Authors: A London Season
The local townsfolk privately thought she was lucky to still have her head. As she was a good teacher, they sent their daughters to her to learn French and pianoforte, but otherwise they ignored her.
David was more popular. He was shy, but there was a gentleness about him that touched the heart of many a village matron. His parents had died in France and he was universally pitied for that misfortune as well as for the trial of having to live with Mlle. Dumont. David's aunt was sharp-tongued and bitter, and ever since he could walk the two miles David had been escaping to Heathfield to look at the horses. The beautiful, shining thoroughbreds bore little resemblance to the ancient cob his aunt kept, and when one of the grooms had put him up on the glossy chestnut back of a small mare, he had felt that life could hold no more for him.
The chance to ride Jane's ponies had been heaven. Even at age seven, David was a natural horseman, which is why the grooms at Heathfield had taken such an interest in him. He had light yet firm hands and, what was really unusual in so young a child, infinite patience.
He had loved riding Mindy and Flash and he resented bitterly the fact that they would go to an Irish brat—a girl, too—whom he was sure would not ride them properly. There was little evidence of David's famous good nature as he stood brushing Mindy's coat. He was muttering darkly to himself, braced to dislike on sight the Irish brat who was stealing his horses.
The stables at Heathfield were as impressive in their own right as the house was. There were two long blocks of brick stables facing each other over an immaculate stableyard. Across the far end was a wing which connected the two blocks. The wing contained the office, a large tack room, and an even larger feed room. Behind the stable were a series of paddocks and beyond the paddocks the famous Newmarket Heath.
Jane's eyes shone with appreciation as she took in the rows of stalls with well-groomed horses’ heads looking over the half-opened doors. There was room for at least forty horses here, she thought with deep satisfaction.
A man of about fifty-five came up to her, his eyes very blue in his weather-beaten face. “Lady Jane?” he said. “I'm Tuft, the head groom. His lordship sent word you'd be wanting to ride this morning."
"Yes.” Jane gave him her rare smile. “I should like to look around the stables when I return, Tuft. They look excellent.”
Excellent
was Jane's latest favorite word and she used it whenever possible.
"Certainly, Lady Jane,” replied the groom. “Be glad to show you around. Here is David now with your ponies."
David had heard her last remark and the corners of his sensitive mouth were curled with scorn. “Excellent,” he thought to himself derisively. What did she know about the stables being excellent? He stared at Jane with inimical eyes as Tuft introduced them.
"Lady Jane, this is David Chance. He has been exercising your horses for the last three weeks. I thought perhaps you might like him to show you around."
Jane looked at David, missing completely the hostility in his eyes. She liked what she saw. He was a slim boy about two inches taller than she, but it was his coloring that caught instantly at her attention. He was all brown and gold. His light brown hair had bleached into streaks of blond and his skin was light gold, the color that fair skin turns when exposed to the sun. The eyes that were staring so implacably at her were the color of sherry wine, flecked with gold around the pupil.
Jane made up her mind. “You ride the bay, David,” she motioned to the horse he was holding, “and I'll ride this one.” Unself-consciously she turned to Tuft, who gave her a leg up into the saddle.
David stared at her for another minute before following suit. She was not quite what he had expected. For one thing, she wore breeches and boots just like a boy, and for another, she looked very much at home as she picked up Mindy's reins and turned her toward the heath.
"Wait a minute, Lady Jane,” said Tuft, “and I'll get Thompson to go with you."
"That won't be necessary,” Jane said imperiously. “David will show me.” She nudged Mindy with her heels and cantered sedately out of the yard; David followed.
They passed the paddocks at the same easy pace, but once they were well out in the open Jane turned to David. “Let's gallop,” she said.
By the time they pulled their ponies up by a wooded copse, David had banished every unpleasant thought he had ever had about the “Irish brat.” Jane Fitzmaurice could ride!
He turned to her, laughing with pleasure, and she laughed back. Suddenly he leaned over to her, his hand extended. “I'm glad you've come, Jane,” he said. She took his hand, vaguely aware that it was some sort of a peace offering. “I'm glad, too,” she said. And meant it.
