Mervyn Hunter shook his head and reached out and fingered the sleeve of the old coat.
“Perhaps you are not the best judge of that, Lady Chiara,” he said. “It’s not wise for a young lady to ride off on her own and speak to any old stranger she meets.”
Then he gave a little laugh.
“Hopefully the occasion will never arise – but if you do see this ‘gentleman’ again – you might advise him to visit to my tailor, as he is in dire need of a new coat!”
Chiara felt a rush of anger, but she gave a polite nod to Mervyn Hunter and turned her back on him, ready to walk back to Rensham Hall.
But he had not finished.
“Surely, Lady Chiara, this filthy old garment would best be left with your young groom until you are ready to visit the gypsy camp again!”
He called out to Jonah, who was feeding Erebus.
“Come here, boy!”
Chiara’s face now grew hot. How dare he speak to Jonah like that and now he was lifting the coat from her shoulders and thrusting it at the groom like an old sack.
She wanted to take it back and keep it in her room to remind her of the dark-haired man on the beach, who had looked at her so mysteriously.
Her maid could have brushed all the dirt away, so that if ever she saw him again, she could give it back to him in a clean and respectable condition, more in keeping with his elegant grey suit.
But Jonah was taking the coat away to the harness room.
Lord Darley was whispering something to Lady Fairfax, who was nodding and looking pleased.
Mervyn Hunter took Chiara’s hand and lifted it to his lips.
“It will not be long before we meet again,” he said. “And I do hope that you will stay safely at home till then.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Hunter.”
Chiara took a step back.
“Every moment spent in your delightful company is pure pleasure,” he continued in a low voice, as he released her hand.
At last Chiara was free to run across the stable yard, the evening air chill on her face and escape to the privacy of her bedroom.
*
“My dear Count Dimitrov!” the King’s bearded face was alight with amusement. “What an adventurer you are! I did not take you for a bicyclist, I must say!”
Arkady sipped the glass of whisky he was enjoying before going into dinner. He had only just had time to change into his evening clothes, as it had taken him a good while to find his way back to Sandringham from the coast.
“The bicycle is a remarkable invention,” he said. “Much faster and more efficient than a horse, if one sticks to the road.”
The King laughed.
“I am only sorry that you had to resort to borrowing from one of the under-gardeners! If you could only have waited a little, we should have arranged for a brand new machine to be bought for you.”
Arkady could not help smiling.
“Ah, sir – but I think the Fates wished otherwise!”
“Whatever do you mean, Count,” the Queen looked at him in surprise. “You are sounding very mysterious – very Russian, in fact!”
“I chanced upon an angel today,” he replied, “and I think if I had gone exploring at some other time, I would have missed that meeting.”
“Now you are telling us a Russian Fairy tale!” the Queen responded with a regal smile.
“Not at all, ma’am. A wild and beautiful angel on a winged white horse flew down from the sky and spoke to me. An angel dressed in blue with long flowing hair – ”
“Well, I have never heard of any celestial beings visiting Norfolk before,” the Queen sighed. “Perhaps you were a little light-headed from all the exercise?”
Arkady bowed politely.
“That was certainly the case,” he said.
The King smiled.
“There is always a logical explanation,” he said. “even for the most remarkable occurrences, but then Count Dimitrov, we must take care to keep you entertained while you stay with us. We cannot run the risk of losing you to another ethereal visitation, when there are so many pretty girls among our neighbouring families. We must give a ball for you, Count.”
Arkady was pretty sure that he heard the Queen give a little sigh of pleasure and certainly her face seemed to glow in the candlelight.
“A very good idea,” she said. “I always welcome any opportunity to bring guests to our ballroom for a little music and dancing.”
The King and Queen were both quite portly now and well past middle age. But Arkady had a sudden vision of them in their younger years, enthusiastically partnering each other in waltzes and polkas.
Their kindness to him was undoubted, although he could not help thinking, that he would rather spend another five minutes in the company of the lovely blue-eyed angel with the wild dark hair he had met by the sea than a long night of dancing with the local beauties.
His reverie was interrupted by the entrance of the butler to announce that dinner was served.
“Come Count, you must have your fill of our best English roast beef,” the King said, as they walked into the dining room. “It will keep the angels from bothering you!”
But Arkady found he had no appetite for rich food that night. His mind and heart were filled with a strange ecstasy, a vivid vision of blue sky and golden sand and a white horse racing towards him.
*
Chiara woke next morning with an uncomfortable feeling in her heart.
Mervyn Hunter’s last words were ringing inside her head, “it will not be long before we meet again!”
She did not want to see him.
She could not forget how he had seized the reins from her, making Erebus fall and then blamed the little pony for throwing her.
She found this thought so troubling that she spoke of it to her Mama over breakfast.
“I cannot believe that Mr. Hunter would do such a thing. He was so worried about you,” Lady Fairfax said. “As soon as you failed to return to the drawing room and the groom told us you had gone out for a ride, he insisted that he should come and find you.”
“I do not think it was quite gentlemanly of him to make my horse lose his footing. He blamed Erebus for my fall just to make himself look like a hero.”
Lady Fairfax frowned and put down her coffee cup.
