‘This is my mother,’ Valerie said, and introduced me.
Mrs. Carstairs was a dumpy little woman with over-permed hair and nervously fluttering hands. ‘How nice it is to meet you, Dulcie...." There was a faint air of helplessness about her as she went on: ‘Max dear, will you pour drinks for us? I think you’ll find everything ... we’ll ring for more ... if you need..."
Max played mine host with aplomb. ‘Just the way you like it,’ he promised intimately, as he handed me a dry martini. Valerie almost snatched her own drink.
She took me upstairs to change into riding clothes. Her bedroom was a lavish creation in blue and white—huge built-in wardrobes and a private bathroom. The things for me were laid out on the bed.
‘I hope they’ll do,’ she said, in a voice brilliantly designed to indicate that she couldn’t care less.
To my relief the breeches fitted. I looked okay as long as I didn’t try a direct comparison with the immaculate Valerie. Seeing her as we went down to join Max, hips swinging languorously, seductively, I wondered why he sought diversion elsewhere. Men were such odd creatures!
Before we went out, Valerie handed me a black velvet riding hat. ‘I always insist upon my clients wearing hard hats,’ she said. ‘It’s especially important for novices.’
She showed me round her stables, justifiably proud. Whatever she thought of me, she couldn’t stop the love of her life peeping out. The place was beautifully kept. She told me she had ten horses for hiring out by the hour, and she ran a small riding school too.
‘Jim has the mares saddled up,’ she said, leading us across the yard.
Mine was called Starlight. I admired the beautiful animal, standing there so docilely. I stroked its soft muzzle and it dropped its head in delight, nudging me for more.
‘I thought you’d give her Flash,’ Max protested. ‘You always say she’s a nice quiet mount for anyone who’s not done much riding."
Valerie frowned. It appeared that Flash was a bit lame today. Starlight it had to be.
A gentle whinnying came from a stall further along.
‘Come and see my new foal,’ said Valerie, pride overcoming her dislike. Together we leaned over the stable door, stroking the soft-eyed little beauty, while its mother watched me suspiciously.
‘Max is favourite with the mare,’ Valerie said, smiling more to herself than at me. ‘He can do what he likes with the foal.’ Her smile deepened, softening her face. ‘Where’s he got to, by the way?’
We looked around. Max came lounging over from where we had left him, grinning to himself. ‘You women are all the same,’ he mocked. ‘You always fall for babies, whatever the species.’
We went back to our horses. I looked up at Starlight, slightly apprehensive. Be gentle with me, I prayed silently, faith in my ability wavering. After all, it was years since I had sat on a horse, and maybe American training methods were different anyway. Would this mare respond to my commands?
I prided myself that at least I was pretty nifty about mounting. At the dude ranch where I’d learned riding, a girl had to be. The coach, a virile specimen of young American manhood, regarded female pupils as fair game. Lessons with him had been something of a rearguard action.
But he sure knew about riding, and I’d learned a lot from him. He’d always impressed on me the need to check the tack, and automatically I started on this now, working through methodically. Bridle and stirrup leathers were all right. I walked round the other side to okay the girth straps.
‘Need any help mounting?’ Valerie called, ready and waiting herself.
It would have been sensible to at least let her hold Starlight’s head, but vanity was at stake. I hitched my foot into the stirrup and swung up to the saddle with just a bit too much force. It startled the horse slightly, and she fidgetted before quietening down.
We went off in single file at a steady walk, Valerie ahead and Max bringing up the rear. Starlight appeared to be a gentle, responsive creature. I blessed her, and began to enjoy the sensation of being in a saddle once again.
Only a few yards from the stables we turned off the road on to a narrow bridle path, overhung with trees, dappled now with evening sunlight. We made light-hearted conversation, calling back and forth. I found that as long as I showed an interest in her horses, Valerie was perfectly amiable, so I stuck firmly to that subject.
She was a superb horsewoman. I watched with envy as we emerged from the wood into open country and broke into a trot. Valerie sat beautifully, relaxed but in firm control of her mount. Here, where the track was wider, we kept abreast for a little way. Max rode as I would have expected—well, with the instinctive reaction of an athlete. But he was just a shade too flamboyant.
