The Little White Horse Read online

  And then he handed the tobacco to Sir Benjamin, and drove quickly off before any of them had time to say thank you properly.

  ‘Always brings us presents from town,’ chuckled Sir Benjamin as the three of them strolled back towards the manor. ‘That canary, I think, is for Marmaduke Scarlet. Marmaduke is fond of birds, but his pets are apt to be rather short-lived, owing to Zachariah.’

  Miss Heliotrope, Maria thought, was looking a little agitated, and Sir Benjamin now explained why.

  ‘I am taking Miss Heliotrope for a little walk in order to calm her nerves,’ he said. ‘For this morning Marmaduke decided to make himself known to her. Instead of drawing her curtains, and placing her jug of hot water in her basin in his usual noiseless fashion, which does not awaken the lightest sleeper, he did it so noisily that she woke up and saw him.’

  ‘It was a shock,’ quavered poor Miss Heliotrope. ‘A great shock. No man, except of course my father, has ever set foot in my bedchamber.’

  ‘Marmaduke Scarlet is scarcely a man, Miss Heliotrope,’ comforted Sir Benjamin. ‘He is — well — Marmaduke Scarlet. And his revealing himself to you is an enormous compliment, for as a general rule his dislike of the female sex causes him to avoid women like the plague.’

  ‘So now you know, Miss Heliotrope, who does the work of the house so beautifully,’ said Maria.

  ‘So now I know,’ said Miss Heliotrope, beginning to smile a little. ‘And I could not have believed that so small and aged — well — I must say gentleman, for lack of a better term — could have been so expert a housewife!’

  ‘Nevertheless, you have had a shock,’ said Sir Benjamin sympathetically. ‘Would a little carriage exercise this afternoon be beneficial, do you think? I do not believe it will rain before nightfall. You and Maria could go for a drive in the pony carriage. It is a lady’s pony carriage, though no lady has used it for twenty years. But Digweed can soon clean it up again.’

  ‘I should like it of all things,’ said Miss Heliotrope graciously.

  ‘Oh, Sir,’ cried Maria delightedly. ‘Could we drive to Paradise Hill?’

  ‘Certainly,’ said Sir Benjamin.

  They were at the house now, and while Sir Benjamin and Miss Heliotrope paused for a last look at the garden Maria ran up to the hall. All four animals — Wrolf, Zachariah, Wiggins, and Serena the hare — were grouped amiably about the fire, each happily engrossed with the gift Digweed had brought from the town; Wrolf with the huge bone, Zachariah with the cod’s head, Wiggins with the biscuits, and Serena with the radishes. They looked round at her with champing jaws and moved their tails and ears in friendly welcome, and she moved from one to the other caressing their soft heads. It all seemed very friendly and homely, and she felt more than ever that her period of introduction to Moonacre was over, and that she was firmly embedded here now, like a jewel in its setting. She felt this more than ever when the kitchen door opened and Marmaduke Scarlet’s rosy bearded face was inserted into the aperture, with the very broadest grin running right up into its ears.

  ‘I beg that you will do me the favour, Mistress, of entering the scene of my culinary labours,’ he said in his squeaking voice. ‘We were informed by Zachariah the cat that you would partake of breakfast at the establishment of the Reverend the Vicar of Silverydew, but having from past experience formed an unfavourable opinion of the sustenance provided in clerical establishments, I have taken the liberty of augmenting the repast of which you have already partaken with a small cold collation. Will you do me the favour of stepping inside?’

  Maria stepped inside and found the kitchen table spread with a fair white cloth, and upon it was a plate of pink-iced fairy cakes, a foaming mug of milk, and a small silver dish full of candied cherries. While she munched the sugar cakes and nibbled at the cherries and took long satisfying draughts of the lovely new milk, Marmaduke Scarlet stood upon a stool and hung his canary in the window, and all the while he was adjusting the cage he never ceased smiling at her, and once he even tipped her a wink with his left eye. He was, she could see, very, very pleased with her; almost as though he knew and highly approved the decision to which she had come in Old Parson’s parlour while he was telling her the past history of her family.

  ‘Marmaduke Scarlet,’ she said, actually daring to ask a question because he was so extraordinarily sunny and friendly, ‘how did Zachariah deliver Old Parson’s message?’

