The Time of the Hunter's Moon

  “There are several. I’ll show you.”

  Bristonleigh was not marked on the first, but she had a map of Dartmoor and its environs—and there it was. It was clearly a small hamlet right on the edge of the moor. I made a note of the nearest town.

  I should have to go there and take some sort of conveyance to this place, I supposed.

  “There is one train which leaves here at ten thirty,” said Daisy. “And the one which would bring you back doesn’t pass through until four. That should give you a little time with your friends.”

  “I’ll try it. It will be an experiment.”

  And so it was that I found myself speeding through the lush Devon countryside on that Sunday morning.

  The journey was only half an hour and when I arrived at the station and asked the porter how I could get to Bristonleigh, he was a little dubious, but only for a moment. “It’s three miles from here…uphill a bit. But I reckon Dick Cramm wouldn’t mind earning a bit extra of a Sunday. He’d be just about up and about. He likes a bit of a lay-in on Sundays. But he be ready in case we gets calls, which we don’t often.”

  “Where can I find him?”

  “Go through the yard. Turn to the right. You’ll see his place. Crabtree Cottage with a great crab apple tree beside it. That’s where it gets its name.”

  I thanked him and went off in search of Dick Cramm who fortunately was up and fresh from his Sunday morning “lay-in” and quite ready to take me to Bristonleigh.

  “I want to see Miss Ada Whalley,” I said.

  “Oh, she be a fine lady, Miss Ada Whalley.”

  “You know her then?”

  “Know her? Who don’t know Miss Ada Whalley in these parts! She do grow the best vegetables round here. My wife has some…so does most. Some of ’em goes up to London for folks up there. I goes and gets them and puts them on the train for her. Oh yes, I know Miss Ada Whalley.”

  This was great good fortune. I had imagined myself prowling the streets of Bristonleigh looking for Miss Ada Whalley.

  “She do have her sister living with her now,” he went on. “That be nice for her. She was saying so only the other day when I took down a load of greens. She said: ‘’Tis nice having my sister with me.’ Poor soul. I reckon she were lonely before.”

  We came to Bristonleigh. It was a beautiful village, typical of England and especially of Devon where the vegetation seems to be more lush than anywhere else in the country. There was the old church, the village green, a few houses, mostly eighteenth century except the Elizabethan Manor House on the common. The church clock chimed twelve just as we entered the village.

  “Miss Whalley, hers a bit apart from the rest. She’s got a bit of land for her growing things, you see. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “I shall have to catch the train back. It’s half-past three isn’t it?”

  “That’s so, Miss.”

  “Will you come and pick me up and take me to the station?”

  “That I will. Reckon I should be with you just before three. That all right for you, Miss?”

  “It would suit me very well. Thank you so much. I am so glad I found you.”

  He scratched his head and stared straight in front of him but I knew he was well pleased.

  “Here’s the house. I’d better wait. Make sure they’re in like. Not that they’re likely to go away without us knowing.”

  I thought then how little there was country people did not know about each other. Of course in some cases they put the wrong construction on, but none could accuse them of indifference to their neighbors’ lives.

  I paid him and gave him a little extra which faintly embarrassed him but pleased him all the same.

  “You have been especially helpful,” I said.

  “’Tweren’t nothing. Oh, here be Mrs. Gittings with the little ’un.”

  And there, as though to make my venture smoother than I had dared hope was Mrs. Gittings, emerging from the house holding Miranda by the hand.

  “Miss Grant!” she cried.

  I went hastily to her. I was aware of the driver watching intently so I turned to him and said “Thank you. I’ll see you just before three o’clock.”

  He touched his cap with his whip and turned the horses.

  “I must explain,” I said.

  “Oh, Miss Grant. I am surprised to see you. Have you come all this way to see me and Miranda?”

  “I heard you were here with your sister and Mrs. Baddicombe told me her name and where she lived. So this is where you always come with Miranda?”

  “Yes. Did you want to…?”

  “To talk to you.”

