Kilpara (23 page)

I managed to sound surprised, and confessed
that I had been occupied with business and had not seen an
invitation arrive at the convent. I added that in the excitement of
such a significant event, Sir Charles may have had a lapse in
memory and neglected to send one.

Purcenell immediately apologized. “Because
Charlie is seldom here, he tends to forget genteel customs on
occasion, indeed he does. He leaves such details to his personal
manager. It’s impolite, however, to ignore an esteemed American
visitor like yourself.”

Purcenell sat down at the wide table and began
writing. When he finished, he put the letter into an envelope and
stamped it with his seal. He rang a bell and the butler appeared.
“Have this delivered to Sir Charles Sloane at once,” he
ordered.

“
Yes, sir.” The butler took the
letter and disappeared.

“
Now that we've taken care of that,
you’ll want to see Pandora.” Purcenell finished his drink. “Of
course, you do. You’ll see for yourself that she’s the finest horse
in all of Great Britain.”

I accompanied Purcenell to the front door
half-hoping we would run into Morrigan. She hadn't appeared to
receive me which she would have been required to do, if only out of
polite courtesy. I wondered if her absence meant she was at the
beach. If so, this was the perfect opportunity to make everything
right with her father and restore my true identity. Once I
convinced him my parents should be buried at Kilpara, I could drop
all pretenses and openly announce my interest in Morigan. But as I
observed Purcenell's ruddy face, the excitement of challenge in his
small round eyes, I knew now was the worst moment to make such an
appeal. I would just have to be patient and wait for the proper
time.

It was a short walk from the house to the
stables, and once inside, I followed Purcenell to a stall at the
back. A groom stood next to a jet-black mare brushing her coat. At
our approach, the horse reared up as if frightened.

Purcenell nodded. “That’s Pandora. She’s a bit
touchy. Settle down, settle down,” he ordered the horse. But his
words agitated the mare even more. “Settle down, you bitch,” he
yelled. This tirade didn’t help the groom who was trying to
maintain control of the horse. She began beating her hooves against
the wooden gate.

“
Control her,” Purcenell ordered,
picking up the whip hanging on the wall outside the stall. There
were already marks showing on the mare’s right side. I knew then
that Purcenell cared about winning above all else.

“
Fine animal. Thoroughbreds tend to
be excitable,” I said, as the groom tried to calm the frightened
horse. I knew if Purcenell raised the whip, I would have to take it
away from him. That would end my chances of speaking to him about
Mother or becoming formally acquainted with Morrigan. In an attempt
to deflate the situation, I turned away from the horse's stall and
began walking back toward the stable entrance.

“
Very contrary,” Purcenell agreed,
putting the whip back on its hook and hesitantly following me.
“After this race, I’ll break her bad habits once and for all, so I
will.”

As we left the stables I looked back; the
horse was visibly calmer.

After that, Purcenell talked about the race
and nothing else. He didn't share Sloane's interest in my business,
although I had prepared a commentary on the marble quarry should
the topic arise. I was relieved his curiosity wasn’t piqued because
it meant I didn’t have to embellish the lie I had already told. But
each time I tried to steer the conversation to more neutral
subjects, he ignored my attempts and only talked about Pandora and
the upcoming contest. When it became evident it was futile to
engage him in another subject, I waited an appropriate interval,
then took my leave. As the carriage made its way down the avenue, I
felt a sad sense of failure that I had not accomplished my goal.
And I wanted to see Morrigan more than ever.

Aunt Sadie and I sat on a wooden bench under a
chestnut tree that evening after spending time with Mother, who
looked much better, although still quite weak. Aunt Sadie asked
about my visit to Kilpara. Her face was so expectant that it hurt
me to say the opportunity had not arisen to talk to Purcenell about
Mother, neither had the proper moment presented itself to reveal my
identity.

“
I’m still hoping to find him in a
charitable mood,” I said. “I’ll have another chance tomorrow.
Purcenell has invited me to a hunt at Larcourt. The atmosphere
should be more amiable. Perhaps there I can talk to
him.”

