Miss Mary Martha Crawford (24 page)

university education he would have the qualifications to take up a

profession.

She left the matter here and said quietly, "I do know how I'm going to use it. If you're still so inclined Roland, it will help to keep you at the university, at least for a year or so."

They all remained still until Roland spoke.

"Martha Mary!" His body was slowly bending towards her, his hands were extended, and as she looked up into his face she saw it as an exact

replica of her father's when he was pleased; and he was pleased,

delighted.

"Oh, that is kind of you, generous. But ,.. but I can't really accept it."

It was her father speaking, all his charm evident.

"The money was left to you ... no, no ... but I'll always remember the gesture. Yes, yes, always. No matter what happens, Martha Mary, I'll always remember you made this generous offer to me."

A surprising irritation not unmingled with regret for her generous

action brought her to her feet and for a moment she was tempted to say,

"All right, I'll pay off some of the debts, and I'll buy a new gown, and I'll do a thousand and one other things I've always wanted to

do."

She went hastily from the room and left them all silent. No word

followed her. But as she mounted the stairs she heard his voice, the doctor's, saying to her, as she thanked him and bade him good-bye, "I don't know on whom or on what you're going to squander your fortune, but if you were to ask my advice, which I am sure you wouldn't, I'd say make a big effort to start with yourself."

And why Hadn't she? Why hadn't she? She had been mad ;; to make that offer to Roland. Here she was, maid of all work, j even reduced to

mucking out the stables. She could have an | outside boy; she could

have a new gown and bonnet. No, a hat with a feather on it, a brightly coloured feather lying around the brim, a hat that would make people notice her as she walked through Hexham, and when she ran into him, he would be startled by her changed appearance. Shut up!

Shut up! You are going mad. You are.

the sun had been shining all morning, but the wind was very high and the air still bitingly cold. Nancy hugged her cloak about her as she walked from the house towards the meadow that bordered the river. It was a great effort not to run, but she had just said to Martha Mary if she couldn't ride Belle then she must take walks.

She had answered Martha Mary with unusual sharpness today and she was sorry, but she couldn't help it, and she would apologize to her when she returned because then she'd be feeling better. Oh, she hoped she'd be feeling better because today he'd surely be there; if not, she would surely find a note in the hiding place.

He had been home for a week now, a full week and they hadn't met. It had never happened before, and he wasn't indisposed because he had been riding in the town. Mildred had been so full of her news yesterday,

telling how he had accompanied his mother and sister and a guest into the shop, and how she helped them to choose books. She had talked of nothing else the whole evening, not so much about William, or his

sister or their guest, but about Lady Brockdean herself, because her ladyship, she said, had spoken to her for quite a while and asked her opinion on current literature, and had thanked her so warmly for her services.

Mildred had been in high fettle all evening, she had even been gay and had made Roland laugh as she imitated some of the customers who came into the shop. Over night she seemed to have been turned into a

different being, all because Lady Brockdean had paid her a little

attention. Well, hadn't she herself been turned into a different

creature

because William had paid her a little attention? More than a little

attention. Oh, William. William.

Her step quickened as she walked along the river bank, but she still did not run until she had crossed the steppingstones and mounted the far bank. It was hateful of her, she knew, but she suspected that

Martha Mary might have taken it upon herself to go up into the attic from where she would have a view of the river bank almost to the

steppingstones. Martha Mary had been acting oddly of late.

Once into the wood, however, she picked up her skirts and ran along the well-known path. She ran until the trees thinned out where the ground became steeper. She was panting hard when she reached the top of the rise, and when the wind caught her cloak and billowed it out she turned her back on it and looked about her for a moment. She nearly always

stopped at this spot, not only to regain her breath but because the

view all around was so beautiful.

She looked back over the way she had come and she could see over the tops of most of the trees. The river was hidden from her, but there, away to the left of her and looking as if it had sunk into the ground, was the house. It was only when viewing it from this point that she

realized how low down it lay in the valley.

She now faced the wind again. In the far distance the hills rose.

There was no snow on top of them now. They appeared to her to be

floating in the clear air; as did the homesteads dotted here and there.

She couldn't see Corbridge or Hexham, nor if she turned to her right any part of Prudhoe. All she could see was a clear sky, the racing

clouds, and what she would find in ten minutes' time. who she would

find in ten minutes' time.

She scampered now over the open land, her skirts held well above her ankles, her hood flying back from her head and the tendrils of her hair flying loose from the ribbon that bound it.

She thought on a laugh, as she had done often before, that she wished she could join in the hill races for she would beat them all. It was only the wind that could beat her when she was running at her best.

And she was running at her best today, leaping over small boulders,

skirting large ones, bounding over rutted holes until she came to the point where her running always stopped. It was a small copse of trees, but unlike the other groups of trees hereabouts it stood within, what appeared at first sight to be a circular crumbling wall, closer

inspection of which showed that it was not man-made but made up of

outcrops of rock. Inside, the trees were so sparse she could see

through them to where, beyond the farther side of the circle of rocks stood a dying oak, its bark scaling away, its lower branches so

bleached of life that it looked naked.

She stopped dead for a moment, her mouth open to call as she looked

through the freckled light at the outline of the man sitting with his back to the far side of the trunk. She had never before known William to sit like that; he would always be on the watch, and would come

hurrying to meet her.

She forced herself to walk slowly through the trees, but even so her footsteps were audible as they crunched the dried leaves and

undergrowth. When the figure on the ground made no move she screwed up her eyes against the light. Then her hand came up sharply and pressed against her mouth; she was staring at the man's boots. They weren't

William's boots, highly polished and reaching almost to his knees, they were big ugly working men's boots.

