The Favoured Child twt-2

by Philippa Gregory

  I gave her hand a squeeze. ‘I’m glad,’ I said. ‘I always liked Matthew. And I’ve always liked the way he treated you. But how will your mother manage without you?’

  Clary gave a little sigh, her head half turned from me so she could look out into the woods with the trees going past us, ghostly slow.

  ‘I’ll take the two older children to live with me, and Alice is going into service at Midhurst. So that’ll only leave Ma with Joe and the new baby.’

  I nodded. Clary had mothered her brothers and sisters for so long that I could not have imagined her leaving them. Hearing her talk like that made me feel more than simple pleasure at a friend’s happiness. I felt as I did when I saw the saplings going in, or when I saw the ditches newly dug or a ploughshare going into fallow ground. That Acre was coming right. Coming right for the land and for the people.

  ‘What about you?’ asked Clary abruptly. ‘Is it to be Richard for you?’

  I nodded. ‘It’s a secret,’ I warned her.

  ‘Pretty well known for a secret, then,’ she said with a smile. ‘Everyone in Acre has known you two would be married ever since you were born.’

  ‘They may know it in Acre,’ I said drily, ‘but if it gets back to Mama or Uncle John, I should be in trouble.’

  Clary shot a sideways glance at me. ‘Are they still against it?’ she asked. ‘Even now that there is money?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘They’ve not changed on that.’

  ‘Maybe your ma thinks you could do better,’ Clary suggested tentatively.

  ‘There could hardly be a better match for the estate,’ I protested, but Clary shook her head.

  ‘Not for the estate, Julia,’ she said. ‘For you. Someone who would come to you fresh, who would love you, who would see you for yourself and not as part of his childhood and his fortune.’ Her voice was so low I could scarcely hear her. ‘Someone who would treat you tender,’ she said softly.

  We had reached her cottage gate and I checked the pony and sat very still in the twilight.

  ‘We can’t all have a Matthew,’ I said at length. ‘I love Richard and I don’t complain.’

  ‘I know,’ she said. And we were both silent.

  ‘Drat,’ she said in a quite different voice looking at the dark silhouette of her cottage. ‘The fire’s gone out again.’

  ‘I’ll come in and help,’ I offered.

  ‘Nay,’ she said kindly. ‘You’ve done a full day’s work too. I reckon you were working harder than any of us. You were up and down those rows twenty times measuring the distance.’

  ‘And then I got it wrong!’ I said.

  Clary laughed. ‘That was the funniest thing I ever did see,’ she said. ‘I thought Ted was going to choke.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Well, at least Acre’s got an apple tree out of it. Are you sure you don’t want me to come in?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘The sooner I start, the sooner I’ll get done.’ She got down from the gig, stiff with tiredness as if she were an old lady and not a lass of seventeen. ‘Eh,’ she said ruefully, ‘I shan’t be dancing tonight!’

  ‘Me neither,’ I agreed, and she turned up the path to her little cottage as I waved my whip at her in farewell and headed the pony for home.

  10

  ‘Julia! Julia! Julia! I say! Are you deaf!’ It was Uncle John’s voice, shouting up the stairs. I jumped from my bed and pattered across the floor to open the door. ‘What is it?’ I called down.

  ‘A surprise,’ he said. ‘Come down at once!’ I threw off my wrapper and pulled on my oldest gown, a muslin sprig, which had once been pink but was now pale as a lily with much washing. In obedience to Uncle John’s haste, I did not wait to dress my hair, but tied a ribbon around my head and let it tumble down my back as if I were still a little girl. Then I pulled on my sandals and scampered downstairs.

  The front door was wide open and Uncle John was on the doorstep.

  Beyond him was Ralph.

  Ralph was mounted high on a black horse, a new black horse, and I caught my breath at the sight of it. It was so like the horse in the dream when he rode up to the hall. I put my hand out to the door to steady myself and looked half fearfully up at Ralph. His face was smiling, warm. He knew what I was thinking and his smile said as clear as words, ‘Don’t be silly, Julia.’

  I nodded, and then took in something else. Ralph was leading another horse. A mare. Her coat was so pale that it seemed almost silver. Her eyes were deep, deep liquid black. Her mane and tail were as white as the surf on a winter sea, tumbling over.

