The Luckless Elopement

by Dorothy Mack

  Gregory, himself the possessor of a very pretty estate in Bedfordshire, had no need to make an advantageous marriage.

  His patent lack of interest in her eligibility had formed no small part of his attraction for Vicky. Now she wondered if she detected a hint of restraint in his manner as she reeled off figures and information on the crops raised by her tenant farmers. Certainly there had been an intensity in his gaze as he listened that was very different from his customary admiring expression, and she could not attribute this to any intrinsic interest in the subject under discussion. It wasn’t until they had stopped to watch the antics of three colts frolicking about their proud mothers in a sunny field that another explanation for Gregory’s slight reserve offered itself for her consideration.

  For the last few moments she had been rattling away on her favourite subject, the racehorses that were bred and trained on the estate, and there was no doubt that Gregory’s interest was caught. It had been his suggestion that they stop and admire the colts at closer range. The curious youngsters obliged by crowding around to investigate their company, nudging each other out of position along the rails. Their admirers disagreed mildly over which looked the most promising, Gregory pronouncing in favour of a large roan with abundant high spirits, while Vicky held to it that a dainty grey mare gave more promise by virtue of her sloping shoulders and lovely smooth action.

  “The roan was bred for strength and speed, but I fear he has inherited his sire’s straight shoulders and he might be a trifle short of bone in back. He has an ungainly stride at this point but might make a good hunter with training. Good wide quarters, as you can see, nicely rounded. He should jump well.”

  “He could surprise everyone. Not all champions are in the same style.”

  “True enough,” admitted Vicky, gathering up her reins in preparation for departure. “Wait until you see Shadow, though. There is not time now if we are not to be disgracefully late for lunch, but I venture to predict you will find him the most perfect creature, a horse in a thousand,” she enthused, “if not a million, and with a champion’s heart, I vow.”

  As he turned Othello’s head away from the fence, Lord Ellerby’s eyes kindled with appreciation of the glowing girl at his side, whose beauty was always enhanced by enthusiasm. As she went on to detail her progress in training Shadow, however, the admiration was replaced by consternation.

  “You can’t mean…? Is that what you were doing yesterday dressed…?” He stopped and got command of his voice, which had sounded shocked, before starting again in more moderated tones. “Surely you do not intend to do the actual training of this horse yourself?”

  Vicky’s golden-brown brows elevated. “Why, yes, of course I mean exactly that at this stage. Before I enter him on the circuit, naturally I shall see that he becomes accustomed to the jockey who will ride him for me.” Her level glance met Lord Ellerby’s incredulous gaze calmly, but there was a hint of defiance in the set of her rounded chin, and the soft lips were rather compressed at that moment.

  “It is not for me to criticise you,” began Lord Ellerby in hesitant tones, “but is that altogether wise? Apart from the potential danger to yourself, surely you will agree that for a woman to don male attire and engage in an activity that has always been the sole province of men is to present a very singular appearance and to court the kind of notoriety that I am persuaded you would deplore.”

  Long lashes concealed the impatient gleam in Vicky’s eyes. Here was the second man in twenty-four hours to take it upon himself to censure her conduct, though from vastly different motives. The Massingham man was concerned only for the fate of a good horse in a woman’s inherently unskilled hands, but Gregory, to do him credit, had her best interests at heart, or rather, what he as a member of the superior male persuasion considered to be her best interests. Appreciation of his motivation softened her response.

  “I do not propose to ride Shadow in a race meet, Gregory, and what I choose to do on my own estate can scarcely be thought to injure my reputation abroad. In general, I try to conform to the nonsensical restrictions imposed upon females, though it frequently goes against the grain to submit meekly to conventions that should have vanished like the dinosaurs long ago. In this case I feel I am more than competent to undertake this particular task, and raising horses is my business, after all.”

  Lord Ellerby looked as though he would like to enter a caveat, but he closed his lips firmly.