  Miranda was gazing at me with curiosity.

  “She looks very well,” I said.

  “It suits her. She’s happy here.”

  Mrs. Gittings must have guessed that I was wary of talking before the child. She would be able to understand certain things and I did not want to say anything that would bewilder her.

  “Come along in and meet my sister. We are having our midday meal early for Miranda. She sleeps for a couple of hours after. My sister will be pleased to see you. Then…we can talk.”

  I guessed she meant when Miranda went to sleep and was grateful for her tact.

  Miss Ada Whalley had come out, hearing voices, to see who had arrived. She was a big-boned woman with muscular shoulders and her face was tanned by the weather.

  “This is Miss Grant from the school, Ada,” said Mrs. Gittings. “You know…the school at the Abbey.”

  “Oh, that’s nice,” said Ada.

  “She’s come to have a talk…” She nodded toward Miranda and Ada nodded back.

  “I reckon,” said Mrs. Gittings, “that Miss Grant could well do with a spot of dinner.”

  “I’m sorry to have come unannounced,” I said. “I didn’t quite know what to do and I thought Mrs. Gittings might help me.”

  “That’s all right,” said Ada. “We’re used to people dropping in from the village, you know. They like to sample my stuff, they say. I’ve no objection. All home grown.”

  “Even the pig,” said Mrs. Gittings.

  “He’s little Piggy Porker,” announced Miranda.

  “No, pet, little Piggy Porker is with his mam, gobbling away. He’s the greediest one in the litter.”

  Miranda grunted in imitation of a pig and looked shyly at me as though for admiration.

  “Oh, dear,” said Ada, “it sounds to me as if little Piggy Porker has got in here somewhere.”

  Miranda grunted and Ada pretended to look round in alarm. Miranda obviously thought it was a great joke. One thing was immediately clear. With these two, she would not be missing her mother.

  “I’ll take Miss Grant to wash her hands,” said Ada.

  I followed her up a wooden staircase to a room in which was a washbasin and ewer. Everything was so clean that it seemed to shine.

  “You get a good view of the gardens from the back here,” said Ada, and I looked out over the rows and rows of growing things. There were two greenhouses and a potting shed.

  “And you do all this yourself?”

  “I’ve got a man to help. I’ll have to get another by the way business is growing. Now Jane’s here it’s a help. She does a lot in the house. And you’ve come to talk with Jane. I hope you’re not going to tempt her away. It’s such company to have her here and I’ve always wanted us to be together.”

  “I haven’t come to tempt her away. I just want to talk to her, to clear up a few mysteries.”

  When I had washed my hands she took me down. Mrs. Gittings was laying the table and Miranda was making a great show of helping her. There was a savory smell of roasting pork coming from the oven and an air of supreme contentment in the little room in which we sat down to eat. The vegetables were delicious.

  “Straight from the ground,” said Ada. “That’s the way to eat vegetables.”

  “If you are fortunate enough to be able to do so,” I added.

  “Now have some more
of these potatoes, Miss Grant. It was a good crop this year, and I will say this for Jane, she knows how to cook. I used to be a bit slapdash myself. Jane will have none of that. She’s a bit of an old tartar, ain’t she, pet?”

  She had a habit of seeking confirmation from Miranda to which the child responded with a wise nod.

  Miranda was seated in a highchair enveloped in a huge bib and was feeding herself with results which were not too disastrous. When food failed to reach her mouth, Ada would laugh and shovel it in. “This little bit lost its way. He didn’t know he had to go down the red lane, did he, pet?”

  “He didn’t know, did he?” said Miranda with glee.

  In due course the meal was over and Miranda was whisked off for her nap. Ada tactfully said she wanted to have a look at the greenhouses and that left me alone with Jane Gittings.

  I said: “I hope you don’t mind my coming like this. It seems something of an imposition.”

  “It’s been a pleasure. Ada likes visitors. It’s a treat for her to see people enjoy what she grows.”

