Memories

Chapter 1 Will contemplated the last of his ale and considered ordering another. He had consumed his usual two, and was ready to return to the Manor, but found he couldn’t face it. He placed the almost empty tankard carefully back on the bar. The unusual level of noise in the bar was beginning to irk him. A crowd of young bloods had entered and proceeded to upset the tranquillity of his regular Friday evening drink. He expected the landlord to eject them, but instead, he had welcomed them and continued to serve them vast quantities of ale. He hesitated for a moment, but then made his decision. He picked up the tankard, downed the rest of his ale in one, and held it out to the barman. “Same again, please.” Jonno, the barman at the Shoulder of Mutton inn, raised an eyebrow as he took his glass and refilled it. “Pushing the boat out tonight, are we?” Will nodded. He never had more than two. Never. But the thought of returning to the empty Manor house was…unappealing. “It’s been a hard week,” he said, as he handed over his coins and accepted the tankard back. Cool froth dribbled over the side and ran over his fingers. He put it down and pulled out his handkerchief to clean them. “Will you be moving on?” Jonno said, as he dipped dirty tankards into water to wash them, and stacked them to drain. “I don’t really have much choice.” “Bet you could murder Dearne,” Jonno said, as he picked up a towel and started drying. “Philandering little bastard.” “I don’t care about his philandering.” Will took the top off the ale and wiped his top lip with his thumb. “It’s his gambling that put me out of a job and a home.” Will took another, larger drink as his gut churned at the thought of Captain Maximilian Dearne. Jonno tutted. “Can’t imagine gambling that much that you’d need to sell a Manor house to pay your debts.” “Neither can I, but apparently that’s just what he did.” Will took another long drink as his temper simmered. Captain Dearne had not only put paid to his plans, he had ruined the best position Will had ever been in. Head Steward and Groundsman at Denton Manor had been perfect for him. A small, remote Manor house, miles from anywhere in the wilds of the North Yorkshire moors no-one ever visited. It simply required an employee to take responsibility and in doing that, he had learned an enormous amount about land and estate management. But best of all, it had been a tiny staff looking after the elderly Dowager Countess of Holbrook so there hadn’t been the need to deal with people visiting. People who might recognise him. In fact, it had saddened him just how infrequently the family called on her. In the months he had worked for her, he couldn’t recall a single instance of the family visiting. Simply put, the position had been perfect for the final stages of his plan to save enough money to buy a place of his own, and learn enough so he wouldn’t make a mull of it when that day came. Added to the fact the dowager countess had been a garrulous, but hilarious woman he had become incredibly attached to, seeing her as more than a friend than employer, losing her and then losing his home and job was more painful than he cared to admit. So, all in all, he was pretty much at outs with the entire Holbrook family. Finding another position was not going to be easy, and finding one that suited him so incredibly well; nigh on impossible. The happy shouts from the drinkers escalated into roars and Jonno abandoned his cleaning to go and see to them. Will retreated to the snug. He settled himself in the small, cosy room which was quieter, given he was the sole occupant. He had found, over the years, he quite enjoyed being around people, as long as they let him be and he wasn’t required deal with them. He preferred to sit back and watch. He sat by the fireplace and threw a couple of logs on to perk up the blaze. It was supposed to be summertime, but it was cold and wet out and even colder in the pub, so he was grateful for the warmth. He took another drink, and then dug in his coat pocket and pulled out his newspaper and continued to browse the advertisements, pencil in hand. The wood crackled and spat, filling the air with wood smoke. It was not entirely unpleasant, but it did make his eyes water a little, or that was what he told himself as he scrubbed at them. When the jollity from the other room turned to sounds of glass smashing, wood splintering, and heads cracking he deemed it time to leave. He downed the last of his beer, put the paper back into his pocket, and slid out unnoticed among the c*****e that had erupted in the bar. Jonno was wading in together with the ever-present Bob Carter, the blacksmith, who, fortunately for Jonno, was built like a barn. Pulling his overcoat around him against the chill, he headed for his horse and cart, anger and misery still simmering quietly in his gut.