The Cuckoo Tree (28 page)

The king's doctor, who had an allergy to elephants, was to follow them in his own curricle with a supply of medicines, directly the coronation banquet was over.

Rachel took them over heath and common, through woods, fields and copses, straight as a bird to Stopham House, where she trumpeted outside the library window until Lord Sope came out and patted her cheek.

"Well, well, well, Rachel; that will do! I am delighted to see you back, but do not deafen me, pray! How do you do, Miss Twite," he said to Dido. "Were you able to deliver your message? That's good, that's good.... I see you have friends with you. Would you all care for a little refreshment?"

"That's ever so kind of your lordship, but I reckon we'd best get on. Oh, here's a note from Lord Forecastle, inviting you to take a dish of tay with him next time you're in town. He sent a messenger posting after us with it on a Derby 'chaser.'"

Dido had been planning to hire a carriage at the White
Hart for the last bit of the journey, but Lord Sope hospitably put his phaeton at their disposal, so they drove in it on to Petworth, where they received a great welcome from the Gusset family at The Fighting Cocks.

"There, I
am
pleased to see you, dearies!" exclaimed Aunt Sarah, embracing them all impartially. "You'll never guess what's happened,
never!
"

"What?" Dido asked anxiously. "Is the Cap'n all right?"

"At twelve o'clock midnight last night," said Miss Sarah impressively, "just as I was a-taking a last look at the Cap'n, poor dear soul, sleeping up in the attic, so innocent and quiet as a babby, what does he do?"

"What
does
he do?"

"Sits up! Looks about him calm as a Christian and, if you'll believe me, says, 'Ma'am, who are
you?
Where the deuce am I? What's become of my Dispatch? And where's Dido Twite?' He's sitting in an armchair in the little parlor—a bit weak, but a-mending fast—drinking a mugful of huckle-my-buff—at this very minute. He
will
be pleased to know you're back, dearie."

"He'll be even more pleased than that," said Dido. "This here's his son Owen, that he hasn't seen for dunnamany years."

"Oh, dearie! He'll be right dumbfounded with joy."

"Owen," Dido suggested, "why don't
you
go in and see your pa fust—he won't want too many of us a-crashing in on him if he's weak yet."

Owen nodded, and went through the door indicated by Mrs. Gusset. They heard him say,

"Father?" and Captain Hughes exclaim,

"That's never
Owen?
"

Then there was a long silence.

"Eh, bless him! That'll do him more good than doctor's medicine," said Aunt Sarah, wiping her eyes. "Now, how about the rest of you? Would you like a bowl of my soup, eh?"

They were glad of soup, having had nothing since a scanty breakfast before the ceremony, and while they ate they told Aunt Sarah, Uncle Jarge, and his boy Ted the whole tale of the events leading up to the coronation, and discussed the astonishing fact that, at the exact time when Mrs. Lubbage and Tante Sannie realized their plan had failed, Captain Hughes had recovered the use of his senses.

"There's something mighty odd about it all," Miss Sarah said over and over. "But I'm right glad he's on the mend, for I've not laid eyes on a better-looking man since my Hannibal was struck by lightning in the rowboat full of corkscrews. And that's a nice-looking boy, too; do you reckon
he'd
fancy a bowl of my soup?"

"Guess he would," Dido said. "While you're giving it to him, ma'am, I'll take Tobit and Cris on to Tegleaze, before it gets dark, and then come back to have a talk with the Cap. Oh, there's a letter for him from Lord Fo'c'stle giving him six months' leave so's he can go home to Wales."

"I've always fancied a holiday in Wales," Miss Sarah said thoughtfully, tucking Lord Forecastle's letter in her apron pocket.

Dido, Tobit, and Cris returned to the phaeton and continued on their way. Some three quarters of an hour after their departure, the doctor's curricle arrived. The doctor had brought with him a passenger who inquired for Miss Dido Twite and, on hearing that she had gone to Tegleaze Manor, decided to follow her, after a brief pause for refreshments.

Dido, Cris, and Tobit drove through the village of Duncton, and up steep Duncton hill, where they dismounted and walked beside the horse. Dido was rather silent, but Tobit and Cris kept up a nonstop flow of talk.

"We'll keep a lot of sheep—Mr. Firkin will be the chief shepherd—and we'll breed horses again—Granny will like that, she knows a lot about horses when she's off the Joobie nuts—we'll mend all the things that are falling to bits—have Dogkennel Cottages repaired and find new tenants—set Tegleaze Manor to rights—"

"What'll you use for cash?" Dido asked.

"Well, there's bound to be
some,
now old FitzPickwick isn't taking it all for his Hanoverian plots—"

"What about the luck-piece?"

"Oh, well, it won't run away. We'll give it to that museum in London. Neither of us wants it. But there's other things to do first—that can wait."

(It waited for a year, and when they finally sent down a diver to rescue the Breughel miniature, which was dangling from a nail in the brickwork of the well, they also found the bones of Miles Tegleaze, alias Miles Mystery, lying at the bottom, where he had fallen when he rushed from the mill that dark November night.)

"And we'll do something about those magistrates in Petworth, so people can't be transported on false evidence," Tobit said.

"And we'll look after poor old women, so they don't get a grudge against everybody and take to witchcraft," said Cris.

They passed Dogkennel Cottages. Mr. Firkin was up on the side of the down with his sheep and dog Toby.

"I'll go and see him tomorrow," Cris said.

