The Noble Life

Sixteen

Once Catherine reached the gardens, she broke into a run. She hardly knew where she was running to; she could barely even see directly ahead of her due to the blur of tears obscuring her vision. All she cared about was putting as much distance as possible between her and the rest of the world.

As Catherine approached the rose garden she found herself taking a sharp right and veering off into the wild woods surrounding Broxcliffe Park; she was in no mood for inhaling the pungent fragrance of thorny flowers today. This proved not to be the wisest of decisions, as she realised upon looking down after five minutes of crashing through the undergrowth to find her slippers completely caked in mud - but nothing could be done about that now.

Onwards she pressed; surging through the woods until she came to the very edge of Sir William's land. Broxcliffe Park lay in the shadow of the Mendip Hills, and it was up into these hills Catherine began to climb now, relieved the weather was so mild, for in her haste to escape the house she had of course not given a moment's thought to fetching a spencer or bonnet. As she climbed higher, however, the sun beat down upon her relentlessly, and she began to curse her foolishness; she would now return to the house so browned and freckled she would hardly be fit to be seen above stairs!

But then, she thought suddenly with a rather hysterical laugh - what did it matter now if she did not look as a young lady of polite society ought? For Catherine certainly did not intend on remaining at Broxcliffe Park a moment longer than necessary; this much she had managed to deduce from her scrambled thoughts during the climb up the hill. She knew now that returning to Barnbury had been a mistake. It had been ever so generous of Sir William to invite her to stay, but all Catherine's visit to Somerset had taught her was that country society did not suit her at all.

In country society, nothing was as it seemed, and Catherine felt exhausted from continuously having to assess whether she could trust a single word uttered by anyone. She rather pitied Julia for being condemned to such a life; at least Catherine was now free to return to Donbroke, back to Bessie's side where she belonged.

By now Catherine had reached the summit, and she was rather surprised to find herself more than a little flustered and out-of-breath. Only now did she realise quite how quickly she had marched up the hill, and how exhausted she felt - so when she spotted a large rock just ahead, she simply flopped down on it unceremoniously and began fanning herself with vigour. What she looked like, she dreaded to think - the splatters of mud up to her shins and ruined shoes were enough of a sight without the flyaway hair which likely sat atop her head and the probable beetroot-red hue of her face.

For a few minutes Catherine could not relax, terrified that someone might venture past and spot her looking so unsightly - but as time went by and the path on either side remained decidedly deserted, she gradually allowed herself to breathe more slowly. That was one thing to be said for the countryside; in such a sparsely populated area the chance of coming across someone she knew this far out of the village was almost non-existent, for which she was extremely grateful at this moment in time.

Now that Catherine finally had the solitude she had so much been craving, she found herself slowly beginning to calm down. Within a few minutes her violent sobs had subsided into a few half-hearted hiccoughs, and as the last of the tears fell she retrieved her handkerchief to wipe away the remnants of moisture. Her sight now unhindered, Catherine was free to enjoy the view before her eyes - and what a spectacular view it was!

Catherine's vision was filled with green; the endless green of the lush Somerset plains, speckled here and there with the occasional grazing cow or sheep. Above was a glorious blue sky, completely clear but for one or two fluffy white clouds - and such was the clearness of the day that she could just about make out the hill over in the distance that was Glastonbury Tor. To the west lay the charming little cottages that made up Barnbury - and just beyond that, the remarkable structure that was Wyndham Hall, set slightly above the rest of the village.