cried. He strode over to the cowering Jake. “You been telling tales.”
“He has not mentioned you,” I said.
“Oh, Zipporah dear,” said my mother. “Why bother with all this? How is poor Jean-Louis?”
“What is bothering me,” I said with unaccustomed firmness, which the thought of any injustice could arouse in me, bringing me out of my mildness in a way which once or twice in my life had astonished people, “is that Jake Carter is being blamed for something which he only did because he was forced to by someone else.”
“No … no …” said Jake. “I done it. It was me that lighted the fire in the pail.”
“I’m going out to Vesta,” said Dickon. “I reckon her pups are just ready to be born. She might have them by now.”
“You can wait a little while before you go to see them,” I said. “For instance, after you have told us who took the meat from the pantry and who made Jake take the pail and accompany him to the barn where the fire was made and got out of hand, and then ran away with Jake.”
“Why do you ask me?” he said insolently.
“Because I happen to know the answer and that you were this culprit.”
“It’s a lie,” he said.
I took him by the arm. His glare was venomous. It shocked me to see such a look in one so young.
“I saw you,” I said. “It’s no use denying it. I saw you with the pail. You were carrying it … Jake had a bundle of something. I saw you making for the Hassock farm.”
There was a deep silence.
Then Dickon said: “It’s all silly. It was only a game. We didn’t mean to set fire to the old barn.”
“But you did,” I said. “And you made Jake go with you. And then you left him to take the blame.”
“Oh, we’ll pay for the damage that was done to the barn,” said Sabrina.
“Of course,” I replied, “but that doesn’t settle the matter.”
“It does,” said Dickon.
“Oh, no. You have to tell Ned Carter that his boy was not to blame.”
“Oh, what a silly lot of trouble about nothing,” he said.
I looked at him steadily. “I don’t think it is nothing,” I said. I went on: “Ned, you can go now. It was not Jake’s fault, remember that. He was led into this. I am sure my husband will be very upset if he hears that you have punished the boy. He only did what he was ordered to do. You can go now.”
There was a silence in the Hall after they had gone.
Sabrina and my mother were very upset. Dickon came over to me and looked at me through narrowed eyes. He said in a very low voice: “I won’t forget this.”
“No,” I answered, “nor shall I.”
He ran out saying he was going to the stable to look for Vesta.
Sabrina said: “Of course boys do get up to these pranks.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “They do. But when they are caught good boys do not stand aside and let someone else take the blame, particularly someone who is not in a position to defend himself.”
They were shocked into silence. They could not bear criticism of their beloved child.
Then I said quite suddenly so that I surprised myself:
“I’ve decided to go to Eversleigh as we arranged.”
They were startled. “Jean-Louis …” began my mother.
“Cannot go, of course. He is well looked after here. I shall wait a week or so, of course, and when I consider I can leave him I shall go as arranged. I am sure Lord Eversleigh would be very upset if I didn’t go and I shall only be away for a short while.”
It was as though my other self was preparing to take possession.
There was a great deal of opposition to my proposal to go to Eversleigh without Jean-Louis. My mother said she would not have a moment’s peace until she had heard that I had arrived safely, and after that there would be the journey home again to be undertaken. Sabrina added her voice to my mother’s. There had rarely been so much highway robbery as there was at this time, she informed me, and those dreadful villains stopped at nothing.
Dickon added: “They shoot you dead,
Elizabeth Amelia Barrington