The cheers and clapping were thunderous as Lord Hardwick took his bow. Cecilia gave an unladylike hoot of delight and threw her handkerchief at Sir Hardwick. To her irritation, it landed atop Sir Finchley’s head. For her part, Henrietta had already firmed her resolve: she would not be pinning her hopes on Sir Hardwick competing to win her hand.
Unfortunately, her resolve was weakened somewhat when the man in question turned and gave her a teasing wink.
Chapter Nine
Henrietta took her time strolling towards the tourney field. It felt like aeons, rather than just a few days, since she had last had some time alone. She looked longingly towards the forest. She missed the peace she found there. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, hopping from joy one moment to despair the next. Last night, she had danced - not one but five dances! - with the devastatingly charming, Sir Hardwick. He had whirled her across the dance floor in his strong arms; had seduced her with flirtatious banter; wooed her with admiring glances. When he had taken her hand at the end of the night and laid a kiss upon it, she had felt what remained of her resolve crumble to dust.
“Rest well, my Lady - for tomorrow you will be mine!”
What was she to think? He had not been the least bit enamoured of her at their previous meeting; yet - now - it was as though he saw her anew. Unless she had dd it. Last evening, it had seemed he had eyes for none but Henrietta. It had been dizzying.
“A token, my Lady?” The accent was heavy and guttural - the voice of the gypsies.
Henrietta hadn’t noticed the woman before. Even had she not spoken, her colourful garb and long, black hair streaked with a ribbon of grey would have marked her out as being one of the gypsies who were camping near the river.
“Thank you, but I have no coin with me.”
“No coin necessary, my Lady. I am not here for business but for destiny.” The woman pinned a trinket to Henrietta’s dress. “Seek the truth, Lady Henrietta, for it is ready to be found.”
“Thank you,” Henrietta said, smiling politely. She knew the gypsies liked to act the part of mystics but they were a practical bunch really. She suspected the woman was just ensuring her family would be allowed to remain on her father’s land through the winter.
Yet, still, as she watched the woman walking away, Henrietta felt a shiver run up her spine.
The men waited on horseback. They held their excitable mounts tightly as they waited for the signal. The jangle of bridles was the only sound to break the silence of the tourney field. The fair maidens of Riverly stood high above the ground, each maiden upon her own raised dais and facing away from her sisters. Holding their bows taut, their arrows ready to fire, they were also awaiting Lord Pemberly’s signal.
Henrietta kept her eyes trained on her father. The tension strained the muscles in her shoulder. Then - the signal was given! Henrietta released her bowstring and, as she did so, a fleeting breeze swirled through her hair, kissing her face as it passed. Her arrow flew. The wind claimed it - and Hardwick let his horse go.
The force of the arrow dropped him to the forest floor.
The ogre stayed down, too stunned to move. Mentally, he mapped his body; tried to locate the source of the pain. His shoulder throbbed. He turned his head, grunting with the effort. An arrow. It had a green ribbon tied to it. He knew the barbed head would cause more damage on the way out than it had going in.
The horses’ hooves were loud in the muted hush of the forest. The ogre looked back over his shoulder. Four horsemen. One wearing armour.
“What in the name of God is that?”
He tried to stand.
“Don’t let it move! It has my arrow!”
The ogre’s legs were kicked out from beneath him. Fury rose in him but he desperately fought against it. The competitor, armour clanging, jumped down from his horse. He stamped on the back of the ogre’s thigh, immobilising him. When the ogre tried to move, the knight slammed his booted foot down on his back and, taking hold of the arrow, tore it from the ogre’s flesh. He roared with pain and anger.
Hardwick wiped the bloodied arrow on his captive’s shirt.
“Tie him up. He shall be a gift to my future bride.”
“Lady Cecilia?”
“No - ‘tis Henrietta, the eldest Pemberly chit, who shall take the name of Lady Hardwick.”
Henrietta had just started her descent from the towering dais when she heard the roar. She froze and looked out towards the forest.