  “She is a wonderful person, I can see. Mrs. Gittings, there is a great deal of gossip in Colby. People are saying the most extraordinary things.”

  “It’s that post woman.”

  “I think she is at the heart of it. It was mysterious, wasn’t it? I want to put a stop to the gossip, but I don’t know how to. If I could discover what really happened…or where Mrs. Martindale is and get her to come back and show herself or something…”

  “It’s difficult for me to say, Miss Grant, as I know no more than you do where she is.”

  “But there is the child.”

  “Sir Jason takes care of that.”

  “Sir Jason then…”

  “He always did. He asked if I would take the child to my sister and look after her. He’d pay me for looking after her and the child’s keep…only he wanted us to go to my sister. Well, I knew what Ada would say to that. She’s always wanted me to leave and go in with her and she loves Miranda. I said to Sir Jason that there’d be no troubles about that as far as Ada was concerned.”

  “So he asked you to take her away. That would be a few days before Mrs. Martindale left.”

  “That would be it. When she went away I always took Miranda to Ada’s. It was understood like. It was the day after Maisie went.”

  “After Maisie went…?” I repeated.

  “Yes, she left. There was a terrible to-do…and the next day Maisie was off. She took most of Mrs. Martindale’s things with her, dresses and things like that. There wasn’t much left when she went. I never knew the rights of it and I’m not one to have my ears glued to keyholes. All I knew was that they were going on at each other. Then Maisie goes off and Sir Jason asked me to take Miranda to Ada’s.”

  I was filled with a horrible apprehension. “So Maisie went…and then you left.”

  “That’s right. So you see I can’t tell you what happened after that. I was right glad to get away. Mrs. Martindale and that Maisie used to go for one another something shocking. I used to think Miranda would hear. Oh, I was glad to get away. Mrs. Martindale never minded my going. She’d get a girl in from the village to do the rough. I never did none of that, anyway. It was the child who was my concern, though I did give a hand in the house, not being the sort to stand by and do nothing when there’s things to be done.”

  I wasn’t listening. One thought was going round and round in my head. Maisie had gone and after that he had asked Mrs. Gittings to take the child away.

  I heard myself say: “The Coverdales…you remember them…they are living at Rooks’ Rest, so it is obvious…she is not coming back.”

  “Oh, I thought it might be something like that because Sir Jason said I was to take Miranda and the money would be paid to me here, and when she was five, which wouldn’t be for some time yet, he’d make arrangements for her schooling. But she was to be in my sole care. Oh, I thought, so Madam is moving out. That means he’d done with her. Well, funny things always did go on there, and right glad I am to be out of it. Sir Jason said to me, ‘I know you’re to be trusted, Mrs. Gittings. There is no one who can look after the child as you do.’ A slap at her, if you ask me. Not that she cared. She never showed a blind bit of interest in the child. She didn’t want her. Only wanted to show him that she could have them. There was all that talk about him not having an heir and all that. It’s no way to bring children into the world, Miss Grant.”

  “I’m not in the least concerned about Miranda’s welfare,” I said. “I agree that she is in good hands and I am sure Sir Jason is right. She is happiest with you and your sister loves her. I can see that.”

  “I’m glad you think so, Miss Grant. I was afraid when I saw you that you had come with a message for me to take Miranda back. You’ll tell Sir Jason how happy she is here, won’t you?”

  “If I see him, I certainly will. I really came to know if you had any idea why Mrs. Martindale left so suddenly.”

  “You could never tell with her…and after Maisie had gone off in a huff with all her fine dresses, I reckon she couldn’t stand the country any more. She was always talking about London.”

  I decided to be absolutely frank.

  “There are rumors…hints. They aren’t true, of course, but people do wonder why she went so suddenly. Did she say anything about leaving Rooks’ Rest?”

  “She was always talking about leaving. There was nothing more than usual.”

  “Did she have any visitors?”

