“Are you saying we shall soon be at war?” she asked, appalled.
“We shall be obliged to make a show of strength — and that is just what we do not have. The signs have been there for anyone with sight to see, but of what use is a tiny army trained on the methods we used at Waterloo — nearly forty years ago? Why do you think I have been advocating reforms in cavalry tactics for so long? Come with me and I will demonstrate what I mean.”
In the nursery, with toy soldiers spread upon the table, Hugo explained his theories to her and illustrated them with the tiny horsed men.
“I have employed these methods in Ireland with great success,” he said. “General Redvers approves them, yet the majority of our military leaders believe that what was good enough to win the battle at Waterloo is good enough to win anything. They are wrong, Victoria.” He straightened up. “Once, I believed that if a majority is in agreement, their opinion must be the right one…but I know I am right this time.”
Loving him, longing to take his hands and tell him she believed in him, afraid of what he was telling her, she could only stand across the table gazing at the soldiers formed on on its surface. “If there is a war, will the regiment be called upon?”
“I should hope so.” The quick reply was spoken before he thought, and the next minute he apologized. “Forgive me. War is not a subject I should bother you with at such a time.” His embarrassment over her condition was plain. “Coming direct from the unrest in Ireland, I suppose such things fill my mind too much.” He smiled gently. “You are a very sympathetic listener to a man who is known as a saber-rattler.”
“Was it dangerous?” she asked in sudden anxiety.
“For the poor devils in the mob, it was. We were able to charge into them with swords drawn; they were on foot with cruder weapons. Even so, they dragged two of my men from their horses and kicked them unconscious. Mob violence is not pleasant to witness, Victoria.”
She picked up a toy soldier and studied it. “Thank you for assuming I shall not faint away upon hearing such things.”
“It did not occur to me. You will not, I trust?”
She smiled and shook her head. “I have never seen you ride, Hugo. I feel my education is not complete. Will you not give me a demonstration of your equestrian skill? Think of the honor to have the best cavalryman in England giving one a personal display.”
“Are you laughing at me, Victoria?”
“I could never do that.”
For a long moment the tension was there again.
“Tomorrow, if it is fine, I intend to ride across the park. If you care to watch from your window I shall do my best not to disappoint you,” he said with a bow.
The day was so warm Victoria insisted on accompanying Hugo to the stables, then walked beside him as he led his latest hunter around to the paddock that led to the deer park. She wore a warm shawl over her woolen dress, but Hugo, striding along beside her in breeches and brown plaid coat, was very concerned with finding her a seat sheltered from any sudden breezes.
“I declare, I had not thought you would ever behave in so foolishly cossetting a manner, Hugo,” she laughed. “You will soon be as angelic as Miss Verewood.”
To her surprise he did not join in her laughter.
“I am not certain you should be outside at all on a day like this,” he muttered. “Mama will probably berate me if she hears of it. I know so little about…” he broke off, leaving the subject in the air.
It was the first time her condition had been mentioned between them, for although he had been solicitous and gentle, that was his natural manner. Now, Victoria grew shy and tongue-tied, and the silence was beginning to grow unnatural when the sound of a horse approaching made them both look up across the park. A female rider was approaching at the gallop, exhibiting her skill. She slowed to a trot at the paddock and came up to them knowing all attention was focused on her. The smart black habit and veiled hat suited the classic coldness of the girl’s beauty.
“Captain Esterly, good morning. I see you were just setting out for Brankham Hall. How fortunate that we did not miss each other on the way. It was so lovely a morning I could not resist coming to meet you. I did not expect you yesterday, although in your letter you said you would call as soon as you arrived at Wychbourne.”
Hugo took off his hat. “Good morning, Miss Verewood. It was good of you to ride over so soon. I had not meant my words to be taken as a summons, I assure you. It was simply that I felt eminently responsible, having advised you on the mare in the first place.”
The doll-blue eyes grew even rounder. “You must not feel any sense of guilt. Please, do not. I would not have bought any horse without first asking your opinion, you know that, and I would not have mentioned it at all except that you asked in each of your letters and it did not seem possible to conceal the truth from you.”
She sat stiffly erect, black skirts arranged over her legs so that only the foot of her tiny boot was visible. Looking up at her, Victoria saw her as the Virgin Huntress who hounded unsuspecting males to their deaths.
“Good morning, Miss Verewood,” she said clearly.
Charity shifted her glance to the figure she could not have escaped seeing and affected surprise. “Good morning…oh, good morning, Mrs. Stanford. Please, please forgive me. I did not immediately recognize you.” Her glance flickered over the pregnant girl. “You look so…my dear ma’am, no wonder you are so pale.” She held out her arms for Hugo to lift her down and, when he had done so, stood very close to him, gazing up full of shocked concern. “Captain Esterly, how could you have acted in such an ill-advised manner?” She swung around to look at Victoria. “Believe me, I would have come to Wychbourne sooner had I known you were here and in need of feminine care. Please come inside at once. The time of year is treacherous for even those of us who…” she broke off delicately. “I dare not think what damage has already been done.”
