Bless Us With Content

by Tinnean

  “Thank you.”

  Meanwhile, Jack stood by Lancelot’s head while Arabella mounted the bay gelding without any fuss. Once she was safely in the saddle, she allowed her horse a few moments of playfulness before pulling him up and saying, “Behave now, Lancelot.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be safe on him, my dear Arabella? For he seems quite a nervous animal to me!”

  “Not in the least, Juliet. He’s merely funning, and in fact is nothing more than a trifle high-spirited!”

  Miss Munro’s hand twitched as if she still carried the crop. Clearly she was put out; Onyx just stood there and placidly stamped a hoof.

  Dickon led out my horse, and I took Blue Boy’s reins from him and stepped into the saddle. Blue Boy sidled a bit, then settled down and turned his head to lip the toe of my boot. I leaned forward and patted his neck.

  “We make a very striking contrast, do we not, Sir Ashton? My horse so dark and yours so light? Although I do believe I would look even better if I were riding the chestnut.”

  “Quite. Let’s be off, shall we?”

  We set off at a sedate walk, and when I was satisfied that Miss Munro would not go sliding off Onyx’s back, I lifted Blue Boy into a trot.

  Miss Munro didn’t bounce in the saddle, but I noted her tightened grip on the reins. Onyx’s head was pulled back toward his chest, giving him no leeway to flex his neck.

  “Ease your hold on the reins if you please, Miss Munro.”

  “I like to have control of my mount at all times.” She turned her head away, but not before I saw the resentful expression in her eyes.

  “I assure you—”

  “Oh, look! That fence would be ideal for jumping! Do let us! I’m so bored with this pace!”

  Arabella gave the ground leading up to it a cursory glance, then shook her head. “Not I.”

  “You never struck me as being a faint-heart!”

  Arabella looked surprised for a moment, then burst into a peal of laughter. “It’s not a matter of being faint-hearted, my dear Juliet.”

  “Indeed.” As reluctant as I was to take Arabella’s part in anything, I must needs give her that. “We’ve had quite some rain of late, and I fear the ground is not firm enough to jump safely.”

  “That’s true, Juliet. You heard Jem say something about it, and even Mollie told me it’s been unseasonably wet.”

  “Mollie?”

  “My maid.”

  “You address your maid by her first name?”

  “Well, yes. We’ve known each other for forever, since we first came to Laytham Hall together. She keeps me abreast of all that’s happening here.”

  Miss Munro’s lip curled, but Arabella didn’t notice. “How would your maid know? She’s been in Town with you this age!”

  “I daresay another of the servants informed her.”

  I had the feeling it was Dickon, a well-formed lad who caused quite the stir below stairs.

  “Let’s continue on, shall we?”

  “Very well, Sir Ashton. But I must say you are proving to be not very dashing.” Miss Munro smiled archly at what was evidently intended to be a drollery, but I did not find it amusing. I did not need her to tell me I was not dashing; I was quite aware of that fact.

  Perhaps that was why Geo had ceased to visit me. Perhaps he had found someone more dashing, more to his taste.

  A burning began in my chest. I should not have eaten such a hearty breakfast.

  “Shall we try a canter, Miss Munro?”

  By the end of that first ride, I was satisfied that Arabella’s guest was a competent rider given a sedate horse, but she was not a horsewoman. “See she is mounted on the less spirited animals,” I instructed my grooms. The thought of her on a mount like Jezebel didn’t bear contemplating.

  As for the colt, I didn’t even consider her upon his back, for save for Mr. Ruston and myself, no one else rode him.

  As part of my duty as her host, I chatted with Miss Munro across the dinner table and over the supper tray in the evenings, and waltzed and partnered her at loo, but during the day, the task of entertaining her fell to Arabella. Thomas Coachman drove them in the phaeton to Farnham to visit the circulating library and to Guilford for shopping expeditions from which they’d return heady with triumph over their purchases, and together with Aunt Cecily they paid morning calls to the local gentry.

  I, myself, was immersed in the affairs of the estate, for the winter wheat had just been harvested, and the spring oats would be planted shortly. Giffard and I rode the fields and discussed which ones would lie fallow this year.

  I toyed with the idea of driving up to Town to confront Geo, but too many factors prevented me: that I was needed here to see to the estate, that it would be rude to leave when Aunt Cecily was entertaining guests, that I didn’t know if Geo was still in England.

  What deterred me the most was the memory of his rebuff. I would not chance being turned away from his doorstep, dashing all hopes once and for all that there was something special between us.

  Another week’s end, and once again I was forced to give up the hope that Geo would appear at Laytham Hall. Well, truly, had I expected otherwise?

  When I returned to the stable that day, it was to find young Jack wringing his hands and struggling not to weep. There was a welt reddening prominently across one cheek. Dickon stood by him, pale and shaken, an arm around his shoulders. Mr. Ruston was mounted on one of the geldings, carrying a gun and looking grim.

