“And her horrid brother, I suppose.” Lucy pulled a face.
Henry’s pipe fell out of his mouth. He caught it with one hand. “What's wrong with His Grace of Ashmore?”
“He's the most odious person I've ever been so unfortunate to meet in my entire life.” She thought for a moment. “Though, admittedly, I didn't actuallymeet him. Not literally yet, I mean. Not in person.”
Henry snorted. “Then how do you know he’s so odious?”
Lucy stared ahead and didn’t reply. She wouldn’t even know where to begin, the list was so long.
“Hmm?”
She made a jerky movement as if remembering that she was conversing with him. “From Arabella, of course,” she rushed on to say. “I mean, what she tells me. From what Arabella used to read to me from his letters at school. He disapproves of me. I'm a corrupt influence and whatnot. And then, once—”
“Once…?” Henry prompted.
“Oh, nothing.” Lucy shook herself, trying to rid herself of a particularly pernicious memory. Then she laughed. “Well, he's probably right. I can be a terrible person sometimes. My head is full of nonsensical ideas and I say whatever comes to my mind. It's the first time I’m visiting Ashmore Hall. Arabella insisted.” She clamped down her hand on his arm. “Oh look! Stop. Stop! You have to stop.”
Startled, Henry pulled to a halt. They were on a little stone bridge crossing a little river. In the water floated a ragged parcel that emitted mewling noises.
Lucy didn’t think twice. She threw her carpetbag at Henry, jumped off the cart and ran to the edge of the bridge. The parcel drifted underneath. Lucy ran to the other side and strained to reach the parcel as it passed by. Her arms were too short. She picked up a stick that lay by the road to fish it out, to no avail. She teetered forward, flailed, and—Splash, fell head over heels into the brook.
“Bloody hell, now she’s gone and drowned herself.” Without a second thought, Henry tossed her bag to the side, leapt off the cart and jumped after her. Just in that moment, thunder rolled, and lightning flashed through the sky.
The leaderless and frightened horses bolted.
Chapter 2
Lucy sat in the brook, her hair plastered to her head and her dress drenched. Her bonnet swam down the brook. She clung to the parcel, which gave forth odd whining noises.
Henry, equally wet, rubbed the water from his eyes. “What the devil, woman!”
“Kittens! It's a parcel full of kittens about to drown! How can people be so cruel?”
“Kittens. Lord, help me. And my cart?”
Both stared after the bolting horses and carriage as they disappeared beyond the horizon.
“Oh, lord, there go my bushes. And it's raining cats and dogs. Literally.”
Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, as if the gates of hell had opened. Henry and Lucy sat in the brook as rain drummed down. Henry struggled up, slipped, and fell in lengthwise and went under with his head. He emerged, spluttering. Lucy bit her lip. The corner of Henry’s mouth twitched. Their eyes met.
Then both, as if on command, burst into laughter.
“I thought this river was deeper, and that you needed rescuing,” Henry looked at the water, which reached his knees.
Lucy gasped with laughter and held her side. She sat with legs extended and the water reached her chest. In her arms, she held the wriggling bundle. After she caught her breath again, she said: “I thought, too, that the river would be deeper. But even if it had been, I know how to swim so the rescuing part wouldn’t have been necessary. Oh dear. Now the cart and horses are gone.”
Another crash of lightning.
“And the bu-bu-bushes! Racing down the lonely country road.” She broke into another peal of laughter as she envisioned the loaded cart without its driver.
Henry looked up at the pouring sky. “Heaven help me. This can't be happening. Sitting in a brook with a damsel and a pup, horse and carriage gone, a storm crashing about us.”
He held out a hand and pulled Lucy out of the brook. Now it poured even heavier than before. Not that it mattered, because they were already wet from head to heel.
Henry frowned. “This is not good.”
Lucy unpacked the mewling package and expected a kitten to come forth. Her surprise was big when, instead, she lifted out a little brown-chequered spaniel. It wiggled its tail and licked and bit her fingers.
