The Hemingford Scandal. Mary Nichols

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СКАЧАТЬ to be a trivial reason and any man who offers for me had better bear that in mind. I think I will never live it down and you were best to turn your back on me or some of the calumny will rub off on you.’

      ‘I am not such a Jack Pudding as to turn tail at the first setback, and if anyone should say a word against you in my company you may be sure they will be sorry for it. But it was not that I meant. I was speaking of your goodness, your modesty and obedience, the way you have helped your papa.’

      She tried to laugh. ‘Oh, Mr Allworthy, how gallant you are, but it is all flummery and you know it.’

      ‘Not at all. But you could put an end to the tattle at once, you know, if you were to consent to be my wife. I could carry you off to Coprise and they would soon find someone else to talk about.’

      ‘Is that the answer? Would you find it so easy to forget?’

      ‘I have your assurance it is all in the past, that you have no affection for the man in question and do not regret your decision to sever your ties with him, and that is enough for me.’ He paused. ‘Now, we have discoursed on the matter long enough. Shall we ride out together one morning? Friday, perhaps? Nine o’clock?’

      Nine o’clock was early, but at that time there would not be so many people about to witness her clumsiness and so she agreed, knowing that the more invitations she accepted the more she was compounding her problem, if problem it was.

      She purchased a ready-made habit in deep blue grosgrain. It had a tight-fitting military-style jacket decorated with silver braid and frogging. Her hat, like a man’s top hat, was softened with a length of bright blue gauze tied about its narrow brim with the ends flowing freely behind. The skirt was full and plain. She decided if she did not take to riding again, it could be altered to make a walking dress and the money would not be wasted. Practising economy had become a habit with her since she had been in charge of her father’s household and she could not break it, even though Aunt Lane had generously paid for many of her new clothes and told her to think nothing of it.

      Donald arrived at her front door at the appointed time, with a magnificent black stallion and a small bay mare. ‘She’s called Blaze,’ he told her as he escorted her out and helped her to mount. Having made sure she was comfortably seated, he mounted the stallion and they set out at a walk. She was aware of a groom, following them on a cob, but he was so far behind that as a chaperon he might just as well not have been there.

      ‘Green Park, I think,’ Donald said, watching her carefully to see how she was managing. ‘It will be less crowded than Hyde Park.’

      As soon as she was in the saddle, she knew she had not forgotten how to ride. It came back to her as something comfortable and familiar. She had ridden almost daily when she was young, mostly in the company of Anne and Harry, whose home had been less than a mile from hers. They had been three rather wild children, sometimes riding bareback, often bareheaded, frequently barefoot, chasing across the countryside, up hill and down dale, until they had been driven home by hunger. How happy they had been, how easy in each other’s company, unaware of what lay ahead.

      The first change had come when Harry went to university. It was not the same for the two girls after that. They were expected to grow into young ladies and were schooled with that end in mind. But they had remained good friends and when Harry came home in the vacations, he escorted them to dances in the assembly rooms and on picnics to local beauty spots, but there were always other people about; it was no longer just the three of them.

      And then Mama had died and soon after that Papa, eaten up with grief, had decided to sell the house and live in London permanently. The decision seemed to compound Jane’s own grief. The capital was dirty and noisy and she missed everything that might have given her some solace: the green fields, the pony rides, the people, Anne and Harry most of all. It was from Anne’s letters she learned that Harry had fallen into bad company and had incurred gambling debts of three hundred pounds. ‘Grandfather stood buff for him,’ she had written. ‘And has bought him a lieutenancy in the Prince of Wales’s Own, which he told him was more than he deserved, but I don’t think he meant it. From tales I have heard him tell when I was a little girl, he sowed a few wild oats himself. Harry is off to London any time now and no doubt he will call on you.’

      Harry, with his dark curls and laughing eyes, had arrived, splendid and proud in his uniform, and had captivated her, won her heart and her hand, and then behaved disgracefully and she ought not to repine over him. It was not fair on the man who rode beside her now. Donald Allworthy was everything that Harry was not: reliable, thoughtful, truthful, correct to the last degree. Everyone told her he was exactly right for her.

      As they entered the park, she turned to smile at him. ‘I am so glad you persuaded me to come. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed riding. It is such an age since I have been on the back of a horse.’

      ‘You could be on the back of one every day if you became Mrs Allworthy. There are horses in the stables and some good rides around Coprise.’

      She smiled mischievously as they trotted past a herd of cows being driven to the gate by milkmaids. ‘Bribery, Mr Allworthy?’

      ‘No, a promise.’ He paused. ‘I collect you are fond of country pursuits.’

      ‘Indeed, I am.’

      ‘Then come to Coprise Manor for a visit. You should all come, Mr Hemingford, Mrs Lane and your maids. There is plenty of room. I have to go home soon, I have been away too long, but the prospect of being parted from you made me reluctant to return.’

      ‘You are leaving London?’ Why that should surprise her, she did not know. ‘I did not know you were contemplating it.’

      ‘I must be back for haymaking. I like to involve myself in the work of the farm; matters run more smoothly when I do. But I could make all ready for your reception. Say you will come.’

      ‘I must consult with Papa and Aunt Lane. It might not be convenient for them.’

      ‘But if it is, you will come?’

      ‘I think I might like that.’

      His little grin of triumph was not lost on her, but surely he had a right to be pleased? She dug her heel into her horse’s flank and set it cantering across the grass, enjoying the feel of the mare’s strong back beneath her, the sound of her hooves as she put her to gallop, laughing because she had taken her escort by surprise and left him behind.

      And then she looked up and saw them, two riders outlined against the skyline, and she knew who they were by the way the young woman brushed a wayward curl from her face, the way the man sat in the saddle with his hands loosely on the reins. Her laughter faded and in that second, in mid-gallop, she thought of wheeling about to avoid them, but that would risk a fall and she would not subject herself to the indignity of being unseated in front of them. She managed to pull up and then stopped. They had surely seen her. Or was this another of her apparitions? What would it take to banish them? Marriage to someone else?

      She looked round at Donald as he rode up beside her. ‘That was good,’ she said, making herself laugh again.

      ‘Foolhardy, my dear, especially when you are so long out of practice. I should never have forgiven myself if you had taken a tumble.’

      ‘Ah, but I did not.’ She leaned forward to pat her horse’s neck, aware that the other two riders were walking their horses towards them. ‘Little Blaze is a goer.’

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