The Purpose of Miss Shepley

Chapter Five (part II)

A very sheepish Elfie Ansley joined us for breakfast the next morning. I gathered that my grandfather had eventually caught up with him and Hollis and a nearly empty bottle of our hardest cider. Temperance and Earnest smirked at each other in a way that made me suspect they'd taken their share of the cider, too, but had been clever enough to avoid getting caught.

After breakfast, the whole mob of guests decided to go into town to meet the others for a change. Deciding how to actually go into town, however, proved somewhat more difficult for them.

Ewert Town was scarcely more than two miles off, but my grandfather was keen to drive his new gig. Mrs. Acton agreed we should all drive, worrying that the walk would aggravate her mother's rheumatism.

Lady Oakhurst, meanwhile, was determined to give her children some exercise, but Temperance had mislaid her boots. Earnest, with a gleam in his eye, suggested Temperance should go with the Actons while the rest of us went on foot. Hollis quickly agreed to this, though his mother tried to glare him to death.

While our elders debated, Earnest sidled up to me, his hands tucked behind his back, his eyes aimed somewhat above the tree tops.

"And what camp are you in, Miss Shepley? Would you walk or would you ride?"

"Actually, I have a bit of a headache," I said -- and it wasn't wholly a lie. "I think I shall not go after all."

Earnest looked at me admiringly. He swallowed a chuckle and murmured, "Nicely done, Miss Shepley."

I went straight up to my rooms. Mrs. Burke was in her favorite chair, sewing a clean collar on to my green striped dress. She looked up as I entered, regarding me with one raised eyebrow.

"And what are you about, child?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be halfway to town by now?"

"I'm shirking," I said, "and I won't let you spoil it for me."

"Spoil it for you... Cheeky minx. More like spoil it for me, you mean. Dressed you for nothing..." She snipped the thread and tucked her needle away. "I've got more good news for you, to go with your shirking. Bram is back."

This was good news, indeed. Bram had been away in Riverton for three weeks, which was about two weeks longer than I liked. It was generally suspected he had a girl up there, but he never said anything to me about a girl, so I refused to believe it.

My clothes were quickly changed and then I ran down the maids' staircase and out to the stables. My little gelding was soon saddled, and I set him toward the west pasture at a hard trot -- I had much to do and no time to waste.

I checked on my flock, and then I followed the Grassbeck east, along its route to join the Greengeld. I stopped to look in on Darlene, but Darwin told me she was napping, so I rode further east to the orchards, halfway looking for Bram, but mostly just enjoying being out and alone.

At the edge of the orchards, I slowed the pony to a walk and rode south to Able's Keep.

There had been a battle here, once -- not during the war with the Wolves, but during the Great War so many centuries before.

Able Eweherd was among the Twenty to be promised title and land in the Northerns, with just the one small caveat that they would have to fight for it. He had sailed from Northpoint in the early days of the war with a hundred armed men, building his keep here to stop the Wolves should they come through the mountain pass. The Grimmonds' progenitor rode just a bit farther and fought quite a few more battles, earning himself a higher rank for taking the extra pains.

After the war ended, the Wolves had kindly let the Twenty stay, and thus the Northerns were formed. There was an original copy of The Northerns Treaty, yellowed and charmingly archaic, in Ewert's library -- I'd read it often. The Wolves' decree was written in tones measured and magnanimous: a territory where all may meet and mingle and grow stronger united, as the waters of the valley unite in the Greengeld... But family lore had it the Twenty had simply refused to go, and the Wolves couldn't be bothered about a few stubborn fools and their piles of rocks.