by Joan Wolf
She said shakily, “It’s such a blessing that you found a man like Greystone, Kate. And I am not saying that because of Lambourn.”
I gazed at my lap, refusing to meet her eyes. “Of course Adrian is wonderful,” I said. “Everyone thinks so.”
“He’s strong,” Louisa said. “He’s strong without being a bully. Married to you, most men would either end up letting you do their breathing for them, or they would feel they had to master you. You were fortunate to find a man who is strong enough to let you be what you are.”
I wasn’t at all sure that I liked what I was hearing. “You make me sound like a headstrong mare, Louisa,” I said with undisguised annoyance.
At that moment, the chaise began to slow down. The men had decided to get in out of the rain, and Louisa was saved from having to give me an answer.
* * * *
Harley Hall had been in Sir Charles Barbury’s family for several generations, and perhaps it was its proximity to Newmarket that had caused Sir Charles to become involved in racing at the early age of twenty-one. The rain had stopped by the time we arrived, and as I peered out the window as we progressed up the drive I saw a typical stone Jacobean manor house with mullioned windows and tall chimneys.
“Thank heaven we have arrived,” I said to Louisa. “The bouncing of this chaise is enough to make anyone feel sick to the stomach.”
“It has been wearisome,” my cousin agreed.
The chaise came to a halt in front of the great stairs. The men had gone back to their horses as soon as the rain had stopped, and it was Adrian himself who opened the chaise door for us. He leaned his head and shoulders inside and asked, “How are you doing?”
The question was politely directed to both of us, but I knew he was really talking to me. I said, “If I don’t get out of this chaise immediately, Adrian, I am going to scream.”
“The steps are coming,” he said.
I slid off my seat and walked unsteadily toward him. “I’ll jump.”
He gave me a sharp look, then put his hands on my waist as I reached the doorway and lifted me down to the ground. I breathed the cool, damp air into my lungs. My stomach had been uneasy for the last hour of the trip, and I was feeling distinctly grumpy.
The steps came, and Louisa descended with dignity. We were joined by Harry, and together the four of us ascended the front stairs of Harley Hall. We were greeted at the door by the butler, who told us that Sir Charles had taken a few of his other guests to see his racehorses, which were stabled in a training barn near Bury. The butler then passed us on to the housekeeper, who took us to our rooms.
I could not believe how tired I was feeling. I had done nothing all day but sit in a carriage, yet my legs did not feel strong enough to hold me up. I scarcely glanced at my surroundings, but went directly to the big wooden rocking chair that stood in front of the fireplace, sat, and stared into the flames.
The door opened and a footman came in carrying our portmanteaux. The footman was followed by Jeanette, who said she would unpack for me. I listened as Adrian told her that I was feeling fatigued and that she should come back later. At last the door closed.
“Why don’t you take a little nap, Kate? You’ll feel better after you’ve had a rest,” Adrian said gently.
“I don’t want to nap,” I said. Actually, I believe I whined. “There is no reason for me to feel fatigued. I have done nothing all day but sit.”
“You have made a long trip in an enclosed carriage and you are in the early stages of pregnancy,” he said. “You have every reason in the world to feel fatigued.”
“I hate feeling this way,” I said. “I hate not having my usual energy.”
“You will feel better after you have had a rest,” he repeated.
I was actually dying to crawl into that bed, but I didn’t want to admit it. “All right,” I said with a martyred air. “If it will make you happy, I will take a nap.”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said.
I stood up. “I don’t want to lie down in my clothes, and you sent Jeanette away.”
“Do you want me to ring for her again?”
“No. I don’t want her.”
“Then what do you want, Kate?” If he had sounded exasperated, I would have forgiven him. I was exasperated with myself. The fact that he sounded amused made me furious.
“I want you to go away,” I said. “How can I nap with you looming over me?”
“Can you unbutton that dress by yourself?”
“Of course I can unbutton my own dress! Do you think I am an imbecile?”
