Close by the house was that land which my father had acquired when he bought the Dower House. He had never put it to use and was always going to do something about it but somehow never did. It was fenced in and he made it quite clear that he did not want it used as common ground. I guessed he must have had some plan for it.

I leaned against the fence and looked at the house. Dark and forbidding it seemed; but was that because of its reputation. And then suddenly I heard a sound. I listened. I looked towards the house. But no, it was not coming from the house. It was somewhere behind me. It was beyond the fence. I listened again. There it was. A piteous whine. Some animal in distress. I thought it sounded like a dog.

I was going to see. My father had put up such a strong fence around this land that it was not easy to scale it. There was a gate, though heavily padlocked, but it was possible to climb over this and I did so.

I stood there for a moment listening. The place was overgrown. I called it the Forbidden Wood because my father had stressed often that it was very private. I wondered afresh why he should have taken such pains to prevent people getting in and then do nothing about it.

Then I heard the sound again. It was definitely some animal in distress.

I went in the direction of the sound. Yes, I was getting nearer. Then I saw it. I had been right. It was a dog, a beautiful mastiff bitch—buff coloured with slightly darker ears and muzzle. I saw at once what had happened; one of her hind legs was caught in a trap.

She was looking at me with piteous eyes and I could see she was in considerable pain.

I had always had a way with animals. I think it was because I always talked to them and I had a special love for and understanding of them which they were quick to sense.

I knelt down. I saw exactly what had happened. Someone had set a trap to snare a hare or rabbit I guessed, and this beautiful dog had been caught in it.

I was running considerable risk, I knew. She might have bitten me, for the pain must have been intense, but I soothed her as I got to work, and as I had never been afraid of animals somehow they never seemed afraid of me.

In a few minutes I had seen how to release the trap. I did so and the dog was free.

I patted her head.

“Poor old lady,” I murmured. “It’s bad, I know.”

It was indeed bad. She could not stand up without intense pain.

I coaxed her along, murmuring still. I sensed that she trusted me. I knew something about broken limbs. I had set them before for other animals with some success. I promised myself I would have a try with this one.

The animal was in excellent condition and was obviously well cared for. Later I would have to set about finding the owner. In the meantime I would tend the wounded leg.

I took her back to the Dower House and to my room, and Miss Leveret, who passed me on the stairs, cried: “Oh, Damaris, not another of your sick animals!”

“This lovely creature has hurt her leg. She was caught in a trap. People should not be allowed to use such traps. They’re dangerous.”

“Well I’ve no doubt you will put it right.”

“I don’t think the leg is broken. That is what I feared at first.”

Mistress Leveret sighed. Like the rest of them, she thought I should be growing out of my absorption with animals.

I sent for hot water and bathed the leg. I found a very big basket which I had used for one of the bitches when she had puppies and I put the mastiff in it. I had a special ointment which was soothing and nonpoisonous. I had had it from one of the farmers who made it himself and swore by its healing properties.

The mastiff had ceased to whimper and was looking at me with her liquid eyes as though she was thanking me for easing her pain.

I gave her a bone which I found in the kitchens and there was quite a bit of good meat on it, and some water in one of my dogs’ dishes. She seemed contented and I left her sleeping in the basket and went down to supper.

Mistress Leveret, who took her meals with us, was telling my parents that I had brought another wounded stray into the household.

My mother smiled. “There is nothing unusual about that,” she said. We sat down at the table, and my father was talking about some of the cottages on his estate and the repairs which would have to be done, and we had almost finished when the talk came back to the dog I had saved.

“What had happened to this one?” asked my father smiling at me.

“His leg had been caught in a trap,” I explained.

“I don’t like traps,” said my mother. “They’re cruel.”

“They’re meant to kill at a stroke,” my father explained. “It’s unfortunate for an animal if he just gets trapped by a leg. The men like to get a hare or a rabbit for the pot, you know. They consider that a part of their wages. By the way, where was the trap?”

“It was on the closed-in land by Enderby,” I said.

I was astonished by the change in my father. His face turned red and then white.

“Where?” he cried.

“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.”

“I know well her qualities. I am so glad to have restored her to you.”

“If you hadn’t discovered her …”

“Who knows what would have happened? People hardly ever go to that land. In fact … there is great trouble because Jacob Rook set a trap there.”

“Which land is it?” asked Elizabeth.

“It’s close to Enderby. It was Enderby land at one time. My father bought it. He has some plans for it but at the moment it is strictly out of bounds. I call it the Forbidden Wood.” I turned to Matt. “Your dog will be able to walk tomorrow, I think. I’ll bring her back to you then.”

“That’s wonderful. How can we ever thank her?” he asked his mother.

“Damaris doesn’t need to be told how much we appreciate what she has done. She knows it. She would have done the same for any little hedgerow sparrow.”

I rode home in an exalted mood which I realised was not only due to the fact that I had found the dog’s owner and that he should be Matthew Pilkington; it was largely because Matt had come back.

My pleasure was dampened as I went in by the sight of Mary Rook in the kitchen, her eyes swollen with crying. She gave me a reproachful look. I was the one who had discovered the trap and reported where it was found. Had I known what my father’s reaction would have been I should have kept quiet, but it was no use telling Mary that now.

I did not mention the fact that I had found the dog’s owner and who he was at the supper table, for the dog was a subject we did not now discuss in front of my father; he was still in an angry and unrelenting mood; and I believe suffering because of it.

I did say to my mother as we were going upstairs for the night, “By the way, Matthew Pilkington is paying a visit to his mother, and, do you know, the dog is his.”

“How strange,” she said quietly.

She did not seem overjoyed.

The next day I took the dog over to Grasslands. There was no mistaking her joy to see her master again. She barked in ecstasy; nuzzled up to him while he knelt and fondled her. I stood watching them. I think I fell in love with him at that moment.