The Song of the Siren

“You know ... the fenced-in land which you’re always going to do something about and never do.”

“Who put a trap in there?” he demanded.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Someone who thought he’d trap a hare or a rabbit for the pot, I suppose.”

My father was a man who was rarely roused to anger but when he was angry he could be violently so.

He said: “I want to know who put that trap there.”

He spoke quietly but it was the quiet before the storm.

“Well, you said that they used traps as part of their wages.”

“Not on that land,” he said. “I gave express orders that no one was to go there.”

My mother looked frightened.

“I don’t suppose he’s done any harm, Leigh,” she said.

My father brought his fist down on the table. “Who ever put that trap there disobeyed my orders. I am going to find out who did it.”

He stood up.

My mother said: “Not now, surely.”

But he had gone out. I heard him riding out of the stables.

I said: “He is in a great rage.”

My mother was silent.

“I hate those traps,” I said. “I’d like to stop them. But why is he so angry?”

She did not answer. But I could see she was very shaken.

The next day there was terrible trouble. The owner of the trap was found. He was Jacob Rook. My father dismissed him. He was to take everything and go. My father would not have his orders ignored.

It was most distressing, for when the people on the land were dismissed they not only lost their work but their homes. Jacob and Mary Rook had lived for fifteen years on the Eversleigh estate in one of the small cottages which now belonged to my father.

They had a month to get out.

We were all very upset. Jacob was a good worker; Mary often helped in the house, and I hated to think my father could be so cruel.

It was terrible when Mary came to the house and cried; she kept clinging to my mother and begging her to let them stay. My mother was very unhappy; she said she would speak to my father.

I had never seen him like this before. I had not realised he could be so hard.

“Please,” I begged, “overlook it this once. He’ll never do it again.”

“I will be obeyed,” said my father. “I gave special orders and Jacob Rook deliberately disobeyed them.”

He was adamant and there was nothing we could do.

I blamed myself for saying where I had found the mastiff. I had not thought it would be so important.

In a day or so the bitch was healed enough for her to limp about. I fed her on the best I could get and it was clear that she had taken a fancy to me, but my joy in the adventure had gone because of the Rooks.

Two days after I had found the dog I was riding past Grasslands Manor when I saw Elizabeth Pilkington in the garden. She called to me. I have been meaning to send a messenger over to you. I wanted you to come and visit me. I have someone who very much wants to see you.”

As she spoke Matthew Pilkington came out of the house.

He hurried over to me, took my hand and kissed it.

He looked very elegant but not so fancifully dressed as he had been in London. He wore high leather boots and knee-length jacket of dark blue frogged with black braid.

I thought he was even more handsome than when I had last seen him.

“How delightful to see you again,” he said. “You must come in, must she not, mother?”

Elizabeth Pilkington said that I must indeed do so.

I dismounted and went into the house.

I was tingling with pleasure at the sight of him. He seemed different from the young men of the neighbourhood whom I met from time to time. It was that air of immense sophistication which hung about him and which I had never noticed in other people.

I suppose it was due to his living so much of his life in London.

He had been with the army overseas for a spell, he said, and then he had gone back to his estates in Dorset for a while. “One cannot neglect them for too long,” he added.

“You’ve grown up since we last met,” he commented.

Then his mother said: “Matthew has had one great unhappiness since he arrived here.

He has lost a favourite dog.”

I stood up in my excitement and cried: “A mastiff bitch?”

“Yes,” said Matthew. “How did you know?”

I started to laugh. “Because I found her.”

“You found her? Where is she?”

“Reclining in a basket in my bedroom at the moment. She was caught in a trap. I found her, took her home and dressed her wound. She is recovering very nicely.”

Matt’s eyes were beaming with delight.

“Well, that is wonderful. I am so grateful to you. Belle is my favourite dog.”

“She is a beautiful dog,” I said. “Poor dear, she has been very sorry for herself.”

“And grateful to you ... as I am.” He had taken my hand and kissed it.

“Oh,” I said blushing, “it was nothing. I would never pass by an animal in distress.”

Elizabeth Pilkington was smiling at us benignly. “This is the most wonderful news,” she said. “You’ve been our good angel, Damaris.”

“I am doubly glad for Belle’s sake. I could see that she was no stray. She is used to the very best.”

“She’s a good faithful creature. Not so young now but you couldn’t find a braver and more devoted guard.”