by Edith Layton
She approved of her companion as well, for aside from that one unsettling moment when he had gazed at her and complimented her, he was the best of companions as they led their mounts toward Hyde Park. Amused and cool, he set her at her ease, until the moment when he told her in an offhand, yet determined way that however foolish it seemed, they could do no more than gently canter or walk their horses through the park.
“But why?” Jessica protested. “When it’s clear that they; would like to fly on such a beautiful day.”
“Because,” the gentleman said firmly, “the fur would fly when you got back if Lady Grantham heard you were abandoned enough to gallop on the paths. It simply isn’t done. One rides in the park to chat, to be seen, and to catch up on gossip; never, I fear, simply to ride.”
The park was bright with new spring green. The trees were tender-tipped with new leaf, the shrubbery was putting forth first flowers, and the air was as delightfully mild as a tepid bath. Jessica was toying with the idea of urging her mount to, more speed, despite her companion’s warning, but two things dissuaded her. One was the knowing look in Lord Leith’s eye as he saw her hands tighten on her reins; the other was the simple fact that if she had chosen to race, the only direction her mount could have taken would have been straight upward. For the paths were thronged with riders. Although they rode through verdant open spaces, the area was as crowded as the Swansons’ ballroom had been.
There were many mounted on horses as she herself was. But there was also a dizzying array of wheeled conveyances inching along the lanes as well. There were high-sprung phaetons in all colors, simple carriages, and vehicles of every devising, with every sort of crest blazoned on their sides, Masses of people were strolling the pedestrian paths. There was such a profusion of ladies’ parasols that they seemed to be some giant sort of radiant spring blooms covering the; park, quite dwarfing the beds of actual blossoms. Prides of old persons were arrayed upon the benches in great numbers, and there were even clutches of young children skipping alongside their governesses and nannies.
“You see,” Lord Leith said pleasantly, “I was safe in cautioning you. Unless you’re of a mind to commit murder, you’ll have to be sedate. Terribly sorry about that,” he added in an extremely unsorrowful tone.
Jessica laughed despite herself. “I’m not such a madcap as that. No, I’ll go quietly, I assure you, Alex. Only, whereas the sense in it? One could get more exercise taking the stairs, I think.”
He eyed her quizzically. The well-cut green of her costume complimented her neat figure; the hat, with its ridiculous afterthought of a plume, pointed out the dazzling contrast between her white skin and her outrageous hair. The bright sunlit day seemed to have been tailored exactly to her style. Already, he could see several gentlemen of his acquaintance urging their mounts in her direction. There’s the sense to it, he thought, watching one young lordling neatly cut off another in his haste to reach her first. But he only said languidly, “They are taking the air, but that is exactly all they are willing to do with it.”
Jessica laughed again and was about to retort to his sally with one of her own when a fresh-faced young gentleman scarcely older than herself angled his mount close and cried, “Leith, I haven’t seen you in days, how are you, sir?”
Soon Jessica found herself forced to hold her mount to a stand as one and another and yet another gentleman hailed them. All were duly introduced to her. While some seemed content to chat with her escort, though all the while darting looks at her, she found herself replying to the queries of others. But hardly any sense could have been made of what she said, for no sooner did she begin to respond to one when she had in all politeness to answer another.
Seeing the clot in traffic that they had become and noting Jessica’s growing unease, Lord Leith soon put an end to the impromptu meeting by declaring to all, “Come, fellows, Miss Eastwood’s mount is still fresh and we have to have some exercise. We must be off, if only to save our necks, for we’re obstructing the road. I give you good day, gentlemen.”
“But who is she, Leith?” one round-faced gentleman implored in a loud whisper as the others began to drift away. “And what is her direction?”
“Good morning, Turner,” Lord Leith said decisively as he turned his horse and beckoned Jessica to follow. He smiled at the young man’s disappointment. The fellow would find out soon enough, he thought, and there was nothing like a little mystery to spur an interest.