She couldn't see the upper body or the face of their owner. She stood perfectly still now wondering if she could make her escape without

disturbing him, but apparently not, for the figure sitting on the

ground moved, and when the head was turned towards her she made to run, but in turning stumbled and only saved herself from falling. The man was on his feet now, but with the light in her eyes she couldn't define whether he was really man or boy; then he moved away from the tree and came slowly towards her, but stopped within two yards distance of

her.

"Hello," he said.

Some seconds passed, during which the fear in her subsided and she

managed to answer in the same vein.

"Hello," she answered.

"It's very windy today."

"Aye, yes it is. You taking a walk...?"

"Yes."

"Aye, I thought you were."

What. a strange young man, and he was a young man, and so odd

looking.

Well, not really odd; but his hair was unusually fair, and thick; and stranger still, he wore neither hat nor cap on it. And he should have worn a cap, being an ordinary working man by the sound of him. She

noticed too that he had freckles right across the upper part of his

face, and she was relieved to note that his mouth looked kindly. As

her fear of him subsided her impatience grew. Why didn't he go about his business? William was likely somewhere in the vicinity waiting for him to take his departure.

He now turned from her and went back towards the oak tree, and her face stretched in surprise when, his head to one side, he said over his

shoulder, "You're one of the lasses from The Habitation, aren't you?"

When she thought about it later it shouldn't have surprised her that anybody knew that she was 'one of the lasses from The Habitation',

except that she had never seen the young man before.

"How do you know that?"

"Oh, I go past your place pretty often, me da and me. We're drovers, we cut across that way when bringing the sheep from the hills over

yonder." His head moved slowly back on his shoulders.

"I was past there yesterda'. " Twas late on, mind, being market day in Hexham.

You've never seen me afore, have you? "

"No, no, I haven't." As she spoke she walked forward into the open and glanced about her. William would never show himself, as long as this young man remained here. Oh, she wished he would go about his

business.

"I've seen you many's the times."

"You have?" She looked at him again. He was quite pleasant to look at, not very tall but thin and straight, and rather arresting because of his hair.

"It's funny you know, folks can live cheek by jowl most of their lives and never clap eyes one on tother. Our place is

not four miles as the crow flies from your house yet you've never

caught sight of me. "

He was a strange young man, a very strange young man.

"No, no, I haven't." Again she looked about her.

"Look, come on along o' me for a minute up to the rise an' I'll show you how near our place is to yours."

"I'm ... I'm sorry." She half turned from him, about to go back through the copse, but his voice stopped her, not so much by what it said, but by it's tone. It was soft, very quiet, it was as if he were talking to a sick or frightened person in an effort to soothe them.

"Now don't be afraid of me, I mean you no harm. No, never that. But you're out for a walk, so come on, walk along o' me up the rise. Come on--' he made a small motion with his hand 'you can keep your distance, only walk up the rise with me."

Her head turned towards him, her eyes fixed on his, she found herself walking across the open land, then up the hill. It was a steep hill

and she slipped once or twice, but he didn't put his hand out to save her falling. Then-they were standing on the top. He didn't look at

her now as he spoke but swept one arm wide as he exclaimed "Did you ever see anything like it? A finer view? It's a bonny place this,

wild at times, creepy like at others, but always bonny. Look, follow me finger. You see over there, like a thread of light? Well, that's

the river scurrying its el towards Newcastle. Now take your eye to the side a bit, to the left side, you see that bump? Well, it's more than a bump, it's a goodly hill, and it's got some white specks on top of it. You see them? Well, that's our house, an' the ship pens an'

outbuildings."

She looked at the white specks; then she looked at him, and he was

saying now, "It seems a long way off but it's only four miles as the crow flies from door to door, I should say. But our doors are

different, 'cos the river'll never reach our door. Me great-gran da

was wise to the river an' all it can do so he built high on a

hilltop."

Her face was straight. For the moment she thought of Martha Mary and what her answer would be to that, for he was implying that their

forbears had been stupid in building

low down in the valley. But now he was compensating apparently for

this tactlessness for he was going on.

"But mind, you've got one advantage and it's a big one, you're

sheltered down there. Of course you've got to risk floodin', but that doesn't happen but now an' again, where us! Oh; Windy Nook isn't in

it. We wonder many times how the house holds to the ground, but it

does. Stone it's made of, stones from the Roman Wall; oh aye, as me da says, we live plumb in the middle of history."

He was a strange young man, very strange.

"Well then, now you've seen our place, you'd better be getting' back then, hadn't you?" He turned from her abruptly and began to descend the hill, and she follov/ed at some distance.

He made no further comment until they were approaching the tree, when, looking at her, he said flatly, "My name's Robson, Robert Robson, but I'm mostly known as Robbie. An' your name's Miss Nancy Crawford." He nodded his head sideways at her.

"You see, I know what you're called.

An' you've got one sister Martha an' another Mildred, an' you buried old Dilly Thompson not long ago. You see' he was bending towards her, laughing now'I know all about you. "

For a moment she now experienced an acute fear of him. Why was he

talking like this? What was his intention? She had heard of young

ladies being attacked on the highway, and not so long ago either; but then, of course, they had been in coaches and it was mostly one or two desperate pit men on strike, who had been driven to robbery. They were standing one each side of the tree now facing each other. She had the feeling that William was somewhere dose at hand watching them, waiting impatiently for the intruder to take his departure. But now the young man dispelled this feeling for he was saying something that again