by Lena Dowling
‘By Jove, I think he’s going to do it,’ Richard said.
Killarney’s Boy pulled right past the frontrunners as they began to flag.
Nellie handed her ticket over to Richard.
‘No, no. It’s yours.’
‘But …’
‘I insist. You can redeem it.
‘Perhaps you should accompany her, sir. To ensure that she isn’t cheated by the bookmaker,’ Harry said.
‘Of course, it would be my pleasure.’
Harry smiled at her, waving in the direction of the bookmakers. ‘Go on.’
***
Harry watched them walk away together. Even though he couldn’t hear what they were saying, the way they leaned into each other, the subtle tilt of her head now and then told him she was enjoying herself. The conversation flowed as easily between them as it had that day at the bank.
Nellie had made her feelings clear. He would be magnanimous about Henley if he had to, but that didn’t mean he didn’t despise seeing her with another man.
When the two of them stopped where Agnes and Pike were, Pike shook out the blankets while Agnes folded them and the whole group continued on together. Relieved Nellie was no longer alone with Henley, Harry turned back to the Mallards, conversing beside the refreshments table.
‘Really Harry, what were you thinking,’ Emily said.
‘Tompkins had Nellie bailed up in the army tent. Someone had to do something.’
‘And that someone had to be you?’
‘Anyway she’s gone now, look …’ Tristan said, forever smoothing things over with his wife.
‘Harry. I have news. Splendid news,’ Hunter said, approaching the group. ‘I think I might have found someone to lease the guesthouse.’
‘Well, that is a turn-up. Who?’
‘A farmer with quite a landholding.’
‘He couldn’t make a success of it?’ Harry said, worried. He would not want to commit to a farm himself if landholders were routinely going broke.
‘Just the opposite, which is how he has the money to contemplate renting the Tullamore from you. It’s only that his wife has never taken to country life and he means to put a manager in on the farm. He wants to take a tour of the premises tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Harry said, shocked that matters would progress that quickly.
‘I thought you were keen to find a tenant?’ Tristan said.
‘Yes, I am, of course. But tomorrow is very soon if he’s to see the place looking at its sharpest. Could you possibly put him off until Monday?’
‘It’s best to strike while the iron is hot with these things. If it suits, he would be looking to turn the place into a grand family home. But he’s in town for the rest of race week, so he might possibly agree to come on Saturday.’
‘He’d close the guesthouse?’
‘Yes—although not that it matters. Rent is rent, after all.’
Harry felt deeply unsettled. He had observed the awkward exchange Nellie had with Samuel Biggs. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she said she had nowhere to go.
‘That is a relief,’ Emily said, joining the conversation. ‘The sooner you are away from that place the better. You’ll join us for dinner?’
While Emily put on a good meal, Harry couldn’t face making polite conversation when his mind was in such a tumult about what Hunter’s news meant for Nellie.
The tide of people now leaving the course gave him the excuse he needed.
‘All these people will be in the town shortly wanting a drink. I’ll be needed at the guesthouse. But thank you. Another time.’
‘We’ll hold you to that.’
Harry joined the throng leaving Hyde Park for the town, his thoughts heavy with the burden that securing the guesthouse’s future would leave Nellie with nowhere to go.
At first he made good time, but after making use of his height to pick a way through the crowd, he hit a wall of people converged in making their way in the direction of The Rocks. He found himself wedged between a family on one side and a group of young soldiers on the other, squarely behind the flank of a horse. Worse, every few steps the horse would stop, seemingly for no reason and the man would have to coax it on.
The man leading it swore, wondering out loud what was wrong with the beast.
‘I believe the horse has a shoe loose,’ Harry said.
‘He was shod just recent,’ the man said, stopping to turn around.
‘The horse can feel what’s not visible to the eye yet. I’d say it’s the back right, the way he’s carrying his weight.’
The man stopped and examined the horse’s foot. ‘Well I’ll be. So it is. Damn, there will be nothing open now and I’ve got to get back home tonight.’
