by Bodie Thoene
Suddenly all was explained. Clive was Theo’s son. He was also home from school for a summer holiday. A few years older than Kaiulani, Clive was to be their guide to the summer entertainments of Southport.
In further nonverbal defense of his blamelessness Clive gestured toward a trio of porters swarming around the baggage car and then pointed to a waiting carriage. “Please, forgive me! Father will banish me to outer darkness if I’ve offended you, Your Highness.”
Kaiulani was ready to let him off easily. “My apologies as well for the misunderstanding.” She handed him her satchel. “But since we’re going to be friends, you must call me Kaiulani. Or Victoria, if you prefer. Mister Davies, this is my friend, Hannah, and my sister, Annie.”
“Charmed,” Clive said, never taking his eyes off Kaiulani’s face. “Victoria, I say, like the queen. Shall we?”
Clive was the essence of politeness as he handed each of the three women up into the carriage, but his grip on Kaiulani’s elbow lingered a moment longer than was strictly necessary.
“Southport is smashing in summer,” Clive commented. “Swimming, boating, tennis. I say, do you ride?”
“I’m already missing it,” Kaiulani admitted.
“Wonderful! I mean, we have stables. Riding in the park just in back of our place is splendid.”
Kaiulani noticed Clive directed all his questions to her alone so she suggested, “Hannah rides as well. Annie doesn’t care for it, but she is an excellent tennis player.”
“Auwe,” Annie commented when the carriage turned off Park Crescent and up the Davies’ drive. “This house is almost as big as King David’s new palace.”
The home’s three wings hung above the green lawns like a three-story-high tapestry woven of red brick and black timbers. “Welcome to Sundown,” Clive said.
“It’s beautiful,” Kaiulani replied.
“Not a bad old pile at that,” Clive said. “Looks like a Tudor fantasy, but I assure you, it’s modern throughout. Father had it all refitted a few years ago. Gaslights and coal heat, eh?”
Kaiulani recognized the ruddy-faced, stocky, middle-aged man who appeared from the front door. “My dear princess,” Theo Davies said, “welcome to my home. Your home in England. Welcome to Sundown.”
Kaiulani, Hannah, and Annie were escorted to the floor of the west wing reserved exclusively for them. The view from the girls’ bedrooms disclosed a rose garden, tennis courts, the stables, and beyond these, the genteel tangle of Hesketh Park.
When they had changed out of their traveling clothes, the trio entered the parlor above the porte cochere, where tea was laid on for them and Theo Davies waited.
“Sundown is remarkable, sir. Did you select the name yourself?” Annie asked.
Theo nodded agreeably. “They say the sun never sets on the British Empire. Well, my empire is not so broad or so grand, but since the sun rose on my business in Hawaii it seems right to honor this end of the arc as well.”
Theophilus Davies had built an empire out of sugar. He did not grow the cane. He did not refine the sugar. Davies did not own the shipping company that freighted the precious white crystals. Nevertheless, in back of all these different businesses was Theo Davies, putting all the partners together and making it all run smoothly.
If London was the face of British culture and fashion, surely Liverpool was its shoulders. The great harbor on the Irish Sea handled cargo from as far away as China—tea, to be sweetened by Hawaiian sugar.
So it was natural for Theo Davies to locate his home there.
“Will Clive be joining us for tea?” Hannah asked.
“Don’t think so,” Theo observed. “He said something about wanting to check on the stables. Thought you might like to go riding later, Princess.”
* * * *
Clive asked Kaiulani to join him at the stables at three in the afternoon. She rounded the corner of the barn as the bells of a nearby church finished striking the hour, but Clive was not in sight. “Mister Davies?” she called. “Clive?”
Had she mistaken the time?
An elderly groom, stooped of back, emerged from the stable, pitchfork in hand, and tugged his cap respectfully. He was evidently hard of hearing, too, for he shouted, “Won’t be but a moment, miss! Master Davies asks, would you please wait? He’ll be along directly.”
Clive, in riding britches and tall boots, was less than a moment appearing. He led a magnificent chestnut hunter, who pranced as he emerged into the sunshine.
Kaiulani was struck by the lean, muscled flanks of the animal and by how his glossy, dark coat was identical in hue to Clive’s hair.
“Hello, Highness,” Clive said in greeting. “Isn’t he marvelous? Got him from my friend Winston. Thank you, Suggins,” Clive added. “If you’ll hold Blenheim for me.” He passed the lead rope to the groom and went back into the barn, while holding up an index finger in plea for another instant’s grace.
Kaiulani waited expectantly.
When Clive returned, she was disappointed but hoped her expression remained unchanged. He was clearly so pleased with himself the princess did not want to hurt his feelings.
Clive was followed by a bay mare, fully two hands shorter than the chestnut. She was pretty enough but evidently elderly. She walked docilely, like an overgrown, faithful dog. And she was outfitted with a sidesaddle.
