Leigh saw my surprise and said: “It was a waste of land.”
“I could never understand why you fenced it in in the first place.”
“Oh, I had ideas for it, but I never did anything about them. There never seemed to be the time. Now we are growing flowers there as you see.”
“I have my rose garden in there—my very own,” said my mother. “I planted it myself and I have given orders that it is completely mine.”
“Woe betide anyone who tramples on her flowers,” said Leigh.
“So it is still forbidden territory?”
“Forbidden territory?” said my mother sharply. “What a strange way of putting it.”
“Well, it makes a beautiful garden,” I said. “And not too far from the house.”
“And my own,” said my mother. “My very own.”
We went in and looked around.
She had left a good deal of it wild, which was very attractive, and here and there she had her flowers growing. And there was her rose garden, which was full of lovely roses of all kinds including a goodly array of damask roses, which were especially favoured in the family because an ancestress had been named after it when Thomas Linacre first brought the flower to England.
It would soon be September, time we returned if we were to do so before the bad weather set in.
On the last day of August we set out for Eyot Abbass.
There was a faint mist in the air when we left—a sign that the autumn would soon be with us. Some of the leaves were already turning to bronze and Harriet remarked that we were wise to depart while there was a little summer left to us.
Clarissa had taken a tearful farewell of Damaris. “Come with us,” she kept saying. “Why can’t you? Why? Why?”
“You must come again, darling … soon,” said my mother.
And Clarissa put her arms round Damaris’s neck and refused to let go-It had to be Damaris who gently unclasped them.
“We shall see each other soon,” she promised.
As we rode away Clarissa was quiet and could not be comforted even by a sugar mouse which my mother had put into her hands at the last moment.
But after an hour or so she was looking out of the windows and calling our notice to a goat tethered to a stave and telling us that a goat would tell you what the weather was going to be like.
I said, thinking to bring back her spirits and mocking her a little: “Why?”
“Because he knows. If he eats with his head to the wind it’ll be a fine day; if he eats with his tail to the wind it’ll rain.”
“Who told you that?”
“My aunt Damaris.” She was at once sad. “When are we going to see her again?”
“Oh, my dear child, we have just left. But soon.”
She was thoughtful. She took the sugar mouse from her pocket and regarded him sadly. “If I bit off his head how would he see?” she said.
She was silent for a while and then she leaned against me and slept.
It was afternoon. We had picnicked by the roadside. My mother had put a hamper of food in the coach … enough for several alfresco meals. “For,” she said, “you don’t want to have to make for an inn during the day. You can eat by the roadside whenever you have the fancy to.”
It proved a good idea and Clarissa was so intrigued with the idea that she ceased to fret about leaving Damaris. It gave the horses a good rest too. We found a pleasant spot on the road and under a great oak tree we had our feast.
The two grooms joined us and Clarissa plied them with questions about the horses and told them a story about a pig and a hedgehog which Aunt Damaris had told her.
It ended with: “And they all lived happy ever after.”
Then she went to sleep.
It was a beautiful day and the sun was warm. We dozed a little, which meant that we stayed later than we had intended to.
Finally we were back in the coach and rumbling on our way.
As we were passing a wood through which a path had been made, a man on horseback stepped out of the shadows.
I vaguely saw him as he flashed past the window. Then the coach drew up with such a jolt that we were thrown forward in our seats.
“What’s wrong?” cried Harriet.
A face appeared at the window. It was a man and he wore a mask over his face.
“Good day, ladies,” he said. “I fear I am going to inconvenience you somewhat.”
Then I saw that he held a blunderbuss in his hands and I realised that we were facing the situation which we had heard so much about and until now had had the good fortune to avoid.
“What do you want?” I cried.
“I want you to step out into the road.”
“No,” I said.
His answer was to lift the blunderbuss and point it towards me. Then he wrenched open the door.
“Pray step out, ladies,” he said.
There was nothing we could do but alight. I held Clarissa’s hand tightly in mine. I did not want her to be frightened. I saw at once that she was not but she was regarding the highwayman with intense interest.
As I stepped out into the road I saw the two grooms. There was a second highwayman, who was covering them with his blunderbuss, and I prayed that someone might come along at this moment and rescue us.
Then the highwayman said: “What great good fortune. My lady.” He bowed to Harriet, repeated “My lady” and bowed to me. “It is rarely that one meets such beauties on the road.”
“Why are you stopping us?” asked Clarissa in an excited voice.
His attention was on her. I made a step forward. I had had a sudden impulse to try to snatch the gun. That would have been madness. Besides, there was the other one.
Aware of my intention, his lips curled mockingly. “Unwise,” he said. “You would never do it.” Then he looked at Clarissa. “It is all in the way of business,” he told her.
“Why?”
“Just the way of the world,” he said. “Your child is of an enquiring mind,” he added, and then suddenly I knew that what had seemed a vague possibility had become a certainty. He was no ordinary highwayman. Could I be mistaken in one with whom I had lived so closely?
The man behind the mask was Hessenfield.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Your purse, of course. Or have you anything more to offer me?” I took my purse from my pocket and threw it on the ground.
“Is that all you have to offer? And you too, my lady?”
“My purse is in the coach,” said Harriet.
“Get it,” he said.
She obeyed. Then he came close to me.
“How dare you!” I said.
“Men such as I am dare much, my lady. ’Tis a pretty locket you are wearing.” His hands were on it, caressing my throat.
“My father gave it to her,” said Clarissa.
He snatched it suddenly. The clasp broke. He put it into his pocket.
Clarissa said: “Oh!”
I picked her up. “It’s all right, darling,” I said.
“Put the child down,” he commanded.
“I intend to protect her,” I replied.
He took her from my arms, still holding the blunderbuss. Clarissa did not know fear. I suppose it had never occurred to her that anyone would ever hurt her. She was petted and loved by all who saw her. Why should anyone in the world want to hurt charming Clarissa.
She studied him intently.
“You look funny,” she said. She touched the mask. “Can I have it?” she asked.
“Not now,” he said.
“When?”
Harriet had stepped out of the coach.
She said: “I can’t find my purse.” She gasped. “What is he doing with Clarissa?”
“Will you please put the child down?” I said. “You’re frightening her.”
“Are you frightened?” he asked.
“No,” said Clarissa.