  “Sir Jason came. Oh, I remember. There was a terrible scene. It was a few days before Maisie went off. Mrs. Martindale was shouting and he was telling her to be quiet. Maisie was listening at the door. I caught her at it. I said, ‘You oughtn’t by rights to be doing that.’ ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘How am I going to know what’s what, if I don’t.’ She was laughing. Then she said, ‘I reckon this cozy little nook won’t be ours much longer.’ I went away. It was soon after that I saw Sir Jason. He was riding by as if by chance and I was taking Miranda for her walk. He called to me and said, ‘Mrs. Gittings, would you be prepared to take Miranda to your sister and stay there indefinitely.’ I was so shook up I couldn’t take it in. And there he was seated on his horse looking down at me and making all those plans. I was to make my arrangements immediately; the money would be sent to me regularly every month and it would be paid in advance. If there was anything Miranda needed, I should tell him direct. Did I think my sister would be agreeable? I told him my sister would be jumping with joy. He looked very pleased and said, ‘I’m grateful to you, Mrs. Gittings. You’ve solved a big problem.’”

  “What did Mrs. Martindale say when you told her?”

  “She shrugged her shoulders and made no objections. So I set about packing and we went. You should have seen Ada’s face—because I hadn’t had time to tell her. She kept saying, ‘Well, I never’ over and over again. Then she hugged Miranda and said, ‘Wonders will never cease, will they, pet?’ And she was half crying with joy. Ada did feel it, being on her own since our father died.”

  “I think Miranda is very fortunate to have you both. I know. I myself have a beloved aunt who gave me the love a child needs when she is growing up. But what I really wanted to know is what happened to Mrs. Martindale.”

  “She must have gone away soon after we left.”

  “Didn’t she say she was going? Didn’t she make arrangements?”

  “She never told me she was going. She didn’t say anything about plans.”

  I began to feel sick with fear. My meeting with Mrs. Gittings had only increased my suspicions.

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am to be here, Miss Grant,” she went on. “It was no bed of roses with Mrs. Martindale. She was a very wild sort of lady at some times. We were all rather nervous of her, even Maisie who could stand up to her. The times she told Maisie to get out! But Maisie seemed to have some hold over her. I’m surprised she went because however much they quarreled they always made it up. I suppose that last t
ime was just too much. Maisie always used to say they were on to a good thing. Sir Jason and all that…”

  “It seems so strange that she should go so suddenly.”

  “It is and then it isn’t. You could never be sure with Mrs. Martindale.”

  We went on talking but I could discover nothing more. Dick Cramm came to collect me and Ada came in from the greenhouses and said how pleased she was to have met me.

  On the way back I thought of all that had been said and I was very uneasy.

  ***

  I knew it would be impossible to go on avoiding Jason. He was determined to catch me and it was inevitable that he should eventually do so.

  This happened four days after my visit to Bristonleigh.

  I had two hours’ break and I took out one of the horses. He caught up with me near the woods not far from Rooks’ Rest. In fact I think he must have been coming from there.

  “You’ve been avoiding me, Cordelia,” he said reproachfully.

  His effrontery was amazing and I couldn’t help laughing.

  “Did you imagine I would do anything else?” I asked.

  “No…after my appalling conduct the last time we were alone together. I’ve been trying to catch you to ask your forgiveness.”

  “You surprise me.”

  “Well then, am I forgiven?”

  “I don’t want to see you again. Don’t you realize that you have insulted me?”

  “Insulted you? On the contrary I have paid you the highest compliment a man can pay to a woman.”

  “Don’t talk nonsense,” I said and spurred on my horse.

  But of course he was beside me.

  “Please let me explain. I have come to ask you to marry me.”

  I laughed again.

  “Without my credentials,” I said. “You are very rash.”

  “By no means. I have given the matter great thought. I want you…and only you will do.”

  “That’s rather unfortunate for you. Goodbye.”

  “I never take no for an answer.”

  “You must remember it takes two to make a marriage. Perhaps your ancestors of whom you seem so proud used to drag their brides to the altar and force them at knife point to utter their vows…but that wouldn’t work today.”