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afternoon and into the evening, trying to think, to see a way, a
glimmer of light that would brighten her life. But there was only a
wall of darkness before her, a wall she knew she would never be able
to scale. The sheer magnitude of the bleakness facing her was
terrifying years and years, and more years of existing while those
around her lived and loved and laughed.
She thought of the past, those happy years of contentment and peace
of mind, and she wondered dismally what she was gaining by her
reflections.
The evening shadows began to fall and she realised she was still a
long way from the Manor. Turning, she decided to cut across country,
since she had no desire to be out here on the lonely moors after dark.
Not that there would be anyone to harm her Vicky's thoughts were
cut abruptly and her heart jerked as in the near distance a figure
loomed, emerging from behind a little bluff in the hillside. A man!
Her instinct was to run, but the man was in her path. To run the other
way would not gain her anything as it merely took her further into the
grim moorlands.
Trying to still her palpitation she decided to go on, walking quickly as
if she were not afraid of anything. The ^ low hills that formed part of
the moorlands were taking on a dun sort of colour, their sides cast into
shadows as the sun's last rays disappeared below the horizon. Vicky
glanced swiftly around her, fear welling up in spite of her outward
calm as she continued her brisk pace. Then she saw who it was and a
great wave of relief swept through her. John Bailey! But what was he
doing here, on the lonely moors, at this time of the day?
'Mrs Sherrand!' He stopped even before he reached her. 'My, but am I
relieved to see you! I'm hopelessly lost!'
'Lost?' blinked Vicky, glancing around. 'How do you come to be here
anyway?'
'Surveying the old lady's land.' He automatically tapped the large
pasteboard folder he carried under his arm. 'I left the car near an old
quarry --' He swung a hand vaguely. 'It's in a little clearing right off
the road. I expect you know where I mean?'
Vicky shook her head, explaining that the area was riddled both with
disused quarries and coalmines.
'Have you no idea which way you've come?' she added,
wrinkling her brow in concentration. 'There's an overgrown quarry on
the Wyevale road.'
'Where's that?'
'It's some distance from here, I'm afraid.'
'I've been walking for almost an hour and a half wandering around
in circles from what I can make out.' His voice was strained, his
manner anxious. 'I hope the car's all right.'
'It will be,' returned Vicky reassuringly. 'I don't suppose anyone's
been past it, even.'
'What a deserted no-man's land this is,' he complained. Tm not sure at
all that I'll recommend it for building.'
'I told you it was wild moorland. It's fit only for sheep rearing.'
'Which way is the Manor?' he asked. 'If I can come with you You
are going home, I presume?'
She nodded.
'Yes. And of course you can come with me. I'll get my car out and
drive around with you until you find yours.'
'That's kind of you,' he said gratefully.
'Didn't you bring your map?' she inquired as the thought occurred to
her.
'A map's not much good to you if you can't pinpoint where you are,'
he said with a laugh.
'No, of course not.' She glanced around, noting that apart from the
few low hills, there was nothing but featureless terrain totally devoid
of landmarks.
They began to stride out, Vicky feeling thankful that she had
company since the dusk was falling rather more quickly than usual,
aided by some low clouds that were gathering darkly over the moors.
'What a lucky thing I met you,' John Bailey was saying. 'I'd have been
here all night once darkness had fallen.' He paused as if considering
whether or not he should question the 'lady of the manor'. However,
her extreme youth gave him courage and he asked how she came to
be out here, all alone, so late in the day.
'I felt like a long walk,' she replied.
'It's a wonder your husband would let you come.' Another hesitation
and then, 'It must be past your dinnertime, surely?'
'My husband's not at home, so I shan't bother about dinner.' Even as
she spoke an idea came to her. 'How long is it since you ate?' she
asked, and her companion gave a grimace as he answered,
'Just about eight hours! I had an early lunch before leaving
Manchester, thinking I'd call at an hotel on the way back. But they'll
all have finished serving dinner by the time I reach civilisation.'
Vicky remained silent for a while, thoughtfully going over her idea.
Would Richard approve of her bringing a strange young man home to
dinner? Did it matter whether he approved or not? She wasn't asking
him to join them in the meal; he wouldn't be there anyway, as he'd
said he would be home very late.
'You can have dinner with me if you like,' she suggested at last.
'That's generous of you! But you said you weren't having any,' he
reminded her.
'I can have some, though.' She paused, wondering why she was so
anxious to have this young man's company. She had felt so lonely all
day, so perhaps any human being would have been welcome at this
time. 'Cook will be able to get something ready in half an hour or so.'
'Well, I do thank you. To tell you the truth, I'm absolutely starving!'
'I should think so, having nothing in all that time. If you prefer it we
can eat before we go for your car?'
He shook his head and said, hungry though he was, he'd feel far more
comfortable when he had collected the car.
'It's my own this time, you see,' he explained with a rueful grin, 'so I'm
rather more anxious than I'd be if it was the firm's.'
'We'll go and hunt around for the car, then,' she said, increasing her
pace a little. 'I think we ought to hurry; it looks as if it's going to rain.'
'Yes, you're right.'
They strode out even faster, Vicky trotting now and then to keep pace
with him. He turned several times to slant her a glance of admiration.
And after a while he ventured to say that she was not the kind of girl
he would have expected so exalted a man as Richard Sherrand to have
for a wife.
'I don't mean anything --Oh, dear, I'm afraid I'm not always
diplomatic,' he apologised ruefully.
'You think I'm too young?' Vicky had the niggling thought that this
was wrong; as the wife of Richard Sherrand she should by rights
possess that kind of dignity that would set her above a conversation of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]