Victoria felt an arm go around her and begin to press her back the way she had come. Charity smelt of sweet lavender, pure and fresh, before it has been cut, beheaded and stuffed into little bags. The soft virtuous voice was insistent in her ear.
“I cannot believe Lady Blythe knew of this, for she would never have allowed it. It is the greatest pity Major Stanford cannot be here at this delicate time, but Captain Esterly cannot be blamed for ignorance in a matter that should not, after all, be his responsibility. I do feel you should not place such a burden upon him when you have Lady Blythe so anxious for your welfare.” She urged Victoria along the path with great firmness and determination. “Captain Esterly has been in Ireland, where you cannot imagine the danger he has faced. No doubt he wishes to relax and follow his own desires for once. You cannot know what he has been through, or you would not load him with further responsibilities.”
“It was a great deal worse for the rioters,” said Victoria, bringing them both to a halt. “Hugo had a horse and a sword; they had only their fists and their feet. You see, I do know what he has been through, Miss Verewood.” She skillfully twisted free from the encircling arm. “Strange as it might seem to you, I am not ill. This is a perfectly natural condition that allows one to walk abroad in the warm sunshine without loading anyone with responsibility or casting Lady Blythe into a fit of palpitations. A stroll in the garden will not hasten my union with the Lord, you know.”
Charity cluck-clucked with her tongue. “It is one of the worst symptoms when a female grows fractious, ma’am. I insist…”
“You will insist on nothing,” cried Victoria hotly, knowing the morning had been completely spoiled. “When you are in a position to speak from experience, your arguments might hold more authority. I suggest you wait until you are in that happy position.”
Charity blanched with anger but knew she could win this battle with one swift blow. Turning on her heel, she hurried back to Hugo, where a tirade of fierce words sent him in Victoria’s direction.
“I think perhaps you should go in,” he said earnestly. “Miss Verewo
od does know a lot about such things, and I was unhappy about your welfare all along.”
Her flashing eyes scalded him with dark fire. “I think you might have championed me after I saved you from broth and potions last year. I will go, Hugo, only because you will be made to look foolish if I defy you. As for Miss Verewood, it is my earnest hope that her horse tosses her into the village pond so that she emerges dripping and covered with weed right beneath your eyes. My only regret will be that she is probably stuffed so full of her own remedies she will not catch so much as a sniffle.”
Her quick retreat into the house prevented her from seeing the surprise on Hugo’s face turn into delighted laughter that still filled him as he galloped off with his neighbor.
As soon as they were distant figures Victoria reemerged and sat on the seat Hugo had chosen for an hour, determined to have the last word. At the end of it she was cold and unhappy, but Charity Verewood had been defied.
She remained in her room for the rest of the day, working on a water color of Glencoe, and decided to eat dinner alone. Her low spirits would not lift, and the ache in her back suggested it had been foolish to remain so long in the garden that morning after all.
Soon after breakfast the following day, Rosie came into the bedroom bearing a note, and Victoria opened it swiftly.
I trust your absence is to punish me for my deplorable lack of support yesterday, not because you are feeling unwell. I have to drive into Mexford today. Mama is agreeable to your accompanying me as the weather is so warm, and the journey is through quiet lanes. Please come. If I am still in disgrace you have my permission not to speak to me the whole journey long. I leave at eleven A.M.
H.
She crumpled the note with a swift surge of happiness. “Rosie, I shall wear my lavender velvet with ribbon ruching and the cashmere shawl. Be quick. I leave at eleven.”
Hugo was waiting for her with his hand outstretched, and she took the note with great curiosity.
In case we are not speaking, this is just to say good morning. I am glad you decided to come.
She looked up at him and gave a shaky laugh. “You are absurd.”
His smile cut at her, as usual. “I am also relieved. Come, let us start right away.” He took her arm. “Have you visited Mexford before?”
“No, but I would visit anywhere on a day like today. Is it the start of an Indian summer, do you suppose?”
“I hope so,” he replied as he handed her into the rig and jumped up beside her to take the reins. “There is really nothing as beautiful as Buckinghamshire in early autumn. You should see the golden beeches along Mexford Heights. They have been the subject for many artists.” A quick flick of the wrist set the horse off at a comfortable trot, and he glanced down at her. “If you are not too tired we could return that way. It adds a few miles to the journey but is worth the effort.”
“Let us do it, by all means. I know so little of the area. Last December was hardly fit for outings.”
“So you told me at the time.”
“Yes, yes…of course.” Her bonnet hid her profile from him as she watched the cylindrical privets lining the drive as they passed them one by one. “Why are you going to Mexford?”
“My father wishes me to collect an inlaid ivory box from the estate of Sir Gervaise Garland. His possessions were sold last month. My father’s manager bid on his behalf, but heavy rains have prevented the collection of the box. It is intended for a Christmas present for Mama.”
“How pleased Lady Blythe will be.”
“Yes.” He negotiated a bend. “Why do you not call her Mama?”
“She has never yet invited me to do so. However, I imagine Miss Verewood will call her so with no difficulty when the time comes.”
He looked away and said nothing.
“Thank you for asking me to accompany you,” she said several minutes later. “We should accept the beauty the Lord gives us while it is there. Suppose it should never come again?”