  ‘Look at this!’ Uncle John said, delighted. ‘I told Mr Megson I was looking for a horse for you, and see what he has found us!’

  Ralph Megson smiled at me. ‘She’s a lady’s horse,’ he said. ‘She’s being sold by a farmer over by Rogate, whose daughter is giving up riding. He paid a handsome price for her and he’s asking an outrageous one. But I thought you should try her paces. I’ve seen her ridden and she’s a sweet goer indeed. I called in there yesterday, after the sheep auction.’

  ‘Wonderful looking,’ Uncle John said enthusiastically. ‘I had a grey once, Mr Megson, an Arab. That was a marvellous horse.’

  Ralph nodded. ‘They still talk of it in the village,’ he said courteously. ‘Sea Fern you called him, wasn’t it?’

  John smiled. ‘Fancy anyone remembering!’ he exclaimed. ‘Yes, he was Sea Fern, and as clean and bright a coat as this beauty.’

  I hardly heard either of them. I had floated down the steps in a complete daze. Over my head Uncle John and Ralph exchanged amused glances, and then John was beside me, saying gently, ‘I dare say you’d like to try her at once, Julia?’

  I nodded. The smooth grey head came down and nuzzled at my fingers, the lustrous eyes gazed at me. I went to her side and Uncle John threw me up in the saddle, as careless as I of my walking dress. I hooked one leg around the pommel and tried to pull my skirts down with little success. It was only the second time in my life I had ridden, and the first time in a lady’s saddle.

  ‘Take her out,’ Uncle John said to Mr Megson. ‘You’d like to try her, Julia?’

  ‘Yes,’ I breathed, quite speechless with delight at the feeling of the horse so warm and quiet beneath me.

  Ralph nodded and leaned over towards me to give me the reins. He showed me how to hold them – like driving – and they felt easy and natural between my bare fingers. Then he turned his horse’s head and my sweet grey mare fell into pace beside Ralph’s rangy black hunter as if she were a grey satin ribbon with a broad black shadow.

  ‘This is good,’ Ralph said abruptly as we went slowly down the lane. ‘It is good to be riding down this track with you beside me.’

  I said nothing. I scarcely heard him. I was completely absorbed in the rhythm of the horse’s pace and of the odd, and not very steady, feeling of riding side-saddle. ‘I’d rather ride astride,’ I said. ‘I feel so uneven.’

  ‘I should think you would!’ he said, chuckling. ‘But I can imagine your mama’s face if you asked her for breeches. And your Grandmama Havering’s!’

  I laughed too at that, and returned with a bump to the real world. I had heard such a sweet singing in my head as soon as I saw the mare. I had been in a dream.

  ‘Beatrice rode as well as any man, and she rode side-saddle,’ Ralph said consolingly. ‘I think ladies would be safer astride indeed, but the world we live in cares more for ladies’ looks and less for what they can do.’

  I considered that and nodded.

  ‘Let’s trot,’ Ralph said, and we did. I had some ungraceful lunges at the saddle to keep my balance, but then I found the rhythm and I could ride steady.

  ‘What is she called?’ I asked when Ralph had drawn rein and we were walking again.

  ‘Peggy,’ Ralph said. ‘I dare say that is not fancy enough for you!’

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘but isn’t it bad luck to change a horse’s name?’

  Ralph gave a little laugh. ‘If you ride like Beatrice, you’l
l have no need of luck with horses,’ he said. ‘You’ll make your own luck.’

  ‘Can I name her, then?’ I asked.

  ‘If you like her enough to keep her,’ he said, teasing me.

  I thought for a moment. ‘What was Uncle John’s grey called?’ I asked.

  ‘Sea Fern,’ Ralph replied.

  ‘I’ll call her Sea Mist,’ I said. ‘Her mane and tail are as white as breakers.’

  ‘Misty for when you’re calling her?’ Ralph suggested.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, smiling. So my horse was named, and we rode on in companionable silence. We went a little way down the drive and then we turned the horses for home.