“Esmeralda,” Clive said proudly, naming the mare. “Princess? Will you permit me to assist you?”
He seemed so puppyish in his eagerness that Kaiulani consented. Hands on her waist, Clive lifted her into the sidesaddle, looking aside politely as Kaiulani adjusted her skirt and limbs.
Clive controlled the hunter with some difficulty. When he received the reins from Suggins, the chestnut pranced two complete circles around the mare before Clive got his mount in hand.
A bridle path opened directly out the back of the grounds of Sundown. It twisted through a heap of gorse and gnarled trees until it emerged in Hesketh Park. In the center of the greensward was an hourglass-shaped lake for boating. Around the perimeter the dirt path was broad and smooth. The soft yellow soil was so deep that Esmeralda made furrows as she dragged her hooves with each plodding step.
Blenheim was clearly frustrated, tossing his head in evident unhappiness at being hindered from running.
They circled the lake at the slowest of paces, Clive chatting happily about how he hoped Kaiulani would enjoy Southport. He asked questions about what school subjects the princess enjoyed, what she had seen of England so far, and what she hoped to see.
It was pleasant enough, but ponderous.
“Could we go a bit faster?” Kaiulani asked. “Your horse seems to want it.”
Clive looked dubious. “My father made me promise not to endanger you in any way. He made me swear to not be reckless.”
Kaiulani was offended but determined not to be cross. “I am an experienced rider. Perhaps just to trot a little?”
Without waiting for Clive to make up his mind, Kaiulani flicked the reins across Esmeralda’s withers. The mare responded with a stumbling trot but soon settled into an easy lope.
Kaiulani gave Clive credit for not shouting “wait” or “stop.” He simply allowed Blenheim to close the gap, which the chestnut did with ease.
At the north end of the circuit another path branched off from the main route, ascending a slight incline into a tunnel formed of overhanging plane trees. “Where does this lead?” Kauilani called after she had already turned onto it.
“The heath,” Clive responded. “And beyond that, wilderness all the way to the Yorkshire Dales.”
Despite Kaiulani’s urging, the little mare could not, or would not, pick up the pace any further. Shafts of bright sunlight picked their way through gaps and crevices in the leafy bower, suffusing the inside of the cavern with a lime-hued aura. The warm, moist air trapped beneath the canopy smelled green in a way that made sense to Kaiulani, even if she could not have explained it. Memories of long rides across the Parker Ranch on the B
ig Island of Hawaii came to her mind. Sudden squalls and races through the rain with old friends made her momentarily homesick for her friends at home.
Now, half a world away, beneath the dappled canopy flies buzzed in unhurried circles. Clive looked at her with dewy-eyed admiration, making her uncomfortable.
The brightly lit hole at the far end of the passage grew larger as they approached it, then exited at last onto the flank of a gently sloping verdant hillside.
Blenheim pranced expectantly. “This is where I let him out,” Clive explained. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” Kaiulani agreed, knowing he was showing off.
At the barest touch of Clive’s heels the chestnut darted forward, as if shot from a bow. Clive let the animal stretch out into a thundering stride that made the horse’s muscles ripple beneath his coat. A quarter-mile up the path, the knoll was bisected by a meandering rock wall.
Kaiulani watched as Blenheim dug in his heels when Clive brought him to a halt before the barricade and spun him about. Horse and rider returned almost as quickly as they had gone. The chestnut was not the least winded, was not lathered at all.
“I’m afraid that was rude of me,” Clive admitted. “Bit of showing off, eh?”
“I will forgive you,” Kaiulani offered, “if—”
Clive walked, all unsuspecting, into her trap. “Anything! Name it.”
“Let me ride Blenheim.”
“My father will kill—”
“Your father need not know,” Kaiulani returned, “unless you decide to tell him. I certainly won’t. Now you must decide. I’ve told you the cost of my pardon. Will you pay it or not?”
With resignation Clive agreed. “Give me a moment to change the saddles.”
“Absolutely not!” Kaiulani protested.
Clive said no more but looked all around for the spies he seemed certain would carry the tale to his father.
Once seated astride the chestnut Kaiulani did not give Clive the opportunity to change his mind. Leaning over the horse’s neck, she urged him on, and that was all the encouragement needed.
It was exhilarating! She was home on the back of a horse. Wind whipping her hair back from her face, Kaiulani felt the most alive she had been since leaving Hawaii.
Back on the sandy beaches below Ainahau, Kaiulani had ridden as fast as this, bareback. She could have mentioned it to Clive, but these haole males were all so certain they knew everything! It seemed better to prove him wrong with actions rather than argument.
As they approached the rock wall, Kaiulani neither slowed nor turned. She had already planned the fitting climax to this object lesson.
Far behind her she heard Clive calling urgently, “Princess! Princess! The wall! Stop!”
Satisfied Blenheim was as confident as she, Kaiulani set herself for the jump. At precisely the right moment she cued the animal, and they flew over the barricade, landing without breaking stride.
