Eve

  Then down again, to call up the dogs and go and poach some of his rabbits. Span was as well-trained as Uncle Fergus’ terrier when it came to flushing rabbits out of the hedgerows for me – and, of course, the hedgerows down here were bigger and better to work. As a result I was able to keep up a regular supply of rabbits to the inhabitants of the neat row of almshouses opposite the reading room. Which reading room had been presented to the villagers of Overby by the sixth Marquis of Rothbury, DD, and was full of useful and improving works.

  But not intending to be improved I didn’t go in there myself until one morning three days before the seventh marquis’ return, when I was caught out in the rain without my oilskins. I pushed open the heavy oak door and was informed by a notice in the porch that the reading room was under the care of S. Clarke, Parish Librarian, and that: ‘ALL VOLUMES MUST BE RETURNED AFTER USE TO THEIR CORRECT PLACES.’ S. Clarke obviously had very precise alphabetical ideas about correct places, since ‘Apiculture for Experts’ was under ‘A’, but ‘Bee-keeping for Beginners’ reposed on the ‘B’ shelf.

  I moved on past ‘Care and Control of Dogs’ and spotted a line of identical, new green volumes, each labelled ‘Careers’. I decided to see if ‘Mistress’ was in there – well, you never knew – but the volume I actually picked out started with ‘Engine-room artificers’ and ran only to ‘L.C.C. appointments’ – and already my instinct was saying: ‘E’ to ‘L’ includes ‘I’ for ‘India’, and my fingers found their way to: ‘Indian and Colonial Police Services’, on to ‘Indian Civil Service’ – but the next one was ‘Indian Medical Service’. Where was Forest? I flicked quickly back to ‘F’ and there it was: ‘Forest Service (India)’

  It was divided into three sections, and I started reading from the beginning. ‘How to Enter the’, was all different from when Apa had gone to Cooper’s Hill – there was no Cooper’s Hill, now. I moved on to, ‘Special Training in Forestry’, then arrived at, ‘Salaries of Various Officers’, which included leave, pension – oh Apa, if only you’d lived to draw that.

  I carried on reading – and there, in the very last paragraph, were the the words: ‘Provident Fund’—’to which officers must contribute 6¼ percent of their salaries, and may contribute up to 12½ percent. The Government credit compound interest at the rate of 4 percent per annum on the subscriptions, and the accumulated sum becomes the officer’s absolute property on quitting the service, or is handed over to his legal representative in the event of his death before retirement.’

  Mistress McNiven had said, ‘Surely your father would have made some provision for you—’ and he had, he had. So now the Mr Hendersons were sitting on Apa’s money, which he would have left to me. And I couldn’t claim it, because if I did they would capture me again and haul me off to school. I even worked out roughly how much of my money they had. since our weekly and monthly budgeting had formed part of my arithmetic lessons, and S. Clarke had thoughfully provided pencils and paper. The answer came to at least £350 – but I simply couldn’t safely get my hands on it!

  I jumped up and headed for ‘L’. in fact, what I was looking for was on the shelf below ‘Careers’ – ‘Cassell’s Lawyer’, Vols I and II, by a Barrister-at-Law. I didn’t really have much hope. As you’re aware, I’d already thoroughly perused the section on ‘Guardians’ in Randell – and very depressing it had been, too. But you never knew, perhaps the picture in ‘Cassell’s Lawyer’ might be not be quite the same… It wasn’t. It was worse.

  Dismally I continued reading on to: ‘In Scotland.’ Where everything was completely different. I couldn’t believe it. I must have read and re-read those seven pages half-a-dozen times – but it was true. Apa had used Scottish law to set me free. A curator was only a curator of the money and property. Mr Henderson had every right to withhold my grandfather’s money if I refused to comply with the terms of his will – but he had no rights at all over me.

  Yes, there was somebody called a tutor – as a guardian for children – but in Scottish law females ceased being children at twelve, and after that they were independent. No wonder Aunt Ethel had seen off the Scottish Mr Henderson so successfully, no wonder they’d been willing to let me go to school in Wick!

  My first feeling was one of fury – I was absolutely livid with the Mr Hendersons for misleading me the way they had. My second feeling was of fury with myself for being so stupid as not to check – especially as I now realised that both Mistress McNiven and the Headmaster had known the true situation – and practically told me! But I’d completely ignored the clues they’d given me – oh stupid, stupid Eve.