  Marmaduke Scarlet nodded towards the great hearth.

  ‘Any communication which Zachariah is called upon to deliver he inscribes with his right forepaw in the ashes,’ he said. ‘Zachariah is an exceptionally gifted cat. His ancestors were worshipped as gods by the Pharaohs of ancient Egypt, so he tells me, and the blood in his veins is blue, so he tells me. That latter statement I can corroborate, for upon one occasion he had the misfortune to insinuate his nose too near the meat hatchet, while his Sunday meal of beef and liver and bacon was in preparation, and the blood that flowed from the resultant wound was deep bluebell blue.’

  Maria set down her mug of milk, ran to the hearth and looked at the ashes. They had been spread smoothly, as though with the swish of a long tail, and little pictures bearing a marked resemblance to Egyptian hieroglyphics had been traced on them. First came the outline of a fiddle, then the outline of a sickle moon, and these two were joined together by a circle. Next came a little picture of a church and then of a coffee-pot. Maria laughed in delight. The fiddle, she saw, was Old Parson, and the moon was herself, and they were together, and had gone together to church and breakfast.

  ‘Zachariah deserves his cod’s head,’ said Maria.

  ‘And you, little Mistress,’ said Marmaduke Scarlet, motioning her back to the table, ‘deserve your sugar cakes, your cherries, and your milk.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  1

  AFTER dinner, Digweed brought round the pony carriage. He had furbished it up, so that it looked quite bright and shining, though very peculiar . . . It was of basket-work, and shaped like a very large, almost circular, baby’s cradle, set very low to the ground on four large substantial wheels. It had a basket-work hood lined with quilted red twill, and beneath it a wooden seat with red cushions. Digweed had spread fresh clean straw on the floor, and ornamented the whip with a scarlet bow, and Periwinkle had a scarlet bow on the top of her head.

  Attended by Sir Benjamin, Miss Heliotrope and Maria and Wiggins descended the steps with considerable pomp, feeling that this first drive in a pony carriage that had not been used for twenty years was something of an occasion. Miss Heliotrope was wearing one of her beautiful new fichus on her purple bombasine dress, her black cloak, and her poke bonnet. She carried her reticule with her book of essays in it, and her beautiful blue eyes were very bright and shining. Maria had put on her green linen dress, beneath a green cloak lined with yellow, and a green bonnet with a yellow feather in it. Wiggins, in his green leather collar, had had an extra good brushing in honour of the occasion, and looked particularly beautiful. Serena, who was now so much better that she could get about quite easily on three legs, followed them down the steps looking very smart in the collar of plaited silver cord that Maria had made for her, with her long ears cocked in happy anticipation.

  When Maria and Miss Heliotrope had seated themselves in the pony carriage, and Digweed had spread a plaid rug over their knees, Wiggins jumped in and sat himself at their feet, and then indicated to Serena that she might sit beside him with a graciousness that made Wrolf smile into his whiskers. Wrolf, of course, was coming with them, though on foot, there being no room for his bulk inside the carriage. Zachariah watched them go from the front door, purring benevolently, his tail arranged in three neat coils over his back. He did not offer to accompany them, for unless his presence was actually necessary he liked best to stay at home. Sir Benjamin and Digweed did not offer to accompany them either, for the little pony carriage was altogether too feminine a turnout for their masculine dignity. But they gave Maria clear instructions as to how to handle the reins
and which way to take when they got to the village, and they waved them away with much enthusiasm.

  ‘The sheep you will see on Paradise Hill are mine, Maria, and therefore yours too,’ said Sir Benjamin. ‘And perhaps you will see my shepherd boy up there. The best shepherd boy in the countryside.’

  ‘I’ll look out for them, Sir,’ Maria called back as they drove off.

  She found that driving did not compare with riding, it was not nearly so exciting. Yet Periwinkle went at a good pace, and the funny little carriage bumped along very merrily. It had turned rather sultry and hot, and they were glad of the breeze of their movement blowing in their faces.

  ‘You’re sure you can manage, dear?’ twittered Miss Heliotrope. ‘You won’t upset us, will you?’

  ‘I don’t think I could if I tried,’ said Maria. ‘It is such a very round solid little carriage, and it’s so near the ground.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true,’ said Miss Heliotrope, peering out from beneath the hood. ‘If we did fall, we shouldn’t fall far. You don’t think it’s going to thunder, dear, do you?’