He walked to the door. “Would you like me to have the housekeeper send you up some tea?”
“No,” I said.
“Then I will leave you to your rest.” He didn’t even slam the door, but closed it quietly behind him.
* * * *
I slept for two hours, and when I awoke I felt much better. Sir Charles had returned, and when I had dressed and gone downstairs I found my host and the rest of the company assembled in a large room with a vaulted ceiling that must have been the Great Hall of the original house.
The first person I saw as I walked into the room was the Duchess of Wareham. The second person I saw was her daughter, Lady Mary Weston.
I felt my hands close into fists at my sides. The colossal nerve of the girl almost took my breath away. She had actually gotten herself invited to the same house party as Adrian! Probably she was hoping that she would be able to steal some time alone with him.
Over my dead body, I thought.
“Lady Greystone, I am so pleased to welcome you to Harley Hall.” I removed my eyes from Lady Mary’s face and looked at the woman who was addressing me. She was middle-aged and pale, but her eyes were kind. “I am Lady Barbury,” she said.
Of course, I knew that Sir Charles had a wife, but no one had ever seen her. She did not share his passion for racing. I forced a smile and managed some kind of a reply. She then proceeded to take me around the room to introduce me to the company.
Papa had sold horses to about half the men present, so there were plenty of familiar faces. I did not know any of the women, except, of course, the perfidious Lady Mary.
I was somewhat mollified by the fact that Adrian was standing with Sir Charles and another man in front of the fireplace, at least halfway across the room from Lady Mary and her mother. Adrian gave me a warm smile as I went to join them, and I felt a little better.
But I was not happy. I had too much else on my mind right now to have to worry about Lady Mary getting her claws into my husband.
Chapter Twenty-two
We arrived at Harley Hall on Monday and the racing wasn’t due to start until Wednesday, with the Guineas being run on Friday. Consequently, my co-conspirators and I had three days to wait until we could make our first move, which was to determine for sure whether or not Alcazar was indeed Finn MacCool.
Paddy had taken his usual lodgings in town, and he had Sean MacBride, the stable lad from Ireland, with him. On Friday morning, when we could be certain that Stade was at the racetrack, Paddy and Sean would ride out to Stade’s estate near Bury to check the stallion’s identity. And then we would know.
On Tuesday morning Sir Charles, took the gentlemen over to Newmarket Heath to watch the horses exercise. The Heath, like the racecourse, was owned by the Jockey Club, and over four hundred horses were trained in the stables based around Newmarket. The picture of all those splendid Thoroughbreds, galloping like the wind under a powerful East Anglian sky, was to my mind one of the most beautiful sights in all the world.
The ladies were left to Lady Barbury’s care, and she gave us a tour of the famous Harley Hall gardens. The grounds were extensive and varied. To the west of the house was a wide grassy ride lined by double rows of horse chestnuts, and small flower-filled gardens were tucked away in hidden places all along the ride’s expanse. To the south of the house there were wide lawns studded with islands of willows, elder, and privet. There was an extremely pretty stream whose banks wer
e lined with planes, alders, elms, sycamores, and willows. The lawn closest to the house featured classical statues and stone urns.
The grounds were really exceptionally lovely, and I admired them with the utmost sincerity and never once let on that I would rather have watched the horses on the heath.
The gentlemen returned to the house shortly after noon, and a light luncheon was put out in the breakfast room. Harry and I filled our plates at the laden sideboard and went to sit at the table together. I glanced around the cheerful, busy room and immediately registered the fact that Lady Mary was missing.
“Where is Adrian?” I asked my brother-in-law suspiciously.
“Some fellow from the Home Office grabbed hold of him at Newmarket,” Harry said. “He said he would return to Harley Hall by himself later in the afternoon.”
Of course, I was relieved to know that Adrian wasn’t with Lady Mary, but I felt a stab of resentment that he couldn’t even attend the races without some petty government official demanding his attention.