‘Bring her down to the stables at the back of the Tullamore.’
‘I didn’t know a smithy had gone in there?’
‘It hasn—’ He stopped, an idea ricocheting from the horse’s hoof.
‘When you get there, ask for Harry and I’ll tidy that up for you.’
Chapter 21
‘I want to show you something,’ Harry said the day after the races, coming up behind her and giving her a fright while she had her arms deep in hot water and suds, washing up a pile of dishes in the kitchen.
‘If this is going to be like the last time you had something to show me, I’d rather not,’ she said, trying to sound fierce.
‘It could if you wanted it to be.’
‘Are you flirting with me, Harry Chester?’ she said, laughing.
‘That depends on whether you want me to flirt.’
Nellie’s cheeks burned hot thinking about the answer to that question.
‘What is this you’ve got to show me then? Are we going out?’ Nellie said, drying her arms off with a towel. ‘Do I need to change out of me apron?’
‘Come as you are.’ Harry said, sounding mysterious then disappearing out the back door.
She followed him to the stables. He stopped at the lean-to, which had been cleared of everything to do with washing and replaced with a fire pit, a couple of barrels, some tools and an old anchor.
‘What’s this?’
‘Imagine a forge here as well.’
‘A smithy? What would you do with that?’
‘I’m going to run it.’
Nellie laughed. ‘And you can shoe a horse, can you?’
‘You will have to wait and see.’
‘And what am I going to do with a dirty smoking fire right up against all my lovely clean washing?’
‘Washing will have to be sent out, but the earnings from the forge will more than make up for it.’
Then it dawned on her what this might all mean. Perhaps she’d got it all upside down. What a fool. Maybe Harry was planning to close the guesthouse and turn the whole place over to a smithy.
‘So you’re putting me out?’
‘Of course not. I’m saying you’ll be in here running the guesthouse and I’ll be running the forge.’
Nellie couldn’t hold in a shriek or stop herself jumping up and down on the spot, clapping her hands together, her eyes filling with tears.
‘You’re upset?’
Nellie shook her head, barely able to find the words. ‘I’m happy. I’m so happy I could burst.’
Harry pulled her to him and encircled her in his arms. She buried her head in his chest. He smelled of soap and the faint scent of wood smoke.
He stroked her hair. She didn’t move, wishing they could stand like that forever.
‘I thought I heard a scream.’
Nellie poked her head up above Harry’s arm. Pikelet looked at her as if he’d been struck, then turned and stalked away.
Nellie ducked under Harry’s arm meaning to run after him. ‘Pikelet, wait.’ But he didn’t reply, stomping off, Jammy leaping and barking around his feet then dashing out the gate in front of him.
‘Let him go,’ Harry said back over his shoulder while he crossed the yard to latch the gate. ‘Just give him som
e time. He’ll come around.’
While Harry latched the gate closed after Pikelet, Nellie hugged her arms to her chest, hoping what Harry said was true.
***
‘Throw some water on that damned inferno, will you?’ Tristan fanned himself and stepped into the stables a couple of days later, once Harry had started working at the forge in earnest.
‘I can’t. I’ve got a shoe in.’
‘Christ almighty.’
‘I think the Devil would be the more appropriate deity. Welcome to purgatory,’ Harry said, turning to poke the horseshoe further to the left where the iron glowed hotter.
Tristan pointed to the anchor he had dug into the ground to use upside down. ‘What is that? Beyond the obvious.’
‘Needs must. I’ve ordered a forge but it’s got to come from Bengal, so that will be months. In the meantime, I bought this down at the wharves.’
‘From a reputable source, I trust?’
‘Don’t worry, it was under a pile of salvage—it’s from a wreck, not anything currently in port.’
Tristan untied his cravat dabbing at his beaded forehead. ‘Thank goodness for that. What’s this message about?’
‘I’ve decided to stay on, manage the place myself. I was hoping you could pass the message on to Hunter to cancel the viewing with his prospective tenant.’