“Are you quite sure? It was almost dark. Perhaps you did not see exactly what happened. Mr. Hunter told me that Erebus ran away with you across the fields.”
“No, no, Mama!”
Chiara explained that she had just been taking a short cut, because she wanted to return to Rensham Hall as soon as she could.
“I cannot believe, my darling, that he would have taken such a risk – why, you could have been badly hurt.”
Chiara shivered.
“Yes, Mama. I was lucky and Erebus was hurt. He is very lame.”
Lady Fairfax sighed.
“Perhaps it is for the best. It might be wise if you did not go on any more of these wild rides.”
Chiara was about to protest, when the butler entered with a folded note on a small silver tray. He bent down so that Lady Fairfax could take the note.
“Lord Darley is coming to take me for a drive!”
Lady Fairfax was on her feet in an instant, a warm blush of excitement lighting up her face.
Chiara caught her breath, thinking that his friend, Mervyn Hunter, might be coming too. But Lady Fairfax was reading the rest of the note.
“Oh, there is a message here for you, Chiara. Mr. Hunter has been called away to an important race meeting, but sends his compliments and most sincerely hopes that you have recovered from your mishap last night.”
“There would have been no mishap, Mama, if he had not come chasing after me.”
“Chiara – ” Lady Fairfax began, about to reprimand her daughter, but then she paused and looked thoughtful before continuing,
“My darling, Mr. Hunter – is very fond of you, I think. It may be that he cares for you so very much that it caused hi
m to behave somewhat foolishly, perhaps in his excitement he misread the situation. I am sure that he did not mean you any harm. Quite the opposite. Please, my darling, try to think of him a little more kindly.”
She then turned and left the dining room, hurrying to meet Lord Darley.
Chiara went up to her bedroom and sat on the sofa.
She found the letter Elizabeth had sent her, where she wrote about Mervyn Hunter.
“You say that he is very handsome. Have you been thinking about him? It could be love!”
Perhaps her Mama was right and he did care for her. He was certainly handsome and she did find herself thinking about him – he had been in her mind since the moment she awoke this morning.
But when she thought more about him, she felt not happy and joyful, but angry and anxious. If this was love, it was not a pleasant sensation at all.
*
A few days later, Mervyn Hunter watched from the Grandstand at Epsom as the horse he had trained, which was the favourite to win the race, suddenly seemed to lose speed and fell back from first place to finish fifth.
He then lowered his binoculars and cursed under his breath.
“Oh, bad luck!” Mrs. Fulwell, who had come to the meeting with him, slid her arm through her brother’s.
“Hmph! It’s the jockey’s fault, lazy little tyke. He seems to have no idea what to do with his whip. Come, I shall have words with him.”
They made their way through the colourful crowd of excited racegoers to the unsaddling enclosure.
Reuben Jones, a small wizened man, who had won many races over his long career, shook his head as Mervyn Hunter shouted at him.
“He ’ad nothin’ left to give, guv’nor. He was worn out as we came into the final furlong. He’s a good ’orse, but you’ve trained ’im too ’ard,” the little man said.
“I did not ask for your opinion, Jones, and I would thank you to keep it to yourself,” Mervyn Hunter growled. “If you ride one of my horses again, I shall expect you to follow my instructions and use your whip! That’s the way to get results.”
The Jockey shrugged and backed away.
“If you say so, guv’nor.”
The tired and sweating horse was led away, its head hanging low in defeat and weariness.
“What a shame, Mervyn.” Mrs. Fulwell squeezed her brother’s arm. “You are a man of such talents, you just need a little luck.”
“What I do need,” he replied, his thin lips curled angrily, “is a good stables and fine gallops to work the horses on. I am sick to death of trying to train winners in whatever rough corner of farmland I can get someone to loan out to me.”
“Cannot Lord Darley do anything to help you?”
“Ha!” he gave a disdainful little laugh. “I had some hopes there, I may say, but, as you well know, his Lordship is a younger son. He might well be a Lord, but he’s hardly got two farthings to rub together.”
“Oh, what a shame. He really is such an amiable young man and so handsome. I was hoping he might be here today.”
Mervyn Hunter gave a little smile.
“His Lordship has realised the folly of trying to win wagers on the racetrack and I think he has fallen in love.”
“Oh, no!” Mrs. Fulwell laughed. “My girls will be upset. They both adore him, though, of course, I have told them that without a substantial fortune to offer them, he is quite out of bounds. Who is she?”
“A wealthy widow. Older than he is, but not bad-looking.”
“Mervyn!” Mrs. Fulwell shook her brother’s arm. “You have missed an opportunity there, letting him get to her first!”
“She has eyes only for him. From the first moment they met. But I would not have let him get away with it so easily, if the lady did not have a very pretty daughter.”
“Oh, Mervyn!” Mrs. Fulwell gave a little squeal.
He grinned at her.
“Now, sister, you are letting your imagination run ahead of you,” he said. “Though I must say, I find myself doing the same!”
He shut his eyes for a moment, picturing the wide sweep of the Park at Rensham Hall and a string of elegant racehorses galloping over it.