“
I wish I could share your
optimism,” Aunt Sadie said. “But I'm afraid you’re wasting your
time. His pride will suffer when he learns you’ve deceived him.
He’ll be too angry to listen to you. It’s only a matter of time
before Ann starts wanting to visit Kilpara. It’ll break her heart
when I tell her she can’t.” Aunt Sadie fiddled with the heavy cross
on her rosary as if trying to invoke a higher
intervention.

“
He has to agree,” I said. “I'm not
giving up.”

Aunt Sadie looked at me sadly. “You’ll need an
early start tomorrow. I’ll make the necessary
arrangements.”

Chaos abounded at Larcourt when I arrived.
Panting brown and white foxhounds with wagging tails ran amok.
Riders, dressed in bright red jackets and black hats, guided horses
to an arena of excited chatter. Local country people lined rock
fences some distance away to watch the fanfare.

A stable-hand escorted me to the stables and
assigned me a horse. On my way out I saw Sloane, crop in hand,
standing at the side of the entrance in deep conversation with a
dark-haired woman in a brown riding habit. They were absorbed in
discussion, their faces intent and frowning. Curious, I stood in
the shadows of the stable door watching them while pretending to
tighten the saddle strap.

The woman’s outraged voice carried to where I
stood. “Charlie, surely you can find me a better mount than this
old rundown bag of bones,” she complained. “If I’d known this was
all you had to offer, I’d have asked Father to bring my horse
along.”

Sloane answered smoothly. “Truly, Daphne,
Caesar is not old. He’s an excellent steed.”

“
Then you ride him, Charlie. I'll
take your horse.”

“
I would but—er—”

“
Say it, Charlie. He can't keep up.
And you know it.”

“
Umm—well—er,” Sloane stammered.
“He’s gentle. An obvious choice for a lady.”

The woman laughed harshly. “Don’t patronize
me, Charlie. You know I’m competitive when it comes to the chase. I
prefer an animal that satisfies my determined nature. If that makes
me any less feminine, I shall have to give you a private
demonstration to refresh your memory.”

“
Enough, Daphne! You know I’m
practically engaged to Morrigan.”

“
That’s not what I hear.” Spite
entered the woman’s voice. “You can’t possibly prefer that waif
over me. She’s not quite right, you know.”

“
She doesn't succumb to feminine
wiles to get her way. If that's what you mean.”

The woman ignored his words. “You’re kidding
yourself, Charlie, if you think you'll be happy with her. The same
way you kidded yourself with Laurel. It didn’t take you long to
find your way into my bed after you married her. You need a woman
with passion.”

“
That’s cruel,” Sloane said. “You
shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

“
It’s true, Charlie. Hang on to
your illusions about dear Morrigan if you wish, although you could
save yourself the trouble by marrying me. You’ll come crawling to
me anyway when you find out your waif is just that—a waif and
nothing more. She’ll never satisfy a man with your sexual
appetite.”

At that moment a horn sounded. The woman’s
voice became even more agitated. “Drat! This dilapidated old slow
poke will have to do.” The horse snorted.

I watched the woman take the horse by the
halter and walk toward the other riders. I moved out of the shadows
and into the open. Sloane saw me and raised his hand in greeting.
“Umm, er—”

“
Ellis,” I said.

“
Right, right.” Sloane frowned
continuing to look after the woman. We mounted our horses and moved
to the starting line. “The marble quarry, right? How is that
going?”

I hesitated. “Things are moving
slowly.”

“
That's how it is with the clergy.
A herd of wild elephants won't budge them until they're ready. If
ever.” He laughed bitterly. “There’s a card game tonight after
dinner. You’ll stay, of course.”

“
Be glad to,” I replied.

At that moment the horns blew again and the
hounds were off followed by what seemed like a hundred red jackets.
The horse I rode appeared to have an adversity to people, dogs, and
other horses. No matter what direction I tried, he preferred a
different one.

