The Wilding Read Online Free Page A

forward.
    ‘Bully,’ I said to him, ‘that’s the spirit! We’re not going home, yet, my lad. There’s been a change of plan; we’re off to Tetton Green.’

3

Of Mrs Harriet and her Household

    ‘I see no call for this,’ my aunt said. ‘Does Mathew think I’ve lost my wits along with my husband?’
    We were in the small room at End House, the home she had shared with Uncle Robin. It was a dim, north-facing apartment; creepers at the window filtered the day to a chill green as if the light were struggling through a sheet of river ice.
    ‘My father thinks no such thing,’ I said. ‘His only wish is that I should call in upon you, pay my respects and –’
    ‘Take over,’ she finished. Widowhood had not softened a single line in Aunt Harriet’s face: her eyes were as bold and her lips as clamped as ever. She looked as if she could see right through my skin.
    ‘No, indeed,’ I said soothingly. ‘Father said I was to be bound by your wishes. To be of service to you.’
    My aunt hummed and tutted and straightened the folds of her mourning dress, which was of a much richer stuff than the one she had given my mother. Her cap, of a harsh, unbecoming style, pressed her hair tightly to her scalp and thus threw into relief her sharp, beak-like nose. I remembered the owls. ‘I thought you’d be pleased at the courtesy,’ I hinted.
    She was silent, thinking.
    ‘I could press your apples, Aunt – I’m skilled at it.’
    My aunt stared at me. ‘What for? Binnie is to press them.’
    ‘Then I can spare you his fee.’
    Both Uncle Robin and Aunt Harriet were known to be tightfisted. For the first time, she looked at me with something like approval.
    ‘How long will you take?’

    I just managed to bite back the reply that with my new press it would take no time at all and said instead, ‘It’s of no consequence. I’ll stay until the job is done.’
    ‘You can have a bed,’ said Aunt Harriet, adding, ‘We’ve a fine crop this year.’
    My heart flooded with secret joy. I had cut Binnie, whoever he was, out of a job, but I could perhaps square that with him. Nothing mattered except that I was where I wanted to be.
    *

    As a child, I never thought about the name of End House. Now, visiting the place as a man, I saw it was the last in a line of dwellings backing onto Tetton Wood. These houses facing the Guild Hall, as the locals called it, were considered the best in the village and in my opinion Aunt Harriet’s, with its broad front of yellow stone and its delicate mullions, was the most handsome of all.
    The bedchamber into which she showed me was large, bare and dusty. She frowned as I slid my bag from my shoulder.
    ‘That’s all you’ve brought?’
    ‘Yes, Aunt.’
    ‘Does Mathew expect me to clothe you?’
    ‘I’ve everything I need.’
    ‘You’ve no call for a manservant, certainly,’ she said, as if I had asked for one. ‘Come down when you’re ready, won’t you?’
    I nodded. What else did she think I might do? Aunt Harriet moved away out of the room, her rich dress brushing the floorboards, and I was at last able to look round unobserved.
    The windows of my room were set deep into the wall. Neither overlooked the front of the house, but the side window faced the lane where it disappeared into the wood. By opening the casement and leaning out, I could glimpse a corner of the Hall, on the other side of the way. Even for a large village like Tetton Green, it was an imposing building. I believe it was left to the village, for some charitable purpose, by a rich penitent; it had been used at one time by craftsmen who set up stalls within (hence its odd name) and had even served, during the Civil War, as a billet for the King’s army. Since then, the family had seized back what they felt was theirs, as sometimes happens, and now nobody lived in it – indeed, nobody went in there save the descendants of the man who had given it away.
    I went to the other window and found myself above the back