“Cuth Harkness,” the landlord said, “was a sensible enough chap when he first came. A riding instructor or some such in the army, he were. Then he took queer with religion.”
“He were all right till he got cranky-holy,” someone said. “Druv himself silly brooding on hellfire, I reckon.”
“Is Miss Harkness a member of the group?” Louis asked and Ricky saw that mention of Miss Harkness evoked loose-mouthed grins and sidelong looks.
“Dulce?” somebody blurted out as if the name itself was explicit. “Her?” And there was a general outbreak of smothered laughter.
“Reckon her’s got better things to do,” the landlord said. This evoked a further round of stifled merriment.
“Quite a girl, our Dulcie, isn’t she?” Louis said easily. He passed a white hand over the back of his patent-leather head. “Mind you,” he added, “I wouldn’t know,” and he called for another round. Carlotta and Julia walked out into the fresh air where Ricky joined them.
“I wish he wouldn’t,” Carlotta said.
“Louis?” Julia asked.
“Yes,” said Carlotta. “That’s right. Louis. My husband, you know. Shouldn’t we be moving on?” She smiled at Ricky. “But we’re an ever-so-jolly family, of course,” She said. “Aren’t we, Julia?”
“Come on,” Julia said. “Let’s get the fiery steeds. Where’s Bruno?”
“With them, I expect. Still a bit huffy.”
But Bruno left off being huffy when they all rode a fine race across a stretch of open turf. Ricky’s blood tingled in his ears and his bottom began to be sore.
When they had pulled up Louis gave a cry. He dismounted and hopped about on his elegant left foot.
“Cramp?” asked Jasper.
“What do you suppose it is, love, hopscotch? Blast and hell, I’ll have to get this boot off,” groaned Louis. “Here. Bruno!”
Bruno very efficiently pulled off the boot. Louis wrenched at his foot, hissing with pain. He stood up, stamped, and limped.
“It’s no good,” he said. “I’ll have to go back.”
“I’ll come with you, darling,” his wife offered.
“No, you won’t, damn it,” he said. He mounted, holding the boot in his right hand. He flexed his right foot, keeping it out of the iron, and checked his horse’s obvious desire to break away.
“Will you be OK?” asked Jasper.
“I will if you’ll all be good enough to move off,” he said. He turned his horse and began to walk it back along the turf.
“Leave it,” Carlotta said. “He’ll be cross if we don’t. He knows what he’s doing.”
In spite of a marked increase in his saddle-soreness, Ricky enjoyed the rest of the day’s outing. They took roundabout lanes back to the cove, and the sun was far in the west when, over a rise in the road, L’Espérance came unexpectedly into view, a romantic silhouette, distant and very lonely against a glowing sky.
“Look at our lovely house!” cried Julia. She began to sing a Spanish song and the other Pharamonds joined in. They sang, off and on, all the way to Leathers and up the drive.
“Will Louis have taken the car or is he waiting for us?” Bruno wondered,
“It’d be a hell of a long wait,” said Jasper.
“I fancy he’ll be walking home,” Carlotta said. “It’s good for his cramp to walk.”
As they turned at the corner of the house into the stable yard, they saw the car where Louis had left it. It was unoccupied.
“Yes, he’s walking,” said Jasper. “We’ll catch up with him.”
There was nobody about in the yard. Everything seemed very quiet.
“I’ll dig someone up,” Jasper said. He turned his hack into a loose-box and walked off.
Bruno, who had recovered from the effects of his wigging and showed signs of wanting to brag about his exploit, said: “Julia, come down and look at my jump. Ricky, will you come? Carlotta, come look. Come on.”
“If we do, it doesn’t mean to say we approve,” Julia said sternly. “Shall we?” she asked Ricky and Carlotta. “I’d rather like to.”
They rode their bored horses into the paddock and down the hill. A long shadow from the blackthorn hedge reached toward them and the air struck cold as they entered it.
Ricky felt his horse’s barrel expand between his knees. It lifted its head, neighed, and reared on its hind legs.
“Here!” he exclaimed, “what’s all this!” It dropped back on its forefeet and danced. From far beyond the hedge, on the distant hillside, there came an answering scream.
Julia crammed her own now-agitated mount up to the gap in the hedge where Bruno had jumped. Ricky watched her bring the horse around and heard it snort. It stood and trembled. Julia leaned forward in the saddle and patted its neck. She looked over the gap and down. Ricky saw her gloved hand clench. For a moment she was perfectly still. Then she turned toward him and he thought he had never seen absolute pallor in a face until now.
Behind him Carlotta said: “What’s possessing the animals?” And then: “Julia, what is it?”
“Ricky,” Julia said in somebody else’s voice, “let Bruno take your horse and come here. Bruno, take Carlotta and the horses back to the yard and stay there. Do what I tell you, Carlotta. Do it at once. And find Jasper. Send him down here.”
They did what she told them. Ricky walked down the slope to Julia, who dismounted.
“You’d better look,” she said. “Down there. Down.”
Ricky looked through the gap. Water glinted below in the shadows. Trampled mud stank and glistened. Deep scars and slides ploughed the bank. Everything was dead still down there. Particularly the interloper who lay smashed and discarded, face upwards, in the puddled ditch, her limbs all higgledy-piggledy at impossible angles, her mouth awash with muddy water, and her foolish eyes wide open and staring at nothing at all. On the hillside the sorrel mare — saddled, bridled, and dead lame — limped here and there, snatching inconsequently at the short grass. Sometimes she threw up her head and whinnied. She was answered from the hilltop by Mungo, the walleyed bay.
iv
“I told her,” Mr. Harkness sobbed. “I told her over and over again not to. I reasoned with her. I even chastised her for her soul’s sake but she would! She was consumed with pride and she would do it and the Lord has smitten her down in the midst of her sin.” He knuckled his eyes like a child, gazed balefully about him, and suddenly roared out: “Where’s Jones?”
“Not here, it seems,” Julia ventured.
“I’ll have the hide off him. He’s responsible. He’s as good as murdered her.”
“Jones?” Carlotta exclaimed. “Murdered?”
“Orders! He was ordered to take her to the smith. To be reshod on the off-fore. If he’d done that she wouldn’t have been here. I ordered him on purpose to get her out of the way.”
Julia and Carlotta made helpless noises. Bruno kicked at a loose-box door. Ricky felt sick. Inside the house Jasper could be heard talking on the telephone.
“What’s he doing?” Mr. Harkness demanded hopelessly. “Who’s he talking to? What’s he saying?”
“He’s getting a doctor,” Julia said, “and an ambulance.”
“And the vet?” Mr. Harkness demanded. “Is he getting the vet? Is he getting Bob Blacker, the vet? She may have broken her leg, you know. She may have to be destroyed. Have you thought of that? And there she lies looking so awful. Somebody ought to close the eyes. I can’t, but somebody ought to.”
Ricky, to his great horror, felt hysteria rise in his throat. Mr. Harkness rambled on, his voice clotted with tears. It was almost impossible to determine when he spoke of his niece and when of his sorrel mare. “And what about the hacks?” he asked. “They ought to be unsaddled and rubbed down and fed. She ought to be seeing to them. She sinned. She sinned in the sight of the Lord! It may have led to hellfire. More than probable. What about the hacks?”