“Ogre!” she whispered and hurried the rest of the way down the steps. She passed her father and sisters, calling “One moment!” over her shoulder in reply to their summons. She found Mr Briggs and, taking his arm, led him away from the men he was instructing.
“What troubles you, Lady Henrietta?”
“Mr Briggs, I thought I heard the ogre!“ she said breathlessly. “Please! Would you check?”
“Of course, my Lady.”
As Briggs headed for the forest, Henrietta stared after him. Was it the ogre she had heard roar? She looked around. No one else seemed to have heard anything amiss. Perhaps she had been wrong.
“Henrietta!” her father called and she hurried over to her family, where Cecilia and Millicent were trying to outdo each other with tales of their arrows’ flight.
“I cannot imagine how yours could possibly have flown any swifter than mine, Millicent. Everyone knows I am the better archer!”
“Not everyone, Cecilia - only you! And who cares anyway? The important thing is - who will find it?”
“Did anyone see who pursued my arrow?” Cecilia asked. “Was it Sir Hardwick?” She turned to Lord Pemberly, who was busily looking the other way. “Papa: did you see who it was?”
“What, dear? Oh. Your arrow? No. I was terribly busy … giving instructions and signals and what-have-you. Perhaps Prudence noticed?”
“Prue?” asked Cecilia.
“Yes, Prue: who chased mine?” Millicent chimed in.
“I really couldn’t say, girls.” Prudence gave her cowardly father a miffed look. “It was all such a commotion - wasn’t it, Aunt Penelope?”
Aunt Penelope had been talking to Lady Sanders. “Sorry?” she said unconvincingly. “I missed that.”
“I was saying, it was all a bit of hubbub. Very difficult to see who chased after whose arrow.”
“I noticed that handsome Hardwick fella,” Lady Sanders said gleefully, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension which was coursing through the group. “Tore out of here after young Henrietta’s arrow.”
“Oh I doubt that, Lady Sanders,” Henrietta said quickly. “As Prudence said, it would have been difficult to tell in all that commotion.”
“Not really, dear,” Lady Sanders insisted.
“Oh look! There’s Mrs Dilbury,” Aunt Penelope said, leading the elderly lady away. “Rosemary!” And Aunt Penelope hurried Lady Sanders in the direction of Rosemary Dilbury. Cecilia and Millicent, meanwhile, turned their attention to Henrietta.
“Did Sir Hardwick follow your arrow, Hetty?”
“How should I know, Millicent? It’s highly unlikely though - as I am sure you would be the first to say.”
Cecilia glared at her accusingly. “But everyone saw you flirting outrageously with him at the ball last evening. Do you deny that?”
“Hardly! He asked me to dance with him - and I accepted.” Henrietta refused to feel guilty. Her sisters really were too much at times. “And, in case you have forgotten, neither of you has a claim on him anyway.”
“I called dibs at the Brinkley Ball!” Millicent said crossly.
“You cannot ‘call dibs’ on a human being, Millicent!” Prudence said. “Now, both of you: go with Father and find Mrs Hyde-Thornton. She is probably looking for us.”
Lord Pemberly had already spotted the comely widow and was heading in her direction. “Go on - both of you!” Prudence said, giving them a shove towards their father. As soon as their siblings were out of earshot, Prudence turned to Henriet
ta. “Come on then - out with it!”
Henrietta laughed. “What?”
“Oh stop being so coy. You know very well what! Sir Hardwick - you and he did look very cosy at the dance.”
“We danced, Prue! That’s all!”
“Oh come now, Henrietta! At least tell me if he would make a suitable challenger.”
Fighting to control a fit of giggles, Henrietta replied, “Let’s just say I wouldn’t be too upset if he returned with my arrow.”
Delighted by her sister’s response, Prudence gave her an affectionate nudge. “You’re enjoying yourself after all aren’t you, Hetty?”
“Actually, Prue - I think I just might be!”
She hadn’t thought she would but, standing up on that high platform with her bow poised and the silence heavy in the air, a tremendous thrill of adventure had coursed through her. And then - once she had released her arrow - Henrietta had felt destiny calling.
