Rag-and-Bone Christmas

Chapter Three

It was bitterly cold, but at least it had stopped snowing and the long ride to Hill Farm had been just what Sally needed to dispel some of the worries that had kept her awake at night. The air in the countryside was so much fresher and cleaner than the soot-filled atmosphere in Paradise Row, and the sight of snow-covered fields and hedgerows was a blissful change after the grime and dirt of the King’s Cross area. It had been years since Sally had last ventured outside the city, and Ma had been alive then. The worn and faded riding habit that Sally wore with pride had belonged to her mother, and the scent of her still lingered in the merino cloth. The draped skirt was a couple of inches too short, revealing the boys’ breeches and shabby boots she wore out of necessity, but Sally was determined to enjoy the outing, and she was not going to allow such trifles to spoil her day.

‘We’re almost there.’ Gideon’s pleasant voice brought Sally back to the present with a start.

‘How far is it now?’

‘Follow me.’ Gideon encouraged his mount to a trot and then a canter as he rode on ahead.

Sally accepted the challenge and she flicked the reins. ‘Come on, Flower. We can beat him.’ Flower needed no further encouragement and they caught up with Gideon, passing him and then slowing down as it would be dangerous for the horses to go any faster. As they crested the steep hill Sally could see a black and white timbered farmhouse nestling in the wooden area below. It was surrounded by a neatly kept yard lined with redbrick outbuildings. She reined in and Flower obeyed by slowing down to a more sedate trot, allowing Gideon to catch up with them.

‘That’s a fine little mare. She goes like the wind,’ he said breathlessly.

‘You can see why I don’t want to sell her.’

‘It’s obvious that you two have a strong bond. Maybe there’s another way.’

‘Do you really think so?’

‘I might have an idea, but I don’t want to say anything just yet.’

‘Now I’m intrigued,’ Sally said, laughing. ‘You can’t expect to drop hints like that without an explanation.’

‘I need to give it more thought. Anyway, I’m starving and I expect you are, too. With a bit of luck Mrs Wallace will have done some baking. She’s the best cook in the county.’

‘Mrs Wallace?’ Sally eyed him curiously.

‘She cooks and keeps house for me, and her husband manages the farm. They’ve been with my family for years.’

‘It looks like a lovely house,’ Sally said wistfully.

‘It’s not grand like Fleet Hall.’ Gideon smiled ruefully. ‘I’m sorry, of course you don’t know the locality, but our land abuts the Fleet Hall estate. I’ll take you there after I’ve had a word with Wallace.’ He drew his horse to a halt outside the farmyard and dismounted to open the gate.

Sally was about to ask him what was so important about a neighbouring estate, but she was forestalled by the appearance of a youth, who came running from the house. Gideon handed him the reins. ‘Good lad, Bert. Take care of the horses.’

Bert grinned and did as he was asked, waiting until Sally had dismounted before giving her a shy grin and holding out his hand to take Flower’s reins.

‘She’s quite nervous of strangers,’ Sally said anxiously, but as if to prove her wrong, Flower whinnied softly and rubbed her head against Bert’s shoulder. ‘She likes you,’ Sally added in surprise.

‘I’ve grown up with horses, miss. Don’t worry about her. We’ll soon be the best of friends.’

Sally glanced at Gideon, who gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Bert’s been looking after my horses since he was a nipper and he took over from his father, so he knows what he’s doing. He’s the ideal person to keep an eye on your old carthorse.’

‘Are you sure you want to keep Boney here?’ Sally fell into step beside him.

‘Yes, I am. We have plenty of good pasture and you could visit him when you wished.’

‘I don’t know what to say. It’s a kind offer, and I’d accept straight away, but I really should check with Pa.’

‘I understand.’ Gideon stopped outside the farmhouse door, which Bert had left ajar. He sniffed the air. ‘That smells like jam tarts and gingerbread – my housekeeper always bakes my favourites on the days when they’re expecting me to visit.’ He thrust the door open. ‘Mrs Wallace, I’ve brought someone to see you, and I’ve been singing your praises as the best cook in the county.’

Sally glanced over his shoulder and she was amused to see the tiny woman blushing furiously.

‘Get on with you, Mr Lawrence. You don’t have to soft-soap me to get what you want.’ She gave Sally a searching look. ‘We don’t get many visitors here these days, miss.’

‘Miss Suggs is here to ascertain if our pastureland is suitable for her aged horse,’ Gideon said hastily.