  ‘It isn’t usual to have a thunderstorm so early in the year,’ said Maria.

  ‘I do hope we shan’t meet any gipsies or poachers, or anything unpleasant of that kind,’ said Miss Heliotrope. ‘There must be some about, because of that trap being set.’

  With her whip Maria indicated the great tawny figure of Wrolf leaping along beside them.

  ‘Ah yes,’ said Miss Heliotrope. ‘He’s certainly a great protection. Though sometimes, you know, Maria, one’s protector can be almost as alarming as what he protects one from.’

  ‘Wrolf would die for those I love,’ said Maria with conviction.

  But Miss Heliotrope remained in a slightly uneasy mood.

  ‘You’re sure you understand which way to take?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Maria. ‘And even if I didn’t, Periwinkle knows.’

  And Periwinkle knew. Without any guidance from Maria she took them through the broken gate into the village, down the village street, and past the church. Trotting past the church, they got a good view of the Parsonage, and Miss Heliotrope exclaimed in delight at the sight of it. ‘That’s the little house of my dreams,’ she said. ‘That’s the house where I would like to live.’

  ‘But you can’t,’ said Maria. ‘That’s where Old Parson lives.’

  ‘I meant, dear,’ said Miss Heliotrope with dignity, ‘that that is where I would like to live if Old Parson were not already in occupation.’

  Periwinkle swung round to the left, and they were in a narrow rutted lane, winding uphill between deep banks, where ferns and periwinkles and primroses were growing thickly, banks so high that they could not see what was above them. A tinkling little stream ran down one side of it, the same stream that ran along the village street.

  ‘This must be a very old lane,’ said Miss Heliotrope. ‘I remember my father telling me once that roads sink deeper and deeper into the earth with the passing of the years and the passage of more and more feet over them.’

  ‘The monks would have passed backwards and forwards this way,’ said Maria. ‘Their shepherds would have driven their sheep down this lane. And Sir Wrolf and his friends would have ridden up here to his hunting lodge. And the Moon Princess on her little white horse would have ridden this way. And all the country people coming through the centuries to pray at the holy well, and to have three wishes beneath the fairy thorn-tree where Sir Wrolf found the little white horse from the sea, will have come this way. They come this way now. No wonder the lane is sunk so deep.’

  ‘What are you talking about, child?’ demanded Miss Heliotrope.

  ‘Old Parson has been telling me fairy-tales,’ said Maria.

  ‘I beg that you will not permit your head to be turned by them,’ said Miss Heliotrope.

  ‘No,’ said Maria.

  The lane was not a long one, but it was so steep that Periwinkle could only go at a foot’s pace, and Wiggins and Serena hopped out of the carriage and joined Wrolf. Wiggins picked his way very daintily over the ruts, Serena advanced with long three-legged leaps, and Wrolf strolled amiably upwards, looking immensely strong and purposeful. But it ended at last, and they were out upon Paradise Hill, and Periwinkle stopped of her own accord, so that Miss Heliotrope and Maria might look about them.

  Paradise Hill was well named, for it really seemed too lovely to belong to this world.

  ‘“I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills,”’ quoted Miss Heliotrope, ‘“from whence cometh my help.”’

  Maria said nothing, but she jumped out of the pony carriage, went a little way over the sweet turf, and stood by herself to look about her. They were so high up that she could look right down upon the valley of Moonacre lying below her. There were the village and the church and the Parsonage, looking at this distance like wooden toys set among the budding trees and the colourful gardens. And there to the right was the spur of rocky hillside running out from Paradise Hill into Moonacre Park, within which was hidden the tunnel and Loveday Minette’s house. And there was the lovely expanse of the park and the manor-house in the distance. And on her left was the great sombre mass of the pine-woods, clothing the northern hills.

  The hills stood all round the valley like a great wall. They were broken only in one place far away to the east, where they fell away like parting curtains to show a shining slab of mother-of-pearl that looked like the doorstep to heaven. What was it? Oh, what was it?

  It was the sea! For the first time in her life Maria was looking at the sea. Her heart beat fast and the colour flamed into her cheeks. She was glad, now, that she had not seen the sea that day when she had found Serena. It was best to see it first of all like this, at a far distance. All the best things are seen first of all at a far distance.

