Frances raised her eyebrows. “Then don’t witness the blooding,” she said in a more reasonable tone. “Leave the hunt before the fox is caught. Charles will most likely have joined us by then, and no one can be offended.”
It was clear that Frances didn’t anticipate a refusal. She left Nellie and walked away down the corridor. “You’d best hurry,” she called over her shoulder. “Everyone will soon have arrived, and the huntsman will bring the hounds around.”
Nellie stared after her. She could refuse. The woman held no sway over her. Her own mother-in-law was in agreement. But was Frances right? Nellie was not yet known by many people here. Would she be viewed as someone who disdained country life? Country people loathed that attitude. Would her absence cause gossip? Her article had embarrassed Charles when his friends discovered it. She would hate it to happen again.
Frances’s suggestion seemed a sensible one. Nellie could take part and leave the hunt before the end. She hurried to Catherine’s bedchamber to discuss it, but Jane whispered that her mistress slept.
Dressed in her dark blue habit, Nellie stepped out onto the porch. She formally welcomed the elegant Master, Mr. Doveton Grey, who, in a red coat, graciously returned her greeting from atop his white horse.
Men in black riding coats and women in habits hailed her from their glossy thoroughbreds. Nellie explained Charles’s absence as the footman carried out a tray of silver goblets and handed the tipple of brandy around.
Frances rode from the stables, leading a horse by the rein. “I’ve brought you Coventry, Your Grace. Your horse has lost a shoe.”
Nellie studied the stocky chestnut. She’d never ridden the gelding but was confident she could manage him.
The head groom hoisted her into the saddle.
Some sixty hounds, herded by the huntsman, milled over the carriageway and the lawns.
Coventry pricked up his ears. Nellie, sensing he was a nervous animal, patted his neck. “It’s all right, boy.”
The footman collected the goblets. Then the huntsman, controlling the hounds by voice, rounded them up and blew the piercing horn.
A cacophony of sound erupted as they left the house. The horses’ hooves struck the gravel, the dogs’ barks shrill with anticipation.
Nellie walked Coventry beside Aunt Frances’s mount. Reaching the meadow, they urged their horses into a canter, the hounds scampering, some out of sight.
A shout came from somewhere ahead.
“They have a scent,” Frances said, tightening her hand on the rein.
Another high-pitched blast from the horn, and the hunt was on. The riders broke from a canter into a full gallop and thundered over the grass. Nellie’s mount went with them. The cool breeze whipping around her, she bent over the horse’s neck, distrusting the animal’s awkward gait.
A fence reared up, and she set Coventry over it. The horse cleared it but stumbled. Aunt Frances, riding ahead, whirled her mount around to view her. She nodded approvingly and rode on.
Frances’s horse easily cleared the next hedge. She was a magnificent horsewoman, Nellie had to admit. Nellie followed suit, but Coventry’s hooves clipped the top, sending up a shower of privet leaves into the air. They landed safely and rode on. Ahead, the excited barking reached fever pitch.
Breathless, Nellie kept an eye out for a way to escape the pack and ride back to the house. But Frances remained close. Another fence, and this time, Coventry stumbled badly on the other side. Nellie controlled him and received a yell of approval from Frances.
They rode up a grassy hill. Reaching the crest, the countryside stretched out before them, green and lush. The riders clustered below, the red coat of the master amid the dark coats of others. Barking hysterically, the hounds swarmed around the huntsman, who raised his voice to call them to heel.
It was unendurable. With relief, Nellie found what she’d been searching for, a break in the trees to her left. Frances had finally abandoned her and galloped away down the hill.
Nellie slowed Coventry and turned her horse’s head toward the trees. She had only gone a few yards when a young hound appeared, running full pelt toward her. Frantic to have lost its way, it ran straight in front of Coventry.
With a shrill whinny, her horse reared. Nellie clung on, but Coventry bolted, heading down the hill toward the other riders. Everyone turned to look, and a shout went up.
Unnerved by the noise, Coventry skidded into a sharp turn. Nellie lost her grip on the rein. She was catapulted into the air. The ground rushed up, and she knew no more.
*
Percy’s leg wasbroken. Charles sent for the local surgeon and stayed until he came.
“He will be all right, won’t he, Your Grace?” Mrs. Hanbury stood clutching her apron with tears in her eyes, the two small children clutching her skirts.
“I think so, Mrs. Hanbury,” Charles said, concerned for the man’s leg. “He’ll have a headache for a few days.”
She wiped her eyes with her apron. “Oh, I am so relieved he’s alive, Your Grace. I thought I’d lost him.”
