Thus attired, Dahlia set out from the barn hoping to encircle the mountain three times to the summit and back down again before dark. Happily ensconced in her own private escape with Talisman, she never would have imagined she would end the evening being carried back to Talbot Hall – unconscious.
-----
James crossed into the Quartermasters’ lands. After the Channel crossing and the long train ride from Dover, his body welcomed the physical exertion of the ride. The weather was noticeably warmer than when he had left Paris, but a delightful breeze and the air rushing past him as he cantered his horse across the landscape masked his body temperature until now. Stopping to get his bearings, he pulled at his cravat, the heat from his unaccustomed exertion rising up his neck. The tor that marked the center point of the Quartermasters’ lands rose on the horizon. He smiled, knowing good friends – and Dahlia – awaited him on the other side. With such an agreeable end to his journey in sight, James spurred on his horse.
He met the lowest trail that encircled the mountain on the northern face and wound his way around it to the southern side where he would enter the flatland on which stood the Talbot estate. As he neared this intersection, James reined the horse off the trail to a small, sunken glen with a small stream running through it. He dismounted and let his horse drink from the clear water. The sun was low on the horizon and the trees shadowed most of the weak rays. He felt the cool night air on his hot skin. Not wanting to arrive reeking of sweat and covered in the grime of his travels, he removed his vest, shirt, and cravat and tucked them in his saddle bag. Joining his horse at the stream, he splashed water on his face and savored the sensation of the cold water running down his neck and torso. His horse grazed nearby as goose bumps started to form on his skin from the cool air. He walked over to the horse to pull a clean shirt from his bags.
He heard hoof steps and squinted to make out the rider approaching on the trail. A large black horse was trotting towards him, going in and out of the light obscured by the trees. It looked like the Roma colt, which meant the rider was from Talbot Hall. First glance gave the impression that it was Tom, but the figure was somehow too small. Perhaps Michael, James thought, although he had never known the studious brother to ride much. Whoever it was, best to have a shirt on when they met. He pulled a clean white shirt from the bags and looked at it, dismayed. Despite it going in well folded, it came out rather crumpled after his ride. The horse and rider were approaching quickly, and he walked a few steps towards the trail and snapped the shirt in the air to straighten it.
The effect of his action was immediate. The black horse skidded to a stop and reared, kicking his front hooves out as if to stave off the evil white apparition that had suddenly appeared in the form of James’ shirt. The rider, to his credit, stayed on, but then the colt started prancing and bolted forward in a dark blur. As it went past James, it swerved to the opposite side of the trail to be away from the source of its fear, then corrected its course to the solid center of the trail. This set of maneuvers finally unseated the rider who landed on the opposite side of the trail from James.
It all happened so fast that James still stood there holding his shirt. He did not see anyone emerging from the other side of the trail. He dropped the shirt and ran to where the rider lay, face down on the grassy embankment. The figure was inert. James knelt down, not knowing exactly what to do. He knew it could be dangerous to move an injured person, but how else was he to ascertain if the person was just winded or seriously hurt? He tentatively laid a hand on the lad’s shoulder. No response. Not good. He put a hand on the neck to check for the heartbeat. He felt it strongly bumping up against his fingers. Good. He put one hand on the torso and the other on the opposite shoulder to try and roll the figure over. The torso was harder than he expected. He knew the Talbot brothers were fit from their work on the land, but he didn’t expect such musculature in an unconscious person.
Gently, he rolled the rider over on his back. The hat fell off and long red hair spilled out onto the grass and over James’ hand.
“Dahlia!” His shock turned to extreme concern as he gazed at her face, smudged by dirt but otherwise peaceful. She might have been sleeping. He cradled her head in the crook of his arm and gently wiped the dirt from her face. “Dahlia,” he said again, imploringly. “I’m so sorry.” He stroked her face, again without reaction.
He looked up and around. There was no one in sight. The colt was nowhere to be found, and James hoped it had made a beeline for the stable. If it did, someone would notice its return without a rider and send help. James could just see the last rays of sun through the trees and knew it would soon be dark. He could not wait until someone came to them; he had to move her. He went to pick her up and felt again the hard torso under his hand. A corset, of course – what he felt was the canvas stretched over whale bone stays. He looked again to her face. It was a beautiful face, even with the translucent green eyes closed. His little Dahlia had grown up while he was away. As he picked her up, the eye’s fluttered, closed, then opened.
Dahlia tried to focus but the light was low. As she floated between trees, the fading light illuminated the face above hers. “James,” she whispered, seeing two unbelievably blue eyes. Her hand felt like lead as she brought it towards the face that housed those eyes. It dropped onto his chest and Dahlia focused on her hand. It was against the warm skin of his chest that had droplets of water on it. How she wanted to run her hand over the muscles, but her hand would not obey. The disjointed sensations and pictures that reached her mind made no more sense than the fact that her body would not react to her mind’s commands. She was dreaming. That’s why she felt like she was floating. That’s why she was in James’ arms and he was bare-chested with dew drops on him. From somewhere far away she heard his music and she felt completely relaxed. She gave into the weight of her eyelids murmuring, “What a nice dream.”