  “We were just about to send for you, Sir Ash. It’s the chestnut colt.”

  My insides roiling, I eyed the gun with severe misgiving. “What’s happened?”

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Mr. Ruston’s mouth was a tight line. “Young Jack was here alone when Miss Arabella and her friend came, wanting to take out the horses. He’s not at fault, sir! The young lady insisted she would have the colt.”

  “Oh, sir, I’m that sorry, but the lady was that set on riding him, and when I tried to tell her no….” He touched the welt on his cheek. “And Miss Arabella said she saw no reason why she couldn’t… why she couldn’t….” Jack sniffed hard and knuckled his eyes.

  “All right, Jack. You saddled the colt for Miss Munro, and then?”

  “He just stood there. Miss got angry and said, ‘He’s as bad as that black slug!’ And then she hit him with her crop, and he bolted. Miss Arabella called for me to get Mr. Ruston and went after her.”

  “Young Jack finally found me in the foaling barn, Sir Ash. Before I could saddle a horse, Lancelot came galloping back. His reins were knotted, so I knew Miss Arabella was all right but that something must be amiss. I went looking for them. It was no hard matter finding them—the ground was all torn up.” His mouth became tighter. “The young Miss tried to jump our handsome lad over the stile between the Hall and Greenbriers.”

  “And of course he refused.”

  “Aye, sir. He went down hard, though, and Miss Arabella’s friend was tossed over the stile. She’s taken some hurt, and I understand Dr. Medford was sent for—”

  “Damn the feather-brained chit!” I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling hollow inside. “How bad is the colt?”

  “Not good, sir. It’s his shoulder. It was swelling, and he was favoring it. When I felt it, I could feel the bones grating.” He sighed and shook his head. “Jem is with him, trying to quiet him, to keep him from injuring himself further, but I fear it’s broken.” He met my eyes and raised the gun slightly. “It’s not good at all, sir.”

  I swore, knowing all the while it would be of no help. “Give me the gun.”

  “Sir….”

  “I’m master here, Mr. Ruston. It’s my responsibility.”

  “Aye, sir. Dickon, take young Jack to Mrs. Nye. She’ll see to his face. It’s this way, Sir Ash.”

  We found Jem and the colt just by the stile that opened to the bit of Squire Newbury’s land that marched with mine. The ground leading up to it was indeed torn as Mr. Ruston had said, gouts of mud and grass flung thi
ther and yon. An experienced jumper would have had no trouble taking the stile, even with the ground a sodden mass, but the colt, who shied at even the easiest of jumps, would not have fared well.

  Jem stood at his head, stroking the sweat-streaked neck and murmuring into his ear, trying to comfort the colt, who was shuddering and uttering soft sounds of distress.

  Jem looked up as we approached, his eyes over-bright. “A bad business, Sir Ash. A very bad business!”

  The colt’s near front leg was indeed swollen, and only the tip of that hoof touched the ground. His near flank, covered in welts, was also sweat-streaked, but there the sweat was tinged red with blood where the skin had been broken. His off side was coated with mud from where he’d gone down, but I had no doubt that beneath the mud his hide had been cut by the crop.

  “She must have crammed him.”

  “Aye, sir. It’s a wonder he didn’t break both legs. And look at his mouth.” Jem had removed the bit to give the colt some ease. I dismounted and went to the colt’s head.

  “Even if he’d been a willing jumper, sir, he couldn’t have made that jump!”

  “No.” I could see how badly the corners of his mouth were cut. The chit hadn’t even had the wit to allow him his head. His eyes were dull with pain and confusion, and I rubbed my palm over his nose and forehead. “Poor lad. Poor, poor lad!” Before this he’d only known gentle hands. “Can you get him to lie back down?” I asked Jem.

  “No, sir.” His voice quivered.

  “Mr. Ruston….” I hated what I was about to do. “If you’ll take the colt’s head? Jem, take the horses some distance, if you please? They don’t need to see this.” And neither did he.

  I spent the time stroking the colt’s neck until I could no longer hear Jem. “I’m sorry, my handsome lad. I’m so sorry.”

  “Best get it done with, sir.”

  “Yes.” I raised the gun.

  Mr. Ruston placed his palms over the colt’s eyes. I squeezed the trigger.

  It was over. The colt was out of his misery.

  Geo would never see him, never ride him.

  I looked around. “This… this spot….” It was quiet, and once spring was in full bloom it would be lovely and sweet-smelling. “We’ll bury him here, Mr. Ruston.”

  He took the gun from me. “Aye, Sir Ash. I’ll see to it. Why don’t you go back to the Hall now? I’ll stay here with….” He paused to clear his throat. “With our handsome lad. Jem will know which men to send.”

  Without another word, I left him there.

  “Sir Ashton, Dr. Medford has just left,” Colling informed me as I strode across the Great Hall. “Her ladyship and Miss Arabella are with Miss Munro.”