The first morning of Jane's arrival they had spent three hours out on the heath. Tuft had been very worried; if something happened to Lady Jane he knew he would get the blame for letting her go off with just David. He had been deeply relieved when they rode in, slightly dirty and obviously on very good terms with each other.
"I'll show Jane around the stables,” David offered after they had dismounted and she had given a small piece of carrot to each pony.
"Lady
Jane, David,” Tuft corrected the boy firmly.
Jane stared at the groom. “What David calls me is none of your affair, Tuft,” she said haughtily. “Besides, he's my friend."
David looked at her small, flushed face and grinned. “Come on, Jane,” he said. “Let's start with Pharaoh."
The next day they rode out again together and this time David had a treat for her. “Do you want to see my secret place, Jane?” he asked, and for the first time she noticed that his eyes turned golden when he was excited.
"Your secret place? Your very own?” she said in hushed tones.
"Yes. No one knows about it but me."
"I'd love to see it,” Jane said solemnly, suitably impressed by the honor he was bestowing on her.
"Come on, then,” and David moved off toward a thick wood in the distance. They entered the wood by a narrow trail, but soon David veered off among the trees, Flash's hooves making snapping sounds as he trod on fallen branches and old dried leaves.
Jane followed, filled with admiration for his sure sense of direction. As they came out of the woods and into a small clearing, she gasped with surprise.
There was a small lake, hardly more than a pond, fed by a stream that tumbled down a narrow waterfall into a smaller pool and then disappeared among the trees in a swiftly-running river. The water in the pond looked still, reflecting back the brightness of the sky. The only sound to be heard was the splash of water from the falls. “Oh, David,” Jane said reverently, as she dismounted from Mindy and walked to the edge of the water which was banked by a stretch of grass. “It's just excellent."
He smiled as he remembered his feelings the last time he had heard that word. Now he was pleased by her praise. “I found it two years ago,” he told her. “I come here when I want to be alone."
Jane nodded in perfect comprehension. “Will you let me share it?” she asked humbly.
"Of course,” he answered matter-of-factly. “That's why I brought you here."
She smiled at him as if she had been given a fabulous gift, as indeed she had been.
From then on they were Jane-and-David, a twosome, linked together against the outside world. There was never a time when either child had put into words their need of each other; it was something they understood instinctively. Jane was temperamental and David was serene. Jane was the niece of a Marquis and David's aunt gave French lessons. They were different in so many ways, but in the most important way of all they were alike. It was not something that needed to be said. Simply, for the first time in their lives each child had someone he loved.
Here's one a friend, and one that knows you well.
—William Shakespeare
All through that first summer of their friendship, Jane and David ran free. They rode their horses; it was understood, without ever having to be said, that Flash belonged to David. Jane never asked to ride him and very soon he was even referred to by the grooms as “David's pony."
They spent many hours in their secret place and, to Jane's great delight, David taught her how to swim. “My parents drowned,” she had told him solemnly, looking at the calm water of their lake.
"You'd better let me teach you to swim,” he had answered practically, which seemed to Jane an admirable solution to her unspoken fear. Obviously she couldn't drown if she knew how to swim. Soon she and David were splashing happily in the water, unself-conscious in their underwear, which they dried by stretching themselves full-length on their grassy beach. David kept an old scythe hidden in the woods and by this simple expedient they kept the wild grass cut to a comfortable length.
By the end of the summer David was deeply tanned and even Jane's translucent skin had taken on a peach-brown color. They were strong and healthy and, in the way of children, looked for their pleasant life to continue without interruption.
The first snake in their garden appeared in early September when Jane's uncle returned from a race meeting to find that Miss Kilkelly had asked for an interview with him.
"It's about Lady Jane's education, my lord,” she began diffidently when he had sent for her to attend him in the library.