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs Wallace.’ Sally stepped forward, holding out her hand. ‘Mr Lawrence has been boasting about your cooking, and I must say it smells delicious.’

Mrs Wallace’s flushed cheeks deepened in colour, but she shook Sally’s hand. ‘Nice of you to say so, miss. If you’d like to take the young lady to the parlour, I’ll bring a tray of coffee and cakes.’

Gideon pulled out a chair. ‘We could have it here and save you the bother. What do you say, Sally?’

‘Yes, indeed. Please don’t go to any trouble on my behalf.’ Sally sank down on the seat, gazing round the large room in admiration. Bunches of dried herbs hung from the beamed ceiling, filling the air with their aromatic scent, and the enormous black-leaded range glowed with heat from a blazing fire. A kettle sang on the hob and various pans bubbled merrily, sending out gusts of savoury-smelling steam. The homely atmosphere wrapped itself around her and she felt instantly at ease. Everything, from the highly polished brass rail on the range, to the burnished copper cooking pots and the rows of pristine china on the dresser, showed the love and care that Mrs Wallace had put into making the old farmhouse into a home.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Sally said with a sigh. ‘What a lovely house you have, Mr Lawrence.’

‘Gideon, please.’ He passed her a cup filled with hot coffee.

‘I mean it, Gideon. I’ve never seen anything like this. Our rooms above the stable would fit into one corner of this kitchen.’

Mrs Wallace puffed out her chest. ‘I’m glad you approve, miss. Some people take it all for granted,’ she added, looking pointedly at Gideon.

It was his turn to flush with embarrassment. ‘I probably do, but I’ve been spoiled all my life.’

‘Well, it’s not for me to say, Mr Lawrence, but I’d have to agree in part. You were always such a sweet boy it was impossible not to give you what you wanted.’

Sally laughed. ‘I’m glad my pa isn’t here to tell you about my childhood. I’m afraid I wasn’t a model daughter. All I wanted to do was to become a rider like my mother. I saw her perform at Astley’s Amphitheatre and I was inspired. She was such a wonderful horsewoman and so beautiful.’

‘She’s no longer with you, dear?’ Mrs Wallace asked gently.

‘She was thrown from her horse during a rehearsal and she broke her back. She died a couple of years later.’ The explanation of her mother’s early demise had become a mantra, but the pain of bereavement was still as sharp.

‘That’s so sad, dear.’ Mrs Wallace picked up a plate of gingerbread. ‘Would you like to try my gingerbread?’

Sally took a slice. ‘Thank you. I can’t wait to try it. I’m not much of a cook myself.’

Mrs Wallace beamed at her. ‘Well, dear, it’s so nice to be appreciated. I doubt if Mr Lawrence has ever given a second thought to the comforts he enjoys at home.’

‘You’re wrong there,’ Gideon said with a wry smile. ‘Living at the college has made me appreciate my home more than ever, especially the wonderful meals you’ve created over the years, not to mention the cakes.’ He selected a jam tart and bit into it.

‘As I said, it’s nice to be appreciated.’ Mrs Wallace refilled his cup with coffee. ‘Will you be staying tonight?’

‘No, I have to get back to London, but I’ll be down again on Monday. It’s Christmas Day and it’s also Miss Appleton’s birthday celebration at Fleet Hall.’

‘So I heard.’ Mrs Wallace eyed Gideon expectantly. ‘Mrs Hart, the Appleton’s housekeeper, told me in strict confidence that they’re expecting the announcement of Miss Cecily’s engagement. Your name crops up quite often, sir.’

‘I don’t know where she got that idea,’ Gideon said casually.

Mrs Wallace turned to Sally with a confidential smile. ‘Miss Cecily is an heiress and she’s beautiful. I’m sure gentlemen are queuing up to ask for her hand.’

Gideon drank the last of his coffee and rose to his feet. ‘If you’re ready, Sally, I’ll take you to see the field where Boney will have the freedom to roam, and – before you ask – if the weather becomes too inclement in winter, he’ll be given a warm, dry stable.’

‘Thank you for the coffee and the delicious cake, Mrs Wallace.’ Sally stood up, brushing the crumbs off her crumpled skirt. ‘Yes, of course. I’d love to look round the farm.’ She waited until they were outside in the yard. ‘Are you sure you want the bother of looking after an aged horse? I mean if you’re thinking of getting married, you might sell the farm and …’

Gideon gave her a straight look. ‘Hill Farm is mine and will remain so whatever happens in the future. Your animal will be safe with me. I’ve seen too many horses worked until they dropped with sheer exhaustion, so I’m happy to give Boney a chance of a peaceful retirement.’

