The sun was still warm on his face as he rode, but he fancied it was a little cooler now, a harbinger of the coming autumn. Soon there would be piles of rustling leaves under the trees and an opportunity for long walks in the woods, where an ardent suitor might perhaps be able to snatch a kiss or two. No more excuse for languidly sitting about under parasols on the terrace. Not that he did much of that with Bea, either. His hour in the library with her was all he ever seemed to have. Still, an hour a day, even under Franklyn’s watchful eye, was better than nothing. It was very much better than nothing.
He took Catullus straight to the stables, then walked back to the front door. Lady Esther was not a person who would approve of visitors arriving through the back of the house. Hobbs greeted him, took his hat, gloves and riding crop, but did not bother to announce him, for he was expected.
At first he thought the library was empty, for Bea’s chair was unoccupied, and Mr Franklyn’s also. Then he saw Franklyn standing by the window, his face expressionless.
“Where is Bea?” A moment of fear. “Is she unwell?”
“She is quite well, but the ladies have gone to call upon the earl. Did you not see the carriage as you rode over? They have only just left.”
“No, I came through the woods, not by the lane.”
“Ah. She left a letter for you.”
He handed it over, and perhaps his face should have given Bertram a clue that it did not contain merely an apology for missing their lesson. Instead, he read it in horror, crying out in anguish, “No! What is she doing? Itoldher— Ack!”
Crumpling the letter in hands that shook with rage, he was too agitated to be still, pacing across the room, then back again.
“What does she think she is doing?” he cried again. “How can she do this to me? In a letter… in such words… so cold! Why would she not tell me to my face? Icannotaccept this. I will not! I will not allow her to end things, not like this, not in a few miserable words that mean nothing to her, but pierce my heart like spears. She of all people should understand the power of words. Butwhy?Why would she do this?”
“My wife has discovered that Lord Rennington is looking for a new wife,” Franklyn said. “She has an idea that Bea might suit.”
“What? Bea marry Uncle Charles? Impossible! She could not… she would not… that is… no! I must talk to her, make her see sense. When will she be back? I shall stay here until she returns and then—”
“They have only just left, and you have a fast horse,” Franklyn murmured.
“Yes! Yes! I shall go after them. My horse! I must find my horse.” Throwing open the library door, he yelled, “Hobbs!Hobbs!There you are! My horse, at once! Oh, never mind, I shall go myself.”
So saying, he ran across the hall, wrestled the door open himself and tore round the house to the stables. The grooms had barely got the saddle off Catullus, but they raced to replace it. Bertram stamped up and down as the head groom meticulously tested the girths for tightness. Then he was in the saddle and away. He had forgotten his gloves, but there was no time to go back for them.
Catullus shot down the drive, almost as agitated as Bertram. Away in the distance, he thought he could just see the hazy dust cloud thrown up by the carriage. Highwood Place was three miles from Birchall, and the lane was rough and narrow. He had time to catch them.
Veering off the drive onto open moorland, Catullus found the track that ran parallel to the lane and Bertram gave himhis head. Slowly, too slowly for Bertram’s peace of mind, they gained on the dust cloud. Above the hedge that bordered the lane, the top of the carriage could now be distinguished.
It was at this point that the defect of his plan occurred to Bertram. The hedge ran along the edge of the lane all the way to the main road. There were no gates, even if he had time to open one. If he wished to intercept the carriage before it reached the all too public setting of Birchall village, he would have to jump the hedge, and in order to avoid crashing into the hedge on the other side, the jump would need to be at an angle.
His heart quailed but Bea was too important for him to back down now. He was drawing level with the carriage… he reached it… he was a little way past it… was that a slightly lower point in the hedge just ahead of him? Without hesitation he turned Catullus a little and pointed him at the hedge. Then he suppressed the fear that was screaming at him inside, and put all his trust in his horse.
They neared the hedge, Catullus adjusted his stride fractionally and then… then they were sailing majestically through the air.
Bertram closed his eyes and tried to remember what one was supposed to do when one’s horse fell. Feet out of the stirrups? Was that it? What about the reins? Hang on or let go…?
Catullus landed neatly and galloped on down the lane. Bertram was so surprised, he almost forgot to rein him in. Then he turned and rode back more slowly to meet the carriage, filled with exhilaration. He had jumped the hedge! And survived! How astonishing.
The carriage drew to a halt in front of him, and Bea’s head popped out of the window. At once, the memory of that insulting letter brought Bertram’s rage boiling to the surface again. Slithering from the saddle, he strode forward and hauledopen the carriage door. Lady Esther sat facing forwards, as unperturbed as always, but Bea cowered back in her seat.
“What thedevildo you mean, writing me a letter like that?”
“Mr Atherton…” began Lady Esther.
“I am not addressing you, madam. Bea, you cannot possibly marry a man old enough to be your grandfather.”
Inexplicably, that made Bea giggle.
“There is nothing funny about this! How dare you write to me in such terms —writeto me, for heaven’s sake! Well, I will not have it, do you hear me? I will not accept it. If you want to end our betrothal, then you must tell me to my face, do you understand? You can tell me,to my face, that you would rather marry an old man who only wants you to give him babies, rather than someone who will love you and cherish you forever. I will not have it in a letter, and such a cold, impersonal letter, too, as if we have not been friends for years and years.”
“Mr Atherton,” Lady Esther said faintly.
“Be silent, woman! I am talking to Bea. Oh, this is impossible! Get out, Bea.”