Chapter 37
Later, Dahlia would remember seeing her father’s concerned face and him carrying her upstairs to her room. She remembered Matty undressing her and various voices talking about her, though what was said she could not recall. The next thing she knew, it was morning.
It was Wednesday morning to be exact, and she was having lunch with Lady Sweet. She lay in bed as the sun streamed in through the windows. It was going to be another beautiful spring day. She sat up and felt a pain at her temples. Images came to mind of James, and the colt, the mountain, and her father. She certainly had very weird dreams. She had once read that eating red meat could produce strange visions when one slept shortly thereafter. Odd, she couldn’t remember what they had had for dinner.
The clock on the mantel read six fifteen, a bit earlier than when she normally arose. That would explain the lack of Matty in her room with tea. It was uncanny how the woman would usually walk in just minutes after she woke.
She dressed herself in a cream-colored dress with olive green accents that she knew was one of Lady Sweet’s favorites. When Matty still didn’t appear, she did her hair the best she could and went down to breakfast. She could hear voices in the dining room. An early morning for more than herself, apparently.
She walked in the room and saw her father and brothers, Matty, and Glenda leaning over to serve someone else.
“Dahlia!” Her father beamed at her. “How are you my dear?”
Glenda stood up to get a look at her and Dahlia saw James seated behind a plate filled with more food than one person should be able to eat.
“Mr. Kent!” she exclaimed, surprised.
James stood up and bowed to her. His appearance was so unexpected that she didn’t even remember to curtsy. She dreamt him and here he was! He walked over to where she stood in the doorway, taking in her grown up dress and all the changes in her since he had been here a year ago. He was smiling, his eyes full of mischief. He came over to take her hand, which he kissed lightly. “I’m glad to see you recovered.”
“Recovered?”
“According to Dr. Chase, you were
concussed. Don’t you remember?” said Michael.
Concussed? With everyone looking at her, it started to come back. Voices in her room. Probably Dr. Chase and her father. Her father carrying her, and before that James. She had been in James’ arms! Before that, she only remembered riding the colt in the mountain until…. Her head snapped up and she looked at James. “It was you!”
James bowed his head at her accusation.
“What on earth were you doing waving a white flag at a young horse? Are you crazy?”
“It was a shirt, actually,” James replied calmly, leading her to the table. Obviously, everyone else had heard the story. Dahlia blushed slightly. A shirt. His shirt. She hadn’t dreamt his physical appearance, then. A flush of anger rose up her neckline to meet the blush.
She pulled her hand out of his and looked at her father. “Talisman?”
Her brother Tom replied. “He should be ashamed, but, alas, he showed absolutely no remorse in leaving you on the mountain, racing back to the barn, and stealing hay from the wagon.”
Mollified somewhat to know that her precious charge was well, Dahlia let James seat her at the table, but only for the benefit of good manners. She was still furious. As soon as James sat down next to her, she rounded on him. “I hope you had the decency to be ashamed. Why were you waving a shirt at us? You could have killed me, or worse, injured Talisman.”
James glanced quickly at the Squire, who smiled at his daughter’s priorities. Looking back at her to answer her question, James admitted, “It was the most unfortunate timing that you came across me as I was trying to change into a clean shirt. I am mortified that my actions would cause you harm.”
The sincere manner of his apology took most of the fight out of her.
“I should think you did him more harm,” joked Tom. “He carried you all the way down to the house from the trail. It’s a wonder he can raise his arms today.”
Dahlia glared at her brother. “Well, at least he didn’t leave me on the mountain. No doubt you would have!”
Tom just laughed and reached for the meat platter. The table was quiet for several moments. None of the men seemed uncomfortable with the silence, but Dahlia felt very self-conscious next to James. “How was Paris?” she asked.
“It was,” he began, searching for the right word. “Highly instructional.” Tom laughed and Dahlia guessed there was more to that response than he would expound on in mixed company. “I have worked in the company of two exceptional architects. Mark my words, you’ll hear more of Gustave Eiffel. He is revolutionary in his use of steel, and his constructions will last for centuries. I am glad to be home, though.” He meant Talbot Hall as much as he meant Britain.
“Tom didn’t tell us to expect you,” Dahlia said, looking from her brother to James who, in turn, looked at Tom.
“What?” Tom said, surprised. “Father knew.” He looked from James to Dahlia. “I’m sure I mentioned it to you.”
“I’m sure I would have remembered,” countered Dahlia.
James smiled at the sibling bantering. Feeling responsible for the tension between them, he tried to change the subject. “You are not dressed for riding today, Miss Talbot.”
“No, I wasn’t going to ride, even if I hadn’t been thrown by a spooked horse.” James smiled at the dig. “I am to have lunch with Lady Sweet.”
“Please give her my regards and tell her I look forward to seeing her again.”
