Martin, still grinning, regained his seat on the fence and watched as the earl, with endless good humour, gentled Mouse, Dab and the young lady. Within an hour, Miss Clinton was fearlessly petting Dab and laughing when the bit of a thing nibbled at the shiny buttons on her riding coat. The earl, in an ecstasy of triumph, swung himself up onto Mouse’s bare back and leaned forward hugging the stallion, his auburn curls pressed against the beast’s neck.
Lydia, turning to him, gasped to see him, his legs swinging free, his body pressed against the shining ebony back. “Geordie,” she whispered. “Get down. You will be thrown.”
“N-Not today,” the earl grinned lopsidedly. “M-Mouse would not be so c-cruel as to throw me on my b-birthday.”
Martin, who both of them had forgotten, gained their attention by a laugh. “Mouse would not throw you on any day, Master Geordan, and well you know it.”
The earl tossed a leg over Mouse and slid to the ground. “Would you like to s-sit on D-Dab’s back?” he asked Lydia. “You are n-not to heavy for her. You are a d-dab of a thing, t-too.”
“Oh, I couldn’t,” Lydia answered. “Not without a saddle.”
Answering a pleading look in the earl’s eyes, Martin came down from his perch once more and strolled off into the stable, emerging a few moments later with a side saddle and tack in his hands. At Geordan’s request, he took a great deal of time explaining to Miss Clinton how the tack worked, and then helping her to saddle the pony. When they had finished, Geordan assisted her to mount and then swung himself back up onto Mouse. “You wait for me, Master Geordan,” Martin ordered in no uncertain terms as he strolled into the stable to saddle a hack for himself. The three of them rode slowly off up the drive, Mouse and the hack riding sedately beside the pony, who found it necessary to trot in order to keep even with them.
Mr. Talbot, rising a good deal later than his brother, went about discovering where the earl had gone and then invited Amelia to ride with him in search of the pair in Martin’s charge. They came upon the three riders on the road outside of Westerley, heading slowly toward a place known in the neighbourhood as Weredun’s ruins. “May we come along?” Tony asked very politely.
“Y-Yes,” the earl answered, “but we are g-going very slow b-because I did n-not saddle Mouse.”
Talbot knew very well that the earl could ride Mouse just as well saddled or not, but thought better that to remark upon it. It was, he supposed, something to do with Lydia Clinton and the pony. He longed to ask Geordan what the young lady was doing mounted upon the little beast, but thought better of that as well. “Have you named the pony, Geord?” he asked instead.
“Her name is D-Dab, Tony. D-Do you l-like it?”
“Oh, Dab is an excellent name!” exclaimed Amelia. “It is exactly what she is, a little dab of a thing.”
“I think it’s very appropriate, Geord. Will you mind if Miss Mapleton and I ride on ahead?”
The earl shook his head. “N-No, go on. L-Lydie and I are p-practicing something we do not w-want anyone to s-see.”
Talbot laughed and glanced at Martin, who gave him a reassuring wink, then offered to race Amelia to the ruins which, we explained, were straight up the road about a mile. This time she did not win, and he crowed delightedly, which set her to laughing. “You are terrible,” she giggled. “All that noise because you beat a young lady in a horse race.”
“Ah, but not just any young lady,” grinned Talbot. “I have triumphed over the formidable Miss Mapleton!”
She reached out and thumped him on the arm, then turned to look about. “How grand!” she exclaimed. “May we walk among them?”
“I expect so,” he answered, swinging down from his saddle and going to help her dismount. “Let me tie the horses over here. What do you think Geordie and Miss Lydia are practicing?” he called back to her over his shoulder with a chuckle.
“I cannot imagine,” she answered. “But was he not adorable when he told you?”
“Adorable?” asked Talbot, tasting the word on his tongue as he came back to her and offered her his arm. “Adorable, Amelia?”
“Yes. I expect you will not think that a man may be adorable. I am certain I never thought so. But Geordan often is.”
“Well,” sighed Tony, “I should have said he looked more mischievous, myself. Is that part of adorable?”
“Indeed. Who lived here, do you know?”
