by Dilys Xavier
His tone had an air of finality that made Maria look up through her tears, but within seconds her eyes sparkled as a plan took shape in her mind.
Chapter Seven.
It was with a different attitude that Maria travelled with her grandfather to Phillip Carter's training establishment on the Sunday. This was no jeans and sweater day, it was a day for her smartly tailored bronze suit that accentuated the lights in her chestnut hair.
She had carefully arranged the neat collar of a pure silk cream blouse so that it peeped over her lapels. On the left lapel of her suit she had pinned a diamond and platinum plaque brooch, a beautiful creation that had belonged to her great grandmother, each of the fifty two Victorian diamonds flashing fire as the sunlight caught them. She wore this only when she wanted to feel what she fondly termed exclusive, and it always gave her that extra bit of confidence. Her long legs looked extra slim and shapely in bronze coloured tights, and her matching shoes and clutch bag completed the picture of an elegant young woman with superb dress sense. Everything about her appearance was just right to impress. She looked class, and she knew it.
After leaving the Severn Bridge, Maria cruised along the motorway, reducing her speed once she was out of the steady stream of fast traffic. The rest of the journey she would take leisurely so that they would not arrive too early at Phillip Carter's.
In a short while, Gramps pointed ahead. ‘There it is,’ he said excitedly. The bold sign, ‘Colacomby Stables,’ was at the entrance to a wide tarmac driveway. She slowed to appreciate the lush pastures on either side, eventually coming to spacious well-kept lawns. She pulled to a stop in front of a majestic building. ‘Look at that!’ she exclaimed. ‘Big and beautiful. Does this belong to Phillip Carter?’
‘He could be renting stables in the grounds,’ Gramps suggested, ‘but I know he inherited well from his aunt, so maybe this is it.’
Maria drove slowly past, murmuring, ‘What a picture to paint. We'll try down that way.’ She pointed to a secondary drive winding away to the right.
Gramps touched her arm. ‘Wait, there's someone waving to us.’
Maria pulled up, her expression one of disbelief. ‘It's Phillip Carter. Then is this really his home? He never mentioned he had such a big place when he was with us.’
‘You wouldn't expect him to, now would you?’ Gramps asked. ‘He’s not the kind to swank.’
‘You said he’d inherited it from a maiden aunt,’ she said, as the figure moved towards them, waving vigorously, his face was wreathed in smiles. ‘This doesn’t look like the abode of a maiden aunt.’
‘Even so, that’s what I understood; seems he’s got it all made for him.’
Maria pursed her lips as Phillip quickened his pace; she was on his territory now and didn’t like it one bit. Even feeling slightly apprehensive at her realisation, she quickly appraised that his casual clothes suited him to perfection. She liked the open-necked cream shirt topping a pair of oatmeal coloured trousers that accentuated his athletic build.
‘I've been looking out for you for ages; thought you’d got lost. Maria, Mr Cable, lovely to see you both again. Do come inside.’
It was just then that Maria's confidence slipped further, leaving her feeling inadequate and vulnerable. She could not tell whether her unease was because of the impressive surroundings, or because she had a sneaky feeling that beneath all her antagonism, she was actually pleased to see him again. Whichever it was, her pulse raced at the sight of this suave male before her, together with the continual niggling discomfort over being on his territory. Was this due to his over-riding masculinity, a pheromone magnetism, or his near-indifference - something her femininity desired to conquer? She could not tell, and the uncertainty perturbed her.
Fixing her eyes firmly on his smiling face, she strode forward with an air of simulated boldness, forgetting she rarely wore such high heels. An ancient flagstone snagged her shoe, and she lurched forward, grasping wildly at empty space. With a cry she staggered, bereft of all dignity, destined to meet with the stony ground beneath her feet, but before Charles Cable had even noticed she had stumbled, Phillip lunged forward and his long arms grasped her firmly as she plunged.
‘Too much tipple so early?’ he teased softly, as he gripped her firmly to steady her. Taking advantage of the opportunity to draw her close to him, his cheek brushed hers as he whispered, ‘You could have had a nasty bump.’
