The Regency (49 page)

*

The choice of school was made unexpectedly easy. By chance,
a letter came the next day from Lucy, and one of the items of
news it contained was that Captain Haworth had at last
yielded to her advice that Africa should have a proper
education.

‘
Haworth gives her up as reluctantly as an opium-smoker
his pipe, and how Africa will settle down I cannot guess. I
offered to have her myself, but he said Miss Trotton had
enough to do, and that Africa's was a special case, in which he
speaks some truth, for she is the oddest creature. At all
events, he has got a place for her in the school of a Mrs
Touchstone, in Queen Square in Bath. It is a fashionable
place, he assures me, though I believe he chose it rather
because there are several other sea-officers' children there,
and Bath, as you know, is very popular with the navy. At all
events, Africa is with me now, and I am to take her down
there in a few days' time, when she has some new clothes fit
to be at school in.’

Bath was a long way off; but for Sophie to be with her cousin, instead of all alone among strangers, was a great
advantage. James and Héloïse discussed it together, and agreed.
Letters were sent off to Mrs Touchstone, to Lucy, and to
Captain Haworth. The business was concluded rapidly, as it
must be, and it remained only to tell Sophie.

Sophie was too well-brought-up to resist her fate. She
listened in obedient silence, but her eyes filled with tears even
while she tried to understand the necessity, and to be good
and do as she was told. It was the harder because they could
not tell her the real reason, to lessen her inevitable feelings of
rejection. The time between the accident and Sophie's depar
ture was difficult for Héloïse, such as she hoped she would
never have to endure again. It had been hard for her to be in
the same room with Fanny, to meet her eye, or to speak civilly
to her; and once when she expressed a polite concern for
Sophie's recovery, Héloïse was close to taking her by the neck
and choking her.

James and Héloïse had agreed that no-one else must know
what they suspected; but it seemed likely that Miss Rosedale
guessed what was behind the fraught atmosphere in the
house, and the sudden sending of Sophie to school. At all
events, she kept Fanny as much out of the way as possible,
and kept her occupied from morning to night, and found
reasons for them to have several of their meals separately from
the rest of the family. It was impossible to tell 'what Fanny
thought about it all. She shewed no evidence of guilt, nor of
indecent triumph at the vanquishing of her enemy. She had
expressed surprise and shock when first she heard of the acci
dent — since she had been up with the first flight during the
hunt, she had not witnessed it — but if she had indeed been calculating enough to plan the business, she must also have
been cool enough not to give herself away.

The parting from home had been a dreadful wrench for
Sophie, and her first letters were hard to read, full of home
sickness; but it had answered well in the long run. She had
come to like the school, and the other girls, and Bath itself;
and she and Africa had become firm friends, so much so that
Africa had spent the school holidays at Morland Place, rather
than with her sister at Aunt Lucy's.

The house had seemed very empty without Sophie; but
Fanny had settled down again, and having Miss Rosedale to herself had improved her to such an extent that James began
to assert with more and more certainty that the business with
the needle had been pure accident, and nothing to do with
Fanny. Héloïse at least no longer had any fears that she
harboured dark thoughts about Nicholas. Even her manner
towards Héloïse had improved, and she conversed at the dinner
table like a rational young woman. It did become harder to
believe that she was capable of such an act, or to remember
accurately the emotions and fears which had been so vivid at
the time. In all, it promised to remain as much of a mystery as
ever, and all anyone could do was to try to put it out of their
minds.

‘
Madame?' said Mathilde, recalling Héloïse from her
reverie to find another sheet being offered her for opening up and inspection. 'Are you tired? I could finish this on my own,
if you wanted to go and rest.’

Héloïse smiled and shook her head. Since Nicholas's birth,
everyone seemed to think that she was frail and in need of
continuous cosseting. 'No, my dear, I'm not tired at all. But I
was just thinking that you ought to go out and get some fresh
air. It is such a nice day, you should not be shut up inside.’

Mathilde opened her mouth to protest, and at that oppor
tune moment, the door opened half-way and Tiger thrust in,
his claws clattering busily on the polished floorboards, to be
followed by the upper part of Edward's body, politely
intruded.

‘
Ah, here you are!' he said, looking from Héloïse to
Mathilde. 'I wondered if you were feeling in need of a little
refreshment after your labours? I'm just going to ride over to
Healaugh, to the Manor Farm, to see that breeding-ram I've
been talking about, I thought you might like to come too, just
for the ride.’

