“Of course,” I said, a little nettled by her laughter. “What’s odd about that? It’s always been there, hasn’t it?”
“Imagine it over there,” she said. “There’ll be a lot of excitement. The old King dying and now the new one.”
“There isn’t a new one. It’s a Queen we have.”
“They don’t think so over there.”
She hugged her knees, smiling secretly.
I was about to remark that she was in a strange mood. But then Carlotta was often in a strange mood.
A few days later when I was riding I passed the same spot and there she was seated by the rock staring out to France.
Night In The Forbidden Wood
A YEAR HAD GONE by. I had passed my fourteenth birthday and was now rising fifteen. The war was still going on. My uncles Edwin and Carl were abroad serving with Marlborough, who had now become a duke. But for the fact that they were engaged in the fighting we should have thought little of it for the war itself did not intrude on our lives.
It was Maytime, a lovely time of the year. After I had finished lessons with my governess, Mistress Leveret, I would exercise my horse, Tomtit; sometimes I would take him to the sea and ride along close to the water. He loved that and it was exhilarating to take deep breaths of air, which we all said was fresher on our coast than anywhere else. There was always a sharp tang in it which, having been brought up with it, we all loved.
Sometimes I rode deeper into the country. I liked to leave Tomtit to drink by a stream while I lay in the grass very quietly watching the rabbits come out to gambol and sometimes voles and baby field mice. I could watch the frogs and toads and the water beetles for hours. I loved the country sounds and the melodious song of the birds.
One day Tomtit cast a shoe and I took him along to the blacksmith. While he was being shod I went for a walk and that led me near Enderby Hall.
The place had a fascination for me as it had for most people. I rarely went in it. My mother was always complaining that nothing was done about it; it was absurd to keep the place cleaned and aired for nobody she said. Carlotta must be made to see reason and get rid of it.
Close by the house was that land which my father had acquired when he bought the Dower House. He had never put it to use and was always going to do something about it but somehow never did. It was fenced in and he made it quite clear that he did not want it used as common ground. I guessed he must have had some plan for it.
I leaned against the fence and looked at the house. Dark and forbidding it seemed; but was that because of its reputation. And then suddenly I heard a sound. I listened. I looked towards the house. But no, it was not coming from the house. It was somewhere behind me. It was beyond the fence. I listened again. There it was. A piteous whine. Some animal in distress. I thought it sounded like a dog.
I was going to see. My father had put up such a strong fence around this land that it was not easy to scale it. There was a gate, though heavily padlocked, but it was possible to climb over this and I did so.
I stood there for a moment listening. The place was overgrown. I called it the Forbidden Wood because my father had stressed often that it was very private. I wondered afresh why he should have taken such pains to prevent people getting in and then do nothing about it.
Then I heard the sound again. It was definitely some animal in distress.
I went in the direction of the sound. Yes, I was getting nearer. Then I saw it. I had been right. It was a dog, a beautiful mastiff bitch—buff coloured with slightly darker ears and muzzle. I saw at once what had happened; one of her hind legs was caught in a trap.
She was looking at me with piteous eyes and I could see she was in considerable pain.
I had always had a way with animals. I think it was because I always talked to them and I had a special love for and understanding of them which they were quick to sense.
I knelt down. I saw exactly what had happened. Someone had set a trap to snare a hare or rabbit I guessed, and this beautiful dog had been caught in it.
I was running considerable risk, I knew. She might have bitten me, for the pain must have been intense, but I soothed her as I got to work, and as I had never been afraid of animals somehow they never seemed afraid of me.
In a few minutes I had seen how to release the trap. I did so and the dog was free.
I patted her head.
“Poor old lady,” I murmured. “It’s bad, I know.”
It was indeed bad. She could not stand up without intense pain.
I coaxed her along, murmuring still. I sensed that she trusted me. I knew something about broken limbs. I had set them before for other animals with some success. I promised myself I would have a try with this one.
The animal was in excellent condition and was obviously well cared for. Later I would have to set about finding the owner. In the meantime I would tend the wounded leg.
I took her back to the Dower House and to my room, and Miss Leveret, who passed me on the stairs, cried: “Oh, Damaris, not another of your sick animals!”
“This lovely creature has hurt her leg. She was caught in a trap. People should not be allowed to use such traps. They’re dangerous.”
“Well I’ve no doubt you will put it right.”
“I don’t think the leg is broken. That is what I feared at first.”
Mistress Leveret sighed. Like the rest of them, she thought I should be growing out of my absorption with animals.
I sent for hot water and bathed the leg. I found a very big basket which I had used for one of the bitches when she had puppies and I put the mastiff in it. I had a special ointment which was soothing and nonpoisonous. I had had it from one of the farmers who made it himself and swore by its healing properties.
The mastiff had ceased to whimper and was looking at me with her liquid eyes as though she was thanking me for easing her pain.
I gave her a bone which I found in the kitchens and there was quite a bit of good meat on it, and some water in one of my dogs’ dishes. She seemed contented and I left her sleeping in the basket and went down to supper.
Mistress Leveret, who took her meals with us, was telling my parents that I had brought another wounded stray into the household.
My mother smiled. “There is nothing unusual about that,” she said. We sat down at the table, and my father was talking about some of the cottages on his estate and the repairs which would have to be done, and we had almost finished when the talk came back to the dog I had saved.
“What had happened to this one?” asked my father smiling at me.
“His leg had been caught in a trap,” I explained.
“I don’t like traps,” said my mother. “They’re cruel.”
“They’re meant to kill at a stroke,” my father explained. “It’s unfortunate for an animal if he just gets trapped by a leg. The men like to get a hare or a rabbit for the pot, you know. They consider that a part of their wages. By the way, where was the trap?”
“It was on the closed-in land by Enderby,” I said.
I was astonished by the change in my father. His face turned red and then white.
“Where?” he cried.
“You know … the fenced-in land which you’re always going to do something about and never do.”
“Who put a trap in there?” he demanded.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Someone who thought he’d trap a hare or a rabbit for the pot, I suppose.”
My father was a man who was rarely roused to anger but when he was angry he could be violently so.
He said: “I want to know who put that trap there.”
He spoke quietly but it was the quiet before the storm.