“Perhaps the gamekeeper?”
He scratched his head. “Unlikely, miss. Haven’t heard of a rodent problem, or a rogue fox. But we’ve had some funny happenings here, that we have. The young woman killing herself that way. Strung up she was from the lowest branch of that big oak in the glade.” He nudged his head in the direction of the wood. “The gamekeeper found her. Very upset he was, poor fellow.” He replaced his cap. “No idea what that light would be needed for. Best you ask his lordship.”
Vanessa returned to the house. She had no intention of raising it with Lord Falconbridge. He may well think she was interfering in things that didn’t concern her.
The pervading gloom of Falconbridge Hall’s shuttered rooms failed to dampen Vanessa’s spirits. It was the thought of riding a horse which struck fear into her heart. She hardly touched her lunch, and her stomach rumbled while she changed into her divided skirt. There was no point in wishing she had something smarter to wear.
Her hope that his lordship would be unable to join them had been dashed when he’d assured her at lunch of his intention. As she’d picked nervously at her food, he said he was looking forward to it.
Looking forward to it indeed! He seemed determined to see her on a horse. She supposed he wished her to accompany Blythe in his absence.
At the stables, Lovel threw her up into the saddle. Vanessa tried not to shrink from the touch of his large hands. He eyed her derriere, and for a horrible moment, she thought he might touch her there. “Sit square on the horse, Miss Ashley. It’s bad for the beast otherwise.”
Vanessa grew hot beneath her hat. Her balance never failed her on a bicycle, but then she had complete control. Horses were unpredictable. She held the pommel and shifted slightly as Lovel adjusted the stirrup. His hand grabbed her boot, and she started at the familiarity of it.
“Keep your left ankle flexed and the heel down,” he said, bending it.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly.
He handed her the whip. “Hold it in your right hand, and it’s just for urging, not punishment.”
“I have no intention of hurting Flora.” She only hoped that was Flora’s intention for her.
He stood back and nodded with a sly grin. Did he sense how much he unnerved her? Or did he think all women would fall for his charm? She could read very little in those black eyes before he turned away. She drew in the reins and turned Flora’s head. “Walk on.” The horse trotted obediently after the others.
On the bridle path, Lord Falconbridge reined in beside her while Blythe cantered ahead. “This is the best path to take when you ride with Blythe,” he said. “I wouldn’t want her persuading you to go too far.”
“I wouldn’t care for that either, my lord.” She bounced uncomfortably along beside him held spellbound by his vivid blue eyes.
His expression was often preoccupied and distant, but today, his eyes held a hint of compassion. He must have noticed how awkward and unsure of herself she was on a horse.
“Lean back,” he advised as the horse walked down a slope to cross a shallow stream.
Vanessa grabbed the pommel and gasped as gravity pulled her forward. She did as he instructed, afraid she was about to tumble over the horse’s head. They reached the bottom, and Flora splashed across to the other side.
“That’s it.” He rode alongside her. “You’ll get the hang of it quickly enough.”
Once they’d climbed up the opposite bank, they reached a level path. Relieved, she grew confident that Flora knew exactly what to do if she didn’t. There was no sign of Blythe ahead of them. He rode ahead to the next turn in the path then returned.
Flora plodded along. Vanessa could sense his lordship’s impatience building. She hoped it wasn’t at her, but if so, there was little she could do about it.
Finally, he said, “I’d best go and see where Blythe has got to.”
He rode effortlessly away on his beautiful Arab stallion, the color of honey. Vanessa watched him go. Anxiety at being left to cope on her own tightened her chest. Despite her sense of abandonment, she couldn’t help admiring the elegant triangle formed by his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and hips. He looked good in the saddle, rising, and falling in rhythm with his horse’s gait. It made her feel even worse.
Flora continued to amble along at a sedate pace, and as the horse showed no inclination to go any faster, Vanessa’s confidence grew. She began to enjoy herself. The sun warmed her back. The pine-scented air was pleasant, and the banks of rhododendrons had a carpet of spent crimson and purple blooms at their feet. Birds chirped in the trees.