Héloïse was perfectly well aware to whom this was
addressed. It was not with her that he had been discussing
livestock. 'Why, thank you, Edward, but I have too much to
do,' she said. ‘Mathilde will come with you. I was just telling her she should not stay indoors all day when the weather is so
good.'

‘
I have to help you,' Mathilde said. 'There's so much to be
done.'

‘
I have all the help I need,' Héloïse said firmly. 'It is not for
you to be worrying about it, my dear. Go and have your ride
— Matty shall help me finish this.'

‘
Many is doing the nursery linen,' Mathilde said
stubbornly. 'And if I must not be shut up all day, then nor
must you.’

Héloïse laughed. 'I shall have a walk later, I promise. Go
on, now, before Edward loses patience and goes without you!
Have a good, long ride, and put the colour back in your
cheeks, for I'm sure you are getting as pale as these sheets,
with bending over them all day.’

*

By the time Mathilde came downstairs after changing into
her habit, Edward had the horses tacked-up and ready at the door: his own black Thunderer, and the little chestnut mare
Vanity, who was kept up for the use of Héloïse when she
cared to ride instead of drive, but was more often Mathilde's mount. Mathilde had sufficient vanity of her own to be glad
the mare was a chestnut, for her shining coat only drew
attention to her rider's burnished head. Mathilde was very well
aware that if one had the misfortune to be born red-haired,
one must make the most of it, and her new riding-habit of
fine broadcloth was black, for the most effective contrast, and
cut very tight and trim across the bodice to shew off her neat
figure. Her hat was a small black tricorn which she wore
tilted forward, with the great mass of her copper hair coiled
behind, and a half-veil of black net over her eyes.

If she had any doubts about the effect she made, they
would have been dispelled by the haste with which Edward
forestalled the groom, who meant to lead Vanity to the
mounting-block, and came forward to link his hands for her
boot and throw her into the saddle. He held Vanity's head —
quite unecessarily — while Mathilde settled herself, found her
stirrup, and arranged her skirts, all the time looking up at her
with so much quiet pleasure in his face that it was as well for
her modesty that her eyes were engaged elsewhere.

It was a bright, chill day, the sky a faint, dusty blue
scudded with clouds, grey-edged but moving too fast for rain.
The two riders crossed the drawbridge and turned left onto
the track towards Acomb Moor. As soon as they were clear of the West Fields, where there were breeding ewes which must
not be disturbed, they had a good, long gallop to settle the
horses. It soon developed into a light-hearted race, for the
fresh breeze excited the horses and 'got under their tails' as
Edward put it, making them skittish.

Though her troubled childhood had afforded Mathilde no
opportunity to learn to ride, it was in her blood. Her mother
had been a notable and fearless horsewoman, and Mathilde
had taken to it from the first time she mounted, and now
handled Vanity with confidence. Edward had checked
Thunderer a little, for he would soon have outstripped the
smaller mare, but as he was taking a wide path to avoid the soft ground at the head of the Foss Dike, Mathilde turned a
bright face to him and laughed, and boldly drove the mare on,
swerving away to the right to take the short route, jumping
the Dike neatly and pulling up at the gate of Hagg Farm the
clear winner.

‘
I win! I win!' she called mockingly as he rode up. 'You will
have to do better than that to beat us, Cousin Edward!'

‘
Ah, but you cheated,' he returned cheerfully. 'You did not
keep to the course. There'll be a steward's enquiry, mark my
words.'

‘
In a cross-country race, I believe one may choose one's
own line,' she said, smiling. They rode on together, skirting
the farm and taking the track into Askham woods. It was a
pleasant change, now, to be out of the wind, and the horses
walked almost soundlessly on a thick layer of leaf-mould. It was too early yet for bluebells, though in a few weeks' time
there would be a vivid carpet of them in every direction, but
there were bright yellow aconites and frail white wood-
anemones thrusting through last year's dead leaves, and
there, where a break in the leaf-canopy let in enough sun
light, patches of primroses, pale and delicate as eggs in their
nests of tough green leaves.

‘It's so lovely here,' Mathilde said after a while. 'There's
always something new to be seen. I wish —' She broke off, looking pensive, and Edward was about to prompt her when
she resumed again. 'Oh look, a squirrel! There, in the birch
tree! Doesn't his tail ripple beautifully, like shot silk?’

Leaving the woods, they were in arable fields, and had to
keep to the paths around the edges. 'This was all grazing land
once, when I was a boy,' Edward said. 'It wasn't worth draining
and fencing; but of course the war has put up the price of
corn so much it's a different story. Every bit of land possible
is being put under the plough. Squire Podworth of Hessay's even beginning to plough up the edges of Marston Moor, so
I've heard.’