“That is a strange remark for one so young. It would come better from Aunt Sophy.”
A faint smile touched her lips. “Letty Markham will not draw her curtains against the sunlight lest the Almighty take it away altogether. Do you not believe in the wrath of God, Hugo?”
He avoided an answer. “You have found a friend in Letty?”
“She is the only female who earns my respect. Her honesty and humor are such as one normally finds only in gentlemen. I am sorry to say it, but ladies more often than not arouse in me the desire to shake them until their empty heads rattle.”
He whistled through his teeth. “You do not mince words, Victoria. Do you make no allowance for the poor creatures?”
“Not when I see them become wax dolls like the Massingham sisters, or fall into the vapors because someone at a ball is wearing ribbons in exactly the same shade. And — you must forgive my saying it, Hugo — I cannot admire the woman who invents a delicate constitution when things do not go her way.” She glanced up quickly at him. “How will your mama cope with her sons going to war when the time comes?”
He let out his breath in a long sigh. “I…it appears I should not have spoken on such a subject to you the other day, for Miss Verewood gave me a severe lecture on agitating you unnecessarily. Please forget all that nonsense of which I spoke. I am inclined to get carried away. It is quite likely I exaggerated the situation.” He gave her a rueful smile. “You must be more severe with me and not encourage unseemly conversation between a gentleman and a lady who is far too kind-hearted.”
She grew pink. “What nonsense! I declare you are growing more like Charles every day. I had always thought you had more…” She broke off painfully, knowing they were treading on dangerous ground. They drove in strained silence until they reached their destination.
They collected the ivory box from the late Sir Gervaise’s estate manager, drank a glass of wine with him while he showed them some of the other treasures waiting for collection, then set off on the return journey along the top of Mexford Heights, after Hugo had checked that Victoria was not feeling too tired. In fact, the deep ache in her back had returned, but it was such a beautiful day she did not wish to miss the sight of the trees in all their autumnal splendor. They branched off up the side of the hill soon after they left the village and were soon several hundred feet up with a view across Mexford toward Brankham Hall on a faraway hill and Wychbourne lying serene in the midst of extensive parklands.
For a while both looked down on their corner of a green and pleasant island, lost in their own thoughts, until Hugo broke the silence by saying, “In March, I advised Miss Verewood on the purchase of a mare. In my opinion it was an excellent animal, but it became sick soon afterward and went lame. She wrote to tell me of it. I was obliged to answer.”
She grew still. “You are not obliged to tell me this.”
“I was angry to think I had been duped into believing the animal sound,” he went on, as if she had not spoken, “and felt an obligation to recompense Miss Verewood, who had acted on my word. When I was granted leave, I wrote to tell her that I would look into the matter as soon as I arrived. That is why she rode across yesterday.”
“I see.” The pain in her back was growing worse — beyond easing by shifting in her seat. She did not wish to hear about Charity Verewood. That she would capture Hugo in the end was beyond doubt, and the whole family would rejoice.
“The outcome of my investigation satisfied my conscience and resulted in the dismissal of a stable boy at Brankham Hall. Unfortunately, the poor beast is ruined forever by his bad treatment, and the Verewoods have lost money on the deal. I am sorry for it, but it was not my fault, as it turns out.”
They were well up on Mexford Heights now and veering away from Wychbourne onto the straight Roman road that stretched for a mile and a half until the long slow drop down to the east of their destination. For a short while Victoria forgot her discomfort in the beauty of the long lines of flaming autumn beeches that stretched along each side of the
road in seas of gold, crimson, brown and russet touched by the sun and set afire with color that must fill the artist with a longing to achieve such aesthetic perfection.
“I did not exaggerate, Victoria. Do you agree that it is a splendid and moving sight?” he asked, turning to her with pleasure on his face.
She nodded, robbed of speech by a violent gripping of her stomach that stood perspiration on her forehead and set wings of fear beating in her temples.
“Is anything wrong?” he asked quickly.
“No, I think the wine did not agree with me, that is all,” she managed to say. “It does not spoil my enjoyment of the ride. I think I shall never forget this morning up here. How I should love to do a water color of those trees.”
“Perhaps you will, later on,” he said with a slight frown. “Does wine usually disagree with you, Victoria?”
“Many things do, at present. It is quite usual, I assure you.”
Ten minutes later, another spasm as violent as the first told her the pain was not the mild indigestion she felt from time to time. The pain in her back had grown infinitely worse and she longed to ease it by lying flat. Wychbourne suddenly seemed a long way away. A third onslaught on her body forced her teeth into her bottom lip to silence a cry that would have betrayed her.
Hugo had urged the horses on. The trees were flashing past like gilded ribbons and all she could do was to hold the sides of the gig and pray for a sight of Wychbourne’s ancient walls. All too soon her courage failed, when a sharp thrust more frightening than any other made her grip Hugo’s arm.
“You must get me home as quickly as you can,” she gasped. “I feel most dreadfully ill.”
The only time Hugo had experienced real fear was during those two weeks of blindness; even then, it had been tempered by hope. The fear that caught at his throat at the sight of Victoria’s face was total.
Scarlet Shadows Page 19
