They leapt the rill and carefully skirted the earthworks for the expanded ha-ha. At the first evidence of the path up to the knoll, Meg slowed the stallion and had him ascend at a walk. Instead of proceeding directly uphill, they traversed the slope in a series of wide turns, presumably intended to ease the climb for her father’s chair. At the top, Meg noted a roughly square layout of flat stones.
She retraced the path down, then skirted the wooded base of the knoll to reach the enlarged lake. On its shores many trees had been planted, the banks reinforced, and the shrubbery thinned. Much had been accomplished in little more than a month. Despite the evidence of considerable activity, the ducks, coots, and other water birds still found the site congenial, waking noisily in the reeds and osiers at water’s edge.
Meg urged Arcturus to a quicker pace. As they traced the edge of the woods bordering the north slope, she glanced into the dense growth of trees-and spotted a shadow moving parallel to her own.
At once sensing her tension, Arcturus shied and broke stride. Meg had to struggle to control him. As she did so she noticed that the other rider was moving toward her, with growing assurance.
She relied on Arcturus then, giving him his head, assured that very few horses off a track could hope to catch him. As they plunged ahead and cut diagonally away from the woods, her heart beat so wildly she could not be certain whether she heard hooves behind her. As they neared the stables she slowed and looked back. Nothing and no one followed. Yet she had been certain the rider had started to approach.
She was breathing quickly, though Arcturus hardly seemed exercised. Patting him on the neck she walked him a while in the lane beyond the stables, then turned him back to the groom. She said nothing to the lad about the other rider, but she determined to request the groom’s company in future.
Chas rushed through his work with plantsmen in Fulham. He made fleeting calls at two properties where work neared completion. He accomplished in two days what he would normally have set out to do in twice the time, all so he could manage a lightning visit to town.
There he spent an impatient morning at his tailor’s, then moved on to the boot maker’s. He stopped for a shave before finding his cousin at his club.
“Didn’t expect you in town just now, Chas, it being spring, with the plowin’ and all.” Myles Trent, the Marquis of Hayden, waved him to a seat. “And I’d heard you’d promised the best of the season to gouty old Clare. You need a new coat, by the way.” His Resplendence, fastidious dresser, prosperous gambler, and acknowledged out-andouter, felt it within his purview, indeed entirely his obligation, to comment on such matters.
“I have just seen to it. And yes, I’m promised to Clare, but for this summer. I may find myself delaying for a couple of months.”
“Delaying? You?” Hayden’s lazy blue eyes widened. “What the devil is wrong?”
“I need to ask a favor of you, Hayden”
“Now that is such a rare event I’m tempted to grant your request without inquirin’. But I s’pose I ought to see if it’s in me power.”
“I would be truly astounded if it were not. I should like to be assured of a welcome-at Almack’s.”
Hayden stared at him.
“For some chit, d’you mean?” he asked at last.
“No, for myself.”
His cousin grinned.
“Incroyable! You! Dangling after some milk-and-water miss! And Almack’s-I might as easily picture an oak in a hothouse!”
Chas had to smile.
“Shall they admit me, though?”
“Good heavens, Chas. Their little hearts will be aflutter. They’ll have you trussed up and on the block the moment you’re through the door! Why submit to it?”
“I’d like to help a friend. Some friends, rather. And it occurred to me that this is the way to set about it.”
“Even more interesting! ‘Tis quite an undertaking. Would I happen to know the beneficiaries?
“Possibly. Have I mentioned Bertram Lawrence to you? We were at university together.”
“Bertram Lawrence … Now where have I heard that … ? Percy Laurens … Lawrence Howell…” As Hayden tilted his famously fair head to the side, Chas forced himself to relax. Why shouldn’t Myles know the truth of it? His cousin knew him very well indeed. “‘Tis most familiar. ‘Twill strike me later. And I will see that the ladies are alerted. You shall face no impediment-I guarantee it. Indeed, I’m like to be trampled, merely deliverin’ notice. When are you planning this sortie?”