  My third feeling was one of relief, that now I was free again. Free to be Evelyn Courtney, and to do exactly as I wanted. But my next thought was both simpler and yet more complex – wasn’t I already doing exactly as I wanted – as Eve Gunn?

  I sat there in Horseface’s father’s reading room, in Horseface’s village, on Horseface’s estate, listening to the rain splattering on the windows – rain which presumably once it hit water trough or ground became his property too – and knew that what I wanted was to be Horseface’s mistress. A position which he had already offered me in the belief that I was Eve Gunn, herring girl and housemaid. So why rock the boat, Eve? Besides, despite its occasional drawbacks, being Eve Gunn had been a lot of fun. Especially at Wenlock Court – and especially after Horseface had arrived. And I could see that the chances of that role providing further fun were considerable.

  I glanced down at the book open in front of me. It was true that by remaining Eve Gunn I couldn’t easily claim the money from Apa’s Provident Fund – but then, I wouldn’t need it, would I? Not as Horseface’s mistress. Oh, obviously I’d have to let him know my true identity eventually – but, in the meantime, why not live for the day – and not rock the boat?

  And, not fully admitted, but there on the horizon all the same, was the awareness of a very large wave which was heading straight in my direction You see, however pacifist you are you can’t grow up in India without learning a fair amount about the British Army – which is actually a surprisingly small world. And right in the centre is one of the smallest worlds of all – that of the Royal Engineer officers. That most highly trained and professional group of men who’d all been at the Shop, and who were never very numerous anyway, because only those who passed out high on the list entered the corps – a corps which operated differently from conventional army regiments, a corps whose members were more mobile, who returned regularly to Woolwich – and who who even sometimes retired there, as Grandfather Courtney had. Grandfather Courtney – Apa – Horseface.

  Suddenly I felt as if I were crossing an extremely deep gorge on a very shaky bridge indeed. No, Eve – don’t think. Get off that bridge, get back into the boat – and don’t jump in the water until you really have to. And above all – don’t think.

  I slammed Cassell’s Lawyer shut, put it back on the shelf – in its correct place – and went outside. The rain was easing off now, and I decided that if I moved fast enough the remaining drops wouldn’t be able to catch me anyway – so I set off at a run back to the house and my tower – his tower.

  Three days later I was leaning over the crenellated roof of his other tower. if he’d bothered to send a second postcard I might have been waiting for him back at the house – but he hadn’t, so instead he’d have to jolly well come and find me. Though I had taken the precaution of telling Henry – who was footman on hall duty that afternoon – where I was going. Just a casual mention, of course – Horseface had told me to be discreet. And what more discreet than Rapunzel’s Tower, hidden in the woods?

  Though not so discreet that I couldn’t spot the motor driving back from Swindon – There it was, a flash of blue and silver moving swiftly up the drive. I settled myself down on the battlement and waited for him to come. He came. I looked down at his broad shoulders and the top of his cap as he rattled the door handle. Span was running about sniffing, but Jack – clever Jack – looked up and barked. His owner f
ollowed his eyes upwards. Then called, ‘Let down your hair, Rapunzel – so I can climb up to you!’

  I called back, ‘Ye’re tae heavy – ye’d pull it out by the roots!’

  ‘Throw the key down, then.’

  ‘I havena got the key.’ At which he reached up to seize one of the ivy branches and raised his large right boot to find a foothold. I exclaimed, ‘Ye’re tae heavy for that, too – I’ll climb down tae ye.’

  I heard the laughter in his voice as he shouted, ‘That’s infinitely preferable — since I don’t possess your head for heights.’ I swung one leg over the battlements.

  At the main ivy trunk I turned to look down at him again. His face was tipped up, just watching me. I climbed on down. Not fast – but not slowly, either.

  When I reached the bottom I tugged my skirt and petticoats free from their rolled up waistbands, shook them out – and swooped down into my Gondoliers curtsey. As I rose up again, he said, ‘And how about some cartwheels, too?’