At this point, Lady Mary herself walked into the breakfast room. A dark-haired young man who walked with a slight limp was right behind her, and it looked to me as if they were together. “Who is that with Lady Mary?” I asked Harry.
“You were introduced to him as well as I,” Harry complained. “Why do you always have to ask me who people are?”
“Don’t be such a pain,” I said. “Who is he?”
“His name is Richard Bellerton.” Harry proceeded to spread mustard all over his beef and then to cut himself a huge bite. He stuffed it in his mouth and began to chew.
I gave him a cold stare. “And just who is Richard Bellerton?”
Harry continued to chew.
I kicked him under the table, and he jumped.
“Stop it, Kate,” he hissed at me. His cheeks had gone quite red.
I gave him a smile that was almost as angelic as his own. “I want to know who this Bellerton is, Harry.”
He swallowed the last of his beef and demanded, “Why are you so interested in Lady Mary’s beaux?”
“Ah, then he is a beau!”
We both looked at the couple who were filling their plates at the sideboard. Mr. Bellerton was not much taller than Lady Mary, but he was broad of shoulder and slender of waist. I thought that they made an exceptionally handsome pair.
“Before we left town, a bet was entered in the book at White’s that they’d be engaged by the end of the Season,” Harry admitted.
I felt as if a stone had just rolled off my heart. I beamed. “How perfectly lovely.”
“He’s Aldershot’s nephew,” Harry went on. “Since the old buzzard never married, Bellerton stands to inherit both the title and the money. I’d say the fact that the duchess is here with Lady Mary makes it pretty clear that she approves of the match.”
This was sounding better and better. “Is this Bellerton a racing man?” I asked. “I’ve never seen him before.”
“He’s Lady Barbury’s cousin,” Harry said.
Lady Mary began to approach the table, saw me watching her, and faltered. I gave her a friendly grin and her eyes widened in surprise. She wiggled her lips at me a little, then moved swiftly to a seat at the opposite end of the table. Mr. Bellerton carried his plate to the chair beside hers.
I turned back to Harry. “This Bellerton limps,” I said.
“Yes. He was wounded at Waterloo.”
I was delighted. Lady Mary had found a hero for herself and now presumably could be trusted to leave mine alone. I looked at Harry, who was busy devouring another slab of beef, and my own appetite stirred. For the first time all day, I felt hungry. I picked up my knife and cut myself a small bite of cold roast beef.
* * * *
The Race Meeting opened on Wednesday, and all the men of Sir Charles Barbury’s house party, as well as Louisa and I, were present to watch the first race go off. The men watched from horseback, while Louisa and I had a good view of the finish line from Sir Charles’s high-perch phaeton. The day was sunny, but there was a bit of a wind blowing, and Adrian had tucked rugs around the both of us before we left Harley Hall.
I loved the races because I loved to watch the sheer beauty of Thoroughbreds running, but men went to the racetrack to bet. Papa had been a great gambler, and his gambling had accounted for most of the ups and downs of our economic life. He made a great deal of money selling horses, and he lost a great deal of money betting on them.
Adrian had been abroad for so long that he was almost completely unacquainted with English racing, and the previous night I had made a list for him of all the horses he should bet on when the men put their money down with the “leg” who did business with Lord Barbury.
These “legs” were professional gamblers who accepted bets at varying prices on every horse in a race, a system they called “making a book.” They were heavily patronized by racegoers, but I thought they were a scourge. Poisoning a horse’s drinking water or slipping him an opium ball were common tricks legs used in order to stop a favorite. The Jockey Club was supposed to try to keep legs honest, but they were not as successful as they should have been.
Adrian started off the day beside us, but then—as usual—he was claimed by first one man and then the other and we saw him only in snatches during the remainder of the day. But Louisa and I were scarcely neglected. Many old friends stopped by to chat and to tell me how nice it was to see me at the track again.
