Part 27 (2/2)

”I am sure” was all I could say.

He helped me into the saddle. However, as I arranged myself, an idea occurred to me. ”If you don't mind, Mr. Samonds, how long ago did you used to go to Heathcrest?”

”A long time ago, Miss Lockwell. I was younger than Mr. Graydon is now. It was thirteen or fourteen years ago.”

”Was Mr. Quent the master of the house then?”

”He was.”

”So you knew him?”

He grinned up at me. ”Everyone in the county knew him. The house had been empty for several years, you see; but when Mr. Quent came back and took a wife, it became a bright and happy place. Such parties and b.a.l.l.s were thrown there-I wish you could have seen them! I am sure they rivaled anything in the Grand City.”

Now I was astonished anew. ”Parties and b.a.l.l.s? At Heathcrest?”

”Yes, and there were always guests there. Gentlemen friends of Mr. Quent's mostly. They came often from the city-for hunting parties, I suppose. Though, come to think of it, I don't remember seeing them out on the moors much. Well, it's often the case that hunting parties involve more parties and fewer hunts. Nor were the local folk forgotten, for we were invited up to the house on occasion. My mother was often called to dine there, for Mrs. Quent was her cousin, and that is how I came to visit there myself.”

”You knew Mrs. Quent?”

”I did,” he said, only then his smile faded.

He looked away, and I knew the conversation had turned to a topic that troubled him. Nor could I wonder why. Mrs. Quent had pa.s.sed, and with her had pa.s.sed the b.a.l.l.s and parties and guests.

”It's been a long time since I've been to Heathcrest,” he said at last, looking back at me.

I did not know how to reply; I was sorry my words had saddened him. However, he shook his head and asked me then if I wanted company for my ride back to the house. I thanked him but a.s.sured him I knew the way very well.

”I'm sure you do,” he said. ”I've seen you out riding before. I helped Mr. Quent pick this mare and shod her myself. She's a pretty thing, and you sit her well. Have you been enjoying riding?”

”Very much,” I said.

”Good. I'm glad she is being put to such good use.” His expression grew serious again. ”But Miss Lockwell-forgive me for being so forward-you do not ride out late in the day, do you? And you do not stray far from either Heathcrest or Cairnbridge, do you?”

I a.s.sured him that I always went out in daylight and that no matter where I went I could always see either Heathcrest's gables or the roofs of the village. This answer seemed to please him, and he stroked the mare's nose. I thanked him again for all his a.s.sistance and reminded him to send his bill to Heathcrest.

I took the reins of the mare. However, just as I was about to urge her into a walk, I turned in the saddle. He had been raised here; it occurred to me he might know. ”The tree in the common field over there,” I said. ”It must have been very beautiful once. I was curious how it perished. Do you know what happened to it?”

”It burned,” he said, and the words, so unlike everything else he had uttered, were hard. He took a step back. ”Ride directly to the house, Miss Lockwell. I am sure you are wanted.”

I nodded, and as there was nothing more I could say, I urged the gray mare onward.

W HEN I REACHED Heathcrest, I found Mr. Quent just mounting his horse in front of the house. I a.s.sumed that his business had called him away once again. In my surprise, I forgot myself and asked where he was going.

”To look for you, Miss Lockwell,” he said with a glower as he helped me down from the gray mare.

A horror spread through me. I had not thought my absence would cause the master himself to put aside his usual occupations and come looking for me.

”Mr. Quent, I am so sorry to have troubled you!” I said, and quickly explained what had happened.

He appeared visibly relieved at my explanation-indeed, so relieved that I could only wonder at what he had imagined had happened to me. I did not ask him; instead, I apologized once more for causing concern.

He gave a curt nod and mounted his horse.

”But you are still going somewhere?” I asked in surprise. He wore a broad-brimmed hat and a wool coat with a short cape about his shoulders.

”I am called away by my work. I should have been away an hour ago.”

Shame and horror filled me anew. Had I known my actions would in any way affect his duties, I would have run back to Heathcrest on foot! I wanted to tell him these things, but he looked so imposing upon the ma.s.sive horse that I could not speak.

The gelding pranced, eager to be off. He controlled it with a flick of a gloved hand. It seemed he wanted to say something, for he opened his mouth; only then he shut it again.

”When will you be back?” I said at last, breathless.

But at the same moment he tipped his hat and said, ”Remember our agreement, Miss Lockwell.”

He whirled the beast around and in a clatter of hooves was gone. Jance came to take the mare to the stable. Feeling very weary of a sudden, I entered the house.

I went to the kitchen to fix the cup of tea I had not gotten in the village and made some for the children as well, as it was nearly time to rouse them for their second breakfast of the long lumenal. Mrs. Darendal was there.

”I met Mr. Samonds, the farrier, in the village,” I said as I fixed a tray for the children.

Mrs. Darendal kept peeling apples.

”He was very kind to a.s.sist me,” I said, determined to be cheerful. ”He told me how he used to come to Heathcrest as a boy.”

”Many people used to come here,” she said.

”His mother and Mrs. Quent were cousins, I understand.”

This received no disagreement, so I could only a.s.sume it to be true.

”I wonder,” I said, then paused, choosing my words carefully. ”That is, it is regretful that those who enjoyed this house once are no longer able to do so. And it is such a remarkable place. I wonder if it might be possible-if sometime we might invite someone to supper. Mr. Samonds perhaps, and his wife if he is married.”

”I am sure he will never marry,” Mrs. Darendal said. She spoke this with what I thought was a hard little smile. She sliced another apple into a bowl. ”You should wake the children.”

I said nothing more and took my tray upstairs. The children were already awake when I entered. Chambley threw his arms around me in an embrace, which I gladly returned.

”Good morning,” I told him.

”It's the middle of the day,” he said, rubbing bleary eyes.

”I know,” I said. ”But we must pretend it's morning, mustn't we? For it's twelve more hours until dusk. Now drink your tea. Here's a cup for you, Clarette.”

She did not move from the window. As always I wanted to ask what she was looking at and if she had seen the figure in white again; instead, I went to her with a cup.

”Drink it before it gets cold,” I told her.

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