Never a Road Without a Turning (23 page)

Peter used to mimic Pip. But Pip supposed it was better that the boy had chosen to begin aping the master instead. He’d get further in life that way. That was sure.

“Come along,” Pip said, suddenly anxious to take his thoughts down a different path. He reached out and tousled Peter’s hair before putting a hand between the boy’s shoulders and giving him a shove toward the stalls. “Let’s reintroduce me to all our lads and lasses ’ere. An’ then I can supervise while ye muck a stall or two.”

Peter stuck his tongue out again, but he giggled as he ran to the next stall down from Clover’s. Pip didn’t know where Turner, the stable master, was, but it appeared as if Peter had things well in hand. That thought made him a little sad as it occurred to him that he wasn’t really needed here either. But he pushed it away and set to work before he became any more maudlin than he already was.

Less than an hour later, the sound of a horse approaching shattered the small contentment Pip had managed to achieve, working up a sweat in familiar surroundings. He assumed it was Master Carey returning from his ride, and he hadn’t taken any time to prepare himself for the inevitable interview that would follow. Pip set down his shovel, wiped his hands on his trousers, and stepped out of the stall. But it wasn’t Asmodeus’s reins that Peter reached for but Gabriel’s.

Master Carruthers dismounted, smiling down at Peter, and patted the boy’s shoulder as he stepped away from Gabriel. “He’s had a good run today, Peter, so walk him about a bit and take care when you rub him down. Make sure he’s dry before you put him away and add a little extra treat to his feed.”

“Yes, sir.”

Peter turned Gabriel around and led him out the way they’d come in, talking gibberish to the creature as he went.

“Sir?” Pip called from the shadows, and Mr. Carruthers turned and smiled in welcome.

“Pip? I hadn’t heard you were back.”

In the past, Pip had always found Mr. Carruthers to be a bit on the reserved side, perhaps even a little standoffish. He was a master of the house, and Pip followed his orders, but they hadn’t had much interaction beyond that. Mr. Carruthers was a farmer to the heart of him and spent most of his time either out with his livestock or in private with Mr. Carey. Pip didn’t have the love for the man that he did for Mr. Carey, but Mr. Carey loved Mr. Carruthers, so that was enough for Pip to feel at least a little warmth toward him.

“I only got back last night, sir.”

“How long do you plan to stay this time?”

Pip supposed he should have been grateful it was Mr. Carruthers he saw first. Mr. Carey knew Pip too well, so an interview with him would turn out to be a great deal more…
personal
than one with Mr. Carruthers. With any luck, Carruthers would convey the information to Mr. Carey and Pip could avoid that conversation altogether.

“I’m thinkin’ I’ll be stayin’ on permanent this time, sir… if that’s all right with ye and Master Carey, that is.”

Pip’s answer seemed to surprise the man, and Carruthers took a few steps closer, studying Pip.

“Are you unwell, Pip?”

Why does everyone insist on asking me that?

Pip opened his mouth, but only a pathetic croaking sound emerged. And much to his eternal mortification Pip felt tears spring to his eyes as his throat closed. Pip blinked rapidly and opened his eyes wide to dispel any hint of moisture, but it was too late. Carruthers had seen it. The man came closer still and put a hand on Pip’s shoulder, his eyes filled with concern.

Pip had never really noticed how unique a shade Mr. Carruthers’s eyes were, more reminiscent of amber than the light brown Pip had always thought them. They weren’t as beautiful as Ash’s, but they were certainly striking.

And when had he started noticing the color of other men’s eyes?

Oh God
.

Pip buried his face in his hands to cover the fire in his cheeks as the rest of his body turned ice cold.

“Come on,” Carruthers said gently.

Using the hand on Pip’s shoulder, he steered Pip to Turner’s small office at the back of the stables. The room was vacant, but the stove was blessedly warm, and Carruthers pushed Pip into the chair in front of it before settling himself on a stack of crates opposite. Pip could only glance at the man from the corner of his eye because he was too ashamed to meet his gaze.

What was the matter with him? Did he have no pride left?

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what came over me.”

Carruthers removed his hat, set down his riding crop, and ran gloved fingers through his rather unruly blond-tipped curls, looking as uncomfortable as Pip felt.