  Vicky, about to exert her best efforts to smooth over the situation, suddenly pulled up short as she remembered that it would advance Drucilla’s interests faster if Gregory should remain out of charity with herself for a while. In this cause, she added a little fuel to the fire by boasting gaily but inaccurately, “Besides, there isn’t a horse on the estate that I cannot handle.”

  That should help convince him that the girl he had worshipped was in reality a hurly-burly female with no delicacy of principle but possessed of a conceit of herself as competent to enter a masculine sphere of activity. She urged her horse into a gallop, throwing a challenge to race over her shoulder to her escort. Of necessity, Lord Ellerby had to keep pace with his hostess or find himself abandoned in strange territory. After a bit, the exhilarating effect of galloping ventre à terre with a strong, beautifully paced mount under him pushed his troubled thoughts into the background. The two riders approached the stable block neck and neck, for Vicky had gotten a good jump on the stronger horse and Gregory had to exert all his skill to beat her at the finish.

  Miss Seymour congratulated the victor for his prowess, he disclaimed and complimented his mount, and the two headed for the house in laughing camaraderie. But a tiny hole had been enlarged in the wall of chivalrous myopia and self-deception that prevented Lord Ellerby from seeing his beloved as she really was. His perception of her as the perfect ornament to a ballroom or drawing room had allowed her neither imperfections nor any of the more homely virtues. She had felt stifled and resentful under the loving tyranny of his expectations. Gregory’s discomfort with this new conception of his beloved seemed to support her intuitive belief that it was not herself he loved, but some perfect creation inside his head. It also helped to dispel some of the guilt she was experiencing at overdrawing the picture of a perversely independent creature determined to usurp masculine prerogatives. Harsh situations often demanded harsh solutions.

  CHAPTER 12

  The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Lady Honoria joined the young people for lunch and then requested the services of the coachman to convey her on one or two visits to pensioners whose welfare had been on her mind of late. Lord Ellerby installed himself in the library to write letters, while the young ladies brought their sewing onto the sunny terrace so they might enjoy the benefits of a day that was more like midsummer than early November. What there was of conversation was intermittent in pattern and trifling of nature, both girls being rather more absorbed by the work in their hands or the thoughts in their heads. Over the past week or so, the kind of close association enforced by dwelling under the same roof had forged a workable harmony based on feelings of friendliness and goodwill. That they had not attained a state of perfect intimacy was due less to the relatively short duration of their acquaintance than to differences in their personalities and respective stations in life. On Drucilla’s side, there was the inhibiting factor of her extreme youth and the great admiration, almost amounting to hero worship, in which she held her hostess; and on Vicky’s, an intrinsic reserve that generally kept her from offering her innermost self to others, as well as a recognition of the lack of shared experiences between herself and a girl raised in a restrictive, uncongenial town atmosphere. Nevertheless, they were contented and comfortable in each other’s company and did not feel constrained to avoid silence at all cost.

  Vicky glanced up to see her guest gazing with pleasure upon a colourful border of chrysanthemums, her hands idle in her lap.

  “This is such a heavenly spot, Vicky,” she murmured, catching the older girl’s ey
e on her. “Everywhere one gazes, there is a pleasing prospect.”

  “And not even man is vile,” agreed Vicky smilingly as she lowered to her lap the slipper she was embroidering. “We have been uncommonly fortunate in being able to enjoy a spell of unusually fine weather so late in the season. I believe it will last another day or two so that we may make a good beginning on your riding instruction. By the way, Nurse reports that she has altered that old habit of mine if you will like to try it on after tea, my dear.”

