Devil Water by Anya Seton Read Free Book Online Page A

snapped.
    Charles answered resentfully. “Sixteen.”
    “Oh lawks,” cried Nan, collapsing on the stool with an unwilling laugh. “I had thought ye full grown! Weel, sir, ‘twon’t be long afore ye learn what trouble means ‘twixt lad and lass, but niver mind that now.”
    She was ashamed of her suspicion, which did Meg scant justice besides. A bit of love-making there had certainly been, a kiss or two and the poor girl’s heart sorely touched, but Meg, no doubt seeing with her usual good sense that any mingling with a gentleman was dangerous, had certainly put the most decisive end to it she could. So Nan reasoned, and she looked on Charles more kindly. “ ‘Tis best to forget her, sir, she wishes it, and ye soon will. Why, when his lordship comes, fur sure he’ll bring a bevy o’ fair young ladies alang wi’ him. Ye’ll not hanker then for a simple lass like Meg.”
    Part of Charles knew this to be true, and he wondered if there were a chance that James would bring any gay company to Dilston. Yet the sense of loss continued, and he said, “Mrs. Wilson, I pray you, tell me where Meg’s gone! It’s not to your brother-in-law, Dick, is it?”
    Nan shook her head. “Nay, Dickie’s as ‘wildered as you -- an’ far more stricken,” she added with a rueful smile. Dick truly loved the foolish girl, and had made a shocking scene when he found her gone. So much so that Nan had nearly told him where to look, which would be the road north from Newcastle to Morpeth. But she had not.
    Charles finally left Gateshead and started sadly back to Dilston. He passed the windmill and searched again inside. There was nothing there but field mice. As he sloshed through puddles on the river-bank, he tried to hold on to his anger at Meg, yet there was a lump in his chest, and unmanly prickling around his eyes. He did not speculate any more as to why or where Meg had gone, that was not his nature. When a thing was done it was done. But he found the days more tedious than ever now, and the sense of emptiness could only be assuaged by hard dangerous riding, by training the apathetic stable dogs to rat-catching, or by wandering back across the bridge to the Angel at Corbridge, where the giggling barmaid no longer seemed so attractive.
     
     
    TWO
     
    The Earl of Derwentwater and his party landed in London by the end of November. A few days later a letter arrived at Dilston which dissipated all Charles’s lonely boredom, for James summoned his young brother to London for Christmas, and the invitation did not include the Constables. The Earl wrote that he presumed the winter journey would be too rigorous for Cousin Maud, and that since he expected to be North shortly such hardship was unnecessary, and Charles might travel in the care of Mr. Thomas Errington of Beaufront, who was also coming South.
    Charles was wild with excitement, nor was he even much annoyed by the requirement that he should travel in anybody’s care. At least he would be free from the bleak, gloomy old castle, and from fingering discomfort when anything reminded him of Meg.
    On the morrow after the arrival of the Earl’s letter, Charles bade his cousins and the priest a lighthearted adieu, rode across the Tyne through Corbridge, and presented himself at Beaufront Hall -- as he had been directed. This stately Tudor mansion was the seat of the Erringtons, and Mr. William Errington, its owner, was locally known as the “Chief.” He came stamping out to the courtyard as Charles appeared and shouted at him genially. “So young Radcliffe, here ye be! Come in for a stirrup cup, afore ye start. Tom’s about ready, and ye two’ve a lang way to go. Some neighbors’re here to see ye off!”
    Charles dismounted and bowed, a trifle startled by the Chief’s appearance. The old man, who did not believe in chopping and changing, was dressed in patched red plush breeches and the long coat of his ancestors. This costume was topped by a ragged Northumbrian plaid and a