At these moments, I feel like a liar and an impostor: I lie to my parents, who have always made sincerity their rule of life, and I hide that I sold myself to earn a title and an inheritance.
“It’s starting to rain.” I change the subject as soon as I notice some drops on my trousers.
My mother turns Agincourt on the trail. “We’d better go back, then, before a storm starts!”
We get back to the stables as a bolt of lightning splits the sky in two, and rain starts pouring down heavily.
We dismount to lead the horses into the stable yard, but a bolt of lightning that illuminates the area and a deafening roll of thunder frightens Westfalia, she runs backwards, tearing the reins from my father’s hands and starts galloping towards the woods.
“Westfalia, no!” I shout, dropping Poppy’s reins and running along the driveway, pointlessly.
“Carly, Jemma, go back! I will go and find her!” Says my father resolutely, mounting Poppy.
Outside, the storm is getting more and more violent and the wind is roaring through the trees, I pace up and down the stable block, soggy and anxious. My mother, on the other hand, is feeding a whole bunch of carrots to Agincourt, who nickers happily.
“Will you calm down, Jemma? Dad will be back soon!”
“You do not understand! Westfalia is Delphina’s favourite mare. If something happened to her, it would be a tragedy. Just what we bloody need!”
My mother is the picture of composure. “Everything will be fine.”
“I’m panicking! Since my first day here, I’ve constantly been scrutinised and, just so you know, I’m not welcome in this house and neither are you. All they’re waiting for is a single mistake, a false step, or an excuse to kick us out!” I shout at my mother, and then I go back to my drama. “Why Westfalia?”
“Delphina isn’t here and doesn’t have to know. As far as Ashford goes, I would stop worrying if I were you.”
Hearing her words, I forget all my good intentions: “I can’t! When you showed up here by chance, Ashford put on a happy face, but he’ll soon get tired of having you around in his perfect mansion, that’s for sure!”
My mother walks towards me, taking me in her arms. “You’re too upset now, you can’t think clearly. Go to your room, have a nice warm bath and get changed.”
When I get inside the house, I bump into Ashford, but I carefully avoid him and go straight to my room. I only hear him ask the question: ‘What about our tea?’, to which I don’t reply.
Finally, when darkness has fallen, Dad brings Westfalia home safe and sound and sums up the whole thing by saying: “This feartie doesn’t like storms.”
At dinner, there is just me and Ashford, sitting at opposite ends of the long table, and we exchange a few pointless words. He just says that he’s happy that my father has retrieved the precious Westfalia and that he’ll look forward to having tea with my parents tomorrow.
Message received, arsehole: now your mother isn’t here and you no longer need my parents to annoy her, you want to send them back to London to live under a bridge, but not before you have offered them a cup of your damn tea.
*
After dinner I go to my parents’ apartment, where I find the familiar bottle of Belladonna tincture on the table. When I was little, my mother used it to make my temperature go down.
“Dad?” I ask my mother as soon as I see her come out of their bedroom.
“Riding in the icy rain gave him a slight temperature.”
I enter the room, where I see that my dad doesn’t look good at all, and I take the thermometer from the bedside table. “Slight? 39°C is not a slight temperature!” I say, getting angry.
“It will come down soon,” my mother replies calmly.
“A 39°C temperature will not come down with a few drops of Belladonna!”
“You know we don’t use medicines.”
“But I do, and I’m going to get him a nice aspirin cocktail right now!”
“I don’t approve of that,” says my mother, crossing her arms.
“But I do,” I oppose, resolutely.