  She returned her eyes to her work, affecting not to see the shadow that flitted over Drucilla’s countenance at mention of the dreaded riding lessons. The girl had committed herself to learning the rudiments of riding, but she was plainly unhappy at the prospect. Vicky’s lips parted impulsively to assure her guest that she need not feel coerced into participating in any activity which she would rather avoid, but she closed them again before any such sentiment could escape. It might be difficult to reconcile such coercion with her duties to a guest, but it would be for Drucilla’s eventual good, after all. She would be bound to feel the lack of the accomplishment sooner or later, especially if she should marry a man who did not reside all the year in town. It must add to her self-confidence too if she could overcome her fears in this area, fears she herself recognised as irrational. She had summoned pride to her side in agreeing to try, and Vicky chose to believe her pride and resolution strong enough to carry her through the initial ordeal. And apart from this idealistic consideration, riding lessons were a heaven-sent excuse to throw Gregory and Drucilla together without the inhibiting effect of her own presence. Most assuredly she did not plan to participate in any instructional sessions beyond the first.

  The subject of horseback riding was avoided for the rest of the day. The various members of the household met together for tea and dinner and found abundant food for discussion in other areas. It being discovered that Drucilla’s strict upbringing had precluded instruction in any card games whatsoever, music once again became the main employment after dinner, but this was no sacrifice on anyone’s part. Lady Honoria, to be sure, was immoderately fond of a game of whist, but her fondness did not extend so far as to embrace the experience of initiating a newcomer into the mysteries of cardplaying. True to her word, Drucilla had learned the Bononcini song, which was universally well-received and even brought a hint of moisture to her ladyship’s eyes. Tonight the young girl needed no urging to partner Lord Ellerby in a few duets. Their performance benefited from the greater feeling of ease that was present after an additional few hours spent in each other’s company. When Vicky casually expressed the opinion that if the time might be found for another practice session before the dinner party on the morrow, their guests could not fail to be impressed by the professional quality of their collaboration, both performers were quick to agree that they could spare a mutually convenient hour or two in the pursuit of excellence. In twenty-four hours, Drucilla had come such a distance in accommodating herself to Lord Ellerby’s disturbing presence that her colour fluctuated scarcely at all, though she was profoundly grateful that no one could possibly be aware of her galloping pulse rate.

  The equestrienne neophyte presented herself at breakfast the following morning appropriately and most attractively garbed in the refashioned habit of brown gabardine, topped by a dashing brown velvet hat set at a perky angle on her riotous black ringlets. Her pulses were still racing, but the healthy colour had deserted her cheeks from the moment of rising. She had no control over such involuntary physical manifestations but summoned to her aid all that a determined pride could do to present a composed appearance. It wasn’t quite sufficient, however, to permit the muscles of her throat to relax to the degree that would allow more than a morsel or two of food past the lump that had taken up residence there, and that only when the others’ eyes were upon her.

  Vicky, well aware of her friend’s discomfort and secretly cheering her fortitude, kept up an animated flow of conversation on every topic under the sun save the one that most concerned the nearly silent Drucilla. Like most men, Lord Ellerby remained oblivious of any atmosphere and partook of a sustaining repast.

  At last the meal was over and the little party repaired to the side entrance, where three horses awaited them in the care of a couple of grooms, who were soon dismissed, it having been privately agreed between Vicky and Lord Ellerby that Drucilla would fare better with no witnesses to her initial efforts. The girl had been all docility since her capitulation to her companions’ entreaties, but at sight of the saddled Sheba, her step faltered and she ejaculated faintly, “She looks much larger than I remember.”

  “Actually Sheba is quite a small horse,” Vicky assured her in soothing accents. “You may give her one of the sugar lumps now if you wish.”

  Not loath to try what bribery might do to incline the horse in her favour, Drucilla solemnly presented the sugar to the expectant chestnut and was somewhat reassured of her mount’s kindly intentions by soft brown eyes that followed her movements.

  Lord Ellerby lifted the girl onto the mare’s back and shortened the stirrup a bit while Vicky helped Drucilla to arrange the folds of the riding dress comfortably. It had been decided to allow the novice some time to accustom herself to the motion of the horse before giving the reins into her control. Once in the saddle, Vicky took charge of them until Lord Ellerby was mounted and could relieve her.