They reached Tegleaze Manor. While Dido was tethering Lord Sope's horse to the marble pillar, Tobit and Cris walked through the great door hand in hand. The big white dog Lion flew down the stairs like a bolt from a catapult, barking and whining with joy. When he saw that there were
two
of them, he was quite astounded, and did not know which face to lick first. Old Gusset, wandering about the hall with a feather duster, also nearly fainted from astonishment.

"Mas'r Tobit, sir! Miss Crissie! Bean't you transported to van Dieman's Land? Nor murdered? Nor taken up by the Bow Street runners? Nor magicked by Mother Lubbage?"

"None of those things," Tobit said. "And Tante Sannie's never coming back, nor Colonel FitzPickwick, and we're never going to allow another Joobie nut on the place, and things'll all be different from now on. Where's Granny?"

"Why, she's been a bit brighter than usual, Mas'r Tobit. She be in Mr. Wilfred's bedroom, a-playing tiddlywinks with him."

"We'll go up and surprise her. Want to come, Dido?"

But Dido said she thought she would be getting back.

"Thanks for the ride, then. Maybe we'll come over to Petworth tomorrow to see you."

Hand in hand, without looking back, they ran up the stairs.

Old Gusset, gazing after them, shook his head.

"Well, I declare! Who'd a beleft it? So all's right, is it, Missie Twido Dite?"

"Yes," said Dido slowly. "All's right, Mister Gusset. The king's been crowned, and Cap'n Hughes is better, and if that Mystery turns up again, he'll get his comeuppance. And your boy Yan got a special thanks from the king, and permission to put By Royal Thingummy on the
Gentlemen's Relish.
And they're coming back by the cut, and he said to tell you he'd see you at the Cuckoo Tree the day arter tomorrow."

"Ah, that be champion," the old man said happily. "I knew nothing'd harm my boy Yan, acos I bought him that liddle wooden charm piece from owd Mother Lubbage—but thanked by His Majesty! Think o' that!"

He looked up the stairs again, thoughtfully rubbing his whiskers with the feather duster.

"All the same," he muttered, "those two young 'uns ought to offered you a glass o' cowslip wine. Uncivil, that was. Or would ee like a biscuit, now, missie?"

"That's ever so kind of you, Mister Gusset, but I really does want to be getting back."

Just the same, before doing so, Dido went into Cousin Wilfred's little study to have a look at the Tegleaze family
tree. Triplets, back in Charles the First's time: Tobias, Christopher, and Miles Aswell Tegleaze.

"Mister Gusset?"

"Yes, Missie Dwite?"

"Do you know the name of the other triplet? Tobit and Cris's brother who died at birth?"

"No, missie. I never did hear. Likely he was never christened."

"Maybe not."

Dido unhitched the phaeton, and drove off. All of a sudden she felt lonely—almost choked with loneliness. Tobit's got Cris, she thought, and Cap'n Hughes has his boy Owen, but who've
I
got?

Such thoughts were not sensible, she knew. A warm welcome awaited her back at The Fighting Cocks. She could probably go to Wales with Captain Hughes and Owen, if she wanted, the king had invited her to stay at Westminster, and Mr. Firkin would certainly be pleased if she went back to Dogkennel Cottages. But all the hospitality in the world is not the same as having someone of your own.

As she neared Dogkennel Cottages she saw that the sheep were down in the pasture, which meant that Mr. Firkin was home. So she stopped in to tell him about Captain Hughes's recovery and the collapse of Mrs. Lubbage. While she was telling her tale, a curricle dashed by, going toward Tegleaze.

"Eh, fancy old Mis' Lubbage being brung so low!" Mr. Firkin exclaimed wonderingly. "The poor owd mawther!
Like a babby, is she? Tell 'em to send her back here, darter, and I'll keep an eye on her, surelye; she 'on't come to no harm herealong when folks knows she'm afflicted."

Dido promised she would do this.

"Mr. Firkin," she said suddenly. "I've a fancy to walk along to the Cuckoo Tree. Can I leave the carriage here for twenty minutes?"

"O' course, darter! And time ee comes back, I'll have a cup o' tea a-mashed for ee."

Dido walked across the pasture, up the chalk track; through the beech grove, across the saddle of rough down grass, along the path under the hanging yew trees. And she finally came to the little crooked, aged Cuckoo Tree, leaning out sideways from the slope of the hill, as it had leaned for many, many hundreds of years, and would lean for many hundreds of years more.

"I wonder if a cuckoo ever really did build a nest in it?" she thought. "No, Cris said cuckoos don't build nests. Cuckoos don't
have
nests. All they have is other birds' nests."

She climbed up into the tree and looked down at the wide, spreading stretch of country below, beginning now to be hazy with the blue of evening. She remembered how she had first come to the tree and heard Cris, apparently talking to nobody.

"It was right queer about Aswell, Cris just forgot him, once she met Tobit. I wonder if
he's
lonely too."

Half seriously, half not, she put out both hands and
shut her eyes. She remembered Cris saying, "When we first start talking I can feel him put his hands in mine."

"Aswell?" said Dido. "Is you there, poor old Aswell? Can you hear me?"

She waited.

And waited. But nothing happened, and presently she opened her eyes again.

And, meanwhile, through the beech grove, across the saddle of down, along the yew-hung path, her friend Simon, Sixth Duke of Battersea, came searching for her, following the directions Mr. Firkin had given him.