“It seems as though I came just in time.” His eyes were on me and I flinched a little under his gaze, which had the effect of making me wonder whether my hair was tousled and reminding me that the morning dress of sprigged cotton which I was wearing was not my most becoming.
“May I come under the parapet?”
“You will get very wet if you don’t.”
He came and stood beside me. I withdrew as far as I could, for he disturbed me.
“Were you taking a walk too?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered. “I often do. I love the forest. It’s so beautiful.”
“It’s also very wet at the moment. Do you often walk here… alone?”
“I like to be alone.”
“But a young lady on her own! Might she not meet with… dangers?”
“I had never thought of that.”
His blue eyes seemed to be alight with laughter. “Then you should without delay.”
“Should I?”
“How can you know what you will meet here?”
“I am not far from the house.”
“Your home, you mean?”
“Yes, my home. In fact when the storm started I debated whether to make a dash for it or come to this place.”
“I’m still surprised that you are allowed to roam here alone.”
“Oh, I am well able to take care of myself.”
I moved a step or two away from him.
“I didn’t doubt it for a moment. So your home is near here?”
“Yes… it’s Roland’s Croft.”
He nodded.
“You know it?”
“Owned by an eccentric old gentleman. Is that right?”
“Mr. Sylvester Milner is not eccentric, nor is he old. He is a very interesting man.”
“But of course. You are a relative of his?”
“I work for him. My mother is the housekeeper there.”
“I see.”
“Do you think the storm is abating?”
“Perhaps, but it would be a mistake to leave this shelter yet. Storms have a habit of returning. One should make absolutely sure that they really are over before venturing out into them.”
“And you live in this neighborhood?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I am taking a short holiday here. I was just out walking when the storm arose. I saw you through the trees making off with such resolution that I was certain you were going to a shelter. So I followed.” His eyes crinkled with a kind of secret amusement. “I wonder what this place was,” he went on. “Look at these walls. They must be hundreds of years old.”
“I’m sure they are.”
“What was here, do you think? Some sort of dwelling?”
“I think so. I believe it could have been here for nine hundred years.”
“You could well be right.”
“Perhaps it was some house which was partially razed to the ground to make way for forest that kings might hunt to their pleasure. Can’t you imagine it? The King gives the order: lands to be made forest land and the devil take anyone whose home is on it. No wonder those kings were hated. You can feel the hatred sometimes in this forest.”
I stopped. Why was I talking to him in this way? I could see that he was amused. The manner in which he looked at me showed it.
“I can see that as well as being a young lady bold enough to roam the forest alone you are a highly imaginative one. Now I think that that is a very interesting combination—boldness and imagination. That should take you far.”
“What do you mean, take me far?”
He leaned towards me slightly. “As far as you want to go. I can see too that you are very determined.”
“Are you a fortune teller?”
Again he laughed. “At moments,” he said, “I have clairvoyant powers. Shall I tell you something? I’m a descendant of Merlin, the magician. Can you sense his presence in the forest?”
“I can’t and he could not have been here—had he existed at all. The forest was made by the Norman kings long after Merlin died.”
“Oh, Merlin fluttered from century to century. He had no sense of time.”
“I can see you are amused. I’m sorry if I seemed foolish.”
“Far from it. Foolish is the last word I would apply to you and if I am amused it is in the nicest possible way. One of the greatest pleasures of life is to be amused.”
“I love this forest,” I said. “I’ve read a great deal about it. I suppose that’s what makes me imagine things.” And I thought what an extraordinary conversation to be holding with a stranger. I said quickly: “The sky is a little lighter. The storm is beginning to fade away.”
“I hope not. It is so much more interesting sheltering from the storm than walking through the forest alone.”
“I am sure it is abating.” I stepped out from the parapet. He took my arm and drew me back.
I was very much aware of him.
“It’s unsafe to venture yet,” he said.
“I’ve such a little distance to go.”
“Stay and make sure. Besides, we don’t want to cut short this absorbing conversation. You’re interested in the past, are you?”
“I am.”
“That’s wise. The past is such an excellent warning to the present and future. And you feel that there is something significant about this ruin?”
“Any ruin interests me. It must at some time have been someone’s home. People must have lived within its walls. I can’t help wondering about them, how they lived, loved, suffered, rejoiced…”
He watched me closely. “You’re right,” he said. “There is something here. I sense it too. This is a historic spot. One day we shall look back and say, ‘Ah, that was the place where we sheltered from the storm,’”
He put out a hand as though to grasp mine and drawing back I said: “Look. It is lighter. I’m going to chance it now. Goodbye.”
I left him standing there and ran out into the forest.
The rain was teeming down, the wet foliage wrapped itself round me as my feet squelched through the sodden ground. I had to get away though. I was uncertain of what he would do. There was something about him—some vitality which I felt would submerge me if I stayed. He had been laughing at me, I was well aware of that, and I was not sure of him. I was very excited though. I had half wanted to stay and had been half eager to get away.
What an extraordinary encounter and yet it had merely been two people sheltering from the rain.
When I arrived at the house my mother was in the hall.
“Good gracious, Jane,” she said, “wherever have you been?” She came to me and felt my dress. “You’re soaked to the skin.”
“I was caught in the storm.”
“How breathless you are! Come along upstairs. You must get those things off and Amy shall bring hot water. You must have a hot bath at once and put on dry things.”
She poured the hot water into the hip bath in her bedroom and I was immersed in it. She put a little mustard in—her own special remedy—and then made me dry myself and put on the clothes she had got out for me.
When I was dressed I was aware of the bustle in the servants’ quarters and I could not resist going down.
Mrs. Couch was puffing a kind of contentment. Jess and Amy were pink in the cheeks.
“My goodness me,” said Mrs. Couch, “if this is not a day and a half. First my buns catch in the oven and then Mr. Joliffe comes.”
Sprawling on a chair his legs slightly apart, his heels touching the floor, was the man I had met in the forest.
He smiled at me in a way with which I was to become familiar—half teasing, half tender.