  ‘Like to canter?’ he asked obligingly. When I nodded, he took the lead and let his horse slide into an easy steady-paced canter. I grabbed at the pommel for fear of falling, and the moment Sea Mist lunged forward I felt she was taking a high jump. Ralph glanced over his shoulder and laughed at my determined face and kept the pace steady. We thundered down the drive, and the shadows and light flickered over me, and I forgot about being nervous and anxious not to fall and look a fool; I bent down low over her mane and urged her on faster, and gave a great whoop of delight that made Ralph ahead of me laugh and let his horse go faster.

  ‘Good!’ Ralph said, pulling his big black stallion up outside the gate. ‘But remember, even if you think you are falling, hang on to the saddle or the mane. Don’t damage her mouth. She’s got a mouth like satin, that horse. I wouldn’t have brought her for you if I didn’t trust you to have light hands.’

  I nodded.

  ‘What of Richard?’ Ralph said casually. ‘Does he want a horse?’

  ‘I think not,’ I said. ‘He didn’t want John to have the expense while he is busy studying. And when he wants to ride, he likes John’s horse, Prince, for hacking around the estate.’

  ‘What sort of a lad is he? What sort of a squire will he make?’ Ralph asked lightly.

  ‘He cares very much about being a Lacey,’ I said, choosing my words with care. I had a feeling, and rightly, that the question was very serious and the answer had better be accurate. ‘He would do anything for us to stay on the estate.’

  Ralph nodded. ‘What about his temper?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s good,’ I said. ‘He is very seldom angry. Never with Mama, and never in public’

  ‘Doesn’t sound much like temper to me,’ Ralph said. ‘Sounds more like spite. What sets it off?’

  I frowned, puzzled. I had never tried to understand Richard’s moments of black-eyed rage. I had merely accepted them, like the occasional storm in an otherwise sunny summer. ‘When he is crossed…’I said slowly, hunting for ideas. And then I checked. ‘No!’ I said. ‘It is when he is afraid he is not first with someone.’

  ‘Likes to be the favourite, does he?’ Ralph asked.

  The word struck a chord in my mind. ‘He likes to be the favoured child,’ I said. My eyes met Ralph’s look and we both heard the resonance in the words as deep as a bell tolling. ‘He says he is the favoured child,’ I repeated.

  Ralph was still for a moment. ‘Oh, that village and its superstition!’ he said, exasperated. ‘And even the Quality as bad as the worst of them!’ He shook his head to clear his mind of nonsense as old as fairytales. ‘Would you trust him to keep his word?’ he asked. ‘If he was first on Wideacre? If he was the favoured child indeed?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. I trusted Richard from a lifetime of watching him and loving him.

  ‘I’m not blind,’ Ralph said brusquely. ‘I can see perfectly well that Richard cares little for this profit-sharing scheme. But if he is tied into it by John, and held to it by you, would he break it wilfully? Or would he feel honour bound?’

  I was certain. ‘If he gives his word, he will keep it,’ I said.

  Ralph looked sceptical, but he nodded and swung down from the saddle, and then took my reins.

  The front door opened and Richard came out. At once I froze. The childhood memory of my ride on Scheherazade was still vivid in my mind, even after all these years, and I had an immediate rush of guilt that he should see me on horseback at all.

  I kicked my feet out of the stirrups and slid down to the ground without waiting for Ralph to help me. I wanted to be at a distance from the horse, the lovely horse, in case the sight of her upset Richard, angered him. Despite my confidence that Richard did not want a horse, I was not sure how he would respond to the sight of me on one.

  ‘Richard!’ I said smiling nervously. ‘Look at this lovely horse Mr Megson has brought over from Rogate.’

  I peeped up at Richard’s face, but to my relief he was smiling, and there was no shadow in his face.

  ‘A most beautiful animal,’ he said, courteously nodding to Ralph. ‘For sale, is she?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Ralph laconically. ‘She and Miss Julia suit well enough.’

  ‘Julia is a natural rider, I think,’ Richard said generously.

  ‘She’s a Lacey,’ Ralph said as if that explained it all. ‘I’ll take the mare around to your stable, Miss Julia,’ he said to me. ‘She’s on loan to you for a couple of days, and then you can decide if you’ll suit. If you don’t want her, I can take her back when I’m next over that way. But if you like her, I’ve told your uncle the price they are asking for her.’

  ‘Expensive, is she?’ Richard asked.

