean. But don’t get in the way of the cutter bar.’