  They set off at a walking pace, leading Sheba between the other two horses. It was some few moments before Drucilla was able to keep her eyes open, since an inadvertent downward glance from such an unaccustomed eminence would snap them shut again, but after a time the unvarying rhythm of Sheba’s gait calmed her most immediate fears and she was emboldened to look about her with real interest. They were making for the home wood as an easy ride with little variation in grade. Vicky ventured a comment on the passing scene and was rewarded by the first natural movement Drucilla had made since being placed in jeopardy. She turned her head and shoulders toward the speaker. When no disaster resulted from such imprudence, the rigidity with which she held herself underwent a visible improvement. A look of shared triumph passed between her instructors, and the little party continued on, admiring the colourful foliage as they entered the wood.

  Had the riding lesson terminated after half an hour or so, all parties to it must have rated it an unequivocal success. By that time Drucilla was handling the reins herself, experiencing the satisfaction of having Sheba respond to her directions as they forked left or right on intersecting paths. They were already wending their leisurely way back toward the house when another element was introduced by the intrusion of the unforeseen. Drucilla was in the middle of a lively description of her uncle’s selection of reading matter fit for the improvement of a young lady’s intellect when a hare darted across the path. Sheba was a beautifully mannered horse, but at this she did display surprise and displeasure to the extent of tossing her head and sidling away a step or two. The excursion had been so smooth and uneventful to that point that Drucilla had actually forgotten its purpose. Her mind was far from her precarious position atop a huge animal, and having little idea of control, she lost the reins and her balance in her surprise. She might well have righted herself unaided, for Sheba had stopped on Vicky’s command, but Lord Ellerby was off Othello in a flash and his strong arm was around the trembling girl. He lifted her down and kept a supporting grasp on her while Vicky gathered up the chestnut’s reins again.

  “Are you all right, my dear?”

  “Oh, yes, so foolish of me … it was my own fault entirely for not attending.” Drucilla was a trifle pale, but her voice was almost under control as she reassured her friend. She stepped away from Lord Ellerby’s hold, being careful to avoid his concerned gaze.

  “Well, no harm done,” Vicky replied with a cheerful air that evidently struck the gentleman as excessive, for he said quickly:

  “Perhaps the lesson has run a bit too long. Shall I take Miss Hedgeley up on Othello with me for the return?” />
  He was already reaching for the reins of the waiting black when his hostess’ voice, even more offensively cheerful than before, stopped him in his tracks. “Heavens, no, Gregory! You know it is always advisable after a spill for a rider to get right back on. Of course Drucilla didn’t actually fall, but the principle still applies.”

  Lord Ellerby’s handsome face wore an expression of gravity as he looked steadily at his goddess and replied with a suggestion of gentle reproof. “I think you cannot have considered, Vicky, that this is Miss Hedgeley’s first lesson. It would surely be most inadvisable to extend it beyond an optimum time. We have been somewhat remiss, I’m afraid, in not discovering that she has become a trifle fatigued.”

  “Oh, yes, to be sure. I have so little sensibility myself that I don’t always allow for it in others. Forgive me, my dear. The lesson was overlong, and Lord Ellerby shall now take you up with him.”

  Vicky had striven for just the right note of unconcern to rob her words of their conciliating spirit, and she read success in the continued gravity of his lordship’s expression and the sudden firming of his lips as he repressed speech with difficulty.

  Before he could act, however, opposition came from an unexpected quarter.

  “I thank Lord Ellerby for his kind offer, but I am not in the least fatigued and have every intention of riding home on Sheba,” declared Drucilla, approaching her mount with decision in the lines of her body and uplifted chin.

  Vicky, silently applauding her young friend’s courage, preserved her facade of insensibility while Lord Ellerby repeated his protestations and Drucilla stood firm in her decision to return on Sheba’s back. His lordship’s conscientious concern for the novice rider’s welfare was not again called into action during the uneventful return trip. Drucilla withstood the ordeal well and would have been crushed to learn that her heroic attempt to conceal her fear was entirely transparent to her instructors.