“No one knows. There are all sorts of theories. Some think it was once an abbey, and others, a Norman castle.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think it used to be Westerley until a bride of one of the earls burned it to the ground. I am surprised there are not more ruins just like it where Westerley now stands, but my mother possesses a great deal of self-control.”
“Oh, you are impossible,” Amelia laughed.
“No, really! My mother has threatened to burn Westerley over and over again, especially when she remembers there is no balcony outside her chambers. There are French doors, mind you, so that one may walk out onto the balcony. But…” He shrugged at her, his serious expression belied by the amusement in his eyes.
“There really are doors but no balcony?”
“Yes. It is a tradition, Amelia. Each new earl, when he marries, promises to design and build a balcony for his new wife, the proceeds to avoid doing so for the rest of his life.”
Her brilliant eyes sparkled up into his, filled with laughter, and he found himself wishing once again to kiss her. “Look over here,” he sputtered, to quell the emotions rising within him. Together they explored the moss-covered, vine-entangled foundations, partially destroyed towers and nearly hidden wells of what might indeed have been either an abbey or Norman castle. “It must have been immense,” Miss Mapleton mused aloud. “And extremely Gothic. Look here, there were gargoyles!”
Talbot laughed and she looked up at him, puzzled. “I was only remembering,” he confessed with a grin that gave his face a most amazing tenderness, “how Geordan always called then ‘gargles.’ I apologise, but much here reminds me of my childhood, and I have a tendency to wander off into another world.”
“Was it a happy world, Mr. Talbot?” Amelia asked, thinking herself rather forward but not caring.
“Oh, yes. Geordan always made it happy, no matter what.” He laid his handkerchief down upon a partial wall and lifter her up to sit upon it, and then swung up beside her. “He was the best older brother a boy could have. Everywhere he went, he took me with him. Each discovery he made, I was privileged to own a share of it. Everything he knew, he taught me. I was never shunted aside, nor ignored, nor abandoned for a new acquaintance. Even when he went off to school before me, he wrote to me everything that was grand and intriguing about his new schoolmates and the oddities of the institution. He thought almost everything humorous, you know, or interesting, and made me think so as well. I would so much have liked…” He stopped rather abruptly and slid down, forcing his hands into his pockets.
“You would have liked what, Mr. Talbot? Please tell me.”
He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, and when his eyes met hers, there was a hint of tears about them. “Tony,” Amelia said, sliding down as well and putting her arms around him as far as they would reach. “What is it?”
His hands came from his pockets and he held her very gently in his arms. “It is only,” he whispered in a slightly hoarse voice, “that I would have liked so much to have grown up with him and gone on discovering the world in his enthusiastic wake.”
Miss Mapleton, her cheek resting against his chest, his arms tightening around her, felt a distinct lump rising in her own throat. She had two older brothers of her own. She could imagine how differently she might have grown without them. Why, I should have been another person altogether, she thought. I should have learnt to live in a very different way without Kit and David. And it occurred to her then what a great shock it would have been to have trusted in them implicitly to guide her life and then to have them ripped so heartl
essly away.
“But now you must be Geordan’s big brother,” she whispered. “And you must do for him all that he would have done for you.”
Talbot, taking her arms, moved her gently away from him and stared down into her empathetic eyes. “Forgive me,” he said. “I have never said these things before and should not be saying them now. I am becoming quite melancholy in my extreme old age. But I believe the end of my sombreness approaches even now, my sweet one,” he added, with that familiar small twitch of his lips. Amelia heard the horses approaching and turned to see the earl, Lydia and Martin riding their mounts into the ruins.
“T-Tony!” the earl called, sliding from his mounts back and running towards his brother. “L-Look! Look what Martin g-gave me! He knows it is my b-birthday, too, Tony! D-D-Did you tell him?”
Amelia hurriedly stepped aside as Talbot caught his wildly charging brother in both arms, the impact swinging them in a complete circle and making them laugh uproariously.
“What, scamp? Show me.”
