by Bess McBride
William turned away from the childhood friends turned awkward suitors and looked down on the top of Mattie’s hat. Such a tiny woman. He had long had a penchant for taller women to whom he could speak face to face, but something about the fragile bob of the hat caught at his heart. He cleared his throat.
“Miss Matilda Crockwell, may I introduce my friend, Mr. Thomas Ringwood. Mr. Ringwood lives on the estate bordering our property to the east.”
Thomas dropped Sylvie’s hand and bowed smartly.
“Miss Crockwell! I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I understand you have come from America. How exciting! I trust the journey was not overly long. I have every hope of traveling there myself one day soon, and I must ask you all about it.”
Mattie opened and closed her mouth and threw a look at William, who jumped in to assist.
“Perhaps later tonight, Thomas. You attend my mother’s rout, do you not?”
Out of the corner of William’s eye, he noted Sylvie’s cheeks burned brightly. Surely, she was not jealous of Mattie, was she? Then he remembered Thomas’s reference to traveling to America. His friend’s frequent travels and adventures away from England boded little promise of a marriage between them.
“Yes, yes, of course.” Thomas beamed. “I would not miss it for the world. Your cook serves such exquisite fare, I daily anticipate any invitation to your home if refreshment is being served.”
William grinned. Mrs. White was a marvel with food, of that there could be no doubt.
“You are always welcome here, Thomas, on your infrequent stays in the area.” Sylvie’s pointed look in Thomas’s direction served only to heighten the color in his face.
William, deciding that everyone clearly wore their hearts on their sleeves at this point, offered his arm to Mattie.
“Shall we, Miss Crockwell? Mr. Ringwood has asked if he might join us this afternoon, and I have no plausible reason with which to deny him.” He threw a pained look across the top of her head toward Thomas, who flashed him a bright smile.
“Indeed not, Miss Crockwell. And why should he?” He turned to Sylvie. “You do not join us, Sylvie? Never fond of the horses, eh?” His voice held a challenging note.
“No, thank you, Thomas. I will do well enough here. I have things to see to.” She turned a shoulder on him. “William, please take care of Mattie. Remember…” Sylvie did not finish her sentence.
“I’ll be fine, Sylvie,” Mattie said with a rueful smile. “As long as the horse is docile, I’ll be all right. I can hang on. If not, I’m sure I can throw myself from the horse and not hurt a single thing through the thickness of this riding habit.”
Sylvie chuckled, but William sent her a warning look. Mattie followed his eyes to Thomas, who stared at Mattie with widened eyes.
“Miss Crockwell teases us, of course,” William said with forced nonchalance as he offered Mattie his arm. “They have such interesting speech in America, do they not?”
With his arm dangling uselessly in midair in such an unaccustomed fashion, William reached for Mattie’s hand and placed it on his arm.
“Oh,” she mumbled as she glanced up at him in confusion. “Sorry.”
She turned to Thomas. “I should watch what I say, Mr. Ringwood. We do speak differently. I hope I don’t offend, but if I do, please write it off to my American ways.” She flashed everyone a smile, and William was pleased to see that Thomas seemed to relax.
“But of course, Miss Crockwell. I have met several Americans in my travels and never fail to find their speech and mannerisms refreshing.”
William intercepted Sylvie’s warning look and turned away. There was little he could do, short of stuffing a cloth in Miss Crockwell’s mouth. Even were it possible to do such a thing, he rather thought he might mourn the loss of her eccentric speech.
“We shall see you at the stables, Thomas.” William guided Mattie away to the back of the house where they descended the stairs and walked across the lawn toward the stables.
“That was awkward,” Mattie murmured. “I’ve read enough historical novels to know how to speak in some semblance of formal English, but I can’t seem to remember to actually do it.”
William chuckled. “You would be simply another young woman staying at a country manor if you did, Miss Crockwell. I find your modern speech amusing and would not wish you to change it…in private.”
“In private,” she repeated. “But try to put a lid on it in public, right?”
