of the carriage for the movement of a ship and began to cry raucously, ‘Belay, there! Avast, you lubbers!’ with other comments of a similar but less polite character. Miss Staunton had some difficulty in covering the cage again, and long before she did so half the population of Abbot Quincey was grinning at Hugo and his load. It was a relief when they reached the drive up to the Hall on other side of the village.
‘You’ve done it again, Deborah,’ said Hugo grimly as they came to a halt in the courtyard.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve made a laughing stock of me. Just as you did in London.’
‘Oh no, Hugo! That wasn’t nearly as bad as what happened in London. I thought those people in the village were enjoying it in a…a friendly kind of way. They like you.’ Miss Staunton shuddered. ‘That was nothing like what happened in London.’ Then after a pause she said wistfully, ‘I so hoped you had forgotten that episode. That we could begin again, and be friendly as we were in the old days, when we were children. You didn’t seem to mind so much when I got into scrapes then. But you’re still angry, aren’t you? Even after four years.’ When he frowned, she added, ‘I was very young, Hugo…’
He looked down at her with a reluctant twinkle in his eye. ‘It took me a long time to regain credibility with my friends after wading out of that lake.’
‘But I didn’t mean to upset the boat, Hugo!’
‘Oh, I know you never mean to. But you never seem to learn, either! I’ve lost count of the times I’ve been the victim of your not meaning to! You were only in London for a month, but I spent a small fortune getting you out of trouble one way or another. And in the process you managed to get me bitten by a dog, set upon by footpads, accused of abduction… I can’t remember the rest. Falling into the lake was the last straw. And it was all brought about without your meaning to!’
‘That last time you were so angry. You said you never wanted to see me again.’
‘Did I? Well, if I did, it was probably prompted by an instinct of self-preservation. I didn’t like to imagine what you might do next!’ He looked at her crestfallen expression. ‘But you’re right. That’s all in the past and should be forgotten. I’m not angry any more, Deborah.’
‘I’ve grown up a lot since then, Hugo.’
Hugo cast an eye over the dog and the parrot. ‘Have you? I’m relieved to hear it.’
‘I swear I’ll be more careful in the future! Are we…are we friends?’
He got down, untied Autolycus, then came round to take the cage from her. ‘I suppose so.’ He smiled at her. ‘I can’t be at odds with my little cousin, can I?’ His face was on a level with hers.
‘I…I’m not your cousin,’ she stammered. ‘I’m a cousin of your cousins, remember?’
‘I’ve always thought of you as a cousin of mine, too. And now you’ll be living with them at the Vicarage, won’t you? Come, we must arrange for one of the men to pick Nanny Humble up. Will he need to take some money with him? Have you any other debts?’
Miss Staunton, somewhat out of breath, got down and followed her rescuer through the courtyard, hurrying to keep up with Hugo’s long strides.
‘It would be a good idea to pay the landlady at the Traveller’s Rest something… She was quite upset about Autolycus and the meat. But you must keep a careful account of what you spend. I shall pay it all back.’
Hugo looked down at her with a certain amount of sympathy. The sum was insignificant. But how was Deborah Staunton, who was as near destitute as made no difference, planning to pay back anything at all?
‘We’ll sort all that out later,’ he said. ‘Meanwhile I shall put you into the hands of the housekeeper, while I see to things. I propose to put your canine friend in an empty stable. He must be tired and thirsty after that run. He’ll probably sleep. Will he want more to eat?’
‘Autolycus always wants more to eat. It would help him to settle down if you gave him something.’
Hugo handed Miss Staunton and the parrot over to the housekeeper, then disappeared. Mrs Banks, who had been with the Perceval family since before Hugo was born, accepted without comment the advent of an exotic new pet, saw it settled on a table in the small parlour, then turned her attention to Miss Deborah.
By the time Hugo came into the parlour Miss Staunton was looking a lot more respectable—she had had a wash, her dress had been shaken and pressed and her hair had been brushed and tied up again.
‘That’s all settled. Autolycus has had a good meal, and is now snoring off his exertions of the day. I’ve despatched a carriage to collect your nurse and possessions. They should be back within the hour, and we can all go over to the Vicarage when they arrive. Meanwhile I think we would both like some refreshment. It’s very hot—would you like to sit outside under the cedar?’
Deborah nodded silently, and Hugo went to give the necessary orders. She wandered into the garden and sat down in the shade. It was four years since she had last seen Hugo, but he was the same as ever—autocratic, decisive, efficient. And underneath it all, very kind. The Vicarage girls all adored him, though they were very much in awe of him. As the eldest of the young generation of Percevals, Hugo had always taken his responsibilities towards them all very seriously. Deborah knew that he had counted her among those responsibilities, even though their actual connection was remote. Her mother’s sister, Elizabeth, was married to Hugo’s Uncle William, his father’s brother, and the vicar of Abbot Quincey.
Deborah’s parents’ marriage had been a difficult one, and as a child she had often spent months at Abbot Quincey, joining the games and pastimes of her Vicarage cousins and the three Perceval children from the Hall. Herself an only child, at home she had often been lonely, left to her own devices. Those months at the Vicarage had been the happiest times of her young life, and Hugo, who was quite a few years older than the rest of them, had been her hero and chief confidant.
And now Hugo still seemed to regard her as one of his flock. Apparently, even though he had just returned home himself after ten years spent among the very highest London society, the old habit refused to die. It might have wavered four years before after the disasters she had brought about during her short visit to the capital, but the old feeling seemed to have survived, after all.
Deborah was not sure whether she was glad of this or not. It had certainly helped today. She would have been at her wits’ end without Hugo’s intervention. But though she seldom allowed herself to dwell on the true state of her feelings towards Hugo Perceval, she had never regarded him with the same awe as her cousins did. They were gentle, affectionate, biddable girls and she loved them all dearly. But they would never dream of disagreeing with anything Hugo said. Deborah was by nature more critical, and recent events had forced her to be more independent. Life had not dealt as kindly with her as it had with the young Percevals. Ever since her father’s death she had had to be strong enough to make decisions for herself and her mother. She had grown used to it. And she wondered whether she might find Hugo’s calm assumption of authority a touch overbearing…
They were so different, too, she and Hugo. He set himself and everyone else a high standard of perfection in dress, conversation, manners…in anything he undertook. Nothing was left to chance in Hugo’s scheme of things. In contrast, Deborah’s own life had always been chaotic. She had always been inclined to act first and ponder on the consequences afterwards, and, obliged though she was for the many times he had rescued her, she had often found Hugo’s calm forethought and assurance irritating… She had frequently had to battle with a desire to shake that complacency.
But when he met her in London, she had been feeling very lost. She had been so grateful for his attempts to ease her passage into society, but what had she done in return? She had turned his perfect life upside down, and made him an object of ridicule to his acquaintances. No wonder he had been so angry with her…
‘That’s fixed. Now, Deborah Staunton, I want