Sally did not question him further. She sensed that he did not want to talk about the beautiful Miss Appleton, and that intrigued her. She walked beside him, keeping up with his long strides as he showed her the outbuildings, including the milking parlour, the dairy and the various animal pens. There was a hay barn and a coach house adjacent to the stable block. Sally could see Bert at work grooming a shire horse, while another one waited in its stall, munching placidly on hay.

They crossed the yard and walked down a lane bordered with hedgerows glistening with snow. The fields were wearing a blanket of white, but brave little spikes of green grass showed through in patches beneath overhanging trees, and Sally could imagine how lovely it would be in summer.

‘This is where Boney will live out his days.’ Gideon stopped at the five-bar gate. He whistled and a donkey came slowly towards them, braying loudly. Gideon leaned over to stroke the animal’s head. ‘This is Dobson, my old friend. He spends the night in a warm stable in the winter, but he enjoys being out here on a day like this. I think he and Boney will be good companions.’

Sally stroked Dobson’s velvety muzzle. ‘He’s lovely. I’m afraid if he was mine I’d have him sitting on a rug by the fire. I can see why you love him.’

‘I was an only child and Dobson was my best friend. We used to roam the countryside together.’

‘I feel the same about Flower,’ Sally said slowly. ‘I can’t bear to think of someone else owning her.’

‘Do you think your father will be able to work again?’

The nagging fear was always at the back of her mind, even though Pa would never admit to being beaten by age or physical disability. He might have continued for a year or two, but they would be lost without Boney, and there was little or no possibility of finding the means to purchase another carthorse. She shook her head. ‘To be perfectly honest, I doubt very much if he’ll ever be able to lift heavy objects or even to drive round the city streets for hours on end. The rag-and-bone trade is tough, and it’s hard to make a living if you’re young and fit – my pa is getting old and he suffers from what he calls “the miseries” in all his joints.’

‘Then it’s obviously time for a change.’

‘I expect you’re right,’ Sally said reluctantly. ‘But I will be truly grateful if you would look after Boney. I’m sure he’ll be very happy here in this lovely place.’

Gideon stroked Dobson’s muzzle. ‘I’ll see you soon, old chap, and I’ll bring your new friend to share the field with you.’

Dobson snorted and pawed the ground.

‘I believe he likes the idea.’ Sally patted the donkey’s neck. ‘But I really ought to set off for home. I know the way, so you don’t have to accompany me.’

‘If you don’t mind staying a while longer, I’d like to take you to Fleet Hall.’

She shot him a curious glance. ‘Why?’

Gideon proffered his arm. ‘I told you I had an idea, but I’d like to speak to Cecily before I say anything more.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘It’s a short ride to Fleet Hall. Would you care to accompany me?’

‘I don’t know what you have in mind, but I’d like to meet this lady.’

‘You’ll love Cecily – everyone does.’

In her imagination Sally had pictured Fleet Hall as a huge Palladian mansion situated in the middle of a large deer park, but the reality was far more striking and surprising. Rising from the ground like some Gothic cathedral, decked with a coronet of snow, Fleet Hall looked so new that it might have been constructed yesterday. With its ornate façade, arched doorway and crenellated towers, it seemed as if a fairy-tale castle had been transported from the pages of a storybook to sit amongst formal lawns and a parterre garden.

Sally was momentarily speechless, which seemed to amuse Gideon. He reined in his horse to a walk. ‘Striking, isn’t it?’

‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ she said truthfully.

‘Sir Gregory Appleton’s father bought the original mansion fifty years ago with the fortune his family made in the potteries. He spared no expense in having the place rebuilt to his satisfaction, and he furnished it with art treasures from all over Europe. It’s not to everyone’s taste, but it is very grand.’

‘It’s very imposing,’ Sally said carefully. ‘So this is where Miss Appleton lives?’

‘Cecily is charming and beautiful and very accomplished.’

Sally eyed him warily. ‘Why have you brought me here? I don’t think I’m the sort of person that your friend would want to associate with.’

