The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [275]
There were other things to interest Nathaniel at Oakley, however. He had seen the Free Traders’ packhorses up at Minstead from time to time; but you couldn’t help noticing a lot more activity down at the coast near Oakley. Several times he had been aware that Andrew’s father had disappeared for the night, returning at dawn looking cheerful, leading his pony and dumping a little sack of tea on the kitchen table without a word.
One morning three riding officers had arrived at Oakley and started inspecting Pride’s pile of timber by the green. Pride had watched them with mild interest as they started dismantling it. They found this hard work; they took all morning. At noon Grockleton rode up and saw they had found nothing.
‘I hope your officers are going to put my timber back the way it was, Mr Grockleton,’ Pride remarked.
‘I don’t believe they will, Mr Pride,’ the other replied with equal coolness.
Pride and the family had restacked the timber after they had gone. No word was spoken. That was the game.
Nathaniel encountered Grockleton himself one day, however. It was about two weeks after he had been given the smallpox vaccination. He and Andrew Pride had just come out of school and, instead of turning, as they usually would, to go past Mr Gilpin’s house back to Oakley, they were walking the other way, towards Boldre church.
Their destination that day was Albion House, where Pride’s aunt was the housekeeper. Andrew had been told to pay this formidable lady a visit after school and Nathaniel had been delighted to go with him. This was the house where the young lady lived, who had persuaded him to have the vaccination. It was a big house, too, Andrew had told him: a manor house. He had never been in such a house before.
They were just going along the lane to the church when they heard the horse behind them and turned to see the tall Customs Officer riding up. As he came abreast he looked down and asked them politely where they were going.
Apart from his claw-like hands, Grockleton could make himself pleasant enough when he wasn’t looking for contraband. Hearing their destination was Albion House, he pulled a sealed letter from his coat and asked with a smile: ‘Would you boys like to earn tuppence?’
‘We each would, Sir,’ said Nathaniel, quick as a flash.
Grockleton hesitated a second, then chuckled. ‘Very well, then. This is a letter from my wife to old Mr Albion. Will you deliver it?’
‘Oh, yes, Sir,’ they both cried eagerly.
‘Then you will save me the journey.’ He reached for the money, and as he did so casually remarked: ‘Now you must see it’s delivered at once. You know how to deliver letters, I suppose?’
‘I will deliver a letter anywhere in the Forest, Sir,’ said Nathaniel firmly, ‘for tuppence.’
‘Good. Here you are then.’
He gave them the money and watched them go off. But for some reason, as if a thought had just struck him, Grockleton did not move at once but remained where he was for fully a minute, staring after them. And when Nathaniel glanced back, he saw that Grockleton was staring at him, particularly, in deep thought.
Now why, he wondered, should Mr Grockleton be doing that?
Oxford! Oxford at last. There it was, ahead of them, its spires and domes rising out of a faint morning mist that hung over the broad green meadows and the gentle river that wound past the colleges. Oxford on the River Isis, as the Thames is called on this stretch of its long journey. It was useless to pretend they were not excited.
‘And to think, Fanny, my sweetest, dearest friend,’ cried her cousin Louisa. ‘To think that we nearly did not set out at all!’
How very pretty Louisa looked today, Fanny thought with pleasure. She had always admired Louisa’s dark hair and lustrous brown eyes, and this morning her cousin was looking particularly animated. How pleasant it was, she considered, that her closest cousin should also be her best friend.
Their journey had almost been cancelled due to ill health. Not that of old Francis Albion, who had been scolded by