No sooner had they ridden their horses on a few feet, and Jessica was about to begin the first of many questions that had occurred to her, than they were hailed by a couple in a light barouche. When they had done with the civilities there another regal-looking pair caught their attention as they rode past a stationary high-wheeled phaeton. Each time they parted from one group, they were accosted by another.
It was when the sun was high in the sky, and when Jessica thought she would burst with impatience, that her escort cast a knowing eye over her overheated countenance. He motioned her to follow him and they rode on farther and then off to a side trail. Now, when they were hailed, he paused more briefly, begging an impending engagement. As they went on, Jessica noted that they encountered fewer and fewer people. It was not long before she saw to her relief and surprise that they rode quite alone and through a leafy narrow trail. Only the groom that had accompanied them from the house yet followed, at his respectful distance.
“That was neatly done,” she breathed.
“Long experience,” he answered briefly, and then turning in his saddle, grinned down at her and asked casually, “Should you like to see how well that roan can travel?”
“You know I should,” she said angrily, “but I’ve no doubt you’d have my head if I dared to let her out.”
“Ah, but that was in the park proper.” He smiled. “And now that you’ve shown you can be a good little girl, you may have a little gallop. But only so far as the end of the meadow,” he added, pointing to a distant line of trees. “I know this is a seldom-frequented lane, yet beyond this secret stretch lies another twist to the fashionables’ trail.”
But at the words “good little girl,” Jessica had given her horse the spur, and they went flying down the trail. It was lovely, she thought, to feel the wind and the air and the movement of the animal beneath her, and it was with regret that she finally pulled up beside Lord Leith. His great black horse had been the faster, and he was already halted and motioning for her to stop when she reached the trees.
She was buoyed up by the pleasure of the exercise. Her hat was askew, her color high, and a vagrant switch of hair had tumbled down across one flushed cheek. He looked down at her sparkling eyes and glowing hair as she laughed up at him and cried out, “Oh, that was capital, Alex.”
There was nothing of the coquette and yet everything of the siren in her excited abandon, and without pausing to wonder why, he felt random anger with her in that moment.
"Come,” he said so abruptly as to make her wonder if he regretted their lapse of propriety because they had been seen by someone else. But looking about, all she could see was their groom, making his way toward them.
“We have to return,” her escort said, regaining his easy smile, “or else my dear aunt will think I have sold you to the gypsies.”
“Do you know,” she confided as they rode sedately back through the park, “I have always wanted to see how they lived.”
“Somehow, I felt sure of that,” he replied wryly.
He was about to leave her at the entry to his aunt’s house when he caught a look of such sudden sorrow in her eyes that he impulsively gave both horses to the care of the groom and accompanied her inside. She led him into the blue salon. It had been such a shining sunny day that the inner house seemed dark as a tomb by contrast, even though he had always admired the light touch his aunt had with the furnishings of her home.
“Your aunt must be taking a nap; she always does so before lunch,” Jessica said as she seated herself in a chair close to the window. “Do you care to wai
t for her?”
“Of course I shall,” he answered, seating himself, even though he had had little intention of doing so a moment past.
“What are you plans for the afternoon, Jessica?” he asked absently, and noting the sadness returning, he realized that he had hit upon her problem, for she sat up and looked at him with approval.
"That’s just it, Alex,” she said at once. “I have none.”
He had great difficulty in repressing a smile. She could not know that most young misses of her age and station would have cut out their tongues before uttering such a phrase to a gentleman. But then, he remembered, so exactly would a young man speak if he were angling to accompany an older fellow upon his rounds.
“What?” he asked with a show of incredulity. “No reading to catch up on, no letters to write, no knitting or stitchery to unravel, no watercolors to paint, or instrument to play?”
“Oh, bother,” she said in exasperation, “I’ve read till my eyes crossed, there’s no one to write to since Ollie lives so close, I cannot knit or stitch, and,” she said with a sneer, “such ladylike pursuits as painting and playing at music are of no interest to me.”