“There’s no need to apologize, Pip. I realize we have never been close, but William loves you… and Maud and Stubbs. I would love you for their sake alone, even if I didn’t know you to be a good man in your own right. You’re obviously troubled. If there is anything I might do to help, I hope you would feel you could come to me with it.”

Pip shifted in his seat and looked down at his boots. If he kept looking at Carruthers’s earnest face, even askance, he might break down again, and he wasn’t sure his pride would survive another blow. He didn’t even know where the outburst of emotion had come from.

“Thank you, sir,” he answered quietly.

Pip took a few deep breaths, and when he thought he could manage it without making a fool of himself again, he met the man’s gaze. He’d also never noticed before how handsome a man Mr. Carruthers was. He wasn’t that much older than Pip, and Pip could easily see now why Master Carey had been taken with him from the moment he set eyes on the man.

Pip dropped his face into his hands, shaking his head. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”

That was a lie. He knew exactly what was the matter with him. He just didn’t know how to cure himself of it.

“I can’t speak to that, since I know nothing of the events leading to your return. But, given your past exploits, I can only hazard to guess it has something to do with an affair of the heart?” Carruthers said with a trace of gentle humor in his voice.

Pip smiled at that. It would be the obvious assumption to make, and he appreciated the man’s word choice. “I fear that’s the problem, sir. Me past exploits had nothing to do with me ’eart.”

“But what happened this time does?” Carruthers asked, showing a surprising amount of insight.

“Aye.”

Pip wasn’t sure how much he should impose on the fragile intimacy they had begun. Carruthers was his master, along with Mr. Carey. But it suddenly occurred to him that of all the people he knew, Mr. Carruthers might be one of only a very few who might understand what he was going through. After all, Master Carey had to hunt the man down and practically force him to accept Carey as part of his life. Mr. Carruthers might well understand Pip’s fears and his hurt.

“Sir? Did ye know it when ye fell in love with Master Carey?”

Carruthers had been leaning toward him before this, but he suddenly sat back with a look of surprise.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Pip quickly added, “I shouldn’t ’ave asked that. It isn’t any of me affair.”

“No, no, Pip. I offered to help. You simply caught me by surprise.” Carruthers pursed his lips a moment, considering. “I suppose my answer would have to be no. I didn’t know it straight away. I think too much had come before, and I wasn’t willing to trust in anyone but myself. William had to do a great deal of convincing before I could believe in him. But he’s an expert at that, as you well know,” he finished with a chuckle and a wry grin, and Pip couldn’t help but mirror it.

“’E is that, sir.”

“Is that what this is about? Are you wondering if you’re in love?”

Pip’s smile fell away, and he shook his head. “No, sir. I know I’m in love. It wouldn’t ’urt this much if I weren’t. The problem is, ’e don’t love me back.”

Carruthers’s eyes went wide as he said, “He?”

“Aye, sir.” Pip’s lips tried to twist into another wry smile. He hoped it looked better than it felt.

“I see.” Carruthers blew out a long breath before he continued soberly, “This isn’t a safe or easy road to follow, Pip. You know that, don’t you?”

Pip barked out a bitter laugh. “Ye don’t ’ave to tell me, sir. But don’t worry. It don’t look like I’ll be followin’ it, at any rate. ’e sent me packin’.”

“You’re certain he does not care for you as you do him? That there wasn’t some other reason he sent you away?”

Don’t leave me.

“There were a time or two I thought… maybe. But I were wrong. It were only me wishin’ for somethin’ that ’e couldn’t give. I can’t blame ’im for that, now can I?”

“Of course you can.” Carruthers snorted, and Pip laughed, feeling a little better despite himself.

Pip was beginning to think he’d missed out on something by not getting to know Carruthers better before this. They were certainly closer in station than Pip was to Mr. Carey.

“Thank you, sir… for listening to me, for being so kind.”

Carruthers shook his head. “I only wish I could do more, Pip. I know what heartache is, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I don’t know the particulars of your situation, and I would not give you false hope. But did you ever tell the man how you felt? Does he know you love him?”

Pip shook his head miserably.