She could tell by the sensuous look in his eyes, that he was enjoying the nearness. His charismatic charm threw her fleetingly off-guard, and she looked up, acutely aware of his breath on her face, her heart thudding from the combination of the shock from the fall, and the emotional closeness of his body.
‘You're all right now?’ He touched her arm as he spoke.
Withdrawing instinctively, Maria darted him a look, but his only response was to hold her eyes for several seconds as if questioning her reason for rejection. He seemed to want to touch her at every opportunity. Maria breathed in deeply to relax, for the last thing she wanted was for him to guess he had even the slightest effect on her. Feeling more in control now, she gave him a normal look of gratitude, and thanked him for saving her. Fearful of tripping again, she kept her eyes firmly on the loose flagstones until they reached the safety of the doorway.
Phillip ushered them into the coolness of a beautiful, but ancient home suitably furnished, the likes of which Maria had never seen before. She was spellbound at the beauty of it all, and scrutinised every detail. ‘It’s wonderful. You are fortunate to live in such idyllic surroundings.’
‘I live here by courtesy of an inheritance, and the stables came with it.’ A smile played around his lips. ‘But come along, there's more to see.’
Maria gazed up at the high ceilings and then stared at the stone spiral staircase that curled around to the first floor. She was mesmerised by the splendour, until Phillip's voice brought her out of a reverie of archaic dreams.
‘Do you like my home? It’s stone built and ancient; it is what is known as a fortified manor house, meant to keep out marauders and unfriendlies in the days of long ago.’ He pointed to the distance. ‘There’s another just a few miles away, in Penhow that was once the seat of the famous Seymour family – you know, one of the wives of Henry the Eighth and all that? It was bought by a local business man, restored, and turned into a popular tourist attraction. In fact, if you go searching you’ll find them dotted all over the place.’ He turned around and made an offer. ‘If you’d like it, I’ll show you one not far away which is to be the most haunted house in Britain. I think that would interest you. It’s fascinating and attracts a lot of tourists.’
Maria ignored the invitation and stared around wide-eyed. ‘Your place is out of this world. You didn't tell us you lived in a period house like this.’
‘You didn't ask, and believe me I wish I didn't live here in the winter, but I'm landed with this late medieval country house, and obliged to keep it in good order. It’s listed.’
‘It’s in a wonderful state of preservation,’ Gramps commented. ‘I've seen a few, but the majority have been in ruins.’
Phillip smiled. ‘Well, this one’s good because my ancestors sat on the fence, as they say, so the place didn't get knocked about like other fortifications. This is virtually as it was when it was built in the late fifteenth century.’ He placed his foot on the first step and beckoned. ‘Follow me; I’ll show you around.’
As Maria walked behind him, she considered his whole appearance as that of a man of wealth and sophistication. It matched his impeccable voice which resounded sonorously in the acoustics of the high-ceilinged building.
Between gasps of admiration and surprise as they walked into each room, Phillip smiled, obviously delighted at their response. ‘I'm pleased you like it, and I hope you’ll enjoy having lunch in here.’ With a sweeping gesture, he threw open a door of the great hall and stood back to watch Maria's reaction.
She stared open-mouthed at the huge room. ‘We’re lunchi
ng in here?’ With a ripple of laughter, she stepped into the hall to gaze around the room and its period furniture.
‘It seems an ancestor of mine wove this fabric while her husband was away at war.’ Phillip pointed to the tapestry covered suite, and touched it reverently. ‘It’s all original,’ he said, with a sweep of his arm. ‘I hold great respect for my inheritance. I’m merely the keeper of this place while I live, but I hope to have heirs one day to whom I can pass this.’ He threw a brief look at Maria, but she was engrossed in admiring the enormous period dining table set in the centre of the hall, its highly polished surface reflecting the flames of a glowing log fire. The fact that he had no heirs registered on her mind.
As though in answer to her thoughts, Phillip explained. ‘It’s not the ideal home to live in. Even in summer it’s cool in here. It faces north and always cold, so I had the fire lit especially for you.’