  When she had gazed her fill at the valley and at that shining doorstep of the sea, she turned and looked at Paradise Hill itself. The grass was bright green, and sprinkled with pale purple dog-violets and the white stars of strawberry flowers. Above her, sheep were feeding on the lovely slopes, and small lambs like bits of fluffy white cloud were gambolling about over the grass and flowers. The group of trees on the summit of the hill seemed quite near now and Maria could see that they were beeches, and beneath them she could see the fallen grey stones that were the ruins of the monastery. The stream came out of the earth somewhere at the top of the hill and wound its way down the hillside between moss-covered stones and clumps of fragrant bog-myrtle. At one point a grey old thorn-tree bent above it, and when she saw the thorn-tree Maria ran towards it.

  It was a blackthorn-tree and it was in bloom already, the blossom white as the little horse that Sir Wrolf had found here entangled in the grey branches; captured by them, as he came to the stream to drink, thirsty after galloping up from the sea. Rooted sturdily among the stones, it stretched protectingly right over the stream, so that the petals fell into the bright clear water. At this very moment, Maria guessed, white petals were floating on the stream beneath the little bridges before each garden gate, perhaps carrying with them the fulfilment of the wishes that the village folk wished here upon high days and holidays.

  ‘I’ll wish too,’ said Maria to herself, and standing with her hand on the old gnarled trunk she wished three things.

  That she might rid the valley of the wickedness of the Men from the Dark Woods.

  That she might meet that poor shepherd boy and love him.

  That she might be the first Moon Princess to live for always in her home.

  When she had had her wishes she found that her heart was beating fast. They would be granted, she felt sure, and she was committed to all the adventures that the fulfilment of exciting wishes is bound to bring with it.

  ‘Maria!’ called Miss Heliotrope. ‘Don’t go too far, dear. Don’t go where I can’t see you.’

  Maria ran back to Miss Heliotrope and the animals. ‘But I must go to the top of the hill,’ she pleaded. ‘I must look at those beech-trees, and the
old grey stones.’

  ‘The hill is too steep for the pony carriage,’ objected Miss Heliotrope. ‘And it is too steep for me to climb. You must stay here, dear, for I can’t permit you to go alone.’

  ‘Sir Benjamin doesn’t mind where I go so long as Wrolf is with me,’ said Maria. ‘You stay here in the pony carriage, with Periwinkle and Wiggins to look after you, and I’ll go to the top of the hill with Wrolf and Serena to look after me. That will be quite all right, Miss Heliotrope.’

  The day was turning stuffy and hot, too hot to argue, and Miss Heliotrope gave in. She permitted herself to be settled comfortably in the pony carriage with her book of essays, Wiggins in attendance, and Periwinkle peacefully cropping the sweet turf.

  ‘Look after Miss Heliotrope, Periwinkle,’ commanded Maria. ‘Whatever happens, look after Miss Heliotrope.’

  Periwinkle stopped munching for a moment, lifted her head and gave her mistress a steady glance. Then she dropped her head and munched again. Reassured, Maria, Wrolf, and Serena started off together for the top of the hill. It was a steep hot climb, and took much longer than Maria had expected. Town-bred girl that she was, she panted a little and got hot, and envied Serena advancing with her long leaps and Wrolf with his tireless strength. And Wrolf did not make things easier by perpetually pushing himself against her, and fixing her with a tawny eye full of annoyance. ‘What is it, Wrolf?’ she demanded. ‘What am I doing wrong?’

  Wrolf, with a subdued roar at her stupidity, turned himself right across her path so that she came to a standstill, looking down upon his broad back. Then she saw what he wanted and mounted thankfully, as though he had been Periwinkle.

  After that everything was easy. Wrolf’s beautiful thick fur was soft to sit upon, and with her fingers entwined in his ruff she was able to hold herself steady. She could look about her now, and as they mounted higher see the beautiful countryside unrolling about them like a map, and the line of the sea creeping round the horizon like a silver ribbon. But the sky was very dark and lowering, almost purple in colour, and she thought she heard a mutter of thunder in the distance . . . And she had told Miss Heliotrope it was too early in the year for thunder . . . Well, she would be all right, for Periwinkle would look after her.