Beneath the Major's Scars(11)

The fine spring weather continued but Zelah was too busy     to go out, dividing her day between Nicky and Maria, who was delighted to have     her back and insisted that Zelah should sit with her whenever she could. It was     therefore a full three days before she could find the time to enjoy the     sunshine. She tied a straw bonnet over her brown curls, but declined her     sister’s offer of a parasol, declaring that her complexion was past praying     for.

Leaving the house by a side door, she set off across the grass     at a very unladylike pace. It was good to be out in the fresh air again and she     lifted her face up to the sun, revelling in its warmth. She walked briskly,     enjoying the opportunity for a little quiet reflection.

She had been at West Barton for a month now and had made no     progress in finding a position. She could make excuses, of course. Maria had     told her how helpful it was to have her there, looking after Nicky, but deep in     her heart Zelah knew she did not want to dwindle into the role of favourite     aunt, at everyone’s beck and call and willing to perform any little task in     gratitude for being allowed to live with the family.

‘You are being very ungrateful,’ she said aloud. ‘A position as     governess would be far from comfortable. Here you could more than earn your     keep.’ She climbed over a stile and jumped lightly down. ‘But as a governess I     would be paid!’

She strode on. What she wanted, she realised, was independence.     If she was fortunate enough to find a good position, then it might be possible     to save a little of her salary each year until she had enough to retire. That,     of course, would take many, many years, but what else had she to look forward     to?

Perhaps you should look for a         husband.

Major Coale’s words came into her mind. She could almost hear     his deep voice saying them.

A husband. That was the ambition of most young ladies, but it     was not hers. Besides, no man would want her if he knew her past—and she could     not consider marrying a man without telling him everything.

No, thought Zelah practically, she had only two choices: she     could remain at West Barton, loved and valued at the present, but destined to     become nothing more than a burdensome old maid, or she could make a bid for     independence.

‘I choose independence,’ she said to a cow, regarding her     balefully from the next field. ‘I shall go back now and write out an     advertisement for the newspaper.’

She crossed the field and scrambled over the stile on to the     lane that led up to West Barton and as she did so she saw a rider approaching     from the direction of Lesserton. Major Coale. In a panic she considered jumping     back over the stile and hiding until he had gone by, but it was too late; he had     already seen her.

‘Good morning, Miss Pentewan.’ He raised his hat to her. She     felt a little rush of pride when she saw his short hair. His cheeks were still     free of a beard, too. There was no sign that he planned to revert to his former     shaggy appearance. ‘I am on my way to enquire after young Master Buckland.’

‘He is doing very well, Major, thank you. The doctor says he     may leave his bed tomorrow.’

He professes to dislike society,     she thought. Perhaps he will be satisfied with that report.         He will touch his hat, turn and ride away again.

‘I am glad to hear it.’ He kicked his feet free from the     stirrups and jumped down. ‘Are you walking back to the house now? May I join     you?’

‘I...yes, of course.’

She waited until he was beside her and began to walk on, very     slowly, the grey mare clopping lazily along behind them. After a few yards the     major stopped.

‘Is this how you usually walk, Miss Pentewan? I am surprised     you ever get anywhere.’

‘Yes—no, I...’ She trailed off, her gaze dropping to his booted     feet. ‘I thought, your leg...’

‘I am not a cripple, madam.’

Mrs Graddon’s words flashed into her mind and she recalled when     she had offered to cut his hair and he had got up from the table to summon his     servant. There had been no dragging step, no sign of a limp then.

‘Does the wound not pain you?’ she asked him.

‘Not at all, unlike this dawdling pace.’

She gave a little huff of irritation.

‘I beg your pardon. I was trying to be considerate.’

His hard look informed her quite clearly that he did not     appreciate her efforts. She put up her chin.

‘If the wound has healed and there is no pain, why, then, does     it affect your step?’

‘Habit, I suppose. What does it matter? I do not go into     society.’

‘But that might change.’

‘I think not.’

She gave up the argument and walked on at her normal pace. The     major matched her stride for stride and Zelah hid a smile. A little furrow of     concentration creased his brow, but he was no longer limping.

‘Your journey back was not too tiring, Nicky did not suffer     overmuch?’

‘Not at all. The new road is very smooth.’ She waved her hand     at the lane. ‘It puts our own track to shame.’

‘My engineer used a new method of road-building: smaller     stones, tightly packed. It seems very good, but we shall see how well it wears.’     His glance shifted to her skirts and the band of damp around the hem. ‘You have     not been keeping to the roads, I think?’

She laughed. ‘No, I have crossed a couple of very muddy fields.     It was such a lovely day I could not bear to remain indoors a moment     longer.’

‘I suppose Nicky requires a great deal of attention. Your time     cannot be your own.’

She was surprised by his concern.

‘You are not to be thinking I begrudge him a moment of it, nor     Maria, but sometimes one likes a little time alone—but I have had that now,’ she     said quickly, sensing his hesitation. She added shyly, ‘This last stretch is the     least interesting, and I am always glad of company for it.’

The house was in sight. She called to the gardener’s boy to     take the major’s horse to the stables and led him in through the front door,     sending a footman running to fetch Maria.

‘Please come into the morning room, Major. My brother-in-law is     out and will be sorry to have missed you, but my sister will be here     directly.’

‘Must I see her? I would rather you took me directly to see the     boy.’

‘You know I cannot do that. Besides, my sister will want to     give you her thanks in person.’

He gave a little pout of distaste but the scar at the left side     of his mouth distorted it into a full grimace. He muttered irritably that he     wanted no thanks. Zelah felt a smile tugging her lips.

‘You sound very much like a sulky schoolboy, Major.’ She heard     the door open and turned. ‘Ah, Maria, here is Major Coale come to visit Nicky,     if you will allow it.’

Maria hesitated at the door, then smiled and came forward.

‘Major Coale, I am so delighted to meet you at last. I have     heard so much about you from my son and I have been longing to thank you in     person for taking such care of him.’

Watching him take her outstretched hand and bow over it     gracefully, Zelah was aware of a little stab of jealousy that he had never     saluted her in that way.

‘My husband is in Lesserton at present, Major, and I am sure he     will regret that he is not here to greet you. However, he is looking forward to     seeing you next week at dinner—you received my note, I hope?’

‘I did, ma’am, and I am delighted to accept.’

‘Reginald is at a meeting,’ said Zelah. ‘There is a dispute     over the boundary between the villagers’ land and that belonging to Lydcombe     Park. Have you heard about it?’

‘Yes,’ he said indifferently. ‘I recall Netherby telling me     something of it when he came to call.’

‘Did he not tell you of the meeting?’

‘He did, but it’s no business of mine.’

His tone was final and Maria was quick to change the     subject.

‘Goodness, how the morning is flying! I am sure Nicky is     anxious to see you, sir. Zelah, my love, perhaps you would escort Major Coale     upstairs?’