William laughed outright. “If I infer the meaning of your expression, then yes, I really think that would be best unless you can remember, as you say, ‘formal English.’”
“This is going to be a long thirty days,” Mattie sighed, completely unaware of the pang William felt at her words.
“Surely, you are not ready to return to your own time just yet, are you, Miss Crockwell?” William stiffened and awaited her response.
She threw him a startled look. “No, no. I’m fine. Really! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound rude. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. It’s just that…”
“Yes?” he prompted as he bent to look into her face beneath the brim of her hat.
“It’s just that I really love to talk, and I don’t know how I’m going to keep my mouth shut for the whole month.”
The forlorn note in her voice caught at his heart. She sounded very lonely…and lost.
William paused. His first impulse was to take her in his arms and comfort her, but they were now within view of the stables, and he saw Thomas awaiting them.
“Give us time, Miss Crockwell. Perhaps we will grow on you.” He grinned. “And perhaps you will grow on us. I think that might already be the case.” He threw another look toward Thomas, who walked his bay back and forth while throwing them odd glances. “I do not ask you to remain mute, but only to be careful what you say. I ask this to protect, not because I do not enjoy your voice.”
Mattie followed his eyes toward the stables.
“I’ll try, William. I’ll try.”
They turned for the stables.
“At last you are come.” Thomas eyed them with curiosity. “I think my horse is fair worn out with pacing. Some familial matters to discuss, perhaps?” The broad smile on his genial countenance belied any serious query.
“If it were a familial matter, it would not concern you, would it, Thomas?” William favored him with an affectionate look of scorn.
“Touché!” laughed Thomas as he turned his horse over to a groom and followed William and Mattie into the stables.
William caught Mattie’s confused look at the exchange and hastened to explain.
“Thomas, Sylvie and I have known each other ever since we were children. Our banter rarely has any significance.” He couldn’t resist quirking an eyebrow toward Thomas. “And how did you find Sylvie today, Thomas?”
Thomas had stopped to fondle the nose of a dark gray horse. He turned to them with a rueful grin. “As well as ever, William. As well as ever.” He sighed heavily. He gave the horse one last pat and hurried to catch up with them. “Which horse will you seat Miss Crockwell on today, William? I am reminded of Sylvie’s words of caution.” He turned an engaging smile to Mattie. “Are you also timid of horses, Miss Crockwell?”
William would have answered for her, but he bit his lip and held back. Mattie threw him a quick look for guidance, but he only gazed at her passively. She turned back to Thomas.
“No, I am not afraid of horses, but I have not ridden since I was a child.”
William did not miss the quick peep of her hazel eyes in his direction, but thought it best she begin to form some of her own responses—within reason. He beamed approvingly.
“I am thinking of having the groom saddle Marmalade for her.” William nodded in the direction of a stall, where a lovely roan poked her head out curiously. “A gentle mare.”
Thomas nodded. “I remember her. Yes, she would certainly be a suitable ride.” He directed a glance to Mattie. “I believe you wil
l enjoy her, Miss Crockwell.”
“Thank you. I am sure I will.”
William called for a groom to prepare Marmalade with Sylvie’s saddle, and the threesome returned to the fresh air outside to await the horse. Another groom brought his horse, a black beauty named Ajax, and William laid a hand against the horse’s sleek neck, absentmindedly smoothing his coat as he watched Thomas talk to Miss Crockwell about the weather. It appeared she could indeed curb her idiosyncratic speech into a more acceptable form, but the light faded from her eyes when she concentrated, and he did not like to see her struggle.
William refocused his eyes and caught Mattie watching him as he stared at her. Embarrassed, he straightened abruptly, unsettling his horse, and gave her a small bow as he turned to watch the groom bring Marmalade out.
A small mare, no more than twelve hands, she seemed a perfect fit for the small mystery known as Matilda Crockwell, who had taken the halter and now murmured soft words to the horse. William turned Ajax’s reins over to a waiting groom and moved to Miss Crockwell’s side to assist her in mounting as a groom held the horse’s head.