Grudgingly, Valerie called to me, ‘You’re not doing at all badly, you know.’
Her reluctant praise pleased me out of all proportion.
It was wonderful territory for riding. We had been moving all the time in a wide circle, and now Greatfield Farm lay directly ahead of us only a couple of fields away. Suddenly Valerie dug her heels in and broke into a fast canter. Over confident, I too gave my horse its head for the homeward stretch.
It didn’t need pressing. Its instant response took me by surprise, leaving me badly off balance. I tried to hold Starlight back, but she’d got the challenge of a race before her, and wouldn’t be stopped. Alarmed, I saw Valerie’s horse jumping a five-barred gate, and realized that my own mount would follow.
Max was somewhere behind—I wasn’t even aware of him at that moment. The air was filled with the sound of thundering hooves. The speed was terrific. There was nothing I could do but hang on grimly. I prayed I’d get by.
I felt Starlight’s slight hesitation as she rose for the jump. Then we were in the air. and I felt the saddle slip away from under me....
A hedge broke my fall. Only later I discovered it was a prickly hawthorn hedge. I must have been dazed for some minutes. When I came to, Valerie and Max were bending over me anxiously. I had to thank my lucky stars for that hedge, but the thorns had done an awful lot of surface damage. I was bleeding from small cuts and scratches all over.
‘Are you all right, Dulcie?’ asked Max.
I had a feeling he’d asked me that several times already. Why are we taught to be brave at such moments? I wanted to burst into tears of weakness and pain and humiliation. I could have sunk into Max’s comforting arms and swooned. But being a modern girl, I forced a rueful smile. ‘I don’t think any bones are broken,’ I managed with hollow cheerfulness.
They helped me out of that horrible bush, and stood me on my feet. At once my legs jellied under me, and I collapsed again.
‘I’d better sit down for a bit, I think.’
The fields made a whirlpool around me, and I nearly passed right out. But gradually the spinning slowed and the world came back to order.
‘You should never have attempted that jump,’ Valerie said.
‘But I didn’t. My horse just followed yours. I couldn’t hold her back.’
They glanced at one another uneasily. Then Max snapped into decision. ‘You take the horses, Val. I’ll carry Dulcie back to the house.’
I was a feather in his powerful arms, and he was surprisingly gentle, as if I was fragile and he was scared of breaking me. He walked straight into the farmhouse, shouldering the door open, and set me down on a big sofa.
Mrs. Carstairs fluttered around me, feebly concerned. Briefly Max told her what had happened. ‘I’m going to ring for the doctor,’ he said, striding off.
Valerie came in, having put away the horses.
‘Max told me Dulcie was thrown,’ moaned her mother. ‘How ever did it happen, dear?’
‘She couldn’t quite handle Starlight, I suppose. She went to take the gate in Long Meadow and came off.’
‘Starlight? But why did you give her a steeplechaser? Surely...? I mean, for someone inexperienced...?’
‘Starlight is perfectly docile, Mother, as you know very well.’
I thought I detected a warning glance, but Max came in just then.
‘Doc Gregory won’t be long. I caught him at home, luckily.’
I lay back with closed eyes, thankful to be able to rest, not troubling to listen to the conversation that went on in the background. My mind was churning over those last few seconds before my fall, the anxiety I had felt on realizing my horse was out of control, my determination to keep my seat as she took the jump, the sickening way I had felt the saddle slew round….
Suddenly I was filled with an alarming idea. I couldn’t understand it—I always checked first. Then I recalled Valerie’s challenging remark, just as I was about to look at the girth straps.
Did I need help in mounting, she’d wanted to know. Had that remark been intended to goad me? To prevent me discovering a loosened strap? It was a perfectly horrible thought that Valerie had deliberately engineered my accident. But everything fitted. Max and Mrs. Carstairs had both thought Starlight unsuitable for me. The mare was a steeplechaser. It was in her nature to rise to the challenge on seeing another horse spurred to gallop and put to a jump.... With a loose saddle, what chance did I have?