“Not for some weeks. Don’t tax yourself. There is another matter, though. At Almack’s, if my behavior is not quite-acceptable should you mind very much being barred from the place for a spell?
Hayden’s grin widened.
“What are you contemplatin’, Chas? I believe I must brave the place with you. Haven’t pranced about there in years. Probably please of Grandmere. Why not ask for her aid with this silliness, by the by? No doubt she has vouchers papering her walls.”
“I … haven’t been to see her this trip. I just arrived late last night, and must be off again early tomorrow.”
“Not been to see Grandmere?” Hayden’s gaze assessed him. “Then you are hiding something, Chas. Must a’ been afraid she’d wheedle it out of you-or box your ears. Last time I was by she spent five minutes abusin’ me. Confound that tongue of hers! And she pinched my ear so hard it’s smartin’ yet” He rubbed his right ear. “Never thought the Frenchies were s’posed to be such prudes”
“I appreciate the sacrifice. If she’s after you for your infractions perhaps she will let me be”
“All the same the next time you are in town you must see her. And I cannot lie to her-if she asks-about your visit today.”
“I would not ask you to, my lord.” When Hayden smiled, Chas asked, “What do you hear from David?” Hayden’s younger brother, Lord David, Major Trent, had served with Wellington on the Peninsula for five years.
“You’ve had the news from Paris, then?” Hayden’s glance was sharp. “No doubt Wellington will stay while they discuss the peace. But David shall have a dilemma. He complains there’s little to do if he comes home. He’s not certain he’ll sell up. Father wants him back-wants him to consider marryin’ the neighbor-Caswell’s chit. Remember the Caswells? Guess you aren’t the only one with marriage on your mind.”
“Don’t start, Myles. ‘Tis always those who jest who tumble furthest”
“You sound like Grandmere, Chas. ‘Tis the quaintly Continental in you, I s’pose. At least you don’t shriek it in French. Do remember to invite me to the wedding.” He was laughing as Chas left him.
Meg noticed the wagons, loaded with greenery, rolling up the front lane. She watched them long enough to be certain Cabot did not accompany them, then turned her disappointed attention to helping Lucy pack for town.
Her father had determined they would travel the end of the following week, a decision that set off a flurry of preparation. The intention to go to London might have been dropped out of the blue, so frantic and total were the efforts to speed them on their way. But Meg would preferably have stayed at Selbourne. She had no interest in the upcoming season. And there was that small possibility, scarcely admitted, that Cabot would return before the end of the month.
When she raced down to dinner after the second bell, she was startled to find him being seated at the table.
“Oh, Mr. Cabot,” she breathed, moving to her father’s right side. “I did not know you had returned.”
“Just this evening, Miss Lawrence”
“You were with the wagons then?”
“They preceded me.”
Her gaze wanted to devour him. Indeed, only a glance at Lucy, who was looking as Meg felt, recalled her to her senses.
“Where did you get this lot, Cabot?” Bertie asked.
“Some plantsmen in Fulham. I wanted some good-sized trees. There is one item I hope will interest Miss Lawrence”
Meg had to look at him, at his direct gaze and gleam
ing, candlelit hair. “I brought you a silverbell tree for your garden ”” He sounded pleased.
“Silverbell,” Lucy repeated. “Doesn’t that sound lovely, Meg?”
“I have not heard of such a tree, Mr. Cabot”
“‘Tis native to North America. Collinson has the Halesia only rarely. This is the sole specimen he will have this year-a charming little tree, Miss Lawrence, with unusual bell-like blossoms in early spring. ‘Tis aptly named.”
“Is that what the symbol on your master plan meant then, for the stake by the teahouse? That you planned a tree?”
“Should you desire it-yes”
“You think my … the garden needs something?”
“It needs nothing,” he said, trapping her gaze. “It wants nothing. This is merely an ornament.”
“I regret then, that I … do not want it.”
Meg heard her father draw a sharp breath, but he stayed silent.
Cabot’s lips moved as though he would smile.
“I assure you it will not grow much taller than the garden walls. And it would give your teahouse some welcome afternoon shade.”