“Will you put your foot in my hand?”
Mattie looked at his cupped hands and threw a hasty glance over her shoulder.
“Don’t you have a mounting block or something?” she whispered. “I don’t want to put my dirty shoes in your hands.”
William chuckled and inclined his head. “It would be my honor, Miss Crockwell. Please allow me.”
Mattie gave Marmalade’s neck a swift pat and reached for the horn. She put her left boot in William’s cupped hands and swung her right leg over the horse’s back.
“What the…” Mattie hissed with a look down at the saddle. “Oh, for Pete’s sake! This is a sidesaddle, isn’t it?”
William stepped back the moment she threw her leg over the horse’s back and stared. He threw a look toward the groom at Marmalade’s head, who had lowered his head discreetly. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed Thomas engaged with mounting his own horse.
“Quickly,” William hissed, “bring your right limb over and hook your knee behind the horn.”
Mattie followed his eyes toward Thomas and bent down to whisper.
“I can’t. I don’t think I can lift it that far. This is ridiculous. I can’t ride sidesaddle without a lesson. Do you know how to ride sidesaddle?” Her eyes flashed for a moment as she leaned close to William.
“No,” he muttered. It was too late. Thomas had mounted and angled his horse toward them.
“I say, Miss Crockwell, I knew Americans rode different in the colonies, but you have a mighty fine seat there,” he said with seemingly genuine admiration. “Would that our English ladies could ride so comfortably.”
William stepped back and attempted to accept yet one more change to his normally structured world. The groom moved away and went to mount his own horse.
“Miss Crockwell informs me that she has never ridden sidesaddle, Thomas. I was not aware of that.”
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to ride a sidesaddle. It didn’t even occur to me to tell you. Maybe I should just forget about this and return to the house.”
“Not at all, Miss Crockwell,” Thomas said. “We would not hear of it, would we, William? We ride only on the grounds of William’s estate today, is that not right? There is no one to see us.”
William caught Thomas’s pointed look in his direction, expecting him to reassure Mattie, but he didn’t know if he could. He raised his eyes to her. She actually looked quite charming riding the horse astride. Thomas was right. Why did not more women ride in such a way? It seemed a sight more comfortable than balancing upon one’s…
He resisted finishing the thought.
“Yes, of course you must ride with us, Miss Crockwell. We are quite private on the grounds here, with no gossipmongers to spoil the day.” William forced a smile. “Are you comfortable? Do you need any adjustments to your saddle?”
“No, I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Please go slow, though. I really haven’t ridden in years and years.”
“Certainly,” William murmured. He returned to his horse and swung himself up in the saddle, waiting for Mattie to urge her horse forward. Marmalade, a true lady, stepped forward with a kindly amble, and Thomas led the way out of the stable area. William allowed Mattie to precede him and threw one last look toward the house with a fervent hope that his mother did not watch from the windows.
****
Mattie followed Thomas’s horse, acutely aware of William behind her, no doubt watching her “seat.” Honestly! If these men realized how risqué half of their comments would be considered in future societies, they would die of embarrassment. She knew William would. He seemed a bit more straight-laced than his charming friend, Thomas Ringwood. Mattie was thankful he had joined them, if only to ward off a potentially disastrous situation at the stables.
Relaxing into Marmalade’s gentle gait as they moved along a dirt lane bordered by a tall grove of elm trees, Mattie threw a quick glance over her shoulder toward William. He did indeed watch her, and dipped his head in acknowledgement before she turned hastily forward, certain that the blush on her face extended to the back of her neck.
Thomas fell back as the lane widened a bit, and maneuvered his horse next to Mattie.
“Miss Crockwell, are you finding England to your liking?”
Mattie grinned. He seemed absolutely charming. Why hadn’t some young gal caught him by now? She opened her mouth, reminding herself to avoid contractions.