Weak from the loss of so much blood, the ogre could barely stand. Ropes pulled his arms forward and tore at the flesh around his wound. The riders who were dragging him through the forest seemed to have forgotten his presence. Sounds reached him: people talking and laughing; the tournament.
The ogre struggled against his bonds. He did not want Henrietta to see him. Not now. Not like this.
“Halt!”
The horses were brought to a sudden stop and the ogre fell.
“Untie him!”
He lifted his weary head and saw it was Briggs who had spoken.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, Sir Hardwick, I do. Now: untie the ogre.”
“On whose authority?”
“Mine. Finlay Briggs, estate manager at Riverly. He, “said Briggs, nodding towards the ogre, “works for me.”
“Seems a bit strange to me. Does Lord Pemberly know you let this monster dwell on his land?”
“With respect, Sir, the workings of this estate are none of your business.”
“Perhaps not,” Hardwick said acquiescently. He raised his sword. Staring into the ogre’s defiant grey eyes, he swung it down towards his captive and severed the ropes which bound him. “Get out of my sight,” he sneered. He turned his horse towards the tournament. “Mr Briggs,” he said, inclining his head as he passed. With his companions flanking him, Hardwick lifted the arrow above his head. “Let us claim my prize, men!” he hollered and his men cheered him on.
The ogre pulled the ropes off him and climbed unsteadily to his feet.
“Let me help you,” Briggs said, holding out his hand.
“I’m fine.”
In the background there was another loud cheer at Hardwick’s triumphant return.
The ogre swayed on his feet and Briggs grabbed his arm. “For God’s sake, man! I can see you’re hurt.”
“Please, Briggs: leave me be!”
Briggs didn’t like it but he knew there was nothing more he could do.
“You’re a stubborn cuss - but I will go. For now at least.”
The ogre waited for Briggs to leave. Then, keeping to the shelter of the trees, he looked out onto the tournament. It took but a moment to pick out Henrietta. She was smiling. In her hand, she held a banner: Hardwick’s colours. He could see Hardwick too. And in his hand, he held her arrow.
Henrietta had been claimed. She looked content.
The ogre turned away. He stumbled through the forest. His only thought now was to reach home before unconsciousness overcame him.
“Sir Hardwick claims Lady Henrietta!” A cheer went up as Lord Pemberly made the formal announcement, even though most people had already seen Sir Hardwick’s victorious return. “He will now be her official champion and challenger for the final stage of the tournament!.”
Lord Pemberly turned to address the golden-haired giant who was standing next to him and beaming triumphantly. “Sir Hardwick,” he said - more for the benefit of the audience than the knight - “I should like to remind you of the rules.” Hardwick bowed respectfully and Lord Pemberly continued. “From this moment on, you may not influence my daughter by any means other than those that fall within the bounds of a challenge that I have set for you.”
“Might I at least bid my Lady a fond farewell, Lord Pemberly?” Sir Hardwick asked in a lascivious manner. The less genteel members of the audience hooted their approval. Playing along with the merriment, Lord Pemberly held up his hands.
“It is not for me to grant such a wish. Surely that honour must be bestowed by the Lady Henrietta herself?”
Henrietta blushed scarlet as she came forward and presented herself to her father and her champion. Another cheer erupted as she held out her hand to Sir Hardwick.
“Lady Henrietta - my dearest Lady!” The knight paused to allow for the cheers and catcalls. “I kiss this hand as a promise to you. I shall meet each challenge as though my very life depended upon the outcome - which, from this day forth, it does.” Then, to a roar of approval from the crowd, Sir Hardwick bent over and kissed Henrietta’s hand.
It would have been hard for Henrietta to have missed the furious looks being cast her way by her two younger sisters. Aunt Penelope was obviously doing her best to calm their tempers but neither girl was having any of it. Millicent was stamping her foot and pointing angrily at Henrietta as she spoke, while Cecilia just glared at her, with a look of intense loathing. As soon a she was able, Henrietta approached her sisters. She hated the thought of Sir Hardwick’s claim coming between them. Millicent simply screwed up her face and flounced away as Henrietta advanced. Cecilia, it seemed, wasn’t going to be quite so silent on the matter.