The path forked into two and there was no clear sign of which trail the other two riders had taken.
“Whoa! Hold up, girl.” Flora ignored her entreaties and continued down the right fork.
Through a break in the trees, she observed the other path meandering onto a meadow. Vanessa shrugged; perhaps Flora knew more than she did. She let the horse have her way.
Five minutes passed into ten, and she found herself in the woods with no sign of his lordship or Blythe. Surely, they would ride back soon to join her.
The thicket of trees blotted out the sky, and bushes narrowed the path. Ordinarily she enjoyed being in the woods, but perhaps because of what had taken place here, she couldn’t wait to leave. It was ominously quiet. She shivered. “This can’t be the way, Flora.” She pulled on the reins. Flora ignored her. Raising her voice, she pulled again using more force. “Stop, girl. We have to go back.”
A shot ricocheted through the trees, frightening a flock of wood pigeons. They rose up as one and exploded into the sky.
Flora pricked up her ears and took off at a gallop. Vanessa almost slid off the saddle. She struggled to keep hold of the reins with her left hand and the pommel with her right. It was an uncomfortable position, and she was sure she couldn’t hold it for long. “Whoa, whoa girl!”
Gasping in distress with her thighs and back aching, Vanessa finally succeeded in pulling Flora up. While considering what to do next, her whip fell to the ground. There was no way she was climbing off to get it. She could have cried with frustration for the horse now showed no inclination to go in either direction, lowering her head to crop a patch of grass. “Flora, please!” Vanessa did everything she could think of to get the horse moving.
“Ye are lost, miss?”
She started at the voice.
Lovel walked toward her. His shirt had come open almost to the waist, revealing a thick mat of black hair on his brown chest. He carried a shotgun over his shoulder. A bloody, dead rabbit swung from one hand. His dark eyes unfathomable.
Vanessa shifted on the saddle. “I appear to be. I lost sight of his lordship and must have taken a wrong path.” She stared down at him, disliking being alone with the man in this isolated place.
He bent and retrieved her whip, handing it to her. His gaze roamed over her again in that unsettling arrogant manner one would not expect to find in a humble groom. “They would have ridden over the meadow. His lordship doesn’t like the woods. Not after the lady’s death.”
He shrugged as if it was a matter of indifference to him that some poor woman had ended her life somewhere amongst these trees.
It made Vanessa even more determined to ride away, but no amount of tapping and tugging made the slightest difference to Flora. “I’m afraid Flora doesn’t respect my authority,” she was forced to admit.
“Not good for a governess,” he said with a sly smile. “You have to teach a mare who is the master.” He made no move toward her, however. She suspected he enjoyed her discomfiture.
“Could you assist me then, Lovel?” Vanessa tried to keep the impatience out of her voice.
Lovel had only to raise his hand, and Flora stopped chewing to watch him. He seized the bridle, backed the horse up, and turned her.
“Do as you’re told, Flora.” He slapped the mare on the rump.
Flora whinnied with indignation. She took off at a fast clip back the way they’d com
e.
Grinding her teeth, Vanessa held on grimly as Lovel’s laugh sounded behind her. She doubted she could stop Flora now that horse had the bit between her teeth. They dashed along, bushes grabbing at Vanessa’s clothing and a low branch almost knocking off her hat. She dared not consider what the branch might have done to her head had she not had the presentiment to duck.
“Easy girl. Slow down.” Vanessa rasped out her infuriatingly weak command as her throat tightened with fear. She almost cried out with relief when she spied his lordship and Blythe waiting on the trail ahead, but it was short lived. It soon appeared that Flora was going to gallop right past them.
As she raced by, Lord Falconbridge angled his horse alongside and grabbed her reins.
“Whoa!” Flora gave in to his masculine command without a fight.
Vanessa was so angry she could have spit. She sagged weakly in the saddle.
Lord Falconbridge grabbed her arm. “Are you, all right? Not faint? It appears that you lost us, Miss Ashley.”