The Marquis knit his dark brows and stared thoughtfully at the small, plump, middle-aged person before him. “Yes, I suppose I must do something about it,” he sighed. “Won't do to let her run wild completely, I suppose. Still, she looks marvelously healthy. And she certainly can ride! Tuft tells me she has the best hands on a horse he's ever seen.” The Marquis's handsome, indolent face looked impressed.
Miss Kilkelly, who did not share the Stanton passion for horses, was impatient. “There is more to life than horses, my lord,” she said, a trifle tartly.
The Marquis cocked an eyebrow. “If you say so, Miss Kilkelly. I hate to pull the reins in on the child, though. She is obviously enjoying herself enormously. I remember when I was that age.... “The Marquis sighed nostalgically, then caught the implacable eye of Miss Kilkelly, who reminded him uncomfortably of an old nurse of his own. “Yes, well, I suppose we must engage a governess,” he said hastily. “I'll see about it, Miss Kilkelly."
"Thank you, my lord,” she said approvingly.
The next person to demand an interview with him was Jane herself. She had heard about the governess from Miss Kilkelly and, without waiting to change her riding clothes, had sought her uncle out immediately. He had just come in from a drive to the Rivingdale's, who were spending a few weeks at their Newmarket residence, and she found him in the marble hall, beautifully dressed as usual. “I must speak to you, Uncle Edward,” she said in her clear child's voice. “Are you busy at present?"
"Not at all, Jane,” he replied courteously. “Come into the library.” He held the door for her and watched the small black head march past him, a glint of amusement in his eyes. He had seen little of Jane since she had arrived at Heathfield, but what he had seen of her he liked. She had made herself a favorite in the stables and she didn't seem to expect anything of him. If one had to be saddled with a small girl, he thought as he closed the door behind her, Jane was obviously the best one could hope for.
"Sit down, Jane,” he said kindly. Then, when she had complied, “What can I do for you?"
She had been looking with approval at his russet coat and polished top-boots, which satisfied her color-loving eye, but as he spoke her blue-green eyes darkened.
"I don't want a governess,” she said firmly.
"I see.” He regarded her gravely. “You have to have some form of education, Jane. When your parents named me as your guardian, they trusted me to see to it that you were brought up in a manner befitting your name and your position."
"I know I have to have an education,” she said reasonably. “I just don't want a governess. I want to go to Reverend Althorpe's with David."
"Reverend Althorpe?"
"Yes. He's the rector at St. Margaret's. He is going to teach David Latin and mathematics and geography and everything. He will be much more interesting than a governess,” Jane said firmly.
"I see,” he said again. The prospect of his small niece learning Latin was somewhat daunting. “Girls, you know, my dear Jane, don't usually study the same things boys do."
"Why not?” Jane said uncompromisingly.
"Well, er, their role in life is different, Jane. They must learn music and, ah, sewing, Italian...."
"Italian?” Jane looked astonished. “Why on earth should I want to learn Italian?"
"I don't know,” he answered truthfully. “Females always do, though."
"Well, it all sounds to me like a waste of time. Latin sounds a waste, too, but I suppose I must study something. Besides,” Jane said, as if that clinched the matter, “David is doing it."
"Yes, but——” the Marquis was beginning.
"And,” she went on inexorably, “I can study French and piano from David's Tante Heloise. I think I should take a lot of lessons. They need the money."
A rueful smile crossed Lord Rayleigh's face. “How old are you, Jane?"
"Seven next month."
He looked at the small, determined face of his niece. “If you are like this at six, God help us all when you are sixteen. All right. You can go to Reverend Althorpe with your precious David. Just don't ask me to conjugate your verbs for you."
She gave him a brilliant smile, which momentarily lit her plain face to beauty. “Thank you, Uncle Edward.” She skipped to the door, turning to ask as she reached it, “No more governess?"
"No more governess,” he promised, conscious that he had given in to her shamefully. She had not coaxed or charmed him. It was simply that he feared if it came to a real battle of wills between them, Jane's would prove to be the stronger.
So Jane and David became scholars together, meeting every morning in the stable office at Heathfield and riding dutifully to the rectory at St. Margaret's some five miles away.