It should have been a perfect day. The sun continued to shine and by early afternoon the breeze had died down and the weather was pleasantly warm. The races all went off smoothly, and if the favorites did not always win, at least they put up a good enough show to make one feel that they had not been poisoned. Four of the horses I had recommended to Adrian came in first, and he congratulated me on my astuteness, which pleased me.
It was the world I had grown up in: the thundering Thoroughbreds; the smells of leather and horses and manure; the exuberance of the winners; the downcast faces of the losers. All of these things had been part of my life for eighteen years, and I loved them.
But Papa wasn’t there. For some reason, I hadn’t expected to miss him the way I did. He had been dead for a year and a half, and I had thought that my grieving was done with, but it seemed that it was not.
The ache inside me grew more and more painful as the afternoon went by, and I became quieter and quieter. When the last race was finally over, I said to Louisa, “I want to stop by Papa’s grave before we return to Harley Hall.”
Louisa had twice asked me during the course of the afternoon if I was feeling well, and now she began to search the crowd. “I don’t see Lord Greystone at the moment, Kate.”
“He is probably settling up with the leg,” I said to Louisa. “It may take some time, and I told him I was going to leave directly after the last race.”
Louisa frowned worriedly. “I think you should wait to go visit the grave until he can accompany you.”
But the need had been growing inside me all afternoon long, and I didn’t want to wait. I said, “Papa is buried in the churchyard just outside of town. It will not take me long to pay a quick visit, Louisa.”
I lifted the reins to back the horses out of our spot, but my cousin put a restraining hand on my arm. “Wait one moment, Kate.” I threw her an impatient look, but she was signaling to someone. I followed her eyes and saw Paddy threading his way through the crowd of men and horses. He had been by to talk to us several times during the course of the day, and the sound of his soft Irish voice had made me feel even more bereft.
“Are you ladies after leaving?” he asked as he rode his pretty chestnut mare up to the side of the phaeton.
“Kate wants to stop by her father’s grave before we return to Harley Hall,” Louisa said. “Will you come with us, Paddy?”
“Surely,” he returned, his light blue eyes on my face.
“I haven’t been to his grave since the day of the funeral,” I said.
“I stop by every t
ime I am in Newmarket,” Paddy told me gently, “and I know a few of the lads who stop by whenever they are in town.”
Papa had always had the gift of making himself loved.
I smiled a little tremulously. “Well, then, shall we go?”
“Drive on, Miss Cathleen,” he said, and moved his horse out of my way.
* * * *
Someone had planted bluebells on Papa’s grave. They were the exact color of his eyes, and they broke my heart.
Stade will pay. I was dangerously close to losing control of my emotions, and these were the only words I could find to keep myself from falling apart. I clenched my fists.
Don’t worry, Papa. I won’t let him get away with it. I will make him pay for what he did to you.
The ache in my throat was unbearable; the bluebells were a blur of blue against the white stone.
Oh God, Papa. Oh God. Papa... Papa...
The wind had picked up and it was blowing across the graveyard with a chilling bite. A sparrow pecked in the grass nearby, searching for a worm. I couldn’t see Papa’s name anymore.
“Come along with you now, Miss Cathleen,” Paddy said, and I felt his arm come around my shoulders.
I felt so alone. I was so terribly cold. I needed comfort so desperately. “I want to go home,” I said.
He was guiding me toward the phaeton. “We’re too far from Greystone, darlin’,” he said. “I’m going to take you back to Harley Hall.”
“I don’t want to go to Greystone,” I said. I could feel the tears start to roll down my cheeks, and I blinked ferociously to chase them away. “I want to go home.”
“Up you go,” Paddy said in that heartbreakingly soft voice, and he lifted me to the seat of the phaeton. A moment later, Louisa followed.
I reached for the reins and wondered if I would be able to keep the horses on the road. Louisa said, “Wait a moment, Kate. Paddy is tying his horse to the back of the phaeton. He will drive us back to Harley Hall.”
I didn’t even object. The three of us squeezed together on a seat that was meant for two, and Paddy drove us all the way to the front steps of Harley Hall.