‘I was only joking about going back on the tools, I hope you realise?’
‘I’ve got horses booked in to the end of the week. ’
‘Come away from the fire a minute. I think my head is going to explode.’
‘There’s water over there—in the small barrel, mind, not the big one,’ Harry said, directing his friend to the drinking water and not the slack tub he used for fast cooling of his work. ‘You get used to it.’
Tristan grasped the ladle and slurped back two cups in succession. ‘I don’t reckon I would ever get used to it. In fact, it’s all coming back to me now, the reason I worked so hard at school.’
‘Once I’ve built up some goodwill, I’ll speak to Somerset about finding some convicts with a background in smithing. I’ll not be hammering metal myself for too long, I hope.’
‘There’s no need to ask what this is all about, is there? Emily’s barely gotten over you bringing Nellie to the Hunters’ marquee. I’ve hardly heard anything else since race day.’
‘You’ll break it to her then?’
‘God, no. I’ll leave that to you, though I suggest you go in prepared.’
‘Pad up my jacket with straw?’
‘Put your smithing skills to good use and fabricate yourself a suit of armour more like.’
‘Thanks very much.’
‘Retribution, remember, sweet and unexpected as promised.’ Tristan smirked triumphantly and Harry fired off one of his heavy leather gloves, catching him in the solar plexus.
‘There is one other thing though—Tompkins,’ Tristan said, picking up the glove from where it had fallen, good-naturedly lobbing it back.
‘He has nothing over this place now,’ Harry said, withdrawing the shoe with a long pair of tongs and then deciding it needed longer and pushed it back into the fire. ‘With the money the forge is making, any rum can be paid for without the need for credit.’
‘And what about his designs on Nellie, have you thought about that?’
‘He’ll get used to the idea eventually. He’ll have to. I’ll not bow out where she is concerned.’
Tristan shook his head. ‘I hope you’re right, my friend. I sincerely hope you’re right.’
‘I saw Mr Mallard and I thought you might like a cool drink.’ Nellie said, stepping into the lean-to carrying a tray of glasses filled with what looked like cold tea.
Tristan took up a glass. ‘Miss Malone, how kind. I don’t mind if I do.’ Tristan continued after he’d taken several gulps. ‘You do remember all of this is unnecessary. You have other options.’
‘It was good enough for your father,’ Harry said quickly as Nellie brought the tray around to him, slicing him off with a look that told Tristan not to say anything else.
Tristan accorded him a nod, saluting him with his glass then drained the remainder of his drink. ‘Delicious, Miss Malone. Most refreshing. It tastes different, better I should say, than normal tea.’
Nellie’s cheeks flushed an attractive shade of pink with the compliment. ‘That will be the mint and lemon.’
Tristan replaced his empty glass on the tray. ‘Mint and lemon. I must mention that to Emily.’
Nellie’s eyes widened. ‘You’ll not say where you got the idea from will you, sir?’
‘Not for the moment,’ Tristan said, turning to stare at Harry.
***
‘What was that about?’ Nellie asked when Tristan had gone.
‘He wants me to be the one to tell Emily about you.’
‘Oh, and what is there to tell?’
‘That we’re becoming more than just business partners.’
Nellie felt a rush of warmth at the idea that he would tell his friends about her, but the warmth didn’t last. ‘Why does anyone need to know? You saw how it was at the market and how it was at the races. Why can’t we just keep it just between us?’
‘Because the Mallards are my best friends out here, and if we’re to stay that way then Emily needs to accept you.’
Nellie hadn’t been sure what to make of Harry presenting her at the Hunters’ tent, but now all her worries disappeared. If Harry was willing to be honest about her to his friends then she had no need for concern. But there were still Pikelet’s feeling’s to consider, and then there was how Tompkins was going to react.
‘Can we wait on a bit, just until Pikelet has gotten used to the idea?’
‘If that is what you want.’
