Never a Road Without a Turning (5 page)

“I prefer Phillip to Stubbs,” the major said finally. “Pip is simply ridiculous, however.”

Pip’s own eyebrows drew down in confusion at that. What was the man on about? Why didn’t he simply sack Pip and get it over and done?

The major studied Pip for a while longer before he took another drink from his glass and then set it aside. “I understand from Mrs. Applethwaite’s letters that you have been under my employ for two months and you have proved to be an able worker. That this is the first time anything of the sort of behavior I witnessed in the barn has happened. Is that correct?”

It wasn’t, but Pip was hardly going to admit it.

“Yes, sir,” he lied meekly, dropping his gaze to the floor before lifting it cautiously again. He let his eyes go soft and piteous as he had with Mrs. Applethwaite, more out of habit than any expectation the look would gain him anything. But for the briefest of moments, Pip was certain he saw something flash in the major’s eyes. Between one blink and the next, it was gone, not enough time for Pip to put a name to what he saw.

The major cleared his throat and looked away as he reached for his glass again and downed a large swallow before he spoke. “I’m willing to overlook what happened in the barn but only once. Nothing like that is to ever happen again. Am I understood?”

“I’m not sacked?” Pip was so surprised he blurted out the first thing that came into his head.

The major’s lip twitched for a moment, but Pip wasn’t certain whether it was an attempt at a smile or a grimace. “Not
this
time,” the major replied, the warning implicit in his tone.

Pip was stunned more than relieved. He didn’t understand why the man would bother keeping him on when surely Mrs. Applethwaite hadn’t come to his defense. But at least he wouldn’t have to go crawling home to Maud just yet. “Thank you, sir.”

The major grunted and waved his hand in dismissal without looking up from the coals. “Go. See to the rest of your duties. I wish to hear no more complaints about you.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Pip ducked his head and hurried out of the room before the man could change his mind.

When Pip returned to the kitchen, the housekeeper was waiting with a pitifully small pile of coins in her hand and an ugly frown on her face.

“I’m not dismissed, Missus,” Pip said, and his own surprise and confusion were mirrored in the housekeeper’s countenance.

“Are you certain?” she asked.

“Aye. ’e said so ’imself,” Pip replied with a shrug.

She continued to look flustered for a moment before straightening to her full height and sniffing. “If that is what the master wishes, then you may remain. But if I hear even so much as a hint of impropriety about you, that will be the end. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Missus,” Pip said, giving her his most contrite look.

“Go. See to your duties. I do not wish to set eyes on you until after tea. I will have plenty of work for you to do when you return.”

Pip left the kitchen as fast as his feet would carry him. When he’d finished the last of his duties in the yard, he saddled the horse and led it through the gate. He’d received no orders to the contrary, and after the uproar of the morning, Pip needed his escape more than ever.

He let the horse have its head once he mounted. It galloped down the road and across the fells, following their usual track, seeming as eager as Pip to be free of the yard. But once they stopped and Pip gazed down at the village and the water, he didn’t feel his usual happiness steal over him. He was strangely agitated, and he didn’t know why. True, being caught quite literally with his trousers down wouldn’t have been his first choice of ways to meet his new master. But the major had forgiven him and allowed him to stay. He should have been relieved.

Pip pursed his lips and thought back on the meeting in the library and on the man himself. The major was nothing like what Pip had expected. He was tall, probably the same height as Pip. He was broad-shouldered though he appeared somewhat lean and frail. For some reason Pip had envisioned a man past the prime of his life, but despite being a bit drawn and pale, the major looked to be in his midthirties at the most. Pip was foolish not to remember a man might have reasons other than old age for retiring his commission. Whatever had caused that limp must have ended the major’s career early, that’s all.

Pip closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sun, enjoying its warmth on his skin as the brisk wind toyed with his hair and clothes and whistled past his ears. He took several deep breaths, trying to ease the tightness in his chest as the horse shifted impatiently beneath him. But when it appeared that neither he nor the horse were going to settle, Pip gave in and goaded the horse into a gallop again. If he couldn’t breathe the unease away, he’d run it out instead.

They flew across the fells until Pip’s face and hands were red with cold and his thighs burned. Only when he was breathless and the horse was spouting great plumes of steam into the air did Pip climb down and walk the animal back along the road to the cottage. Once they were back in the barn, he took extra care in wiping the horse down, making sure it hadn’t suffered any injuries from their wild ride, before giving it a thorough brushing and an extra bit of grain as a treat. Then he draped a blanket over its back and left it in its stall. After that, he brought Molly in from the small fenced area where she was allowed to graze and closed the barn for the night.

Both the housekeeper and her husband were gone when he finally came inside. Pip assumed they were seeing to their master, and he gladly crept back to his room to wash up a little before returning to warm himself by the kitchen fire. He was tempted to hide in his room for the rest of the night, but he was in enough trouble as it was, so he thought he’d better not make the housekeeper come find him when she wanted him. Once his hands had warmed, Pip went in search of a bit of food and Mr. Applethwaite’s gin bottle. He found some bread and a simple stew in a crock by the fire, but the housekeeper’s husband had hidden his bottle well as always, and Pip still hadn’t found it by the time the couple returned to the kitchen.

“Pip, the master needs more coal. Go and fill the buckets again,” Mrs. Applethwaite ordered without even bothering to look at him.

“So soon?” The question slipped out before he could bite it back. He was tired, and he really didn’t want to go out into the cold again.

