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Authors: Kathy Lynn Emerson
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attached to the back of his saddle, she was obliged to endure his close company for the entire trip. “Drovers from Romney Marsh bring their herds this way to market."
He and Fulke fell into a discussion of Welsh cattle. It seemed many people from the area of Mill Hall went to Maidstone to buy the beasts at the October fair, fattened them up on Romney Marsh, then drove them north again, all the way to London, to sell.
Lady Appleton rode ahead, taking obvious pleasure in their surroundings as they passed through the Wealdon Hills. From high, wooded ground, inhabited by deer and foxes and wild pigs, they descended to tree-lined lanes flanked by cultivated fields.
Only when they reached Aldington and were nearly at their destination, did Jennet take much interest in the landscape. Before that, she'd been too busy feeling sorry for herself. And worrying about what Lady Appleton had gotten them into this time. And fearing that they might make detours to Boughton Monchelsea and Bethersden en route.
At Aldington the archbishop of Canterbury's country palace rose on landlocked cliffs overlooking Romney Marsh and the port of Hythe. The manor could not fail to impress. In addition to a magnificent residence, it included nine enormous tithe barns, six stables, and eight dovehouses.
From Aldington the road ran parallel to the River Stour and was soon joined by Stone Street, another old Roman road. “The traveling will be easier the rest of the way,” Lady Appleton said.
"Easier still did we turn east,” Jennet muttered. According to the signpost, Canterbury was twelve miles distant. To reach Leigh Abbey they'd have to ride but another five.
As the long day drew to a close, they at last reached Mill Hall land. Where the fields they'd passed by earlier had been enclosed by shaws of oak, birch, or ash, Master Garrard used post and rail fences to keep his sheep from wandering. These impertinent beasts stared at Jennet through eyes set in wide heads with white faces and coal black noses.
Mill Hall had been built of warm red brick. The house stood at one side of the main group of fields, with kitchens, milk house, brew house, and bake house, all under the same roof as the living rooms. Hugo Garrard himself came out to meet them as the party clattered into his courtyard. Lady Appleton had sent word ahead to warn of her arrival.
Jennet saw at once that Master Garrard shared the family affliction. In his case it was only a slight droop in one eyelid, a defect scarce noticeable if one did not look for it. In part its presence was disguised by the heaviness of his eyelids.
A tall man, as thin as his cousin, Master Garrard looked no more than five and twenty, but he had old eyes, a faded blue in color. As he watched Lady Appleton dismount, he tugged with nervous fingers at his little tuft of a beard. It matched his reddish brown hair for color. The deep voice that bade them welcome invited them to stay the night but contained no hint of warmth.
"You are most gracious,” Lady Appleton told him. “We will impose upon you no longer than we must, although I am certain you wish to do all you can to help free your cousins."
Hugo Garrard's smile looked forced as he played the gallant host, taking Lady Appleton's arm to escort her inside his house.
Ignoring her aching backside, Jennet hurried after them. She was in time to hear Master Garrard insist they postpone their proposed visit to Lucy Milborne's cottage until morning.
"It is not a good place to be with night coming on,” he added.
Now that Jennet was off the back of that accursed horse, her energy returned and her natural curiosity revived with a vengeance. Master Garrard's comment intrigued her. Dusk was at least an hour away and if she'd understood Mistress Crane's account, Mistress Milborne lived near at hand.
Master Garrard, however, could not be persuaded. He ended the discussion by ordering a servant to show his gently born guest to her bedchamber.
"Does he believe his
He and Fulke fell into a discussion of Welsh cattle. It seemed many people from the area of Mill Hall went to Maidstone to buy the beasts at the October fair, fattened them up on Romney Marsh, then drove them north again, all the way to London, to sell.
Lady Appleton rode ahead, taking obvious pleasure in their surroundings as they passed through the Wealdon Hills. From high, wooded ground, inhabited by deer and foxes and wild pigs, they descended to tree-lined lanes flanked by cultivated fields.
Only when they reached Aldington and were nearly at their destination, did Jennet take much interest in the landscape. Before that, she'd been too busy feeling sorry for herself. And worrying about what Lady Appleton had gotten them into this time. And fearing that they might make detours to Boughton Monchelsea and Bethersden en route.
At Aldington the archbishop of Canterbury's country palace rose on landlocked cliffs overlooking Romney Marsh and the port of Hythe. The manor could not fail to impress. In addition to a magnificent residence, it included nine enormous tithe barns, six stables, and eight dovehouses.
From Aldington the road ran parallel to the River Stour and was soon joined by Stone Street, another old Roman road. “The traveling will be easier the rest of the way,” Lady Appleton said.
"Easier still did we turn east,” Jennet muttered. According to the signpost, Canterbury was twelve miles distant. To reach Leigh Abbey they'd have to ride but another five.
As the long day drew to a close, they at last reached Mill Hall land. Where the fields they'd passed by earlier had been enclosed by shaws of oak, birch, or ash, Master Garrard used post and rail fences to keep his sheep from wandering. These impertinent beasts stared at Jennet through eyes set in wide heads with white faces and coal black noses.
Mill Hall had been built of warm red brick. The house stood at one side of the main group of fields, with kitchens, milk house, brew house, and bake house, all under the same roof as the living rooms. Hugo Garrard himself came out to meet them as the party clattered into his courtyard. Lady Appleton had sent word ahead to warn of her arrival.
Jennet saw at once that Master Garrard shared the family affliction. In his case it was only a slight droop in one eyelid, a defect scarce noticeable if one did not look for it. In part its presence was disguised by the heaviness of his eyelids.
A tall man, as thin as his cousin, Master Garrard looked no more than five and twenty, but he had old eyes, a faded blue in color. As he watched Lady Appleton dismount, he tugged with nervous fingers at his little tuft of a beard. It matched his reddish brown hair for color. The deep voice that bade them welcome invited them to stay the night but contained no hint of warmth.
"You are most gracious,” Lady Appleton told him. “We will impose upon you no longer than we must, although I am certain you wish to do all you can to help free your cousins."
Hugo Garrard's smile looked forced as he played the gallant host, taking Lady Appleton's arm to escort her inside his house.
Ignoring her aching backside, Jennet hurried after them. She was in time to hear Master Garrard insist they postpone their proposed visit to Lucy Milborne's cottage until morning.
"It is not a good place to be with night coming on,” he added.
Now that Jennet was off the back of that accursed horse, her energy returned and her natural curiosity revived with a vengeance. Master Garrard's comment intrigued her. Dusk was at least an hour away and if she'd understood Mistress Crane's account, Mistress Milborne lived near at hand.
Master Garrard, however, could not be persuaded. He ended the discussion by ordering a servant to show his gently born guest to her bedchamber.
"Does he believe his
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