“All we will have missed,” Mr. Carver said with a smile, “is the work: lifting down baskets of food andspreading blankets. I think it clever of you, Miss Primrose,to have thought of that.” He shook with quiet laughter sothat Rebecca feared for a moment that he might fall fromhis horse’s back.
Primrose giggled. “You and I will do our share of the work later when it comes time to eat, Mr. Carver,” shesaid conspiratorially, and he actually winked at her fromabove his high and sharp shirt points, Rebecca noticedwith some amusement.
They had indeed missed most of the fuss and bluster of the arrival, they found when they caught up to the otherson the riverbank. Lord Holmes, it was true, was still onhis feet, instructing his coachman to move his blanket yetagain so that it would remain in the shadow of a large treeeven when the sun shifted its position. The site that hadoriginally been chosen for him, Mrs. Sinclair explainedsotto voceto Rebecca and her girls, had been well shadedbut too much exposed to the wind. And they all knew howdelicate his lordship’s health was, poor soul.
“What wind, Mama?” Primrose asked tactlessly and rather too loudly.
Harriet was impatient to walk. “I have always loved the old stone bridge,” she said wistfully, gazing upstream tothe single-arched structure over the river that made this particular site so picturesque. “There is such a delightfulview from the center of it, and such a lovely walk throughthe trees on the opposite bank. Do let us take a walk.”She smiled generally around the group, though her eyeslingered rather longer on Christopher than on any of theothers. She twirled the blue parasol that matched perfectlythe blue of the cornflowers in her bonnet and complemented the paler blue of her light summer dress. Shepresented a very pretty picture against the swift-flowingwaters of the river.
Christopher smiled. “I should be delighted to accompany you, ma’am,” he said. “I am in the mood for exercise. Will you take my arm?”
Harriet smiled with delight, though the smile faded slightly when Mr. Bartlett got to his feet and turned toEllen. “Shall we join them, Miss Sinclair?” he asked,bringing a blush to the girl’s cheeks by bowing in courtlyfashion before her and smiling warmly.
“Come on, Carver,” Christopher said, grinning back at his friend, who was already reclining indolently beneath atree. “It would do you good to take to your feet too. Giveus a chance to convince you that the countryside has asmuch to offer in the way of entertainment as the city.”
“I could be entertained just as well sitting b’neath this tree,” Mr. Carver grumbled. But he pulled himself to hisfeet. He sighed and glanced wistfully in the direction ofthe blanket on which Julian sprawled, looking less thandelighted with life, and turned to Rebecca. “Will you bearme company, Miss Shaw?” he asked. “You may takem’arm. I believe I can support you through the ordeal of acountry walk.” He shook with laughter again.
The six of them strolled toward the bridge, Harriet tugging rather impatiently at her companion’s arm.
“I used to come here often when I was a child,” she said as they began to cross over the river, “with Julian.We used to try to fish from the bridge until we realized that the water was too fast flowing to make it possible to catch any.”
‘‘That was far more innocent than my favorite game when I was a boy,” Christopher said with a smile. “Weused to walk along the wall and try not to fall into thewater. It is amazing that we never did. We might haveended up with worse injury than a soaking.”
“Oh,” Ellen said, “I remember when you caught me and Julian doing that, Christopher, and gave us a thundering scold. You threatened to tell Papa if you ever caughtus at it again. You said it was very dangerous.”
“And so it is,” he said. “The stones on top of the wall are irregular and it is not too wide to start with. Add tothat the fact that it is not flat but continuously curved toform the arch and you have a pretty tricky walking surface. All children are mad daredevils. I suppose we become too staid and dull as we grow up. You see, all of usare perfectly content to cross the bridge sedately on theroadway.”
“Oh, I would do it,” Harriet cried, twirling her parasol behind her head and smiling gaily at her companions.“Does anyone dare join me?”
Ellen giggled. “Not me any longer,” she said. “I have learned wisdom with age. I always used to be petrified,anyway.”
Christopher smiled engagingly at Harriet. “I must admit you would make a remarkably pretty picture walkingacross,” he said. “But I cannot allow it.”
“Ah,” she said, smiling brilliantly and giving the parasol another twirl, “but I am not your sister, sir, and am not obliged to do as you say. Hold my parasol, please, Rebecca.I shall show you who is old and staid in this party.”Rebecca was seriously alarmed. She knew that onceHarriet got an idea into her head, it was very difficult todislodge it. “You really must not try, Harriet,” she said.“Indeed, it is very dangerous. And remember that yourpapa is looking on. He will be very distressed if he seeswhat you are about.”
“Pooh,” Harriet said. “Papa will be proud of me.” Before the paralyzed gaze of her five companions, Harriet ran lightly back to the end of the bridge, where thewall was low enough for her to get up on it despite thehampering influence of her long skirt. She held out herarms to the sides to get her balance and began to place onefoot after the other ahead of her up the uneven incline tothe center of the arch. The onlookers dared not move orsay a word once she had started for fear of startling herand pitching her into the fast-flowing waters below.
She walked even more slowly and carefully on the downward slope at the other side of the bridge. Twice shestopped altogether and had to make an effort to regain herbalance. But after what seemed like an age to those watching, she finally reached the other side and jumped downinto the roadway. She laughed with triumph and made anexaggerated curtsy to the five people still clustered at thebeginning of the bridge.
“Miss Shaw,” Christopher said, hurrying forward, “if you were my sister, I should give you the worst tonguelashing of your life. As it is, accept my compliments,ma’am. I am full of admiration.”
His voice was rather grim, Rebecca noticed, although he spoke lightly and was smiling at her cousin. Rebecca feltalmost limp with relief. She could cheerfully have shakenHarriet until her teeth rattled. Looking anxiously back tothe spot on the bank where the other members of the partywere gathered, she saw that they were all on their feetgazing at the bridge, including Uncle Humphrey.
“Now,” Harriet called gaily, “who said something about us all being staid and dull? I see only five such people!”
“Now there is a young lady,” Mr. Carver said toRebecca, “who needs a firm hand. A heavy hand, perhaps. Don’t she realize that Sinclair or Bartlett or I wouldhave been obliged t’jump in after her if she had fallen in?Selfish little hussy!”
Rebecca was surprised at the vehemence of his attack.But she held her peace. She felt that her cousin thoroughly deserved such censure.
“I think that was very foolish,” Ellen said, looking up at Mr. Bartlett. ‘‘Harriet is the same age as I, but Iconsider myself too old for such foolishness.”
He patted her hand, which was tucked through his arm. ‘‘Ah, yes, Miss Sinclair,” he said. “You are a very sweetand sensible young lady. I would be shocked to see youbehave like a daredevil. Of course,” he added, raising hisvoice just a little, “there is something very charming abouta lady who is willing to take a risk and dare the consequences. My compliments, Miss Shaw. I salute yourbravery.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” she replied, favoring him with a deep curtsy again and a dazzling smile.
“Perhaps we should walk on for a way,” Christopher suggested, “before it is time to turn back for tea. I hopethe pathway through the trees here has not become overgrown. It was always a place of great beauty, especially inthe autumn when the leaves are of all colors.”
His head turned rather jerkily toward Rebecca as he said the last words, and their eyes met. He flushed; she wassure she had not imagined it. She had certainly done soherself. It was a painful walk. It had been from the beginning. In a way she had almost been glad of the distractionof Harriet’s madness. The bridge and the path beyond ithad been one of their favorite retreats during those monthswhen they had been in love and planning a life together.They had used often to stand on the bridge, leaning on thestone wall and staring downstream.
