Beneath the Major's Scars(2)

‘How would you know?’ demanded Zelah, carefully lifting away     the torn material and gazing in horror at the bloody mess beneath.

‘My time in the army has given me considerable experience of     injuries.’ He untied his neckcloth. ‘I have sent my keeper to fetch help. I’ll     bind up his leg, then we will carry him back to the house on a hurdle.’

‘Whose house?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘He should be taken to     West Barton.’

‘Pray allow me to know what is best to be done!’

‘Please do not talk to me as if I were a child,’ she retorted.     ‘I am quite capable of making a decision.’

He frowned, making the scar on his forehead even more ragged.     He looked positively ferocious, but she refused to be intimidated and met his     gaze squarely. He seemed to be struggling to contain his anger and after a     moment he raised his hand to point towards a narrow path leading away through     the trees. He said curtly, ‘Rooks Tower is half a mile in that direction; West     Barton is at least five miles by carriage, maybe two if you go back on the     footpath, the way you came.’

Zelah bit her lip. It would be impossible to carry Nicky     through the dense undergrowth of the forest without causing him a great deal of     pain. The boy stirred and she took his hand.

‘I d-don’t like it, it hurts!’

The plaintive cry tore at her heart.

‘Then it must be Rooks Tower,’ she said. ‘Let us hope your     people get here soon.’

‘They will be here as soon as they can.’ He pulled the muslin     cravat from his neck. ‘In the meantime I must stop the bleeding.’ His hard eyes     flickered over her. ‘It will mean moving his leg.’

She nodded and squeezed Nicky’s hand.

‘You must be very brave, love, while we bind you up. Can you do     that?’

‘I’ll try, Aunty.’

‘Your aunt, Nicky? She’s more of an Amazon, I think!’

‘Well, she is not really my aunt, sir,’ explained Nicky     gravely. ‘She is my stepmama’s sister.’

Zelah stared, momentarily diverted.

‘You know each other?’

The man flicked a sardonic look towards her.

‘Of course, do you think I allow strange brats to run wild in     my woods? Introduce us, Nicky.’

‘This is Major Coale.’ The boy’s voice wavered a little and his     lip trembled as the major deftly wrapped the neckcloth around his leg. ‘And     this, sir, is my aunt, Zelah.’

‘Celia?’

‘Zee-lah,’ she corrected him haughtily. ‘Miss Pentewan to     you.’

‘Dear me, Nicholas, you should have warned me that your aunt is     a veritable dragon.’

The scar cutting through his eyebrow gave him a permanent     frown, but she heard the amusement in his voice. Nicky, clinging to Zelah’s hand     and trying hard not to cry, managed a little chuckle.

‘There, all done.’ The major sat back, putting his hand on     Nicky’s shoulder. ‘You were very brave, my boy.’

‘As brave as a soldier, sir?’

‘Braver. I’ve known men go to pieces over the veriest     scratch.’

Zelah stared at the untidy, shaggy-haired figure in front of     her. His tone was that of a man used to command, but beneath that faded jacket     and all that hair, could he really be a soldier? She realised he was watching     her and quickly returned her attention to her nephew.

‘What happened, love? How did you fall?’

‘I t-tripped at the top of the bank. There’s a lot of loose     branches lying around.’

‘Aye. I’ve left them. Firewood for the villagers,’ explained     the major. ‘We have been clearing the undergrowth.’

‘And about time too,’ she responded. ‘These woods have been     seriously neglected.’

‘My apologies, madam, if they are not to your liking.’

Was he laughing at her? His face—the little she could see that     was not covered by hair—was impassive.

‘My criticism is not aimed at you, Major. I believe Rooks Tower     was only sold last winter.’

‘Yes, and I have not had time yet to make all the improvements     I would wish.’

‘You are the owner?’

Zelah could not keep the astonishment out of her voice. Surely     this ragged individual could not be rich enough to buy such a property?

‘I am. Appearances can be deceptive, Miss Pentewan.’

She flushed, knowing she deserved the coldness of his     response.

‘I beg your pardon, that is, I—I am sure there is a vast amount     to be done.’

‘There is, and one of my first tasks is to improve the road to     the house and make it suitable for carriages again. I have men working on it     now, but until that is done everything has to come in and out by packhorse.’

‘Major Coale’s books had to be brought here by pack-pony,’ put     in Nicky. ‘Dozens of boxes of them. She likes books,’ he explained to the major,     whose right eyebrow had risen in enquiry.

‘We have an extensive library at home,’ added Zelah.

‘And where is that?’

‘Cornwall.’

‘I guessed that much from your name. Where in Cornwall?’

A smile tugged at her mouth, but she responded seriously.

‘My father is rector at Cardinham, near Bodmin.’

Zelah looked up as a number of men arrived carrying a willow     hurdle.

She scrambled to her feet and stepped back. The major handed     his axe to one of the men before directing the delicate operation of lifting     Nicky on to the hurdle. When they were ready to move off she fell into step     beside the major, aware of his ungainly, limping stride as they followed the     hurdle and its precious burden through the woods.

‘I can see you have some experience of command, Major.’

‘I was several years in the army.’

Zelah glanced at him. He had been careful to keep to the left     of the path so only the right side of his face was visible to her. Whether he     was protecting her sensibilities or his own she did not know.

‘And now you plan to settle at Rooks Tower?’

‘Yes.’

‘It is a little isolated,’ she remarked. ‘Even more so than     West Barton.’

‘That is why I bought it. I have no wish for company.’

Zelah lapsed into silence. His curt tone made the meaning of     his words quite clear. He might as well have said I have no         wish for conversation. Very well, she had no desire to intrude upon     his privacy. She would not speak again unless it was absolutely necessary.



Finally they emerged from the trees and Zelah had her     first glimpse of Rooks Tower. There was a great sweep of lawn at the front of     the house, enclosed by a weed-strewn drive. At the far side of the lawn stood a     small orangery, but years of neglect had dulled the white lime-wash and many of     its windows were broken. Zelah turned away from this forlorn object to study the     main house. At its centre was an ancient stone building with an imposing arched     entrance, but it had obviously been extended over the centuries and two     brick-and-stone wings had been added. Everything was arranged over two floors     save for a square stone tower on the south-eastern corner that soared above the     main buildings.

‘Monstrosity, isn’t it?’ drawled the major. ‘The house was     remodelled in Tudor times, when the owner added the tower that gives the house     its name, so that his guests could watch the hunt. It has a viewing platform on     the roof, but we never use it now.’

She looked again at the house. There had been many alterations     over the years, but it retained its leaded lights and stone mullions. Rooks     Tower fell short of the current fashion for order and symmetry, but its very     awkwardness held a certain charm.

‘The views from the tower must be magnificent.’ She cast an     anxious look at him. ‘You will not change it?’

He gave a savage laugh.

‘Of course not. It is as deformed as I!’

She heard the bitterness in his tone, but could not think of a     suitable response. The path had widened and she moved forwards to walk beside     Nicky, reaching out to take his hand. It was hot and clammy. Zelah hid her     dismay beneath a reassuring smile.

‘Nearly there, love. We shall soon make you more     comfortable.’