“Will you join me? Lady Sweet would not stand on ceremony for not having invited you personally – especially when she could not have known you were coming,” she said pointedly to her brother.
Her father answered her instead. “Mr. Kent will be joining your brothers and me in meeting the other Quartermasters today.”
“Oh?”
“We’re going to Cirencester. We’ll drop you off when we pick up Sir Randal.”
“Mysterious men’s day in town?”
“No more mysterious than whatever you women do all the time,” Tom teased.
Dahlia laughed. “Indeed, our lunches or teas are so mysterious you must have a secret handshake to get in the parlor.”
“What’s mysterious?” asked Michael, who came into the dining room as the others were finishing up their breakfast.
“All you men going to town today,” said Dahlia.
“Only thing mysterious about that is that Mr. Standford arranged it,” answered Michael nonchalantly.
“Mr. Standford? Is Edward going, too?”
“I think so,” offered Tom.
The little line between Dahlia’s brows appeared. That was mysterious.
Chapter 38
Dahlia spent an enjoyable day with her friend and little Randy, who seemed to be growing in all directions. He was travelling in all directions, too, and Dahlia laughed as his mother tried to chase him all over the parlor.
“Since he learned to walk on his own, he is everywhere at once!” Lady Sweet caught her son and whisked him up in her arms and carried him back to the elegant seating arrangement where Dahlia poured the tea. The moment she set him down, he raced off again with a gleeful screech proclaiming his escape. “Brianna?” she called.
The young governess entered the room so quickly Dahlia suspected she had been waiting just outside in the hallway. “Yes, ma’am?”
Sharon smiled. “It appears we should have sent Randy off with the men. The moment they can walk, they rail against the confines of the parlor and the cultured civility of afternoon tea. Would you oblige my son and take him to the nursery where he can race around without fear of smashing my mother’s tea service?”
The governess bobbed. “It is a fine day, Lady Sweet. Perhaps you’d allow me to take Master Randy out to see the new lambs?”
“LAM! LAM!” cried Randy. All three women laughed.
“Yes, yes!” agreed Lady Sweet fervently. “Do take him to the far field. It might be the only way we get him to take his nap today!”
The governess herded her charge out of the parlor and his excited cries of ‘LAM!’ continued until he was out of the house.
“We shall have to be on the lookout for a suitable pony for him soon,” mused Dahlia, excited at the prospect of teaching the little boy how to ride.
“Perhaps you could start with music lessons and transform those screeches into palatable tones.” Dahlia laughed. “He has learned the joy of saying ‘no’ and the disappointment of hearing it. He wailed so yesterday when I told him he could not open the curio and play with the china figurines – a reasonable restriction from my point of view – that I thought he would crack the window panes. He is a child with momentous lung capacity. An apt student for you, I daresay.”
Dahlia shook her head. “You would not do that to me.”
“No,” she admitted. “I do love you too much to be the cause of torturing your ears – and your nerves. Nothing to be done but lock him in the cellar until he is full grown.” Dahlia laughed again and almost spilled her tea.
“Mr. Kent is looking well from his travels,” Sharon opened.
Dahlia’s face flushed as she thought of how he looked without a shirt. “Yes,” was all she said.
It took a considerable amount of prodding, but soon Sharon had heard the details of how Dahlia had been reacquainted with James on the mountain trail after their year of not seeing one another.
“Well, of course I am sorry you took a fall,” Sharon commented. “But it is sort of romantic, don’t you think? Him carrying you all the way down the mountain?”
“Romantic?” Dahlia cried, her tone approaching little Randy’s screeches. “Chivalrous, perhaps, but one would hardly expect less given the circumstances.”
“No. Quite right,” Sharon agreed, because she was Dahlia’s friend, but she noted the blush in her friend’s cheeks. “How long is he staying?”
“A little over a week - through the Roma fair.”
Sharon thought she heard disappointment in the way this answer was given. “So short a visit?”
“Yes.” Dahlia frowned. “I take it he didn’t tell his uncle he was back in England and stopping here first.”
“From what little he has mentioned of his uncle and from what we observed at the Cirencester Ball, they are not very close at all. More like strangers than family.”
“That’s hard for me to imagine. But I suppose they really are more strangers than anything. He rarely saw his uncle growing up. He does speak very warmly about his mother’s family in Scotland, though. They have a castle, you know.”
Sharon smiled. This seemed to impress her young friend. “They tend to be very drafty.”
Dahlia laughed. “But they are romantic.”
“You are singular, my dear. A handsome young man carrying you down a mountain is not romantic to you, but a cold stone structure with smoky fires is.”
Dahlia laughed at her own opinions. “Lucky for me he offers both!”
She surprised herself by her words and looked up to see Lady Sweet looking at her over her china teacup, one eyebrow arched.
“So, what are the men doing today?” she asked, trying to cover her embarrassment.
“Since Randal would not tell me – and since Mr. Standford arranged this little get together, I’ve no doubt they went to the men’s club and will be indulging in liquor, stinky cigars, and gambling!”
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