Laura Matthews (22 page)

Edward decided it would be well to plan the “accident” around his own riding ability, which would down two birds with one stone. Not only would he rescue Vanessa’s son, but he would exhibit his skill in the saddle and she would never consider denying him the stables again. The only obstacle to this plan was, of course, that he would be riding Harley’s nag, not the most dependable beast he could imagine. Still, he felt every confidence that he could handle the lazy animal. Edward was used to believing all horses lazy and stubborn when he took them in hand.

The conversation at the breakfast table the morning he’d had the idea eventually helped him develop the plan. John and his pony were both attached to the stream on the south end of the estate. Edward had seen them there even before Oldcastle had mentioned John’s wet feet and Vanessa had explained. It seemed a simple matter to him to cause the boy’s pony to bolt with him into the stream bed. A prickly burr surreptitiously shoved under Rollo’s saddle blanket would start him off, and if the boy fell it would be into the shallow water, where he wouldn’t hurt himself. Edward would wait until they were actually on the stream bank, blocking the pony’s retreat in that direction with his own horse, but close enough to give immediate chase. The bank on the other side was steeper, and it was unlikely Rollo would try to climb it in his panic.

So everything was settled in Edward’s mind. The only difficulty he was encountering was that Vanessa never invited him to join her and her son on their rides. She was, in fact, quite adamant about his
not
joining them, saying carelessly, “No, thank you, Edward, we’d rather go alone. John is jealous of my time and he wouldn’t appreciate your diverting me from giving him my full attention.” So each day they rode off by themselves and Edward was left to kick his best boots against a hapless fence post in frustration.

After a few days, he no longer asked to be included. Instead, he rode out when they did, hoping they would go in the direction of the stream and he could appear there as if by accident. But they didn’t head for the stream. The weather was cool for the better part of a week, and Vanessa had no intention of allowing John to play in the stream when there wasn’t a hot sun to dry him out quickly. Twice, in fact, she had Catherine sitting up with her on her horse and they didn’t go far from the stables at all, just far enough to satisfy John’s insatiable need to be regarded as old enough to run his pony outside the confines of the stable yard.

Vanessa would have liked to go for a long ride by herself, but her time was limited and any she could spare for riding was naturally devoted to accompanying her son, and occasionally her daughter. There had been no word from Alvescot or Oldcastle. Each day when Tompkins brought her the post she had to stifle her disappointment.

A hard gallop across the fields might have relieved her of a little of her pent-up restlessness. She was not taking his rejection at all well, she admitted to herself. The placid manner in which she had accepted her household before Alvescot’s advent was permanently destroyed. Only with a supreme effort was she able to bear her remaining guests, and even then she was given to speaking her mind more often than she was used to do.

It was time, she knew, to work up the courage to ask Hortense to remove to her house in Basingstoke as soon as the lease ran out. Each day she told herself this would be the day she did it. But each day she couldn’t be sure whether she was going to do it because Alvescot had suggested it, or because it was what she wanted. Her parents expected her to continue to house the old woman, and she was, after all, Frederick’s mother. What was perhaps more pertinent was that if Hortense went, Vanessa would be left with Mabel. Early on, Vanessa had suggested that Hortense could house her sister and her sister’s children at Basingstoke, and Hortense had stared at her with that sharp face and those cold eyes, saying, “You must be mad! There’s not room in that house for more than one person. It is a
town
house, my dear Vanessa, not meant for a family at all. There is but one decent bedroom in the whole place, and no acceptable public room at all.”

Vanessa knew for a fact that there were four family bedrooms in addition to the servants’ rooms, and several comfortable parlors. But there was no use arguing with her mother-in-law. If Hortense wasn’t willing to house her own sister, Vanessa wasn’t going to be able to convince her to change her mind. No one changed Hortense’s mind. The only way to get her to leave was to tell her. Vanessa mentally debated the issue for days before coming to the decision that Hortense had to go, for her own peace of mind. If she didn’t act soon, Hortense would search for someone else to let the Basingstoke house and Vanessa would be stuck with her for another year at the very least.

