a tall figure on the gravel behind Patience that certainly wasn’t Camilla Sutton. ‘And who on earth is that? ’
Patience was confused.
‘That’s Ernest. ’
‘Ernest? Where’s your mother?’
‘We sent a telegram.’
‘Really?’
Charlotte, who, in her solipsism had neglected to pass on the news of Camilla Sutton’s indisposition, cut in, ‘Clovis, was anybody killed?’
‘I don’t know,’ answered he. ‘The point is, they need to put people up here, at Sterne. We’re to send the brougham and the cart. Here’s Robert with it—’
‘Put people up here?’ said Charlotte. ‘Whatever for?’
Clovis, in his haste, was abrupt. ‘It happened very near here, you see, the passengers—’
‘We didn’t hear anything,’ said Charlotte, wonderingly.
‘No, Mother, of course not! But it was miles from any station.’
Emerald saw that the person Patience had named as her brother Ernest, whom she remembered as slight and rabbit-like in his mildness, had removed his jacket to help Stanley back Ferryman between the shafts of the cart, while Robert hitched him to it.
‘But who told you to send the carriage?’ she asked.
‘And what can you mean, we are to put people up? ’ Charlotte was indignant.
‘We met a man on the road. A train guard.’
He was interrupted by Patience, who in a clear voice said, ‘I think he was a porter.’
Clovis turned to her. ‘ What? ’
‘I think he was a porter not a guard,’ said Patience patiently.
‘He was a guard,’ repeated Clovis.
‘No, definitely a porter, on a bicycle.’
Clovis cast her a violent look. ‘All right!’
She was unmoved. ‘Yes. Yes, he was. I’m sure of it. He had a porter’s cap.’
‘Well, you’re wrong. But at any rate, whatever he was, he was in a lather and he said there had been an accident and we were to send for help.’
‘So we came here,’ finished Patience, and smiled up at Clovis who, ignoring her, continued, ‘We’re to get passengers up here from Tibbets Cross and then wait for the Railway.’
‘Was it George?’ asked Charlotte densely.
‘No, Mother, it wasn’t George – I know George – it was another man, an older man. He said the best thing is to—’
‘Do you mean older than that fellow who helped us at the station?’ enquired Patience, arranging her mother-of-pearl cuff-buttons one by one. ‘Oh no, I don’t think he was. Was that George? If it was, I rather think this man was very much younger.’
Emerald was distracted from the exchange by the drama taking place behind them. Ernest and the grooms were grappling with horses and vehicles. She couldn’t see Ernest’s face but watched him place a hand firmly on Ferryman’s neck while the other gripped his bridle. The hunter Ferryman wasn’t used to being in harness and was plunging about in the traces, kicking up the gravel.
‘I tell you he was grey-haired! But do you think it matters what age the fellow was?’ Clovis was saying to Patience.
‘Clovis,’ said Emerald, not taking her eyes from the scene, ‘stop squabbling and see to the horse.’
He obeyed her, gratefully, just as Florence Trieves entered the hall behind Smudge, and laid her hands on the child’s bony shoulders.
‘What’s happened?’
‘There’s been a train accident,’ said Charlotte.
‘On a branch line somewhere,’ put in Emerald.
‘And we are to take care of the passengers. Nobody seems to be able to agree on what has happened,’ said Charlotte, much perturbed, ‘but Sterne is to be some sort of stopping place for the survivors, it seems, while the Railway comes to some arrangement.’
‘Great heavens,’ said Florence Trieves, her fingers flying up and working the watch on her breast tensely. Then, ‘God!’ she cried, seeing the men, outside, preoccupied with fighting Ferryman, who was taking ever more serious exception to being walked backwards, and shrieking in a very high-pitched voice for so large a horse.
The women all emerged from the
Patience was confused.
‘That’s Ernest. ’
‘Ernest? Where’s your mother?’
‘We sent a telegram.’
‘Really?’
Charlotte, who, in her solipsism had neglected to pass on the news of Camilla Sutton’s indisposition, cut in, ‘Clovis, was anybody killed?’
‘I don’t know,’ answered he. ‘The point is, they need to put people up here, at Sterne. We’re to send the brougham and the cart. Here’s Robert with it—’
‘Put people up here?’ said Charlotte. ‘Whatever for?’
Clovis, in his haste, was abrupt. ‘It happened very near here, you see, the passengers—’
‘We didn’t hear anything,’ said Charlotte, wonderingly.
‘No, Mother, of course not! But it was miles from any station.’
Emerald saw that the person Patience had named as her brother Ernest, whom she remembered as slight and rabbit-like in his mildness, had removed his jacket to help Stanley back Ferryman between the shafts of the cart, while Robert hitched him to it.
‘But who told you to send the carriage?’ she asked.
‘And what can you mean, we are to put people up? ’ Charlotte was indignant.
‘We met a man on the road. A train guard.’
He was interrupted by Patience, who in a clear voice said, ‘I think he was a porter.’
Clovis turned to her. ‘ What? ’
‘I think he was a porter not a guard,’ said Patience patiently.
‘He was a guard,’ repeated Clovis.
‘No, definitely a porter, on a bicycle.’
Clovis cast her a violent look. ‘All right!’
She was unmoved. ‘Yes. Yes, he was. I’m sure of it. He had a porter’s cap.’
‘Well, you’re wrong. But at any rate, whatever he was, he was in a lather and he said there had been an accident and we were to send for help.’
‘So we came here,’ finished Patience, and smiled up at Clovis who, ignoring her, continued, ‘We’re to get passengers up here from Tibbets Cross and then wait for the Railway.’
‘Was it George?’ asked Charlotte densely.
‘No, Mother, it wasn’t George – I know George – it was another man, an older man. He said the best thing is to—’
‘Do you mean older than that fellow who helped us at the station?’ enquired Patience, arranging her mother-of-pearl cuff-buttons one by one. ‘Oh no, I don’t think he was. Was that George? If it was, I rather think this man was very much younger.’
Emerald was distracted from the exchange by the drama taking place behind them. Ernest and the grooms were grappling with horses and vehicles. She couldn’t see Ernest’s face but watched him place a hand firmly on Ferryman’s neck while the other gripped his bridle. The hunter Ferryman wasn’t used to being in harness and was plunging about in the traces, kicking up the gravel.
‘I tell you he was grey-haired! But do you think it matters what age the fellow was?’ Clovis was saying to Patience.
‘Clovis,’ said Emerald, not taking her eyes from the scene, ‘stop squabbling and see to the horse.’
He obeyed her, gratefully, just as Florence Trieves entered the hall behind Smudge, and laid her hands on the child’s bony shoulders.
‘What’s happened?’
‘There’s been a train accident,’ said Charlotte.
‘On a branch line somewhere,’ put in Emerald.
‘And we are to take care of the passengers. Nobody seems to be able to agree on what has happened,’ said Charlotte, much perturbed, ‘but Sterne is to be some sort of stopping place for the survivors, it seems, while the Railway comes to some arrangement.’
‘Great heavens,’ said Florence Trieves, her fingers flying up and working the watch on her breast tensely. Then, ‘God!’ she cried, seeing the men, outside, preoccupied with fighting Ferryman, who was taking ever more serious exception to being walked backwards, and shrieking in a very high-pitched voice for so large a horse.
The women all emerged from the
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