“Has she fallen for you?” Mrs. Fulwell asked, her blue eyes bulging with excitement.
“Oh, I rather think she hates me at present. She is young and naïve and has been very much left to have her own way. But I will bring her to her senses soon enough.”
“Of course you will, dear Mervyn. There isn’t a girl alive who can hold out against your charms for long. And, if Lord Darley marries her mother – ”
“Exactly. It will be easier to make the daughter mine. To say nothing of the stables and the best expanse of old turf in East Anglia! I shall hold back for a bit, until Darley has his feet under the table and then I will make my move.”
“You may not have won this race, but I think we should celebrate,” Mrs. Fulwell crowed. “I can see a bright future ahead for you, dear brother.”
And the two of them were smiling broadly as they set off in search of a bottle of champagne.
*
“My dear Tom!” Lady Fairfax said to Lord Darley, as they sat in her drawing room a few days later. “I am all of a dither!”
“But why, my pet?”
“The King is inviting all the local Society families to Sandringham. He is holding a ball. But I really don’t think that I should go.”
“Nonsense! Of course you should.”
“But Tom, without you, I shall be completely and utterly miserable.”
Lord Darley threw back his head and laughed.
“My dear old Papa was a very good friend of the King. He used to stay at our house in Pembrokeshire when I was a child. I am sure he would not mind if I turn up with Lord and Lady Duckett. After all, I am their guest and I have been staying there for so long I am practically one of their family.”
“That would be divine!” Lady Fairfax sighed. “We shall be able to dance together.”
Lord Darley took her hand.
“I cannot wait. You were a dancer in Italy before you married Lord Fairfax, weren’t you? I hope I shall be able to keep up with you.”
“Of course you will!”
They gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment.
“And Chiara must come as well, of course,” Lord Darley suddenly said.
“Yes! She has the loveliest dress she brought back from Ely. It will be an opportunity for her to shine.”
Lady Fairfax’s eyes lit up.
“What a shame Mervyn is so busy with his horses at the moment,” Lord Darley added. “He should so much like to partner her.”
“Yes. We have seen so little of him recently. But – Tom, I think perhaps it is just as well. For he adores her and I think she does not quite appreciate him.”
“You are so wise, my pet. Let’s hope that absence makes her heart grow fonder, as they say it does.”
“Oh, Tom! Promise me that you are not going to go away just yet! If I grow any fonder of you, I think I shall not be able to bear it!” Lady Fairfax cried and put her head on his shoulder.
Lord Darley sat back on the sofa and smiled, as if he had no intention of leaving Rensham Hall ever again.
CHAPTER SIX
Every single day Chiara visited Erebus in the small paddock where he was recovering from his fall, bringing him pocketfuls of sugar lumps, peppermints and carrots to cheer him up.
One afternoon, about a week after the accident, she noticed that he no longer flinched when he stepped on his sprained leg.
“You are getting better now. Is it all the treats I have been giving you?” she asked, patting him. Then she noticed that someone had tied a poultice of dark leaves around the pony’s fetlock.
“That’s my doing, my Lady. I put it on his leg,” Jonah said, when she asked him if he knew anything about the poultice.
“But whatever is it?”
“Boneset, my Lady. My grandmother grows it in her garden.”
“Boneset?”
> Chiara had never heard of it.
Jonah nodded.
“Grandma says it can help any broken bone or bad sprain to heal. There isn’t much growin’ this early in the year, but I found a few plants in the kitchen garden.”
He went into the harness room and came out with a handful of pointed leaves.
“Careful, Lady Chiara,” he said, as she reached out to take them. “Best not to touch. See, those little hairs that grow on the leaf might irritate your hand. But it’s a real powerful healer. ‘Russian comfrey’ the gardener calls it, but I always likes to call it ‘boneset’.”
“How very extraordinary, it certainly seems to have helped poor Erebus. His lameness is almost gone.”
Jonah nodded.
“You’ll be ridin’ him again before too long, your Ladyship.”
Chiara sighed.
“I hope so. Mama is worried that he will take off with me again. I think Mr. Hunter has turned her against him.”
Jonah’s face darkened and Chiara could tell that the mention of that gentleman’s name upset him.
“You don’t like him, do you Jonah? But at least he has not visited us again since the accident. Mama says he is away at the races.”
The groom nodded, but said nothing and Chiara did not pursue the subject.
Mervyn Hunter was much on her mind today, as he would be attending the ball at Sandringham tonight. Lord and Lady Duckett had arranged an invitation for him along with Lord Darley.
There was no doubt that he would ask her to dance with him and how could she then refuse without seeming foolish and very impolite?
What if he should try to kiss her again?
A little shudder passed over her and she felt once more the hot pressure of his lips against hers. Even the memory of that moment was enough to make her blush.
“Your Ladyship!” A maid came running over to the paddock gate, her white apron flapping around her. “Lady Fairfax is askin’ for you.”
It was time to go in.
Chiara’s mother would need help with her toilette and would insist on seeing and approving her daughter’s gown and accessories.
Chiara sighed and sent up a fervent little prayer that Mervyn Hunter might have met another girl at the races and forgotten all about her.
A Flight To Heaven Page 7