So one afternoon when she had changed into her riding dress but had some time before she was to take John to the stables, she hunted Hortense down in the Saloon, where the older woman was frowning at a letter in her hand. The frown remained when she lifted her gaze to Vanessa.

“It’s from my brother,” she remarked. “He says he has decided to stay in Somerset permanently. Apparently there’s a naval man there who has befriended him, and he prefers his society to that of his own family.”

“How nice for him to have found a friend. I’m sure it’s a wise course for him to pursue.” Vanessa seated herself opposite Hortense, whose eyes had narrowed and were observing her keenly.

“The population here seems to be decreasing rapidly, and I wonder if you are not responsible for the change,” Hortense commented with an intimidating glare.

Vanessa steeled herself against the woman’s assumption of authority. It would be too easy to gloss over the matter—and neglect to carry out her intention. She clenched her riding gauntlets a little more tightly in her lap. “That’s a matter I wished to discuss with you, Hortense. The lease on your house in Basingstoke will soon expire and I think it would be . . . prudent for you to move back there.”

“Prudent? What are you talking about? I’m settled here.”

“Yes, but this is no longer your home. This is my home, and my son’s and my daughter’s. You have a home of your own over which you can exercise complete control. Often enough you’ve objected to the way I run things at Cutsdean and it makes for an uncomfortable situation.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable here,” Hortense insisted.

“You would be more comfortable in your own home.”

“You mean
you
would be more comfortable if I weren’t here!”

Vanessa lifted her shoulders in a gesture of resignation. “Yes, that’s true. I can’t see any point in your being here, Hortense. You don’t approve of the way I raise my children, you don’t approve of the way I run my household, you don’t particularly approve of me. We don’t rub along together satisfactorily. There’s no sense in your staying here.”

“Cutsdean was my home for thirty years.”

“Yes, but it’s no longer your home. When Frederick brought me here as a bride, he moved you to the house in Basingstoke.”

“He would have wanted me to return here after his death, to see that the family heritage was properly maintained.”

Vanessa shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe that’s true. Even Lord Alvescot said Frederick would not have intended for you to return here.”

“Ah, I see,” the older woman proclaimed, her eyes glittering angrily. “It is my nephew who’s at the bottom of this. He always was a troublemaker. But it won’t do you the least good to try to please him now he’s gone, young lady. He’s no more possessed of a knowledge of what my son would have wanted than you are. It is my duty to stay and see that Cutsdean and the Damery name are treated with the proper respect.”

“No,” Vanessa said gently. “You’ve been here for two years and I can’t see that it’s done the least good. You wouldn’t be happy here unless you were in charge of Cutsdean, and that I can’t allow. Cutsdean is my responsibility now. I’m doing my utmost to preserve it for John, and I have to run it the way I see fit.”

Vanessa rose, pulling on the riding gauntlets. “The lease on your property in Basingstoke is almost expired. I want you to move back there, Hortense, as soon as it’s available. Don’t be concerned about your grandchildren; I’ll bring them to visit you as often as you wish.”

Vanessa waited to see if her mother-in-law chose to respond to this direct instruction, but the older woman sat silent, staring straight ahead of her. There was an arrogant tilt to her head which Vanessa knew well. If Hortense decided to ignore what she’d just said, Vanessa could not picture bodily removing her from Cutsdean. Well, she had done what she could. Hortense lived by her own code of honor, and if it could incorporate staying where she didn’t belong, there was little Vanessa could do.

“Excuse me, please. I have to meet John at the stables,” she said, and walked quickly from the room.

Her mind was preoccupied during the ride. John chattered with his usual eagerness and she smiled at him, teasing occasionally, but not with her whole attention. The day was warm again after a cool spell and she agreed that they would go to the stream. When any thought of Alvescot drifted into her head, she thrust it forcefully aside. There was enough to worry about with Hortense and the others. Louisa, according to her mother, was going into a decline.