Struggling for breath, Vanessa stared at Lord Falconbridge, imperious in his riding clothes, his boots polished like mirrors. She felt so unattractive and inept she could have wept. “Or you lost me, my lord,” she bit back.
“Quite so,” he said mildly. “I didn’t like to ask too much of you this first time and left you to go at your own speed. Perhaps I shouldn’t have done so.”
“If you’d mentioned which path to take, I would have followed happily behind you,” she said, knowing full well Flora would still have taken the other trail, for once the horse made up her mind there was no deterring her. Vanessa was positive the horse was half-mule.
Blythe rode over to her. “Are you all right, Miss Ashley?” she asked anxiously. “Your cheeks are very red.”
“Just a bit hot from the ride, Blythe.” She glanced at Lord Falconbridge. She felt sure his lips twitched. “I hope I didn’t cut short your outing.”
“Oh, no. We had a grand gallop,” Blythe said. “Didn’t we, Father?” She gazed adoringly up at him.
“We did indeed, my dear.” Did he have the grace to look a little contrite before he guided his horse toward home?
“Thankfully, I met Lovel, returning from a spot of hunting, and he helped me.” She rather hoped it would add to Lord Falconbridge’s guilt, but he turned to scowl at her.
“Hunting?”
“Only a rabbit,” she said mildly.
His jaw tightened, and he rode on ahead.
Vanessa watched him curiously as she and Blythe followed behind at a more sedate pace.
Lord Falconbridge entered the stable yard as she and Blythe clattered across the cobbles behind him.
Lovel was skinning the rabbit. Lord Falconbridge dismounted as Lovel washed his hands at the pump. “I thought I told you not to shoot a rifle in the wood without permission.”
Lovel wiped his hands on his coat and, with a slight bow of his head, took the reins.
“Sorry, my lord. I couldn’t find the gamekeeper to ask him. Thought no one would mind.”
“Well, I mind. Don’t we feed you enough?”
Lovel grinned. “It’s not about the food, your lordship.”
“What is it then?”
“I’m keeping my hand in. In case I need to fend for myself one of these days.”
“You may be fending for yourself sooner than you think if you keep flouting my authority,” Lord Falconbridge said with a frown.
“Sorry, my lord.” Lovel touched his cap and led Achilles to his stall.
He helped his daughter dismount.
Lovel returned and walked over to Vanessa. “You stayed on the horse all right, Miss Ashley.”
“No thanks to you, Lovel. You hit Flora too hard, and she took off at a gallop,” she replied when he set her on her feet.
“I knew you’d stay on her. You’ll make a fine rider one day.”
“There you are, Miss Ashley,” Blythe cried. “If Lovel says such a thing, it must be right. He knows everything about horses.”
“Then I thank you, Lovel,” Vanessa said crisply. She brushed down her skirts. “Come along, Miss Blythe, we have arithmetic awaiting us.” She ushered the child toward the house.
“Are you coming too, Father?” Blythe called.
Vanessa turned to see him watching them with a smile. “You go. I want to consult the estate manager.”
***
As Julian made his way to the estate manager’s office, instead of matters of business, he found he was thinking about the new governess. She had spirit. He had been impressed with her conscientious attitude to her work with Blythe and should tell her so. When she challenged him with those serious green eyes of hers, he suffered from a desire to tease her. To make her laugh. He suspected she would have a nice laugh. He would have to watch that, he didn’t want to lose another governess. And she’d handled Lovel rather well.
The thought of Lovel wiped the grin from his face. Damned man never could obey orders, but he was brilliant with horses and his care of Julian’s prize Arab stallion was first class.
As Julian entered the estate office Davison jumped up. Startled no doubt by his black expression. “My lord?”
Chapter Five
Staff bustled through the house preparing for the social evening to be held at the Hall, complete with music.
Blythe took Vanessa into the ballroom where the musicians’ instruments had been set up. Large urns of fragrant flowers and potted ferns decorated every corner. White linen cloths covered tables stacked with plates and glasses, silver, and crystal dishes. Dozens of chairs lined the walls.