She frowned at him. “It isn’t your place to question. It is the master’s wish.” Her sharp features softened a little with what Pip could only assume was pity as she looked toward the door that led to the rest of the house. “I think he feels the cold most acutely. He is but a few months back from the Cape, after all. They say it’s so very hot in Africa. I’m sure it is a great change for him and with his injury…. Well, we will simply have to order more coal, and you will have to fetch it more often. That is all.”

Pip shrugged and bit back any further complaints. She was right. It wasn’t his place to question, especially after this morning. And if the man could afford to keep his rooms like a hothouse, why shouldn’t he? In the major’s place, Pip would probably do the same.

And the Cape? The master had been to the Cape?

Pip had heard stories of Africa—its savagery and the riches to be found there. What must a place like that be like? What stories could the man tell? Pip couldn’t even imagine, though he tried to dream of a place that warm as he stepped out into the frigid night.

Pip carried the scuttles to the front of the house and left them inside the door, as Mrs. Applethwaite instructed so her husband wouldn’t have to carry them farther than necessary in his “frail” condition. The woman was probably more afraid the old sod would lose his balance and dump the mess on the master’s carpets than that he would expire from the effort of carrying them from the kitchen, but either way it made no difference to Pip.

The house was dark as Pip peeked curiously inside the front door. He didn’t see any sign of the major, and he felt an odd pang of disappointment at that. They would not likely have much interaction in future, given Pip’s place in the household, and Pip was even more curious about the man now than before.

A sudden image of pale silver eyes came into his head, and Pip felt his chest tighten strangely. He backed out of the house and closed the door before he was caught. The Applethwaites could deal with the gentleman. Pip would be more than happy to spend his days with the horse instead.

O
VER
THE
next several days, things at the cottage settled again. The housekeeper fretted and fussed about feeding the major and seeing to his washing, but her hysteria seemed to have ebbed now that they all knew what to expect from him. The major wasn’t actually much trouble at all, from what Pip could tell. He kept to himself and only rang for the Applethwaites once or twice beyond his regular meal times. Mr. Applethwaite still grumbled endlessly about the “extra” work he had to do. But Pip’s own duties no longer seemed so overwhelming, and he was able to stop slinking about the place and rejoin the other two servants at most of their meals—his little incident with Agnes for all intents and purposes forgotten.

As Pip expected, he had almost no interaction with his new master beyond their disastrous first meeting. He saw the major often at his library window, and every once in a while Pip would receive a nod of the head as he crossed the yard attending to his duties. But if the man ever came out to the barn again to inspect his brother’s present—the very reason Pip’s services had been retained in the first place—Pip never saw him, nor did he speak directly with him again.

That first week, in addition to the deliveries of the post and feed for the animals, a few of the village notables paid calls to the major. Pip didn’t know any of them by name, nor did they deign to introduce themselves to someone as lowly as Pip, but he could tell their status by the fine cut of their clothes. The visits were never long and the major never sent for a carriage or his horse to return any of the calls, so soon enough the visitors stopped coming. In fact, the only time Pip ever saw the major outside the cottage at all was when the man went for a short walk each evening before dinner. He would limp slowly across the yard as the sun set behind the fells, stop on a small rise not far from the house, and simply stand there, his back stiff and his shoulders straight, gazing off into the distance as the world darkened around him. Then, after his lonely vigil, he would return the way he’d come and disappear into the house again.

For reasons he didn’t understand, Pip began lingering over the horse during those times. At first, he hadn’t realized he was doing it. And when he did, Pip told himself he was only concerned for his master’s health. The major was obviously impaired in some way. If he fell or needed assistance, Pip would know it straight away and the poor man wouldn’t be left to cry for help until someone discovered him. But as the days passed, and the major appeared to recover some of his strength, moving more easily across the uneven ground, Pip continued to watch, despite the promise of a warm fire and a hearty dinner of his own awaiting him in kitchen.

The way the major stood each night, wrapped in solitude and gazing at nothing, struck Pip as so very melancholy and tragic. Pip had no place intruding on the man’s privacy, and the major certainly wouldn’t thank him for it, so Pip simply waited, shivering in the shadows of the barn, until the major slowly made his way back to the yard and safely into the cottage again before he too went inside.

The day the major did finally come out to the barn again, Pip was caught so completely off guard, he managed to make an ass of himself the second he opened his mouth. Late that morning, the sky clear and the sun warm despite the November chill, Pip eagerly looked forward to taking the horse out. He had just put the saddle on the horse’s back when a noise from the open doorway made him turn. The major limped toward the stall and stopped a short distance from them. His eyes were even more unnerving in the bright light of day, and the fact that he simply stood there watching only increased Pip’s unease.

Pip fidgeted nervously under the weight of his stare, uncertain of what he should do. Should he go back to saddling the horse or wait until his master gave him some sort of instruction? The major’s expression was unreadable, and when the silence finally became too much to bear, Pip broke down and blurted out the first question that popped into his head. “Do ye want to ride ’im, sir?”

The major’s jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed to slits. Without a word, he spun around and limped out the way he’d come, leaving Pip to kick himself for his own stupidity. Of course the man didn’t wish to go riding. Pip still knew nothing of the injury he’d had suffered, but he was obviously lame. What kind of an idiot asks a lame man if he wants to ride? Pip just
had
to go and open his giant gob and plant his boot directly in the middle of it.

Pip fought the urge to run after the major and apologize. He had a feeling that would only add insult to injury. Instead, Pip laid his head on the horse’s neck and groaned.