And it was true that Louisa was more than usually subdued, but Vanessa could think of nothing to divert her mind. She didn’t wish to ride, or read, or even play the pianoforte any more than was necessary under her mother’s insistence. Edward made fun of her for pining after such a fool as Oldcastle, and Mabel accused her of letting him slip through her fingers.

How good it would be to have them all gone! But it looked more and more as though the Curtisses, at least, were bound to remain. Vanessa determined to try to get Hortense to take them with her when (and if) she left. She was prepared to continue their quarterly allowance, so long as they weren’t hanging about her house. Louisa was the sole exception. Vanessa had grown more fond of her over the last few weeks, but it was highly unlikely Louisa would remain if the others left. And, of course, it was highly unlikely that they would leave . . .

When Vanessa and John approached the stream, Edward appeared as if from nowhere. Vanessa bit back her annoyance. There was nothing unusual about running into another member of the household when they were out riding. Cutsdean had several pleasant rides, but this was surely the most appealing. Vanessa had noted at the stables that Harley’s horse was not in its customary stall and had been relieved that Edward was out: his habit of trying to insinuate himself on their rides was irritating. What happened next was a little difficult for Vanessa to sort out in her mind afterward. Edward greeted them, riding up to place his horse on the opposite side of John’s pony from her. His spirits were high, she could tell by the way his eyes glowed.

“Perfect day!” he proclaimed, beaming on the two of them. “And you’ll never guess what I’ve just seen down along the stream. There, in the largest oak. Can you make it out? A leather jerkin hanging from the branch. However do you suppose it got there?”

Intrigued, Vanessa could indeed see some item of apparel swinging in the breeze. She was interested enough to consider riding in that direction when her son’s pony suddenly bucked and bolted, lunging into the water. John’s grip on the reins had slackened as he, too, looked toward the large oak and he was barely able to maintain his seat on the animal. Rollo plunged downstream, frantically trying to rid himself of his rider.

For a moment, Vanessa sat frozen on her horse. Then instinct took over and she followed the maddened horse through the water. She was not aware of Edward. Her concentration was purely on reaching her son before some harm befell him. Even as she gave chase, her astonishment at Rollo’s behavior fuddled her mind. The pony had never shown the least sign of unruly conduct. And there he was, wildly swinging his head, shaking his body, stomping in the shallow stream so that sprays of water went in every direction.

Frightened, little John was calling for her while desperately attempting to keep his position on the pony. Vanessa could see his small body jerked one way and then another, his arms flailing for balance. As she finally came abreast of him, she reached across to grab the bridle, but Rollo was lunging too wildly for her to catch hold. Instead, she was forced to try for her son. His feet had long since lost the stirrups and only one hand held tightly to the reins. Half the time his body seemed to float above the horse, only to crash back down and drive Rollo to renewed excesses of body contortion.

Vanessa steadied her own mount, which was made nervous by his distraught neighbor. Holding the reins in one hand as firmly as she could, she strained to grasp her son about his waist. When she felt her hold was secure enough, she swung him bodily to her, badly wrenching her shoulder but maintaining her grip. John clung to her as she directed her horse onto the grassy bank. His face was white and terrified, his hands like claws digging into her flesh.

“There, it’s all right,” she murmured into his hair where his head was buried against her shoulder. “You’re all right now, John.” She tried to lift her hand to soothe him but a sharp pain ran through it and she allowed it to fall again at her side. “You’ll have to climb down by yourself, love. I can’t use my arm.”

Shaken out of his own anxiety by his concern for her, he did as he was told, sliding to the bank to stand on visibly shaking legs. Vanessa awkwardly lowered herself from the sidesaddle, wincing when she had to put any pressure on her right arm. Rollo was still thrashing in the stream, further away now, but as they watched he rolled in the water, dislodging the saddle when the girth broke. Abruptly, his struggles ceased and he stood shuddering in the shallow water, his head hanging down in exhaustion. John called to him and he raised his head and whinnied before trotting over to the bank and thrusting his muzzle against John’s chest.

Still bewildered, John looked up at his mother. “Why did he do it?” he whispered. “He scared me, Mama. I didn’t want to fall off.”