The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [181]
‘What brings you here?’ she asked with a smile.
When she had drawn near his eyes had dropped as though studying his hands. Now he slowly raised them. They were very clear, large and bright as they looked straight into hers. ‘You do.’
She gasped. She didn’t mean to. She couldn’t help it. She remembered telling him she usually came this way to Malwood. So he had been waiting for her. She did her best to stay calm. ‘And what can I do for you?’
He continued to look at her coolly. ‘You could get into the cart for a start.’
She felt her breath suddenly short above the heart. A tiny tremble went through her body. ‘Oh?’ She managed another smile. ‘And where are we going?’
‘Home.’
Her home? She frowned, glanced at his face, then looked down at the ground. He meant his home: the cottage at Burley with the carved bed. The nerve of his offer was almost shocking. She could not look up. She had not expected this. Yet his manner suggested he thought it was inevitable. He had come for her. It was shocking, but simple. She ought to turn and walk away. Yet, against all reason, she experienced an unexpected sense of hidden, deep relief.
She knew she had to walk away, but did not move.
‘I have to spend the watch at the beacon with Nick,’ she said at last.
‘Leave him.’ His voice was quiet as the dusk.
She shook her head, paused, frowned. ‘I must see him.’
‘I’ll wait.’
She turned and began to walk towards Malwood. The light catching the leaves was crimson gold. She glanced back, once, towards the Rufus oak, standing in a pool of orange light. Puckle had not moved. She walked on.
What did she mean to do? She didn’t know. Did she know? No, she urged herself, she didn’t. She needed to see Nick Pride. She had to look at him.
It did not take long to reach the old earthwork. As she entered it the fire of the Forest sunset was making a bright crescent around the dark-green shadow within its walls.
Nick was standing by the hut and he came towards her, looking excited. ‘It’s time to go up. You’re late.’
How young he seemed. How sweet – she felt a wave of affection for him – but how young.
She let him lead her up on to the earth wall beside the beacon. He was talking eagerly about the day he had passed, how one of his men had almost missed his watch. He sounded so proud of himself. She was glad for him.
After a while, she said: ‘I have to go back to Brook for a while, Nick. But I’ll try and come by later.’
‘Oh.’ He frowned. ‘Something wrong?’
‘Some things I have to do. Nothing much.’
‘But you won’t come after dark.’
‘’Course I will. If I can. I know the way.’
‘There’ll be a bit of moon tonight,’ he agreed. ‘You could see your way, I suppose.’
‘I’ll try to come.’ Why was it that this lie gave her such pleasure, such excitement? She had never behaved like this before. The delight of deception was quite new to her. With an extraordinary sense of lightness she kissed him and left him, and made her way back towards the Rufus tree.
She was trembling, nonetheless, when she got into the cart. Without a word. Puckle took up the reins, touched the pony with his whip and they moved off. What was she doing? Did she mean to go with Puckle in secret and return to Nick? Was this a sudden severance from her family, her former life and her betrothed, to become Puckle’s woman? She did not know herself.
The sunset was glowing deep red ahead of them as the cart came out on to the open heath. The red shafts caught Puckle’s face so that it looked strangely ochre, almost demonic, as they rolled towards the west. Seeing it, she gave a little laugh. Then the great orb of the sun sank and the heath grew dark, and she leaned over so that, for the first time, he put his arm round her to comfort her as she journeyed with him towards the mystery of the forbidden.
The cottage was silent in the pale moonlight when they arrived. The children were not there. Presumably they were with some