  Laughing with delight I raised my hands high and went cartwheeling off down the grassy path to the clearing at the head of the lakes. He came pounding after me. As I rose up he seized my hand – only to drop it hurriedly with a, ‘Damn, we’ll have to behave ourselves here – we’re under surveillance.’ A man was mending the wooden palings of a fence – out of earshot, but not out of sight. As if aware of our gaze he looked up and doffed his cap before returning to his task.

  I slowed to a sedate walk – unlike Jack and Span who were frisking around him, sniffing his gaiters and giving short barks of welcome. I was almost tempted to join in. He bent to pat them both, before saying to me with a smile, ‘Well, my dogs are in tip-top condition – how is my puss cat, now?’

  I beamed back. ‘I’m fine, thank ye.’

  ‘Good – there’s certainly lots of healthy pink showing between those freckles of yours at the moment. I’ll have a closer inspection when we reach the shelter of the spinney.’ Then, still watching my face, he asked, ‘Pleased to see me, are you puss cat?’

  ‘Aye, I am!’

  ‘Good, good.’ He smiled at me again.

  But by then I’d remembered my grievance. I complained, ‘But ye only sent the one postcard.’

  ‘For reasons of discretion, you know. And speaking of discretion, I’ve had that property I spoke of refurbished while I’ve been away. I think you’ll like it – it’s got a garden back and front – but it is small, it will only do if you’re still of the opinion that you don’t require a living-in servant – ?’

  ‘Oh aye – be nicer just on our own, won’t it?’

  ‘Mm, I rather think it will. And there’ll be less risk of gossip that way. After all, if I need waiting on, you can always do it, can’t you?’ Ah, that reminded me – He continued, ‘And it’s a most secluded site, so my comings and goings won’t be over-looked – speaking of which, we’re almost at the Spinney, so I think we might snatch a quick kiss—’

  I broke in, ‘But I havena said “yes”, yet.’

  He looked surprised. ‘“Yes” to what?’

  ‘Your proposition – ye said, when ye came back ye’d ask me, and ye havena done it.’

  ‘Ah, I did say that, didn’t I? Right. Will you be my mistress, Eve Gunn?’

  ‘Aye, I will.’ He reached out for me, I fended him off. ‘But on one condition.’

  His face hardened and his hand dropped back. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘That ye dinna kiss me until we’re sitting down at the table, eating a meal together.’ Looking him straight in the eye I said, ‘I’m going tae be your mistress, not your housemaid.’ I added, ‘I’ll gladly cook for ye, but—’

  He concluded, ‘But we’ll eat the results together?’

  ‘Aye, that’s ma condition.’

  He hesitated, before saying, ‘I was assuming something of the kind would be the case at the establishment in Town, but it isn’t so easy down here—’

  I said firmly, ‘That’s my condition.’

  ‘Will you accept my taking afternoon tea in the day nursery with you?’

  I considered this slowly, then nodded, ‘Alright.’

  We were well in the spinney now. He put his hand out to take mine, ‘Right, now that’s agreed—’

  I danced away from him – I’d compromised enough already. ‘No kissing until we’re sitting’down with the tea cups on the table.’

  He exclaimed, ‘But I can’t order tea before four o’clock – and it’s not even three, yet!’

  I smiled my triumph. ‘That’s ma condition.’

  He groaned. ‘You’re a hard woman, Eve Gunn – still, I suppose that makes two of us, the way things are at the moment, eh?’ He seemed to be expecting me to laugh, so after a second or two I did. Then he said, ‘I agree, then. No – kissing,’ there was just the slightest of emphasis on that last word, ‘Before four o’clock.’ He became brisk, ‘Now, I have one or two business matters to attend to, so I suggest we go back to the house separately – discretion, you know. You take the left-hand path, I’ll take the right,’ pointing to where they diverged.

  ‘Go up to the tower and wait for me. Not in the nursery – wait up in the schoolroom. I’ll see you there.’

  I asked, ‘At four o’clock?’ He just smiled.

  Then, calling the dogs to follow him, he went striding off down the other path, whistling.

  Chapter Forty Three

  It was half-past three when I heard the betraying creak of the floorboard at the turn of the stair – otherwise he was moving very lightly. I didn’t move, I simply sat on the sofa with my back to the door – waiting. I heard it gently open and close, then the sound of something being shifted – the screen, perhaps –

  And a sudden pair of hands covered my eyes. ‘Guess who!’ The command was followed by a deep bass murmur of, ‘If you get it wrong, you’ll have to pay a forfeit.’

