Tess moved forward slowly. From her tentative approaches to the three eldest girls, she progressed to the younger ones. Within a week, she had instituted regular lessons for all seven children. There was no money to spare for a governess, and Mrs Harfield herself took little notice of her offspring, spending her days mostly below stairs, for she was constantly caught up in one domestic drama or another. It was therefore left to the two spinsters, Miss Frith and Miss Emily Frith, to teach the children, and their timid natures meant that the designated schoolroom was usually empty. Tess was not timid, however, and ruthless when she had an objective in mind, so she speedily found ways to keep the little ones occupied.
It was not very long before all the ladies declared that they could not imagine how they had ever managed without Tess, and would she be willing perhaps to come and stay for a while? Tess graciously agreed that she would indeed be willing, and thus found herself ensconced in a tiny attic room next door to a very disgruntled Betty.
“It’s not fittin’, Miss Tess,” she grumbled. “And you the niece of his lordship, sleepin’ under the roof like a scullery maid. At the very least, one of they great lummoxes should have moved for you.”
“The Miss Friths have been here for years, Betty, and they will still be here long after I have moved on,” Tess said, amused. “This is no worse than the room at Pickering, is it? Better, since here your snoring is next door, instead of sharing my bed.”
And so it came about that, ten minutes before dinner was due to be served, Tess’s quarry finally came into view.
Ulric Frith was twenty-two years old, and had he not had his unfortunate accident as an infant, would have had every marriageable female in the northern counties at his door, for he was as handsome as a Greek god, tall, fair and perfectly featured. Even so, there were plenty willing to set their cap at him, to be mistress of his pretty little estate. A wife would have to compete with his precious horses for his attention, of course, and there was no sign whatsoever that he took the least interest in females.
“Evening, cousin,” he said in his curiously flat voice with a nod to Tess, when her presence was pointed out to him.
“Good evening, Ulric. You are looking well. Life agrees with you, I can see.”
He blinked at her. Polite chit-chat was not his strongest suit. “Did you ride over?” he said. “Got a good mount, have you?”
“No, I came in Lady Tarvin’s carriage.”
“The blacks?”
Tess correctly interpreted this as an enquiry about the horses. “No, they were a brown colour with black tails.”
“The bays.” He pulled a face. “No good. Should have taken the blacks. Sweet steppers, the blacks.”
“I shall remember that next time, cousin,” she said calmly. They were not cousins, of course, being only distantly related by marriage, but Ulric could never remember names.
They went in to dinner just then, and Tess contrived to sit beside Ulric, plying him with questions about his work at the inn and the smithy, and his stable at Myercroft, questions to which he replied with enthusiasm. He was easy to engage, so long as one were prepared to talk endlessly about horses.
After dinner, at which Ulric was the only male present, he promptly disappeared, presumably to the stables, while Tess, Mrs Harfield, the two spinsters and the three eldest girls, who were deemed old enough to join the adults, played a noisy game of Speculation. Tess had played the game often, but never with such a cavalier disregard for the rules, or even fairness. Mrs Harfield liked to win and so at every point where she might be at a disadvantage, a new rule was invented or an existing one set aside. They only played for coppers, but nevertheless her winnings mounted.
After an hour or so, Ulric returned and the game was switched to vingt-et-un. Even Ulric, it seemed, could count to twenty-one. The game was too dependent on chance and the rules too simple for Mrs Harfield to manipulate them in her favour, but since Ulric never knew when to stop adding cards to his hand, he almost invariably went bust so all the other players did very well out of the game. The Miss Friths looked especially pleased.
Over the tea cups and cakes later, Tess again contrived to sit beside Ulric. Since she would make no progress with him by sitting around the drawing room, she made a bold move.
“Have you anything in the stables here or at Myercroft suitable for me to ride, cousin? If I am to stay here for a while to help your mama, I should like to take some exercise every day, and riding is such a pleasure in the summer, is it not?”
That was a mistake. Ulric could only handle one question at a time, so he answered the second one. “Riding’s good any season.”
“True, although it can be somewhat bracing in the coldest months.”
“Not if you ride fast and hard,” Ulric said, stuffing a small cake into his mouth whole.
“Perhaps,” she said doubtfully. “So do you have anything suitable for a lady?”
“Brandysnap,” he said. “She takes a side-saddle.”
“Is Brandysnap a gentle beast… or spirited?”
He pondered that while he chewed. “Lady’s horse,” he said eventually, as if that was all the answer the question needed. “Takes a side-saddle.”
“Is she here or at Myercroft?”
“Myercroft. Nothing here but a hack for the gig.”
“May I come to Myercroft tomorrow to see Brandysnap?”
He had just reached for another cake, but now his attention was turned fully on Tess. “You want to ride her?”