Maria’s brow lifted as she noticed the table was laid in elegant style for three people. Only three? So was Mrs Carter out for the day? Dismissing the thought, she turned to Phillip. ‘You talked about leaving here, but surely you'd never leave this?’ Maria gestured widely as she spoke. ‘I wouldn't, if it were mine.’ In her enthusiasm she had forgotten her decision to not be over-friendly.
A smile reached his hazel eyes as he looked at her. ‘Oh, we’ll see. A lot depends on…,’ he shrugged, then started to talk about something else. ‘You should visit this place in the winter, and tell me what your feelings are then. And of course it costs a lot of money to run. These old places are expensive to keep, and owners are not allowed to make changes to listed buildings like this.’
He moved slowly amongst the furniture, running his strong fingers thoughtfully over the pieces as he passed them. ‘After all, horses are really my main interest, not ancient monuments, so whether I stay here or not depends on one or two things.’ He glanced around, and laughed. ‘At times I feel like a king, but sometimes like a pauper.’ What he had said didn’t satisfy Maria's curiosity.
‘But surely you wouldn’t sell this piece of history?’
‘I don't think I’d sell it, considering the way I feel right now. I'd probably find something pleasant to live in, and open this to the public, or maybe even rent it to a concern who would manage it for me so it could pay its way.’ He shrugged and shook his head. ‘I’ve thought about it, but made no firm decision. As I said, it all depends.’ He offered them drinks and changed the subject quickly. ‘Now for lunch. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry.’ He invited them to sit at the table, and drew out a chair for Maria. ‘After lunch I'll take you to see the horses. I've warned the head lad to expect visitors.’
It was with a feeling of unease that Maria ate the meal, the third at his side in a matter of days, and again acutely aware of his presence. Only this time, her animosity seemed to have lessened to some extent, resurrected momentarily only when her thoughts strayed to his original reason for figuring in her life, which had slept quietly in her mind during the thrill of finding and exploring the fortified home. This is the first time I've enjoyed myself since Gramps told me the bad news about our money problems, she mused.
‘Brandy?’ Phillip's clear voice broke her thoughts as she was taking the last mouthful of a meal delicious enough to do any chef justice.
‘Not for me, thank you. But I must compliment the cook.’
‘I'll tell John; he’ll be delighted.’ Phillip smiled. ‘He looks after me, and can turn his hand to anything; I'm so fortunate to have him.’
Maria's thoughts raced. So was there no Mrs Carter? What business is it of mine, she asked herself. I don't care anyway. Her meditation showed in her serious expression, but Charles Cable and Phillip Carter were too engrossed in equine-talk to notice.
‘If you're ready,’ Phillip said, rising from the table, ‘we'll go to the stables now, and then they can go to the pasture.’
Chapter Eight
The short walk was a delight and made Maria feel at peace with the world for a few minutes, but it was suddenly spoilt by neighing horses bringing to mind the threat to her own beloved Chance. Her eyes clouded at the inevitable certainty of her loss.
At the sound of voices, most of the twenty four highly indulged equine residents had appeared inquisitively at the open-topped stable doors. It was immediately obvious they enjoyed expert care under the watchful eye of Phillip Carter. One by one, they were visited, appraised, and patted, as Maria and her grandfather were led down the line of immaculate stables, the stable lads acknowledging the visitors without speaking out of turn.
‘This is 'Ginger', my head lad; he’s a blessing.’ The boy’s face showed how much he appreciated Phillip's remarks.
‘Will that be all, sir?’ the red-haired lad enquired.
‘Yes, thanks. My guests have seen all the horses so we'll go to my office now.’ Phillip paused and stole a searching glance at Maria before moving on. ‘That lad’s dedicated, does a good job here, and I'm fortunate to have him.’
‘I’m impressed,’ Maria said simply, as she looked into the hazel eyes fixed on her. She took a deep breath of the clean hill-top air, full of the essence of summer, to quiet the flutter she felt under Phillip's intense gaze. She was impressed in more ways than one, yet still not enjoying the pleasure she could have done under normal circumstances.
Overwhelmed by the surroundings, and by now far more impressed by Phillip Carter than she cared to admit, Maria noticed the last box was empty, and glanced enquiringly at Phillip. ‘I thought you were full.’