Side by side, horsemen and horsewomen galloped
through woods and fields on the heels of barking hounds. I couldn’t
keep up, and after a while I stopped trying and let the horse have
his way. The countryside was refreshing. Daisies, buttercups, and
cowslips grew in thick clusters among fields of green grass. The
barking hounds grew distant as the horse and I began to wander
farther afield. We came upon a fast rushing stream where swans swam
unperturbed and cows munched contentedly close to its
banks.

Then another sight caught my eye. To my
delight and surprise I saw Morrigan, hair hung loose and curling
over the hood of her blue cape. She stood crumbling crusts of bread
and dropping them for ducks, gathering on the bank around her feet.
She hadn’t seen me, so I pulled the horse into a clump of trees not
far away from where she stood. Tufts of long grass grew among the
trees and my horse seemed contented to graze here. Hidden from
sight, I observed her interaction with her web-footed friends. She
must be talking to them, I thought, because her lovely face was
animated and happy. I would have watched her indefinitely, but my
pastime ended when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a rider
appear over the crest of the hill.

Rider and horse came galloping toward
Morrigan, the rider’s brown riding habit clearly visible as she
drew nearer. I recognized her as the woman who had argued with
Sloane at the stables. She came at the speed of someone either on a
mission or completely out of control. Unaware of any danger,
Morrigan was directly in the rider’s path.

I shouted “watch out,” but she couldn’t hear
me, my words fading away on the wind. At the same time, I pulled my
horse into action. He obeyed out of surprise, not having time to
decide if this was something he cared to do. I moved into the path
ahead of the charging rider. All at once Morrigan saw us both
descending upon her and stood rooted, terror registered in her
face. I reached her first, slowing down just long enough to grab
her by the waist and hoist her against my thigh until we reached
safety. The dark-haired woman rode on past, then slowed her horse
down and turned around.

I dismounted and tried to calm a shaken
Morrigan. The woman pulled her horse beside us and looked
apologetic.

“
Are you all right, Morrigan
darling?” she asked. “I’m frightfully sorry. This beast of a horse
was completely out of control.”

“
I’m fine; really, “Morrigan said,
embarrassed.

“
I’ve never ridden this horse
before,” the woman explained. “He belongs to Charlie. We became
separated from the hunt. He took fright suddenly, and I couldn’t
get him to obey my commands. I’m terribly ashamed. You might’ve
been injured if it wasn't for this handsome stranger.” She leaned
forward and held out a gloved hand; eyes as dark as her hair bored
into mine. “Lady Daphne Thornton. I'm indebted to you,
sir.”

I shook her gloved hand. “Always glad to
assist,” I said, deliberately withholding my name.

She looked at me demurely. “You must be the
handsome American visitor everyone’s talking about. Are you with
the hunt?”

I laughed. “Yes, but my horse thinks
otherwise.”

Daphne smiled. “They can be stubborn, can’t
they?” She turned back to Morrigan. “Darling, forgive me for
frightening you.”

With the danger over, Morrigan though still
shaken, appeared calmer. “It's quite all right,” she
said.

“
I must get back to the hunt,
before Father misses me and begins to worry,” Daphne said. “I’ll
see you at dinner this evening?”

“
Yes,” Morrigan agreed.

“
You too, handsome
stranger?”

I nodded.

A smile played across Daphne’s lips as she
rode away.

I was suspicious of the dark-haired Daphne,
remembering that only a short while ago she had referred to her
horse as a ‘dilapidated old slow poke.’ Had she arrived here by
accident like she professed or had she something more sinister in
mind?

“
She's very beautiful,” Morrigan
said, as we watched the woman depart.

“
Most would agree,” I said. “Are
you all right?”

“
Yes, I feel a bit foolish for not
moving out of the way when you came galloping at me like that. I
was petrified.” Her eyes shadowed. “You see, I encountered a near
mishap when I was a child that left me terrified of
horses.”