“And Miss Martin must go too,” Lily suggested.
“The rest of us will remain here and be lazy,” the duchess said. “And then we will go into the house for tea. How delighted I am to see you all.”
The dog moved off at a trot and Lizzie and the other girl shrieked with laughter again as they set off in his wake. But he seemed to understand the charge with which he had been entrusted and slowed to a walk as he made his way toward the driveway and then crossed it, making a wide loop about the large stone fountain that stood before the main doors. He also steered well clear of all the trees, leading them toward the other side of the house.
“I hope, Miss Martin,” Joseph said, clasping his hands at his back, “you are not too attached to that dog. I cannot see Lizzie being willing to part with him at the end of the summer. He is looking remarkably healthy. Has his weight doubled, or is that just my imagination?”
“Your imagination, thank goodness,” she said. “But his ribs are no longer visible, and his coat has acquired a sheen.”
“And Lizzie,” he said. “Can that possibly be her, walking hand in hand with another girl, being drawn along by a dog? And dancing earlier about a maypole?”
“And knitting this morning,” she said, “though I believe she dropped more stitches than she worked.”
“How can I ever thank you?” he asked, looking down at her.
“Or I you?” She smiled back at him. “You have challenged me. Sometimes one becomes blinded by routine—ah, pun unintentional.”
They were making their way, he could see, toward a largish lake. He lengthened his stride, but Miss Martin caught his arm.
“Let us see what happens,” she said. “I think it very unlikely that Horace will march straight into the water, and if he does, Molly certainly will not.”
But the dog stopped well short of the bank, and the girls stopped too. The child called Molly then led Lizzie forward, and they both went down on their knees and touched their hands to the water, Lizzie tentatively at first.
Joseph moved up beside them and squatted down next to his daughter.
“There are some stones along the bank,” he said, picking one up. “If you toss them into the water, the farther out the better, you can hear them plop. Listen!”
And he demonstrated while Molly looked at him with fright and Lizzie turned her head and inhaled in such a way that he knew she was breathing in his familiar scent. But she smiled when she heard the stone plop into the water and reached for his hand.
“Help me to find a stone,” she said.
He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back, but from the mischievous smile on her face he knew she was enjoying the game of secrecy.
For the next few minutes she hurled the stones he helped her find. The other girl overcame her fright and threw some too. They both laughed whenever a stone fell with a particularly loud plop into the lake. But finally Lizzie had had enough.
“Shall we go back to the others, Molly?” she asked. “Perhaps you want to join in the ball game. I don’t mind. I’ll sit and listen.”
“No, I’ll watch it with you,” Molly said. “I can never catch a ball.”
“Miss Martin,” Lizzie said, “will you and P—and this gentleman stay here while we go? I want to show you that we can do it on our own. Do you think we can, sir?”
“I shall be vastly impressed if you can,” he said. “Off you go, then. Miss Martin and I will watch.”
And away they went, the dog in the lead.
“Is she sprouting wings so quickly?” he asked ruefully when they were out of earshot.
“I believe she is,” Miss Martin said. “I hope she does not grow overbold too soon. I do not expect it, though. She knows she needs Molly or Agnes or one of the other girls—and Horace, of course. This summer will be a very good experience for her.”
“Let’s sit for a little while, shall we?” he suggested, and they sat side by side on the bank of the lake. She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms about them.
He picked up one more stone and bounced it across the water.
“Oh,” she said, “I used to be able to do that when I was a girl. I still remember the memorable occasion when I made a stone bounce six times. But I had no witness, alas, and no one ever believed me.”
He chuckled. “Your pupils are fortunate indeed to have you for a headmistress,” he said.
“Ah, but you must remember that this is a holiday,” she told him. “I am rather different during term time. I am a stern task-mistress, Lord Attingsborough. I have to be.”