“I wish Father would let me come down to watch the dancing,” Blythe said wistfully.
His lordship had not issued an invitation to Vanessa, and she was glad of it. She had nothing suitable to wear, and even if she did, she wouldn’t wish to lurk in corners and be the subject of gossip and speculation.
“Do you like to dance, Miss Ashley?” Blythe left her to dance alone, gliding away gracefully over the polished floor.
“I do,” Vanessa called. “But I doubt I’m as good as you.”
Blythe ran over and took her hands. “Come and dance with me.”
They moved across the floor as Vanessa concentrated on her steps with her father’s words ringing in her ears when he’d attempted to teach her at fourteen. Two left feet.
The sound of clapping made them stop. Vanessa swung round, hot with embarrassment. Lord Falconbridge stood at the door. “Very nice,” he said, walking toward them.
“Will you dance with me, Father?” “Without music?”
“I’ll hum.”
“Very well.” He smiled and took her hands, and they waltzed around the floor. Vanessa admired them both with an artist’s eye, as her father would do. Nature had blessed them with perfect proportions. The length of neck and limb and the symmetry of their bodies would fit the Greek ideal of beauty.
Blythe dropped her hands. “Dance with Miss Ashley, Father.”
Vanessa stiffened. “Heavens no.”
“We can’t dance without music,” he said.
Blythe pouted. “You danced with Miss Lillicrop.”
His eyes widened. “How do you know that, minx?”
“I saw you on the terrace from my window. She told you she’d never waltzed, and then you danced with her.”
He chucked Blythe under the chin. “You may stay up late tonight. Miss Ashley will bring you down. I’ll dance with her tonight, if she agrees.”
Despite Blythe’s delight, Vanessa’s chest tightened in distress. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’ve brought no evening clothes with me.”
“Clothes are of no consequence,” he said. “What you usually wear is perfectly acceptable.”
Just like a man, she thought furiously, placing a hand on her linen skirt.
He caught her gesture and paused. “You both can remain on the terrace and enjoy the music if the evening remains warm. I believe there will be ice cream.”
Gratitu
de and relief flooded through her, which proved short-lived.
“I’ll come to fetch you for that dance after ten,” he said, obviously enjoying himself.
“If you wish, my lord,” she said, aware that her response lacked poise. She turned her back after catching the gleam in his eye. What did it matter what a governess wore? But the prospect of dancing with him was unsettling. To have him so close, his hand at her waist. What had Miss Lillicrop thought of it? Did it have something to do with her leaving so suddenly?
While Blythe remained with her father, Vanessa went down to the servants’ quarters to offer her services. She hoped to put her relationship with the staff on a better footing, after a difficult beginning.
The kitchen was a huge room with an enormous range, belching out a considerable amount of heat. Copper pans and dried herbs swung from hooks on the beams above. The scent of vanilla fought with rosemary and the gamey aroma of meat. The area was a hive of activity with servants coming and going in a rush.
“Cook’s just stepped out, Miss Ashley,” Dorcas said. “She’ll be back in a moment.”
Vanessa smiled. “Then I’ll wait.” She watched the two girls hard at work. “I’ve come to offer my help.”
“You’ll have to ask Cook or Mrs. Royce, Miss Ashley,” Molly said.
Remaining out of their way, Vanessa watched their efficient movements. “Why isn’t there a footman at Falconbridge Hall?”
“The pantry boy, Jeremy, serves as footman on occasion.” Molly giggled. “We had a strappin’ handsome fellow, but his lordship dismissed him.”
“Be careful, Molly,” Dorcas said. “If Cook hears you…”
“Stuff and nonsense, Dorcas.” Molly raised a defiant eyebrow. “It’s common knowledge that Baines kept ogling her ladyship. Some said she encouraged it.”
“Her ladyship was mistress here, Molly. And you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” Dorcas said, her eye on the opening door.
The Mystery at Falconbridge Hall Page 5