“Ladylike pursuits?” he asked with interest. “Really?”
He rose and bowed to her, while she watched him with her head to one side in confusion, wondering what she could have said to insult him now. But, she noted with relief, he wasn’t leaving, he only walked over to the pianoforte in the corner on the room. He seated himself at the bench and she smiled, anticipating some great fun. For he seemed to be about to act out a charade of a demure young miss at the piano. In truth, before he began, she thought, he had already made his point, for he looked quite out of place seated at the delicate inlaid instrument, with its gilt side panels illustrating nymphs and shepherds at play. He was too large for the picture he entered, his long masculine figure, his riding clothes and his high boots made a parody of his very pose.
Then nodding toward her, he placed his long fingers upon the keys and began to play. Her smile slid off into nothingness. The music that issued forth filled the room. It was exquisite—by turns, tentative, then tender, then strangely stirring, almost angry, and then at last tapering off into a hushed oblique regret. At least Jessica felt regret when the room was still once more. She had no idea of how long he had played, she had been so intent upon the music. Only when he had stopped did she wonder at his mastery. But now he rose and executed the mock curtsy that she had expected in the first instance. Now, however, she did not smile at his clowning.
“Wasn’t it ladylike enough for you?” he asked, noting her stillness.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, “I didn’t know. That is toy say, Red Jack had no use for such things as music. No, that’s not true, he often said there was no sound more valiant than that of bagpipes. But I thought—Oh, dash it all, Alex, I never heard such sounds. And it wasn’t ladylike in the least. Why, I should give all my father’s fortune if I could create such music,” she said honestly.
“But what would be amiss with it if it were ladylike, Jessica?” he asked, returning to her side. “For I played a somber composition by the German Herr Van Beethoven, but had I played a light one by Haydn or Mozart, I suppose one might say it sounded delicate and fragile and mannered. Is that what you mean by ladylike? For if it is, then where’s the harm? Would playing such music make me less the man? And why should manly be so much superior to ladylike?”
Jessica rose and paced a step or two, then wheeled about and faced him. “I haven’t said it correctly,” she began, her color rising as she mounted her favorite hobbyhorse and rode off in conversation in much the same way as she had galloped across the meadow earlier. “In music, there’s no harm. But in life, why, yes, there is. Just think of this morning, my Lord. Why you could have ridden across the park for hours by yourself, but I could not have. And you could have done without a groom as well. And you can take yourself off this afternoon and do whatever pleases you, from riding, to visiting, to gaming. While I, if I am to be ladylike, must sit and sketch or sew and read.”
“But, Jessica,” he interrupted, “you could visit, or ride, or even game, if you so wished.”
“Not without an escort,” she said, plunging ahead. “And just think of the advantages you have grown used to, without even considering them as such. Do you have to lay cucumber slices upon your eyes to make them bright?”
She was glowering at him now, and he was so taken aback by what she said that it took a moment for him to begin to laugh.
“Seldom, I grant you,” he said, sobering at the fierce look in her eye. “But you don’t have to, surely, do you?”
“No,” she said with satisfaction. “For when I told Nellie I wouldn’t, Lady Grantham did not press me further. But all I am supposed to concern myself with is my face and my hair and my form. Nellie suggests barley water, lemon juices, and milk baths. I vow, my Lord, sometimes I believe that to be a lady is to be prepared for dinner. Yes, laugh,” she said bitterly, “but you do not have to undergo such torments daily.”
“No, no,” he managed to put in while attempting to regain his equilibrium. “But, my dear, I cannot slip into company as easily as a raw egg, either. Just think, Jessica,” he said, aping her affect as he rose to face her, “do you have to shave daily, or have your hair snipped so frequently as to feel I like an overgrown garden weed? You see that last I refuse as vigorously as you shun cucumbers. And do you have to worry about whether you have a shapely leg? Not at all, for as a female you’ve always got them covered up nicely enough, while a gentleman’s limbs are much remarked upon and always on view.”