When the doctor arrived he gave me a thorough working over. He was a bustling, fussy little guy, but he knew his job. ‘You’ll be all right, young lady,’ he reassured me. ‘Rest up for a few days and all will be well. But don’t go doing it again, or you might not be so lucky next time. It was a fortunate thing that you were wearing a hard hat.’
That hard hat. But didn’t Valerie’s insistence on my wearing it still fit my wild theory? Wouldn’t she have left herself wide open to criticism if she allowed me, a relative greenhorn, to ride without one?
Jealousy was the only reason Valerie could have for an attack on me. But jealousy about what? Did she seriously think I was a rival for Max? Couldn’t she see I had no designs on him?
I had no designs on any man.
Chapter Eight
I make a lousy invalid. Whooping cough had taught me that as a kid.
When Max brought me home from Greatfield Farm on Monday evening, I went straight to bed, after the homely remedy prescribed by Mrs. Cass—a good soaking in a hot bath.
The bath might have helped to soothe out some of the aches, and pains, but it did nothing at all to remove the turmoil of my mind. In the light of morning my conclusion that the ‘accident’ had been contrived was unshaken.
At eight o’clock Mrs. Cass looked in with a cup of tea to see how I was. At nine she reappeared with a tempting breakfast tray. In fact, the one good result of my tumble was the way it changed Mrs. Cass. From coldly dutiful service, she began fussing over me maternally, clucking in sympathy.
But even Mrs. Cass couldn’t keep me long in bed. When I’d finished breakfast I’d had enough of it. ‘I’ll be all right when I’m up and about,’ I told her.
But I wasn’t. Once I had staggered downstairs I felt so wretched that I allowed the housekeeper to tuck me up again on the sofa in the drawing-room, a rug over me, and cushions blissfully supporting my aching back.
‘I’m so darned mad, being laid up just when I was getting down to work in the office,’ I said.
‘I’m quite sure the work can wait, Miss Royle. Your health is more important than those account books.’
I asked her to go through to the laboratory and tell Miss Fenders what had happened. ‘I promised to check the sales ledgers with her today, you see.’
She went off, but within seconds she was at the door again. ‘Mr. Tyler has called to see you.’
She was so skillful at showing her opinion of anyone—a closing of the lips, a slight grimace, the smallest toss of the head. But Max didn’t come in for her criticism. He must have gauged her nicely, knowing just how far his jollying could go. Mrs. Cass was industrious and a bit puritan. Max was neither, but she was able to accept him for what he was. She was like me in that. I could admit he was bone-idle, and still feel an affection for him.
He grinned all over his easy-going face. ‘How are you this morning, Dulcie my love?’
‘All the better for seeing you.’
‘Aha!’ he said with a huge wink. ‘That’s the sort of thing I like to hear from a beautiful woman. Now, what d’you think of these, eh?’
From behind his back, like a rather inexpert conjuror, he produced a fabulous bunch of flowers. ‘Red roses,’ he added, ‘for a blue lady—a black and blue lady.’ He laughed. Max always did laugh at his own jokes.
I held out my arms and wrapped them round the lovely blooms.
‘Oh Max, you shouldn’t have.’
We could hear the phone ringing in the hall. Then Mrs. Cass looked in to say Valerie was asking after me. Max said he would talk to her.
He was gone for several minutes, and I wondered what he was saying. Was he giving Valerie a roasting for letting me ride Starlight?
‘Val was terribly anxious about you,’ he said when he came back.
‘I’ll bet she was!’ The catty crack was out before I could stop it. Max gave me a sharp glance, but didn’t comment. I was tempted to tell him what I’d worked out about that ‘accident’ of mine, but what good would it do? I might be sure enough in my own mind, but I had nothing that could be called evidence.
After another half-hour’s chitchat, hiding what I was sure was a very real concern for me, Max took himself off. He had other business that afternoon, he told me, but promised to look in again the next day.
I was left alone in the quiet room. Certainly I was in no mood for reading, but I propped the newspaper on my knees to make Mrs. Cass think I was contentedly occupied.