  “How is she?”

  “Her wrist is sprained….” No doubt from the way she’d wielded that bedamned riding crop. “As is her ankle, and her shoulder is bruised.”

  Bruised but not broken. “Other than that?”

  “I don’t understand, sir.”

  “Has she any injuries other than those you’ve mentioned?”

  “Of course she’s shaken and upset.”

  “Of course. So there is nothing that would keep her abed?”

  “As to that, sir, I’m sure I couldn’t say, but Dr. Medford seemed to think not.”

  “Very well. I want her trunks brought to her room.”

  “Sir?”

  “She’s to be gone from Laytham Hall as soon as may be.”

  Colling was a good butler. He didn’t question my orders, just bowed and went to see about it.

  I climbed the stairs to the first floor, and, feeling now as aged as Methuselah, made my way down the corridor to the hyacinth room. Taking a moment to gather myself, I tapped on the door.

  Arabella opened it. “Mollie, it’s about time you brought the poultices….” She frowned when she saw it was me. “Ashton! This is a lady’s bedchamber. You….” Her eyes widened as she took note of the blood and mud on my coat and trousers, and she swallowed. “You should not be here!”

  “Should I not? You told Jack you saw no reason why your friend should not take out the chestnut colt.”

  “I was simply being a good hostess. How….” Her gaze skittered away from mine. “How is the colt?”

  “Dead.”

  “D… dead?” She turned pale.

  “Who is it, Arabella?” Miss Munro asked querulously.

  “Juliet, it’s… it’s Ashton!”

  “He cannot come in here! Do not allow him entry! I look a veritable hag! Oh, this is all the fault of that wretched animal!”

  I brushed Arabella aside and strode into the room. “That ‘wretched animal’ had to be destroyed because you refused to obey my instructions.”

  Miss Munro gave a little shriek and pulled the covers over herself. “Lady Cecily! He should not be in here! What my dear Papa would say….”

  “Really, Ashton, this is uncalled for!” Aunt Cecily said with some impatience as she and Arabella rushed to draw a screen between me and the young woman in bed.

  “I rather think having my instructions flouted was even more uncalled for, Aunt.”

  “The horse was in the stable for anyone to ride,” Miss Munro said petulantly from behind the screen. “Why should I not take it out?”

  “Perhaps because I told you not to?”

  “I was tired of that cart horse you saw fit to mount me on! You understand, don’t you, dear Lady Cecily? You must say you do!”

  “My dear child, if Ashton asked you not to….”

  “The groom saddled it for me.” Sulkiness was etched in her words.

  “It was the stable boy, and only after you struck him with your riding crop.”

  Aunt Cecily paled. She had as little reason as I to look with complacency upon a crop being wielded by anyone. “Juliet, you never told me—”

  “It wasn’t important. He was just a stable boy; he should have obeyed me as soon as I told him what I wanted! Papa would have seen him turned off immediately for daring to question my orders!” Her words became even sulkier. “Besides, Arabella didn’t see any reason why I couldn’t ride the horse if I wanted!”

  “This is neither your father’s estate nor Arabella’s,” I snapped.

  “You, sir, are being unreasonable!”

  “Am I? I told you the colt’s training wasn’t complete. I also told you he belonged to someone else. Yet neither of those facts deterred you in any way from taking him out.”

  “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. It was just an animal. It can be replaced.”

  “Ashton, this is all very unsettling, but you must see that Juliet has had a shock….”

  She was due for even more of a shock. “Her trunks are being brought down. I want her packed and gone from Laytham Hall.”

  “I… I….” Miss Munro appeared to be at a loss for words.

  “You are spoiled to a fault, Miss Munro, and you are no longer welcome here!”

  “You cannot! Ashton, she’s my friend!”

  “That matters not a whit to me.” I stared stonily at Arabella. “I should not interfere were I you.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You would do well to beg my pardon. Believe me when I say I would like nothing better than to send you packing along with your friend.”

  “What? You… you are just like Uncle Eustace!”

  “I am not, for which you should be exceedingly thankful, for if I were, have no doubt I would see you beaten for your hand in this!”

  “Oh! Oh!” Her face flushed, Arabella ran from the room.

  “You’re no gentleman, sir,” Miss Munro said, her voice cold and cutting. “And I am only too pleased that my eyes have been opened to your true character!”

  I ignored her words, glancing instead at the ormolu clock upon the mantle. “I would suggest you have your woman see about getting you packed.”

  Whatever it was she screeched at me was unintelligible. There was a thud, and the screen wobbled as if something had been thrown at it.


  “I have nothing further to say to you, Miss Munro.” I turned on my heel and left the room.

  “Ashton, please wait!”

  “Aunt Cecily, I have no wish to distress you further. However, this matter is not open to discussion.”

  “No, I understand. But Ashton, it’s growing late.” She gripped my arm tightly. “Please, at least allow her to stay the night.”