“I have only been here for a short while, so I am not sure how I feel about it yet. It is very beautiful.” Mattie exhaled, with the thought that her speech sounded just about right.
“Yes, it is,” he agreed, looking across the fields as if trying to see them through her eyes. “I must admit, though, to being anxious to see your country. Tell me, how was the voyage? Was it long? Tempestuous seas? Calm?”
Mattie tightened her grip on the reins. Uh oh! Her response called for an out-and-out lie, didn’t it? What did they say? Stick to the truth as much as possible?
“The…voyage was very short, actually. Much shorter than I suspected. I would describe it as calm. In fact, I think I slept much of the way.”
He threw her a sympathetic glance. “Ah! Seasick, were you? Of course, sleep is the best medicine for a long, tedious journey across the water.”
“Yes, I found it so,” she murmured with a half-smile.
“And where are you from in America?”
Mattie bit her lip. What had she and William agreed on? She remembered he said something about Indians. Ah! She remembered.
“New York. Yes, New York City,” she murmured with a satisfied nod. But his next words wiped the smile from her face.
“New York City! How wonderful! I cannot wait to visit New York City. Tell me, Miss Crockwell, is it as grand as they say? Tell me everything you know about New York.”
Mattie thought frantically. New York City in 1825! Had it even been a city then? She was going blank, couldn’t think straight. Surely it was. She tried to remember any movies she’d seen set in nineteenth century New York. They all seemed to have Irish characters, some boxing, mostly poor. Was that accurate? She had no idea. She came from Irish ancestry and wasn’t about to malign her ancestors.
“Miss Crockwell?”
Mattie threw Thomas a hasty smile.
“Oh, well, you know, it’s New York…home. How does one describe home?” She shrugged her shoulders and cursed herself for using a contraction.
He nodded. “Yes, I understand. I suspect New York City is much like London, although not as old. But still, it must be so exciting to live in such a city. Have you seen Indians?”
Mattie nodded. It would be much better if he just asked her questions.
“Yes, I have. Very nice people. In fact, I work with a girl who is Native American. Cherokee, I think.”
“Indeed? Native American? Is this another term for Indian?”
; At the widening of Thomas’s eyes, Mattie realized her mistake. She threw a harried glance over her shoulder toward William. At that moment, her sweet mare took a sidestep, and Mattie tightened her grasp on the reins. A glance to her right rear showed William gently nudging his large horse in between Thomas and herself. Luckily, the path had widened enough to accommodate the three horses side by side. The groom remained to the rear.
“William!” Thomas’s voice held a hint of amused reproof. “Either your horse is displaying extremely bad manners or you are. You have come between Miss Crockwell and I just when we were having the most delightful conversation about New York City and Indians.” He leaned forward and threw Mattie a conspiratorial smile. “If I may, Miss Crockwell? Did you know, William, that she has a friend who is Indian…em…Native American? I had not heard America’s Indians referred to in such a way before, have you?”
Mattie leaned back in her seat, keeping William’s broad shoulders between her and the insatiably curious Mr. Ringwood. She looked skyward and rolled her eyes. How could the past be so difficult?
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught William looking at her. She met his eyes and responded to the twitch of his lips.
“No, I have not. But then, I am not American. Knowing you as well as I do, Thomas, I am sure you bullied Miss Crockwell mercilessly for information about America. Would that be an accurate depiction, Miss Crockwell?”
Mattie laughed with relief. William realized her mistake and had set himself to the task of distracting Thomas.
“No, no, Mr. Sinclair,” she replied. “Mr. Ringwood did not bully me, but was merely interested in my country.”
William turned an approving look on her. “There, Thomas! Miss Crockwell is only newly arrived from the colonies and already she begins to sound English.”
Mattie blushed.
“But, William, I find her American ‘drawl’ quite charming. Let us not try to turn her into a proper little Englishwoman too fast, eh?”
“There isn’t much chance of that, I’m afraid,” Mattie chuckled, lapsing back into the “drawl.”
