“No, actually. Our father taught us both to ride as children but I got as much practice as I could when I had to go and live in Hamilton Hall.”
Lionel dismounted with grace and no little elan. He reached up to Cecilia and she took his hands and allowed him to pull her from the saddle. She dissolved into giggles as, after sliding from the saddle, she found herself swept into his arms and carried across the hilltop.
“Oh, what is it about Hamilton that encouraged you to ride? Are your aunt and uncle keen riders?” Lionel inquired.
“No, it gave me an opportunity to get away from them. I took every opportunity to get out of the house. When I could steal a horse, I would ride to Upton or Langley Marsh. Even as far as Windsor. But Uncle Rupert saw me ride out one day and forbade me access to the stables. Any of the staff who turned a blind eye faced the sack. I could not have that on my conscience so I took to walking everywhere. But by that time I’d had many hours of practice on horseback. I devised the system of cutting and sewing my skirts with the help of a seamstress I met in Colnbrook. Agatha, her name was,” Cecilia explained, smiling as she regarded him from against his steely chest.
Lionel placed her on her feet under the boughs of an oak that presided over the rest of the crops, which mostly consisted of hawthorn and hazel. He was frowning.
“You do not speak much of your time in Hamilton. I did not realize your family was so cruel.”
“I do not even think of them as family any longer,” Cecilia confessed. “Rupert was my father’s brother but Margaret is no blood kin of mine. And I cannot even blame her for the wayRupert is. I always remember him as a cold fish. Obsessed with his wallet.”
“He charged a pretty penny in dowry for you, so he is obviously a fair judge of value,” Lionel said, unsmiling.
Cecilia looked at him, momentarily outraged until she saw the smile break across his face. She slapped his chest with a gloved hand and his grin broadened. When he smiled from genuine happiness, it lit up his face, illuminating his eyes and giving him an energy that was infectious. She found that she could not help but mirror that smile when she saw it.
“So, where is it you have brought me?” she asked, looking around for the first time.
The slope they had climbed was long and gentle but the view from the oak was much steeper. Far below she could see the glittering band of a river, presumably the Thames. The landscape was a patchwork of greens, dotted with woods here and there. She could see villages and towns laid out like miniature models of real places. Lionel pointed to the right.
“Over there is Chertsey, and across that loop of the Thames from it is Shepperton, with Halliford beyond that. Nice little places all within the Thornhill lands. At least the ancient lands. There is nothing owed to the Grisham’s from those lands any longer but there are ancestors of mine in the parish churches of each of those places as well as houses bearing the Grisham crest. My mother had long ago wanted my marriage ceremony to take place there. Arabella was against the idea.
He spoke with pride in the history of his family and its connection to the land. It was a contrast for Cecilia, so used to her aunt and uncle’s grasping materialism. They were not interested in history except where it could bring them coin. Nor did they care for any place which they did not own or could not buy.
“Lionel,” Cecilia began tentatively, “why do you never talk about Arabella?”
Lionel paused, a shadow of something flitting across his face before he shrugged lightly. “What is there to say? She belongs to the past.”
“But she was important to you once,” Cecilia pressed gently, her eyes searching his.
“Wasbeing the operative word,” Lionel replied, leaning back against an oak tree. “I suppose it’s not much of a story. She did not wish to be tied to a man who had become... let’s say, less than what he once was.”
Cecilia’s brow furrowed. “You mean because of the scandal surrounding Arthur’s death?”
Lionel nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on a distant point. “Among other things.”
“I see.” Cecilia looked down, her fingers absently picking at the hem of her dress. “It is just... I can’t help but wonder what she was like. Do you ever think about what could have been?”
Lionel glanced at her now, a playful glint in his eye. “Why, Cecilia, are you jealous?”
Her head snapped up. “Of course not! I was merely curious.”
“Curious, you say?” Lionel’s smirk widened. “I must confess, the thought of you being jealous is rather flattering.”
Cecilia huffed, crossing her arms. “You are insufferable.”
“And you are delightfully transparent,” Lionel laughed.
Cecilia hesitated, then pressed on. “Was it difficult, when she left?”
“Difficult? Yes, but not for the reasons you might think. It was more about what she left behind rather than her departure itself.”
“What did she leave behind?”
“The east wing,” Lionel said, almost casually. “It was meant for her. After she left, it has remained abandoned.”
Cecilia’s eyes widened. “The east wing? It was for her?”
