are all dressed, ready to use.’
‘And use them we will. Thank you, Miss Havenham. I wonder why it was brought here?’
‘I think my father had some idea of building a house on this spot.’
‘Surely it would have been better to rebuild the old manor? The views are much better from that side of the hill.’
‘I am sure he had his reasons.’
He did not press her to explain, saying instead, ‘Tomorrow I will set men on to clear a path for the wagons. There is sufficient material here to rebuild the west wall and it should keep the builders supplied with stone until I can open up the delph again.’
‘You know about the old quarry? I suppose someone in the town told you, I did not think any of them would remember it.’
‘Clearly you were wrong.’
The frank grey eyes met his for a moment, a faint twinkle in their depths. ‘Then they have stolen my thunder, sir. I meant to amaze you with my local knowledge.’
It was the first crack in the wall of ice she had put around herself.
Lucas was heartened.
‘I am sure there is plenty more for you to show me.’
He smiled at her, but the defences were upagain. She replied coldly, as if to make up for her momentary lapse in hostilities.
‘My father instructed me to show you everything that might be of interest, Mr Monserrat.’
She turned the big grey and rode on. He followed her to the valley where the natural springs welled up from the ground and she pointed out the damaged and dry culvert that had once carried water to the house. Moving into the surrounding woods, she showed him the heavily overgrown tracks that cut across the Morwood land.
‘Odd that they should have been allowed to fall into disuse.’
‘Not really. They lead only to the old house. Once that was abandoned there was no need for them.’
‘But all this woodland, untended. Do the local people not come here to gather firewood, or snare rabbits?’
‘I have never seen any sign of that. Perhaps they are afraid of the ghosts.’
Lucas looked around. In every direction the trees grew tall and thick, cutting out all sound from the rest of the world. At night it would be a very different place, dark and sinister, a place for hiding secrets.
Lucas, your father, he has the black temperthis morning. You had best go away and play
,
my love. Keep out of his sight
.
He shivered and his horse sidled as his hands clenched on the rein. Annabelle glanced at him, brows raised.
‘Have I unnerved you, with the talk of ghosts?’
‘There are no ghosts,’ he said shortly. ‘Only memories. Let us move on.’
They made their way to a sunlit valley where the warmth of the spring sunshine dispelled his melancholy and he was able to concentrate on winning over his companion.
He went carefully, showing an interest in the land, asking questions, drawing her out to tell him what she knew of the estate’s history, encouraging her to share her memories. He might tease her gently, but he maintained a rigid propriety and gradually, as the day went on, the ice maiden thawed a little.
The tour took much longer than Annabelle had anticipated, partly because the overgrown paths meant their progress was slow. They had to take long detours to reach the points of interest she wanted to show the new owner of Morwood. He was eager to see everything and she was surprised at how much she enjoyed acquainting him with the land where she had spent so many happy hours. It was impossible to stay aloof, although she caught herself up at times,refusing to respond with more than a tight smile to his pleasantries. She was still unsure of Mr Lucas Monserrat.
Clegg reminded her of the time and Annabelle was surprised by a tiny stab of regret as they left the old house and its neglected grounds behind them. They rode in silence until they reached the highest point of the moor. A sudden tinkle of bells was carried on the wind and she slowed, looking up to see a packhorse train trotting across the distant hills, while in the
Gary Pullin Liisa Ladouceur
The Broken Wheel (v3.1)[htm]