From Ruin to Riches

‘What, with no warning?’ He was dressed in breeches and boots, his hair was tousled by the morning breeze and the lines of tiredness she thought she had discerned lately around eyes and mouth had quite gone. It must have been her imagination, for what could have been keeping him up at night? It was certainly not her!

‘I heard from my agent in Portsmouth two weeks ago to say they had just landed and he intended to rest them, then start hacking them up in easy stages once he was certain they were all sound. But Phelps’s letter saying they had started must have gone astray. Look.’

Julia could feel the excitement running through him as he took her arm and drew her to the window. It was an almost sexual force, that energy, and her body responded, warming, softening. If Nancy had not been there, she would have leaned into him and snatched a kiss. And would then no doubt have regretted it if he had failed to respond.

Instead she looked out at the sweep of parkland and the horses approaching at the trot. Julia narrowed her eyes against the morning sun: five riders, each leading two horses. Even at that distance she could see the quality of the animals in the way they moved.

‘They look fresh. They must have spent the night close by.’

‘Thank goodness the stables were finished yesterday,’ Will said. He released her arm. ‘I must go down again.’

‘But your breakfast…’ The door swung to behind him. Julia managed a rueful smile for Nancy’s benefit. ‘Men! I shall have to have something sent down to the stables.’

She supposed she should not feel awkward about going down to look at the new arrivals. ‘My riding clothes, please, Nancy.’

‘Which ones, my lady?’

‘My old habit,’ Julia said. Since that first time she and Will had never ridden together. Whenever they had travelled around the estate it had been in a gig. He knew she had her own horse, of course, and he had probably not noticed the other saddle hanging beside the side saddle. Would he be angry when he discovered she rode astride around the estate?

Somehow, without any formal agreement, th

ey had arrived at a working compromise over responsibilities. Julia looked after the tenants’ welfare, the dairy herd, the chickens, the gardens both decorative and productive, the house and the indoor staff. Will controlled everything else. So far there had not been any discussion about the housekeeping allowance or her own pin money, so Julia just kept on spending at the same level as she had before, maintained her scrupulously accurate accounts and waited to have those removed from her control too.

As with the subject of the bedchamber, and the events of the dinner-party evening, it seemed that they existed most harmoniously without confronting the issues. But it was an uneasy peace. Julia felt she was cramming unwieldy truths into a cupboard and sooner or later the door would burst open and release all of them.

Nancy fastened the divided skirt at the waist and then helped Julia into the coat. Really she was perfectly decent, she thought, bracing herself for the confrontation. Perhaps it was as well to have it while he was distracted by the horses. Perhaps he would not even notice. That was a melancholy thought.

*

Julia arrived at the new stables with a bite of roll and a mouthful of coffee inside her. Will was standing in the middle of the yard, talking to a wiry individual, while around them four grooms she did not recognise stood holding the horses. She stopped, knew her jaw had dropped and did not care.

‘What’s wrong?’ Will turned at the sound of her gasp.

‘Love at first sight,’ Julia breathed. ‘They are beautiful!’

‘They are that, ma’am.’ The grizzled man pulled off his hat. ‘His lordship’s got a fine eye for a horse.’

‘Lady Dereham, this is Mr Bevis, who has had charge of the horses since Portsmouth. So you like them, do you?’

The Arabians were elegant, with their fine bones and dished faces. Will had told her he intended to breed them with thoroughbred stallions for speed and endurance as well as looks. The three Andalusians were very different and they drew her as though they called her by name.

They were not big animals. The stallion was about fifteen two hands, she supposed, his three mares a little smaller. They all had deeply arched necks, long, rippling manes and all were a perfect dapple grey in colour with iron-grey manes and tails.

Four pairs of dark, liquid eyes watched her as she approached and held out her hand to the stallion. He snuffled at her fingers, then stood rock-still as she bent and blew lightly into his nostrils. He blew back and butted her gently with his head.

‘Do you wish to ride him, my dear? One of the grooms can get your saddle.’

Julia managed not to gape at Will. It never occurred to her for a moment that he would give her the first ride on any of the new animals, let alone allow her on the stallion.

‘He’s not used to a side saddle,’ Bevis warned.

Oh well, it was now or never. Will was not going to create a scene in front of all these men. ‘It is quite all right.’ She took the reins from the groom and led the stallion over to the mounting block, adjusted the stirrup leathers and swung into the saddle before anyone appeared to realise what she was doing. ‘What is his name?’

‘He hasn’t got one yet, my lady. He’s got the manners of a gentleman, that one.’ Bevis was carefully not staring at her legs as she adjusted the folds of the divided skirt. The horse stood still and patient, mouthing gently at the bit.

Will walked over and put his hand on the pommel. ‘You, my dear, are full of surprises,’ he said softly. She could not tell whether he was angry or not.

‘I only ride astride on the estate. And my legs are better covered than they would be side saddle.’ She tried not to sound defensive. It was not the actual degree of decency or coverage that was the question, she knew that. It was the shock of a woman imitating a man, the unspoken, sexual, connotations of being astride.