Rebecca’s stomach knotted at the sight, and jealousy slithered through her. She turned Ladybird’s head, hoping to ride away before anyone saw her there.
Suddenly an all-too-familiar voice shouted, “Becky!”
John. He stood at the edge of the clearing. Through the trees, she saw their father waiting in the gig on the road beyond.
“Papa says come here—now! You are not allowed to ride alone!”
Mortification flooded her. To be chastised like a little girl, and a naughty one at that, in front of these two elegant adults...
She urged Ladybird on, kicking the horse’s sides as she almost never did, wishing she could disappear.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Frederick turn in her direction, but she kept her head down and urged the horse to go faster, even as the stubborn creature stretched its neck to steal a lusty bite of grass.
Rebecca vaguely heard low feminine laughter and Frederick’s voice call after her, but she rode on, face flaming.
Later, Frederick had come to the vicarage, but Rebecca, too embarrassed to face him, hid in a niche in the garden wall, where a flowering elderberry shrub sheltered her from view.
She heard her father talking to him on the porch. Frederick’s low words were indecipherable, but her father’s voice—projecting loudly after years of sermon-making—was perfectly clear and painful to hear.
“Don’t take it to heart,” he said. “Becky has a case of calf-love—that’s all. And that was before you offered her the use of that horse! No, no. I don’t blame you. You have been verykind to her but have done nothing improper. Just a young girl’s romantic fancies...”
Frederick said something else that Rebecca did not hear.
“Congratulations!” her father replied. “Who is the fortunate woman? Miss Seward? Ah yes. Lovely lady.”
The men talked for a few minutes longer while Rebecca remained in her hidden bower and silently wept.
———
Sitting there now, Rebecca felt like that awkward, eager adolescent all over again.
She heard the approach of jingling tack and glanced over. Robb Tarvin had returned in his fly. Reining in his horse there on the drive, he looked from her to the retreating rider. “Still pining after Frederick Wilford, I see.”
She raised her chin and said coolly, “Good day to you too, Mr. Tarvin.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I saw you, you know.”
Her heart thudded hard and her mouth went dry. “Saw me?” Rebecca rose and turned to face him.
He tied off the reins, alighted, and walked closer. “I could hardly believe it. You—masquerading like that.”
Perspiration heated then chilled her. She wet her lips and said, “Robb, I ... I can’t explain, but I had good reasons.”
“Oh sure. And I can just guess at your reasons. Sir Frederick and Thomas Wilford. That’s fine company for the daughter of their former tutor.”
“Wait. What?” Confusion addled her mind. Had she misunderstood?
“I saw you through the refectory window. Having dinner with them the other night, all cozy like.”
Relief flooded her. “Oh! Yes. They invited me to join them.No doubt out of respect for my father’s memory. Sir Frederick was always fond of him.”
“But your father was fond ofme—saidIwas the cleverest lad in the village.”
She had never told Robb that, even though her parents admired his thirst for learning, they had discouraged her from pursuing a relationship with the young man.
When Robb had tried to court her when she was seventeen, she had ignored his overtures as long as she could, purposely misinterpreting his flirtation as a continuation of their friendship. Eventually, he had grown frustrated and tried to kiss her, and she’d had to push him away and tell him she had no romantic interest in him, that while she appreciated his friendship, there could be nothing more between them.
He had been angry and resentful, and she’d felt terrible for hurting him. At his disapproving expression now, all those uncomfortable feelings came rushing back.
