Chapter Twelve
While Perry was attempting to collect his focus, Grace happily trotted into the outskirts of London, mounted on her favourite mare Snowball.
As white as her name, the horse had been with her for several years and their relationship was one of affection and tolerance.
Grace was very affectionate to her and Snowball tolerated it.
They both enjoyed the rides that Grace took quite regularly; although not strenuous gallops through miles of fields and over a dozen fences, both horse and rider approved of the occasional canter along country lanes and a gallop once in a while if the weather was perfect.
She had been able to persuade a not-too-pleased Mrs. Heathers that no groom was necessary for this journey. It was fortunate since she had made sure her household staff had some time to themselves over the Christmas season. The only candidate available to accompany her was Norbert, a sprightly seventy-year-old who had put her on her first horse, and wouldn’t hesitate to reprimand her if he thought she was doing something improper.
Sometimes one’s servants could be much higher in the instep than her Society acquaintances.
However, she was free, alone and making good progress toward her goal through the beginnings of the holiday revels. She’d passed the road to Mowbray House and was now in the outer parts of London.
She laughed at the music, waved to the children and remembered to keep most of her face covered by her muffler. She was a lady in midnight blue on a white horse, and she made her way through the streets with a fanciful image of her knight awaiting at the end of her pilgrimage. She wasn’t in Canterbury and Perry wasn’t a knight…well, he was but probably not the jousting with a massive broadsword kind of knight…
One thought led to another and her distracted mind veered down a euphemistic path that concerned thrusting swords of various kinds…
“Wotch yer ‘orse, lady,” yelled a lad, dodging past Snowball.
Recalled to her surroundings, she waved. “Apologies. Happy Christmas.”
It was slower going now, but she knew the way to Perry’s residence and a short time later took the turn toward his street with some relief. There were fewer crowds here, so it wasn’t much longer before she was tying Snowball securely to the hitching post outside his front door.
Two children were walking past.
“Excuse me…I have to go inside here for a few moments. Would you both watch my horse for me? There’s sixpence for each of you if she’s here when I return.”
Two pairs of eyes widened. “Really, missus? Sixpence? Each?”
Grace nodded. “Yes indeed.”
“All right then.” The girl neared the horse. “Yer a pretty one.”
Snowball snorted gently, acknowledging the compliment.
“I hope I won’t be more than a few minutes. Then they will tell me where I can stable her.” Grace nodded, knowing that a whole shilling was a reward worth working for, and that Snowball would be safe where she was for a while.
Walking up the steps, she took a deep breath and rapped on the door.
It opened after a minute or so to reveal an aged butler. “Good afternoon, Madam. May I help you?”
“Yes, you may. I believe you are Morris? I’m here to see Sir Peregrine,” answered Grace. “Would you inform him that Mrs. Chaney would like a few moments of his time?”
Morris’s long face grew even longer. “I am sorry, Madam. Sir Peregrine is not here.”
“Not here?” Grace blinked. “How can he be not here?”
“Is that an existential question, Madam?”
“What? No. I mean didn’t he just arrive home?”
“He did indeed. Very sombre he was too, for a while. But then, to my astonishment, his mood took an about-face.”
“It did? I am astounded,” said Grace, entering into the literary spirit of the moment. “Do tell me, Morris. What happened then?”
“He spent some time refreshing mind and body, Madam. Then, without ado, summoned a horse and departed.” Morris frowned. “It is quite worrying.”