The earl, with a rather mystical flourish, placed a tightly closed fist beneath his brother’s nose and opened it carefully. Talbot, not being as nearsighted as the gesture suggested, clasped his hand about his brother’s wrist and lowered the open palm to a level and distance at which he could see clearly. He stared in silence, looked up to where Martin sat grinning on the hack, and stared back at the article in his brother’s hand again.
“It is a r-ring,” the earl declared, “and I am g-going to w-wear it always. D-Do you not w-want to see it, Amelia?”
“Yes, Geordan,” answered Miss Mapleton, moving to stand once more beside Talbot. “Oh, Geordie. It is lovely.”
“Y-Yes, I know. It is made from p-pieces of Donlevy’s t-tack. Donlevy’s tack was real ac-actu-al silver, wasn’t it, Tony?”
“Yes. Black leather and silver bits and buckles. Martin, it’s beautiful—and unique. I had no idea any still existed.”
“Saved a bit o’ it,” Martin grinned. “Been workin’ on that trinket for more’n a year. Now, what was it you were goin’ to ask your brother, Master Geordan. ’Twere somethin’ we didn’t know.”
“Oh, r-right! Tony, which f-finger must I w-wear it on?”
“This one, scamp,” Tony said, taking the handcrafted ring and slipping it onto the third finger of the earl’s right hand. “That is the finger where Papa wore his most special ring. The one he had from Mama.” The ring fit that finger perfectly. Once again Talbot’s eyes met Martin’s. “Thank you,” he mouthed soundlessly as the earl stared down at the ring. Martin nodded and swung from his saddle to help Miss Lydia dismount.
That young lady strolled forward, and taking the earl’s arm, asked politely if Mr. Talbot and Miss Mapleton had already seen the ruins and if they would like to see them again. Talbot declined the offer and sent his brother and Lydia on their way. Martin, with a discretion born of hopefulness, left both couples to themselves and sauntered off into the shade of the trees.
“Who is Donlevy?” Amelia asked.
“Was,” replied Talbot. “Who was Dunlevy. He was my father’s favourite horse. There is a painting of him at the library at Westerley. He was the first bit of blood Geordan ever rode. I will show you the painting later if you wish. Dunlevy’s wearing the tack in it—the black and silver. The tack was to be Geordan’s, but it was lost in a fire. At least, I thought it was lost. It appears Martin was able to resurrect a bit of it.”
“It was extremely kind of him to fashion such a ring for Geordan. I should think it took a good deal of time and patience. I have never seen anything quite like it.”
“You know,” said Talbot, his bemused smile engaging her heart, “I always knew Martin cared for Geord, but now I begin to think he cares a great deal more than he lets on.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
HAVING spent a fine day in sketching, walking, riding, exploring and three games of badminton, which were followed by an early, elegant and expansive meal, the guests at Westerley were inclined to be well-pleased with themselves and everyone else. All of them appeared in a rather frivolous mood when the gentlemen at last joined the ladies in the drawing room. Mr. Talbot’s eyes met his mother’s immediately upon his entrance, and that lady, with a pleased expression, beseeched her older son’s assistance in a matter of some importance when sent him all the way to the stables.
“Well, ma’am,” Tony drawled once his brother had departed the room, “how long may we trust in Geord’s absence?”
“Only five minutes or so, I should guess,” laughed the countess. “You will be a dear and fetch his presents from the library, won’t you, Tony? They are in the closed bookcase. There is a package from me and one from your Uncle James. He will be so surprised to discover them here when he returns.”
“He will be more surprised than you think, Cicely,” Lady Mapleton laughed, rising from her chair near the window. “We have brought him some gifts as well.”
“You have?”
“Yes, indeed, ma’am,” Lord Bristol assured her.
“Without a doubt,” grinned Northampton.
“What, all of you?”
“Every one of us,” giggled Miss Thackett. Whereupon the countess’s guests departed, only the dowager duchess remaining in the drawing room.
“But I never asked anyone to bring him anything, Aunt Theckla,” said Cecily. “I just thought if they knew it was his birthday, they might more readily wish to come.”
“My dear,” grinned the older lady, “not only did we all wish to come, but we all wished to see him surprised as well. What was it you sent him after?”