My mind meandered idly around the things I had learned, and the people I had met these last few days. I had to admit that I was enjoying the reorganization of the office. All the while, I was getting nearer to committing myself to staying here—in my own mind at least. The question-mark that lingered, unsolved, was whether or not I could get along with Ian Hamilton.
Right now I was dying to know what Ian had made of the figures I’d given him on Sunday. He’d been around at the laboratory yesterday, but never alone, and he’d made no effort to contact me.
In the end I began to feel slightly feverish with frustration, lying there cut off from things, unable to do what I wanted. I was glad when Janet came in with her dusters. She bustled around, chatting while she worked in her usual cheerful way. I couldn’t help wondering about her and the man Reade. Janet and her aunt still appeared to be on good terms—at any rate I hadn’t heard any more quarrelling between them. Would she really go ahead and marry a man Mrs. Cass disapproved of so much? A man my father had discovered to be a thief?
I’d never found out whether the water-softening powder had been delivered. Mrs. Cass hadn’t referred to it again, and I’d not liked to raise the matter considering how it had triggered her off into that extraordinary outburst of weeping.
Janet was rubbing away at the mahogany secretaire when she suddenly broke off.
‘Oh, by the way, Miss Royle, I picked up your fountain-pen on the floor in the hall. It must have rolled down behind the telephone table.’ She produced my scarlet pen with the gold top from her apron pocket.
*Oh, thank you, Janet. I couldn’t find it in my handbag and I was wondering where I’d left it.’
‘You don’t want to lose a nice pen like that, Miss Royle.’
‘I certainly don’t. It was a present from my step-father.’
The house went dead on me after lunch. I was feeling so bored that I even welcomed George Leeson. Mrs. Cass announced him with a sniff at about four o’clock. He was spruced up, hair plastered, shoes well brushed—a very stagey lady-killer, the Don Juan of Woolcombe! He walked straight across the room to the sofa and looked down at me with overdone concern.
‘My poor Dulcie,’ he said soulfully. ‘It was such a shock to hear about you. That damned horse ought to be shot—throwing you like that.’
He was carrying an enormous box of chocolates. The lid, in shrieking colours, pictured
a Spanish señorita with impressive but improbable statistics. ‘For you, Dulcie. A small token..."
‘Why thank you. How very kind of you.’
He twisted sideways, to look at the girl on the box. ‘She’s got a good figure,’ he remarked judicially. ‘But it’s not a patch on yours.’
Was I meant to leap into his arms at this doubtful flattery?
‘Won’t you sit down?’ I indicated an armchair a couple of yards away.
Promptly, George Leeson sat on the edge of the sofa, just about where my knees came.
He jerked his head towards the door. ‘That woman guards you like a Victorian chaperone,’ he observed. ‘Would you believe it, she didn’t want to let me in to see you today.’
I defended Mrs. Cass. ‘She wasn’t sure if I felt well enough, to have visitors.’
"I suppose the old girl thinks it’s improper to let a man into the room while you’re ... stretched out like that. Absurd, isn’t it? Not as though you were in bed. Now that would be something—if you were in bed, I mean. I can just imagine it, you’d be in shortie pyjamas—you don’t look the nightie sort of girl to me. That is, unless you do without altogether. Do you know, I read in the paper the other day that nineteen per cent of women under thirty sleep in the nude?’
‘Really...’ I protested.
‘Oh Dulcie, don’t tell me you’re a prude. I just don’t believe it—not a girl with your looks. I suppose,’ he went on, one hand carelessly resting on my knee as he bent earnestly forward, ‘I suppose you realize the effect you’ve had on me. I’ve fallen for you like...’
I decided the only way to stop him was a flat change of subject. ‘Is everything all right in the laboratory?’ I asked, twisting away slightly, smoothing the rug so that his hand slid off. ‘No problems?’
‘You’re not to worry yourself, Dulcie. You can always rely on me.’ The hand, gesticulating, fell casually back again, on my thigh this time.
I had to take decisive action. It was a pity. I didn’t want to offend anyone just now, but I couldn’t let this go on. George Leeson had it coming to him.
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