Theirs to Eternity by Barbara Cartland

Author:Barbara Cartland
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-906950-74-3
Publisher: Barbara Cartland.com

CHAPTER SIX

Charles and Jed started along the drive that led to the park gates. Soon the lights of the house behind them disappeared amid the trees. Jed took out a piece of tobacco to chew and cast a sidelong look at Charles.

“So, Delverton?” he asked. “You have some business that’ll take me to the gypsies at Ledger’s field?”

Charles nodded. “Yes, Jed, I have. There is – something I want you to purchase for me.”

“Oh, aye? And what might that be?”

“A horse.”

Jed gave a grunt.

He might have guessed. Everyone knew that he horse-traded with the gypsies. No surprise, then, that Charles should think of him for this commission.

“Who’s this horse for?” he asked.

“It is to be a gift for – the woodsman’s daughter,” Charles replied. “After all, she saved my life.”

Jed moved the tobacco from one side of his mouth to the other. “You’ll be looking for a carthorse, then?” he probed cunningly.

“No, Jed. I’ll be looking for a thoroughbred.”

Jed snorted. “Not much use to a woodsman’s family!”

“Nevertheless,” Charles retorted firmly, “a thoroughbred is what I want.”

“Well, then,” declared Jed. “I’m your man. And you’re right, it gives me the perfect excuse to take a look round the camp.”

Three days later, Charles was retracing his steps through the woods to Esmé’s cottage. He was riding Faro, but he was also leading a second horse, a sleek, grey mare with a black tail and a proud eye.

Now and then he glanced back at the mare with satisfaction. Whatever else one might say about Jed Barker, he was the best judge of horseflesh in the county.

Jed had bargained well with the gypsies and in the end the mare had cost considerably less than if Charles had purchased her from the local horse fair.

Jed had accepted gypsy hospitality once the deal was secured. He had plenty of time to look around the camp and he reported back that he had noticed nothing that might link the gypsies to the recent attacks.

Charles was relieved.

He was too fair a man to ever condemn a people out of hand, but now his concern was personal.

For the moment Esmé’s people were safe.

Faro began to snort and toss his head and Charles surmised that they were near the clearing where the cottage stood. He could smell wood-smoke and soon he could hear Esmé herself, singing as she went about her chores.

He drew in the reins and swung down from his steed. Tying Faro and the mare to a tree, he proceeded on foot to the clearing.

He paused for a moment to take in the scene.

Esmé was kneeling at the stream that ran beside the cottage, scrubbing a scarlet petticoat on the stones. She was not alone. Watching her from the shade of the thatch – crouched and rocking on her heels – was an old woman.

Charles remembered a figure starting up from the fireside when he first emerged from his sick bed and he remembered Esmé explaining about an old woman who often came to the cottage for shelter. This must be she.

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