“Have you come to gloat, sister?”
“Of course not! I had no idea Sir Hardwick would claim me.”
“Really?” Cecilia narrowed her eyes. “Despite how you have thrown yourself at him from the first?”
“Cecilia, really! I did no such thing!”
Cecilia’s lip trembled prettily. “You knew I had feelings for him - and yet you were determined to come between us!” She stamped her foot, “I despise you, Henrietta!”
“That’s enough of that, young lady!” Aunt Penelope said, thrusting a handkerchief into Cecilia’s hand. Prudence spotted the unfolding drama and hurried over.
“But it’s not fair!” Cecilia cried as she threw herself into her aunt’s arms and sobbed dramatically.
Prudence rolled her eyes. “Do stop making making a scene, Cissie,” she said, deliberately using the baby name she knew Cecilia hated.
“Look, Cecilia!” Millicent bellowed in an unladylike manner, “A rider!” Forgetting her earlier upset, she jumped up and down, pointing at the approaching horseman. Cecilia looked up from her aunt’s shoulder. “It’s just Sir Fletchley,” she said, curling her lip. “I shall die if he has my arrow!”
Sir Fletchley jumped down from his mount and hurried towards Lord Pemberly. The sisters watched as the two men exchanged words and Lord Pemberly frowned and shook his head. He came to them with a rueful look on his face.
“Cecilia, Millicent: I have some bad news, I’m afraid.”
“What is it, Papa?” Millicent asked. “What did Sir Fletchley say?”
“It seems your arrows are nowhere to be found.”
“What do you mean they cannot be found?”
“Just that, Millicent. No-one has been able to find either yours or Cecilia’s arrows.”
“Then we shall have to do it again!” Cecilia said hopefully. “Perhaps that is why Sir Hardwick did not claim me!”
Sir Pemberly shook his head regretfully. “The rules are very clear on this, my dears. If the arrows cannot be located, then no-one can challenge for you. There is nothing more to be done.”
“No!” Millicent cried. “That cannot be! Cecilia, we shall be a laughing stock!”
Cecilia gasped. For the moment, her outrage had rendered her mute. Lord Pemberly shook his head regretfully, already looking for an escape route before Cecilia found her
voice. “We shall discuss the ramifications later,” he said, smiling apologetically at Aunt Penelope. “Perhaps you and Caroline could take the girls back to the house while I wind things up here?” Then, seeing Mrs Hyde-Thornton approach, he smiled and added, “I will see you all at supper.”
With their father making a quick get away, it was left to the two older women to escort the youngest Pemberly girls to their carriage.
“Prudence and I will walk back, Aunt Penelope,” Henrietta called. She had no wish to listen to the furious wailings of either Millicent or Cecilia just now. She waited until the carriage had pulled away before turning to her sister. “Spare me the prevarications, Prue. I want to know what you and Father are up to - right now!”
Chapter Ten
A semblance of peace had been restored. With father having declared a hiatus in the festivities, Riverly had - temporarily - returned to normal. Well - almost normal. The younger girls were bickering and complaining, as always, but now they were also refusing to speak to Henrietta.
“Ignore them,” Prudence - who had little patience with their temperamental sisters’ behaviour - told Henrietta. “They would have been quite happy for you to have been out of the running - so tough luck on them!”
“Perhaps so - but now I know they were never actually in the running.” Henrietta gave her sister a “and we know whose fault that is” look. “I can’t help but feel guilty. They are both deeply upset about this, Prue.”
“Good Lord, Henrietta! Those two were practically born overwrought!” Prudence rolled her eyes. “Don’t pander to them: it will only make them worse.”
Henrietta knew Prudence was right. Cecilia and Millicent had their own way far too often. And, if she were being truthful, she was actually overjoyed Sir Hardwick had claimed her. “Oh, Prue!” she said, biting her lip to stem the elation that threatened to erupt. “I never thought something as romantic as this would ever happen to me! A handsome, charming man declaring his affection for me and setting out to win my hand!” She laughed. “It’s just like a knight errant in one of our courtly tales!”
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