‘We were full until a few days ago, but I advised the owner to withdraw his horse.’ Phillip shook his head. ‘I won't take payment for no results, and that animal wasn't genuine. It was a waste of the man's money, and my time.’ He spoke firmly, ‘but it's no problem to fill it, I have a waiting list.’
Maria nodded with understanding, but as he passed the stable door he tapped it. ‘I'd like to see My Chance in that box.’
Maria jerked up with a sharp intake of breath as Phillip Carter’s words shot a pain of dread across her chest. His words had been like a glancing blow, reminding her again of her greatest fear. She closed her eyes, wishing everything around would disappear. She wished that if she opened her eyes she would find herself back in time without any Phillip Carter. Wishful thoughts speeded through her mind; she wanted to be without his threat to her horse, wanted her dear Dad still around, wanted no financial problems, and wanted to be happy knowing that Chance would be with her to the end of his days.
She opened her eyes to reality. Everything was the same and she felt sick in the pit of her stomach. Phillip's remark had been a reminder of the predicament she and Gramps were in. She turned to him defiantly. ‘I daresay you would, but it’s not what I would like.’ She threw Gramps a warning glance when she realised he was about to speak, and turned abruptly back to Phillip Carter.
‘I’m not aware of what my grandfather has told you, but I think you should know that the final decision over My Chance's future is mine.’ She tossed her head. ‘I can't go into details about it now,’ she said, with an edge to her tone, and feeling somewhat pleased at Phillip Carter's surprised look.
Gramps stood silently by, scuffling his foot on the ground like an admonished schoolboy. No way was she going to allow Phillip Carter to think it would be easy to get ownership of her beloved Chance. Moreover, she felt much happier for having spoken up, even though it must have embarrassed Gramps. She consoled herself that eventually Carter would have to know the colt was hers, and although she was satisfied at having told him, she felt utterly dejected to think that they were no nearer a solution to finding the money any other way.
Phillip Carter remained silent, obviously not wishing to become involved in family differences. After what seemed like an eternity, Gramps cleared his throat to speak. ‘Maria's quite right. Chance is hers, but I thought maybe she would consider selling him for the right price.’
Maria’s lips firmed, annoyed at Gramps’ perseverance, but she s
aid no more, accepting this was not the time or place to enter into a heated discussion, which she knew it would be. Different thoughts raced through her mind as she glanced around, but for all sorts of reasons she wanted to go home now. As for Chance coming here, Phillip Carter can go on wanting; he’s not getting him.
Maria knew Phillip was unaware of the particular reason for her strong attachment to the colt, yet some considerable animosity towards him had returned when he mentioned his aspirations to own Chance. What he had just said only served to make her more determined to explore every possible avenue to find a way of keeping her beloved horse. She searched her mind, and quietly planned her next move.
Charles Cable wanted to know everything about the achievements of the horses in training at Colacomby, and rattled on with questions. ‘And is this Lily's Love, the one in the same race as Gary's horse, Lucy's Lad?’
‘It is,’ Phillip said, calling to Ginger to bring the horse out.
‘He looks well,’ Gramps said, as the animal was walked around the yard. ‘And is Deepweir in this line of boxes as well?’
Phillip nodded, and made a quick gesture to the lad outside the stable to bring out the other horse due to run at Chepstow races.
Although Maria was interested in Lucy's Lad as the opposition, she was far too preoccupied with her own thoughts to be over attentive.
‘Come along,’ Phillip's voice called cheerfully, as she walked disconsolately a few paces behind them. ‘You've seen all the horses; now I'd like to show you my office. It's just up here.’ He pointed to the first of the second row of boxes, and led the way. ‘Please, come in.’ He threw open the door to a spacious office, tastefully furnished. Those two easy chairs must be for owners to sink into when being told how much it will cost to have their horse in training, Maria thought. She noticed the leather topped desk was neat and orderly, with letters and papers all tidily stacked in racks and trays. There was no chaos. He must be busy with all this to control, so he either has a secretary, or he’s one ultra-efficient businessman, she concluded, her eyes glancing over the photographs of various successful horses.