“I told him the clasp had broken on my locket and I had abandoned it in the stables this afternoon. Martin has it, of course, but he will make Geord help him search for it for at least five minutes. Oh, Catherine,” she gasped, as Lord and Lady Mapleton appeared in the doorway, “whatever have you brought?”
“You will have to wait and see with everyone else, Cecily,” replied Lady Mapleton, preceding her husband into the room. “Only consider the gowns I might have brought had I not had to use one entire valise to pack that in!”
“Yes,” moaned Lord Mapleton melodramatically, “and consider the state of my back from lugging it around.”
“Oh, Max, just set it down.”
“Where?”
“Well—well, on the pianoforte, I should think. It will certainly be strong enough to hold it.”
The rest of the presents arrived and joined Lord and Lady Mapleton’s atop the pianoforte well before the earl returned with his mama’s locket clasped tightly in his fist. “Martin f-found it, Mama,” he said, carrying the trinket directly to her.
“Thank you, darling,” she smiled.
“Geordie,” Talbot called from the seat he had taken beside Miss Mapleton on the settee, “look over there.” He pointed toward the pianoforte as his brother’s eyes came to rest on him. The earl turned to glance in the direction his brother indicated and inhaled quickly at the rainbow of uniquely wrapped presents that cover the top of the instrument. “What, what are th-they?” he asked quietly, his wide blue eyes staring in amazement. “Wh-Where did they c-come from, Tony?”
“They came from all of us, Geord,” Lord Northampton announced. “We are all wishing you a happy birthday.”
“Indeed,” added Amelia with a smile, “and now you must go and open each one and show them to us and say who they are from.”
Talbot, seeing the earl’s hesitation, rose and took his brother’s arm and escorted him to the pianoforte. “Do not look so serious, rapscallion,” he whispered. “You are meant to have a good time unwrapping your presents.”
“B-But Tony, I do not wish to unwrap them,” the earl replied loudly enough to be heard by the rest in the room. “I think they are p-pretty just l-like that.”
“Well,” Lydia offered, “if it is the pretty wrappings you like, we must fold them up and save them. I have an entire box of silvered paper at home. I think it beautiful stuff, though Pamela th
inks I am a dunce to save it. But I think it is permissible to be a dunce over some things, do not you, Mr. Talbot?”
Tony nodded and extended his hand to that young lady as she crossed the room to where he and the earl stood.
“You shall help Geord to unwrap them, and I shall fold up the papers and set them aside,” she instructed, grinning. “Then he will have his presents and his wrappings, too. And Amelia,” she added, glancing in Miss Mapleton’s direction, “you will be kind enough to read the names from the cards, will you not?”
“Oh, certainly,” replied Miss Mapleton, rising to join the other three at the piano. The earl, swept into the opening of his presents by Tony, Amelia and Lydia, hovered tentatively between puzzlement and ecstasy. He was intrigued to find that Lord Bristol had presented him with a snuffbox made of gold and inlaid with pearls in the shape of a butterfly. He had not the least idea what to do with it, but he knew that Tony had one, and was quite determined to discover what his brother put in the thing. Miss Thackett’s was a painting of Westminster that she had done herself, and Miss Sonnesby presented him with a three-volume copy bound in bright red leather of Mrs. Radcliffe’s The Mysteries Udolpho, which, Mr. Talbot had assured her, the earl did not possess. Lord Northampton’s present made the earl laugh so infectiously that everyone else laughed as well. “B-But Robert,” he chuckled at last, staring down at the ivory dice in his hand, “Mama will h-hide them f-from me at the very f-first chance.”
“I will not,” the countess exclaimed, chuckling. “But should I catch either you or Tony betting real money upon them, I will send the both of you packing, for it will be obvious to me that neither of you is a true Rutlidge!”
The Misses Clinton had combined their resources to purchase a most elegant ebony cane with a golden handle in the shape of a wolf’s head, and David and Kit Mapleton, likewise combining resources, bestowed upon the earl a curly-brimmed top hat from Lock’s. “You are t-trying to m-make a d-dandy of me,” the earl giggled, putting the hat on and the cane under his arm.
Amelia's Intrigue (Regency Idyll Book 1) Page 29