“I know you’ve considered every aspect, Mr. Cabot. But I do not feel another tree would suit the garden.” She did not want his gift, which was what this was. She did not want a unique and thoughtfully appropriate gift from him. It was best that he know that now.
For a moment his gaze darkened. Then he smiled and shrugged.
“‘Tis no matter. I shall find a spare little corner at Brookslea in which to tuck it away. ‘Twill do nicely.”
A spare little corner! He knew how to hurt her as well.
“Honestly, Meggie,” Bertie protested, “balking at a little tree.”
“Why must you be so mean?” Lucy asked. “It’s not like you at all!”
Trust Lucy to betray her, Meg thought, catching Cabot’s considering gaze. She had wanted him to believe there was nothing unusual in her response.
Her father was studying his dinner plate, with an amusement that Meg could not fathom.
“Would you like me to have the tree, father?” she asked.
“Not at all, my dear. You must do as you wish. Though I might ask what particular objection you have to an inoffensive twig.”
“It is simply-It is not what I planned.”
“I certainly understand, Sir Eustace,” Cabot said. “One’s plans can become inviolable.”
Meg looked at Cabot with some impatience. How dare he defend her!
“Is that what the stakes on the north lawn mean then? That you plan to plant trees there as well?”
“No.” For a moment he met her challenge with silence. “I shall be happy to show you what they mean”
She did not want him to show her anything. She wanted him to leave her in peace.
“Perhaps, Meg,” her father said, “we can take a look at the plans again after supper-so that there will be no further surprises. After all, Mr. Cabot must be entrusted to decide for us while we are away. We cannot be reduced to planting and removing the same herbage repeatedly-even if such activity did line Mr. Cabot’s pockets”
“Papa!” Lucy cried. But the men were laughing. And Meg felt a stranger to her own family.
She said little as the discussion moved to the arrangements for town. Cabot volunteered that he had just visited, and Meg looked at him in astonishment. To travel so much and accomplish so much in such a short time was extraordinary. He did not appear unduly tired, but perhaps the candlelight was kind.
He caught her gaze, and seemed to address his next question directly to her.
“Have there been any more uninvited guests?”
“Not a one,” Sir Eustace said with satisfaction.
“No,” Bertram agreed. “And I searched the north woods just yesterday.”
Meg looked not at Cabot but at the tablecloth.
“There has been a rider in the north woods every morning,” she said softly.
“What?” Her father reached to grab her left hand. “Why did you not tell me?”
“I did not want you to worry. I … have not acknowledged him. And I have taken the groom with me.”
“Every morning, you say? How close then? How did you spot him?”
“The first morning I rode-I took Arcturus, on a circuit. I ran him along the edge of the woods and noticed movement in the trees, at some distance. But then the rider must have realized it was I, and not Mr. Cabot-on Arcturus. When he started toward me, I gave Arcturus his head and raced back to the stables.”
“But what of the groom?” Bertie asked. “This rider ran at you even with Dobbs along?”
“He wasn’t with me. Not that first morning.”
Her father pressed her hand, hard.
“Margaret,” he admonished. “You had assured me.”
“I know. But it was so early. I stayed within view of the house, in the open.”
“Father,” Bertie said, “we’ll have everyone out to comb the woods tomorrow morning. If this fellow thinks us complacent he’s in for a shock”
Cabot had been observing her very closely, and very seriously.
“If you’ll pardon me, Lawrence,” he said. “Your visitor will simply wait until you tire of deploying an army, however many days that may take. Miss Lawrence has been wise to ignore him. Indeed, I fear I blundered in chasing him last week. I should have predicted he’d remove himself before our search. You might consider surprise now, instead. After attracting him with his objective.”
“You mean let Meggie continue this risky business? As bait?”
“Not unguarded. Tomorrow morning, you or I should accompany your sister. Curiosity might draw him forward, whence he might be caught from the sides or behind. A couple of men sent well before dawn, to hide themselves and wait, might check him”
“We cannot be certain there is only one,” Bertie said.
“It … it always looks like the same man,” Meg said. “The same horse, the same dark clothes as the rider at the gate that first day.”