  Ralph looked down at him and his face was expressionless. ‘Miss Julia needs a good horse,’ he said levelly. ‘Since she’s part heir to Wideacre, she needs to ride out on the land to see what is doing. And she needs a good animal in her position.’

  Richard blinked. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘There should be nothing but the best for Miss Julia.’ There was an edge to his voice which warned me that he was not best pleased, but when he turned to me, he was smiling. He took my arm and led me towards the garden gate, bowing me in with a pretty little play of courtesy. I hesitated and looked back at Ralph with a smile.

  ‘Thank you, Ralph,’ I said. And only he would have known how deep those thanks were felt.

  ‘Don’t get so grand on your lovely horse that you forget me!’ Richard said, walking up the path with me. ‘You looked quite the young lady. Don’t forget that you will always be little cousin to me!’

  We went into the house together and we were alone in the hall. It was shadowy, lit only by the fanlight over the front door. Richard’s face in the dusk seemed leaner, strange. I could feel my heartbeat speeding and I felt breathless, as if Richard were not my dear familiar cousin, but someone exciting and unknown to me. I did not feel familiar and easy. I felt a-great ripple of something – certainly not pain, but not quite pleasure – and my knees felt weak.

  Richard came closer to me and put his arm around my waist. ‘You look pale, Julia,’ he said. ‘I hope the ride did not tire you?’

  ‘No,’ I said softly. ‘No, I am not tired at all.’

  ‘Why,’ he said, his voice very low, ‘how slight you are, Julia! You must have lost some weight – or I have grown heavier! You have grown taller, but you are no plumper at all. See, I can almost span your waist with my hands.’ He stood before me and put his hands either side of my body. Through my muslin gown I could feel the warmth of his palms and the tightness of his grip.

  ‘Nowhere near!’ I said breathlessly. His face was very near mine and he still had his hands on my back. I could not resist glancing up at him and raising my face to him.

  I could feel his breath against my cheek. His eyes were very dark, but not with anger. We stood for a moment, quite transfixed in that shadowy hall, not daring to move forward and quite unable to move back.

  Then I heard Mama’s laugh from the parlour and we both jumped apart as guiltily as though we had been doing something wrong.

  ‘I had better go,’ I muttered, and I went to the stairs to change from my crumpled gown. It was nearly time for breakfast, and Mama would not thank me for coming to the table straight from horseback.

  ‘Julia,’ Richard said, and stopped
me as I had my foot on the first step.

  My hand was on the banister and I made no move as he came towards the foot of the stairs, but I could feel my head going swimmy with apprehension and delight.

  He came no closer to me, but stood on the far side of the stair-rail. Then he dropped his dark head and kissed my hand, where it rested. He looked at me, his blue eyes quite inscrutable. And then he turned on his heel and went into the library and left me in the dark lovely hall all alone.

  I put the back of my hand to my cheek where he had kissed it, and pressed it to my face. Then I went slowly, slowly, up to my bedroom. I felt I needed to be alone to think very, very carefully about something. But when I was upstairs with the door shut behind me, I could think of nothing. I had no thought in my head. All I could be sure of was two very different feelings-feelings which pulled me two ways. One was the sensual longing which I had come to think of as Beatrice’s; I knew that feeling was desire, and it suited me to think of it as Beatrice’s desire, and to think myself a little haunted by her in that dark hall. The other feeling was a great unease. I had lived with Richard so close for so long that I loved him as my brother, I thought of him as my brother. And although we had talked and talked about our future marriage and our ownership of the land, I had never thought that he would court me. I had never thought that he would naturally, one day, touch me. That touch of his hands on my waist, and the warmth of his breath on the back of my hand, filled me with desire, but made me shiver as if there were something wrong.

  Something very badly wrong.

  The unease held with me through breakfast, fuelled by a secret look from Richard when I entered the room. Uncle John and Mama were laughing together over a letter she had received and neither of them noticed my awkwardness.

  ‘What are your plans for today, my dear?’ John asked Mama as she poured coffee for all of us.

  ‘Today I become a sempstress, or milliner,’ she said with a merry smile. ‘The girls have begged to learn how to trim a gown with ribbons and how to trim a hat, so I am packing a box with scraps of material to teach them. The Acre poor-box must be the most frivolous in the country! I dread that Dr Pearce will see it!’