A look of genuine surprise crossed Gideon’s handsome features. ‘Cecily isn’t like that, Sally. Wait until you meet her.’ With a gentle nudge from his heels he urged his horse to a trot. ‘Let’s hope she’s at home.’

Sally was desperate to question him further, but there was little she could do other than to follow his lead.

As they dismounted at the foot of the wide stone steps a stable boy appeared, seemingly from nowhere, to take their horses to the stables, and before Gideon had a chance to knock on the heavily embossed and studded oak door, it opened as if by magic. Sally stared in awe at the majestic butler, whose starched white shirtfront seemed to reflect the pale sunlight, and the high points of his collar threatened to pierce his plump cheeks.

‘Good morning, Stafford. Is Miss Cecily at home?’

‘Good morning, sir. Please come in and I’ll announce your arrival.’ Stafford looked down his long nose at Sally. ‘Is the young lady with you, Mr Lawrence?’

‘She is indeed.’ Seemingly unperturbed by the butler’s obvious reluctance to admit Sally, Gideon ushered her over the threshold. ‘We’ll wait here.’

Stafford closed the door and walked away at a measured pace, as if to underline his own importance. He returned minutes later. ‘Come this way, please.’

‘Is he always like this?’ Sally asked in a whisper as they followed him across the highly polished floor. They walked past console tables where gilded cherubs supported ormolu-encrusted marble tops, on which were placed silver urns filled with hothouse flowers. Artistically draped marble statues were reflected in the many wall mirrors, and light flooded in from the tall mullioned windows. Most striking of all was an enormous, lavishly decorated Christmas tree. Sally felt as though she had stepped into a world so different from her own that it hardly seemed real, but catching sight of her own reflection she was shocked to see how shabby she looked. No wonder Stafford had thought twice before admitting her to such a grand establishment. She was tempted to turn and run, but that would be cowardly and she had to admit that she was curious.

Gideon ushered her into a large room that she would hardly describe as a parlour. The hand-painted wallpaper depicting colourful tropical birds and exotic foliage was a work of art in itself. The heavy mahogany furniture was upholstered in wine-red velvet, and matching curtains were held back by tasselled silk ropes, to reveal a splendid view of the parterre garden and the silver shimmer of a lake in the distance. As if all this magnificence was not enough, the young woman who rose from a chair by the fire was everything that Gideon had said and more. Cecily Appleton was almost too beautiful to be real. She was tall and slender and a welcoming smile lit her large blue eyes. Her golden curls were artlessly piled in a coronet on top of a well-shaped head and ringlets caressed her rosy cheeks. She seemed to glide as she moved towards Gideon with both hands outstretched.

‘Gideon, this is a lovely surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you before the ball.’

He raised her hands to his lips. ‘You look beautiful, as ever, Cessy.’

‘Now I know you want something. You aren’t usually so gallant.’ Cecily glanced over his shoulder. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your companion?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Gideon said hastily as he released her hands. ‘Sally, I’d like you to meet my very good friend, Cecily Appleton.’

‘Come now, Gideon. You and I are more than just friends.’ Cecily turned to Sally, holding out her hand. ‘I’m delighted to meet you, Miss …’

‘Suggs.’ Sally went to grasp Cecily’s hand but it was withdrawn a little too quickly. ‘But everyone calls me Sally.’

Cecily turned to face Gideon. ‘So what brings you here? I thought your position at the college kept you busy all week.’

‘It does normally, but Sally and I met by chance.’

‘Twice, in fact,’ Sally said, chuckling.

Gideon acknowledged her remark with a smile. ‘The first time we quite literally bumped into each other during a snowstorm, but the second time it was an emergency concerning Sally’s aged horse, which is why I took her to Hill Farm today.’

‘How intriguing.’ Cecily shot a sideways glance at Sally. ‘I want to hear the whole story, however, where are my manners? Do take a seat. You must be tired after a long ride from London, and in such inclement weather, too.’

Sally perched on the edge of the nearest chair. She had never thought much about her own looks, and she had been quite happy to wear clothes that were practical for her daily life, but suddenly she felt drab and awkward. She tucked her feet under the chair in an attempt to hide her down-at-heel boots, and she folded her hands in the hope that the gorgeous Cecily Appleton would not notice that they were stained with black lead, and roughened by hard work. She found herself wishing that she had refused Gideon’s invitation to visit Fleet Hall.

‘It’s a story that will appeal to you, Cessy,’ Gideon said, smiling. ‘You love horses and you are a good judge of quality.’