“And no doubt he will be cautious if Dobbs is not along,” Sir Eustace said. “How would you address that, Cabot?”
“Perhaps we shouldn’t try. Perhaps I should simply escort Miss Lawrence tomorrow, and ride Arcturus. This spy has seen me before on the same horse, and I appear to interest him. If Miss Lawrence and I were to act as though unaware of his presence, he might be caught.”
To act as though unaware of the spy’s presence! When Cabot had proposed it, Meg had wondered how such calculated ease was to be achieved. But once out with him in the morning air she found that goal not at all difficult to attain. When riding with Charles Cabot, one thought entirely of Charles Cabot.
“Where would you like to lead us this morning, Miss Lawrence?” he asked as they left the stables. “Your father is watching us through a field-glass-a most effective monitor, if we stay in view.”
She smiled.
“I suggest you show me some of your work sites-what you are calling the knoll, perhaps. And the lake.”
He nodded, and they turned down the beech-lined avenue. The days were beginning to warm, most of the trees were full foliaged, and a scattering of early white and purple blossoms lit the green sward. Arcturus chomped at the bit, but he clearly knew his rider was a master.
“Arcturus likes you,” she observed.
“I like Arcturus” Cabot smiled at her. “Your mare looks strong and speedy. She is Arabian?”
“She is.” Meg reached to pat her neck. “Paloma is second only to Arcturus in speed, and she is actually quicker to turn and respond. Arcturus is difficult to stop”
“I haven’t tried to”
Meg laughed.
“We shall see you then at supper, when he finally winds down.” On a whim she touched her crop to Paloma’s flanks, knowing the mare was eager for a run. She also knew they had the advantage-at least for a few seconds-and she urged the mare in a race toward the knoll. Meg felt the sting of the air and the wild delight of freedom-a joy
she had once taken for granted. Arcturus soon pounded behind them, drawing even on the rising ground. She was pressed to hold the lead. But Arcturus did slow sooner in order to stop at the top, and Meg and Paloma nosed forward the last few feet to claim the promontory first.
“Cleverly raced, Miss Lawrence,” Cabot said as he walked Arcturus at her side. “You know your horses.”
“They are family, after all. ‘Tis almost impossible not to learn their habits. I must grant you a handicap, though, and declare the match a tie.” She was flushed from the run, breathless. She found it difficult to meet his intent gaze. Instead she turned to the site. “What do you intend to build here?”
“What would you like?” He asked sincerely, not flippantly, but Meg knew the incident with the silverbell tree was not far from his mind.
“I would truly like to know what you envision, Mr. Cabot, as you have taken such care to consider my father’s situation in planning this”
“Well then, something to catch the eye here in the distance, at your highest point. I’ve a fondness for trees as subjects in themselves, but I’ve not yet determined.”
“Perhaps a Grecian ruin, or an obelisk?” Meg suggested playfully.
“I shouldn’t have thought that your preference. But by all means. A temple of reverie-if it appeals.”
“Not at all. I was … teasing you, Mr. Cabot” She looked away as his gaze caught hers too warmly. He turned to explaining how the zigzagged course would ease her father’s ascent up the steep slope; he had demonstrated a commendable sensitivity to her father’s condition. Listening to him, Meg grasped that in working on a property, Cabot made it uniquely his own, that he found something of his own ground in the process-much as a farmer might claim sustenance from his acres.
“Whose is the property below here?” Cabot asked, indicating the fields and brick walls of the residence beyond the hedges toward the east.
“Oh that’s Havingsham. Havingsham Hall belongs to Mr. Wembly, a good friend of my father’s, and for many years master of the local hunt. ‘Twas assumed my sister Louisa and the Wembly’s son Walter would wed, but she chose Thomas Ferrell. Mr. Wembly was disappointed, and my father has not seen him since-not since just after his accident. The Wemblys leased out the Hall and moved to town. I’ve not met the current tenants. But Lucy and the youngest son, Harris Wembly, were once firm friends. I hope the rift will not last. The Wemblys are very good”
Quiet Meg Page 5