  I replied, ‘The forfeit mustna be a kiss.’

  ‘No, it isn’t. Come on, guess who?’

  I said, ‘The Emperor of China.’

  ‘Tsk, tsk – you’re wrong.’ His hands slid down, and I watched them swiftly opening my blouse. My chemise was attended to next, and then they were warm and firm on my breasts.

  ‘Is that the forfeit?’

  His mouth gently nipped my ear. ‘No – I’m just giving you a second chance to guess.’

  ‘Sae what is the forfeit?’

  Ignoring my question he asked instead, ‘Who is it, Eve?’

  And as I felt the familiar pressure of his hands on my breasts I cried out, ‘It’s you!’ Then realising, ‘Oh – I didn’t mean—’ He was still for a moment, then, ‘I’m not sure we should allow that, should we? It was a rather non-specific answer.’

  Eagerly I said, ‘No, ye’re right – we shouldn’t.’

  ‘Good, so long as we’re both agreed. So who is it?’

  ‘The Mikado of Japan.’

  ‘Definitely wrong. it’ll have to be the forfeit, I’m afraid.’

  ‘An’ what’s that?’

  His voice was husky now as he told me, ‘You must let me stroke your red-gold fur.’

  ‘My fur? For a moment I was bewildered, then the gentle pressure of his hand dropping down helped me remember – the lake at Wenlock Court, and that odd comment of his afterwards. ‘Mm?’ As he murmured the question the pressure of his hand increased, and for a moment I wasn’t sure –

  But only for a moment. I said, ‘I dinna have any choice, do I? I mean, I lost the forfeit, sae now I’ll have tae pay it.’

  ‘Quite.’ I sat completely still while he leant over further – his head close against my cheek, his mouth nuzzling my ear as my skirt placket was quickly loosened, the top buttons of my drawers undone. Then both his hands slid down over my belly – soft, warm – and still on down – ‘Mmm’, he was almost purring as he stroked me – a tiger was stroking my fur with firm, intimate, strokes – a very odd sensation.

  ‘Do you like that, Eve?’

  ‘Mm.’

 
His voice in my ear said, ‘“Mm” won’t do. Yes or no?’

  I giggled. ‘It’s nae “no”.’ And it wasn’t.

  Slowly he drew his hands up again. Then all at once he vaulted over the sofa back and landed with a heavy thump beside me. He was brisk. ‘If we’re going to have tea together in the old nursery we’d better get you respectable again first.’ He groaned. ‘A crying shame, because you have a most pleasingly wanton look about you now, Eve Gunn.’ He smiled, and I smiled back. ‘But, tea beckons, so you must do up those buttons. Tell you what, I’ll give you a hand with them.’

  In practice, it would have been a lot easier without his help. I complained, ‘That suspender wasn’t actually undone before.’

  ‘Wasn’t it? Oh dear me.’

  ‘And I can’t do it up myself because your hand’s in the way.’

  ‘I’m just inspecting my new possession.’

  ‘What possession?’

  ‘Your delectable body.’

  Delectable? Me? I let his right hand stay exactly where it was, though as I pointed out, ‘I dinna ken why ye’re so interested in that part of me.’

  He threw back his head and brayed. ‘You really are a tease, Eve Gunn! After all, ‘that’ is the most important part of all, isn’t it?’

  How very odd. ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yes it is – and very nice it feels, too.’ But did his feeling feel nice to me? I wasn’t sure. It was distinctly odd to be stroked there, in that most intimate of places – odd, but not unpleasant – and as his fingers changed their pattern and began almost to play – I decided that he was right. It did feel nice. I smiled up at him – and for a moment the pressure of his fingers increased almost to the point of pain – then he drew them away. ‘I must stop this, you’re getting me too excited.’

  I protested, ‘I’m not doing anything!’

  He brayed, softly. ‘Oh no – just teasing a man to within an inch of his self-control.’ His hand came down again, to lie warm and possessive on my thigh. ‘I wonder if—’ Then he shook his head. ‘No, there really isn’t time – let’s not spoil things by being impatient, eh?’ He grinned, ‘Anyway, what’s more important is that I can tell you really are pleased to see me back.’