She decided Clive had been punished enough. Kaiulani reined up and turned back down the slope.
Clive, perhaps certain she would fall and break her neck, was whipping the mare into a bone-jarring trot to reach the barrier as fast as he could. “Wait there,” he demanded. “Don’t try to do that coming down again. Too dangerous.”
Not wanting to make him into an enemy, Kaiulani complied.
Letting the mare crop the grass of the heath, Clive clambered over the wall. “You are experienced.”
“Every day at home,” Kaiulani said, “since I was three.”
Clive managed to look embarrassed and impressed at the same moment. “Perhaps we can find something a bit more spirited than Esmeralda,” he admitted. “But please, let me take over from here. Landing a jump properly on a downhill is a bit tricky.”
Kaiulani agreed, sliding down and surrendering the reins.
Retreating a suitable distance to get up speed, Clive set Blenheim at the wall, lifted off properly, landed awkwardly, and fell off on his back on a thick tussock of coarse grass.
“Mister Davies! Clive!” Kaiulani shouted, climbing over the wall and hurrying to his side. What had she done? Had she killed her host’s son?
He was lying on his back with his eyes closed, moaning softly.
“Clive? Are you…? Is anything broken?” She bent over him, stricken with remorse. “Can you speak? Should I go for help?”
His eyes opened when their noses were mere inches apart. Reaching upward, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her down, kissing her soundly.
“There,” he said, releasing her after her startled gasp. “I had to prove I wasn’t the only one with daring.”
Kaiulani gasped and then slapped him. Leaping to her feet, she bounded to Blenheim and was in the saddle in a flash.
Clive’s shout made her laugh as she tapped the great beast into a gallop and fled across the hills.
* * * *
Blenheim was walked and brushed and in his stall by the time Clive and Esmeralda plodded into the stables.
Kaiulani, still in her riding clothes, had already finished a tour of the stalls. With Theo as her guide, she had examined a dozen hunters.
“You are an experienced horsewoman. Of course you may have your choice of mounts.” Clive’s father scowled as Clive dismounted and handed the reins of the mare to Suggins the groom.
“I can see I was foolish to worry.” Clive ran his fingers through his tousled hair. “You made it back home in short order.”
“And high spirits.” Kaiulani stroked Blenheim’s nose. “Thank you, Clive, for allowing me the pleasure of riding such a fine horse, while you rode the sweet old girl back. I have not had so much fun since I left home.”
“You fancy Blenheim?” Theo asked.
“I do.” She ran her hands down the gelding’s shoulder onto his leg and picked up his hoof. “It is a rare thing to find a horse with such spirit, yet with such fine ground manners.”
Clive shifted his weight uneasily. He stood back from Kaiulani and his father. Briefly his hand went to his cheek, as if he still felt the sting of her slap.
Kaiulani continued, “Spirit in a handsome animal is dangerous unless it is controlled.” She cast an accusing look at Clive. “If I learned anything on the Parker Ranch, it was that I will never mount a horse that cannot be trusted. Good horse sense and manners. I think Blenheim has all the best qualities.”
Theo seemed content with her analysis. “Well then, it seems you have won his heart.”
“And he has won mine.”
“It is settled. For as long as you are here, Blenheim is yours.”
Kaiulani produced a lump of sugar and fed it to the gelding. “Isn’t he Clive’s horse?”
“He belonged to no one till now,” Theo remarked. “I did not think him well broke enough for cross country.”
“Nor did I,” Clive replied. “I misjudged your experience, Princess.”
“You certainly did.” Kaiulani gave him a warning glance. “I can handle myself very well. A match for any man on a hunt.”
“I shall keep that in mind in the future,” Clive promised.
The matter of Kaiulani’s horse settled, Theo left Clive to escort Kaiulani back to the house. The couple walked slowly, silent most of the way back.
At last Clive burst out, “Dash it all! I don’t know what got into me.”
“You left no doubt what got into you.”
“I beg your forgiveness.”
“My forgiveness is conditional. Your father is my father away from home. You are, therefore, my brother.”
“From the first moment I laid eyes on you—”
“I won’t tell our father, unless it happens again.”
He held his hand up in oath. “I am abject. I am disconsolate.”
“If you are to be my brother, then you must behave like a brother.”
He snatched his cap from his head. It was clear that this was not what he wanted to hear. “You are so dashed beautiful. Not like the plain, garden-variety girls I know on this side of
the world.”
“I am half Scots.” Kaiulani lifted her chin. “And half Hawaiian. I am entirely woman. I will thank you to remember that both halves of my heritage, and my gender, deserve respect.”
“I meant no disrespect.”
They reached the wide patio of the house. Kaiulani presented a tight-lipped, matronly smile into Clive’s miserable gaze. “You’ll have to prove yourself to me now, I’m afraid. Ground manners.”
“Yes. Back there. At the fence. I—I just looked up and saw your face and seemed to be dreaming. That’s the truth.”