Nellie nodded. ‘It is. Pike’s been good to me and I don’t want to ambush him with this after all the other changes.’
‘Speaking of changes, I asked Tristan to let Hunter know that the Tullamore is no longer up for lease.’
She still had to shake herself. She could hardly believe it. If it weren’t for the fact that Pikelet was still sore at her, speaking only when spoken to and then in grunts, she might have thought she had imagined the whole thing.
‘It’s a dream come true to be staying here.’
‘I hate to say it, but if I’m to keep the dream alive. I’ll have to finish up this lot here.’
Harry led the horse in the closest stall out, then ran his hand down the length of the horse’s front left leg. The animal co-operated, lifting his hoof, and Harry took on the second riskiest aspect of his job next to vaporising his flesh with smelted metal—pulling the horse’s hoof up from behind and between his legs. Sensing the horse’s assent, he clamped the hoof between his thighs.
‘Good girl.’
Red-hot iron seared the hoof. Smoke rose up in tendrils, and while he had been careful to leave on a good buffer ensuring it was painless to the animal, spooked by the fumes, the horse reared up.
Some animals were more skittish than others, and Harry was ready; leaping up and to one side, he managed to keep hold of both the tongs and the horseshoe with it.
Nellie set down the tray and stepped up to the horse’s shoulder, whispering something he couldn’t make out.
At her touch, the animal nudged her, slurping out his tongue, grooming her as he might another horse, staining a patch on it with slobber. Then the animal dropped his head to the level of hers, breathing in and out for a moment, sharing her breath, before ambling away to the far end of the lean-to.
‘Extraordinary.’
‘I can break ’em too. Or I used to be able to.’
‘I’m guessing you still can,’ he said, ‘since this boy here hasn’t kicked you to death already.’
She laughed, her eyes flecked with amber that sparkled. ‘As if.’
This time, with Nellie there to steady the horse, he tolerated the sizzle of the shoe against the smoke better. He got an imprint good enough that he co
uld see what still needed to be trimmed away from the hoof to get a true fit, and once he’d made the adjustments he scrabbled around in the pocket of his apron for a nail. Finding a sharp point and pinching it between thumb and forefinger, he placed it in the first hole on the shoe, hammering it on in silence while Nellie cooed softly, the sweet lilt of her voice almost a singsong.
‘What did Tristan Mallard mean when he said you have other options?’ she said once he’d returned the horse to its stall and come back to the forge.
He had thought the comment had passed unnoticed but he should have known better. Miss Cyclopaedia missed nothing. For a moment he considered telling her the truth, but then he remembered the incident with the Chilcotts and how badly Nellie had reacted to their titles in particular. Why destroy what they had for something that was nothing to him?
‘He probably meant I could still lease the place, or sell up, or take a job that Tristan considers more suitable,’ he said.
‘Oh.’ Nellie said thoughtfully.
Harry pulled her into his arms. Partly to distract her and partly because she was so damned irresistible.
‘What about the other horses?’ Nellie asked.
‘I changed my mind.’
***
Nellie allowed herself to be led backwards towards one of the stalls. She couldn’t see where she was placing her feet, yet she was overwhelmed with the sense of heading in the right direction.
At the stall door they were forced to stop, but only for a second as Harry reached around behind her to unlatch the lower door.
Inside, Harry closed first the lower door, and the top one he pulled until it was almost to, letting in a wedge of sunlight flecked with magical dust revolving in the air.
His lips met hers, his hand ranging down to her hips, drawing her to him. She tugged at his shirt, pulling enough free to slip a hand up under the fabric where his skin felt hot and smooth beneath her palms.
She wasn’t nearly done exploring when a firm hand on her shoulder spun her around. Calloused knuckles raked their way down her spine, ripping back her laces as they went. When she turned back to him, his shirt had joined her gown on the straw.
With her hands crossed in front of her, clutching for the fabric of her shift, he placed his hands over hers. ‘You’ll want to keep that on,’ he whispered.