“There’s that,” Jessica said consideringly, “for Father used to tell me that in his day a spindly gentleman often had to pad out his leg with sawdust. But surely you don’t concern yourself about that, do you?” she asked with disbelief.
“Not at all.” He smiled. “I was merely trying to show you that attention to personal appearances is not solely the province of females.”
“You don’t understand,” she said angrily, “or you do and you are just playing with me. I have no freedom. None. I am my father’s only child, yet I had to stand and watch a stranger come to take over my home and lands when he died. But had I been born a male, I should even now be master of Oak Hill.”
Lord Leith sobered quickly. He placed his hands upon her shoulders and looked into her glistening eyes.
“No. That, I agree, is too bad,” he said, knowing, perhaps for the first time, that it was.
“But that is in order to carry on the family name,” he began to explain.
She dashed away in incipient tear and broke in, “I know, I understand, but my life is ringed around with such. You have the freedom of all of London, but I cannot even go out and consult with my solicitor, who is an ancient fellow, without an escort. Do they think me such a wanton, abandoned creature that I cannot be trusted with a male, even decades older than myself?”
“No, no, Jessica,” he said, looking down at her. “There’s right in what you say, but you have it the wrong way around. It is you that could be endangered, not he.”
“I should not be endangered,” she said stubbornly, resisting now the tenderness she saw in his gray eyes.
“But you are beautiful, Jessica,” he said softly, “and as such, you would be at risk.”
“Bah, beauty,” she said, raging again, her eyes sparkling and her chin high. “That is no excuse and no danger.”
He made no reply this time, but only placed one large hand beside her face and buried the other hand in her bright hair on the other side. Then he lowered his head and, holding her lightly, kissed her gently. Her lips were warm and yielding, and soon what was meant to be sweet consolation became a great deal more. She did not pull away, and it was he who finally drew his mouth away from hers, slightly shaken by what he had discovered there.
She stood still for a moment, with her eyes closed, quite silently. He searched for words of apology, since she did not sti
r, and his hands dropped to his sides. But before he could draw breath, her eyes snapped open and she stepped back a pace and spoke in an unsteady voice.
“There,” she said in a broken whisper. “You see? A gentleman can do that, but a female cannot so impose upon—”
“No,” he said gravely. “No, Jessica, a gentleman cannot. And I apologize for overstepping the bounds. Please forgive me, but perhaps now you understand what I meant about the danger of beauty. And it is unfair, yes, that your freedoms should be decided by the limits of your physical strength.”
“I understand the lesson,” she said, turning her head away from him, “and why you gave it. But not why the chance that I might leave myself open for insult should so restrict my life.”
“It was no insult,” he said, but she raced on, overriding him, “Or why a mere happenstance of birth should allow you to live so free while I am so pent up.”
“Jessica,” Lord Leith spoke with carefully controlled anger, turning her to face him, “I don’t know what conditions prevail in Yorkshire, but even here in London, we know that mere happenstance of birth means primarily that I cannot give birth. It is because you can that you are so protected.”
She stared at him as though he had slapped her, while he was startled at himself for what he had said. Even though he knew that there was no other answer he could have given her, he could have phrased it differently, put it better, he realized suddenly.
“And that, of course, puts me in my place firmly,” she said bitterly, and then lapsed into silence, although her eyes hinted at all that was hovering on her tongue.
Good heavens, what could she have said now? Lady Grantham thought as she came through the door to see her guest and her nephew standing silently staring at each other. But she was nothing if not socially adept, and so she only asked them if they were to lunch with her. And was not at all surprised at either refusal.
The man behind the huge desk looked up with satisfaction as his visitor entered the dim-lit room. Then, without preamble, he said abruptly, “Took you long enough to come around to see me.”