Carruthers sighed and leaned forward again with a grave expression on his face. “I should be advising you to forget him. It would be the safer course. But I remember a time when I thought all was lost between William and I. I remember that pain, even though I thought it was the only way. If he hadn’t come to me, if he hadn’t taken that risk and opened his heart to me utterly and completely, I know I would have spent the rest of my days in regret. And I never would have known the joy I have now, with him and all of you filling that drafty old house I was trying so desperately to save.”

A tiny spark of hope stirred deep inside Pip at his words. Pip was so immersed in thought, he didn’t realize Carruthers was still waiting for some kind of response until someone knocked on the door.

“Stephen?”

“I’m here, William.”

Master Carey opened the door and looked back and forth between the two of them, frowning. “Is something wrong?”

Carruthers stood up and went to him. “No. Pip had something on his mind, so we sat down to have a little chat.”

A look passed between the two of them, and then Mr. Carey shrugged. “Peter said you’d come in, but Maud said neither one of you were up at the house. Can Turner have his office back now?”

“Yes, I think so,” Carruthers answered for both of them. He grabbed his hat and his riding crop, but he paused in the doorway. “Be honest, Pip. If you get the chance of it, always be honest.”

Mr. Carey watched his lover leave with bemusement before he turned back to Pip. “Welcome home, Imp. We’ll talk later,” he said. He turned to leave, and Turner came into the office before Pip could do more than nod.

Turner shook Pip’s hand briskly and began peppering him with questions about his latest adventure straight away. Pip let them roll over him like a warm summer breeze, familiar and comforting, a balm for the torn and ragged edges of his heart. He answered as best he could, telling the man about Keswick, the beautiful gelding, and Greer cottage but leaving out anything that would bring on another episode of blubbering. Pip couldn’t shame himself twice in one day. And while Turner probably knew about their masters’ relationship, the man was one of the many on the farm who preferred to pretend otherwise. Pip would never feel comfortable sharing anything about Ash with him.

By the time Pip came in for supper that evening, he could tell that word had spread. He hadn’t expected any less. Mr. Carruthers would certainly have told Mr. Carey all about their conversation. And, of course, Mr. Carey would have then told Maud. That was how things went with a family.

She was waiting for him in her kitchen. Without a word, she wrapped him in her arms and hugged him tight, murmuring words of comfort against his cheek. Pip felt his lips tremble a little at that, but he hid it well and his eyes were dry when she sat him down at the table with a mug of tea until supper was ready.

As always, after the masters had their dinner in the dining room, all the servants came to the kitchen to eat their own meal—Maud and Stubbs, the three downstairs maids Maud had rescued from a life of ruin on the streets of London, Peter and Joanna and the younger children, plus a new boy Pip had never seen before, introduced to him as Adam, orphan and new apprentice shepherd. Maud had picked him up from somewhere or other, like the rest of their motley little family.

The noise in the room was almost deafening after his months in Keswick, but Pip reveled in it. The downstairs maids—Pip could never remember their names because Maud had always made him keep his distance—were giving him calf eyes and giggling among themselves, making Pip preen even in his depressed state. But when he glanced guiltily over at Maud, she seemed completely unconcerned.

That rankled a bit.

He falls for one bloke and all of the sudden he’s harmless, no longer a threat to their already somewhat tarnished virtue?

Admittedly, Maud never had anything to fear at any rate. The girls were much too young when they’d come to the farm, and Pip had never been able to look at them any other way. But it still stung his pride… especially since Pip knew she was right. As he was now, no woman—or other man for that matter—was in any kind of danger from him.

That night in his room, Pip thought long and hard over Mr. Carruthers’s advice. Ash had hurt him more than once with the coldness that seemed to come over him at the end of their nights together, but Pip had never called the man out on the subject. Perhaps he should have been brave enough to come out and say what he felt, once he’d figured it out. He’d left that slip of paper in the book of poetry, but the gesture seemed cowardly and childish now. He wasn’t certain what he’d hoped to accomplish by it other than to hope Ash would feel a twinge of
some
feeling when he eventually discovered it.

Pip thought about writing Ash a letter now. But how would he say what he needed to without endangering both of them? And even if he did manage it, could he risk raising his hopes only to have them dashed when Ash didn’t respond, or worse, responded with only coldness and regrets? He should at least set the man straight about what happened with Agnes that night, shouldn’t he?