Curricle & Chaise (5 page)

They were to be disappointed in the pond. Although partly frozen over, as expected, there were some sorry-looking ducks still paddling about in the centre of it and it was obviously far too dangerous to skate on. Nevertheless, Lydia felt impelled to test the ice with her foot. This was not a particularly wise thing to do. The ice cracked through instantly, rewarding her with the sudden chill of icy water as it seeped inside her boot. Even worse, as she leapt back in a vain attempt to retrieve her now sodden footwear from the murky water she lost her footing on the slippery bank. Before she knew it she found herself sliding slowly but surely into the lake. She grabbed at the first thing to come to hand. This happened to be her cousin’s leg. Julia gave a little squeal. With some unexpected presence of mind and a praiseworthy speed of reaction she grasped at a tree branch that was hanging overhead. Though precarious, it managed to serve the purpose. Both Julia and Lydia were stopped in mid slide, though Lydia looked decidedly the worse of the two, being inches deep in the turgid water and in cahoots of giggles as she desperately struggled to release herself.

‘Well manoeuvred, Julia,’ she managed to get out between whoops of laughter. ‘But now will you be so good as to bend that branch a little more in my direction so that I have half a chance of heaving myself up out of this wretched water?’

Julia did as she was bid. Her cousin took the branch in both hands and pulled. Little by little she managed to ease her way out of the clinging morass, the mud producing some particularly unpleasant squelching noises as she dragged her feet out of its sticky grip. Finally, and with one more enormous heave, she released herself and scrambled back up the bank. She was just in time. The branch finally relinquished its hold on its parent and Lydia ended up with the whole thing in her hands.

‘Not quite firm enough for skating today, then,’ she remarked, as she eyed her ruined boots ruefully.

Julia was amazed that her cousin should take all this in her stride.

‘Lord, Lydia, I am glad that was not me. You had as well fallen in completely, your gown is so muddy and wet.’

‘It is just as well that it was not you, Julia – your mama would be quite beside herself with worry, and I’d be sure to get the blame!’

Lydia stamped her boots on a stone in a token attempt to dry them a little. Julia was genuinely concerned.

‘Do you think we should head straight home?’ she asked. ‘We can either take the flat route back through the park, or try the shorter cut up the hill through the woods and out onto the drive.’

‘Let’s try the woods. We may be able to track some animals in the softer snow as we go and it is quite an easy walk once we are on the ridge.’

Julia acquiesced. The wood had become one of Lydia’s favourite haunts on earlier visits to Abdale, with some fine stands of oak and beech, and she was fond of following the winding pathways there. Today, though, it was not the wisest route to choose. The snow drifting amongst the clumps of trees was soft and very wet. Julia’s boots and stockings quickly became quite as soaked as her cousin’s, although their colour was marginally less brown.

Julia looked down in dismay as she perceived a cold dampness seeping through her stockings and onto her feet.

‘Oh my goodness,’ she wailed, regarding her boots with anguish. ‘Whatever are we to do? My boots are quite soaked through. I shall surely catch my death. Mama will be so angry. She always insists that wet feet are to be avoided at all costs.’

Lydia agreed, laughingly, that something must be done.

‘I suppose we ought to hurry,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t do to catch our deaths. I’ll tell you what – let me race you to the edge of the wood. It would be great fun – and much the quickest way of getting home.’

Julia looked doubtful.

‘Come on, Julia. After all, there is no-one around to see us and we really should get back as quickly as we can.’

Lydia set off at a sharp trot. Julia, realising that she was in imminent danger of being quite left behind, soon joined in, panting, behind her. They both giggled like children. Lydia quickly increased her lead, avoiding the deeper drifts of snow with some agility while Julia stumbled along behind. And then suddenly the edge of the wood was in sight. Lydia raced towards it, out of breath and laughing, her cheeks glowing brightly with the exercise and the cold.

‘Beaten you, Julia,’ she whooped triumphantly. She turned to look behind her in an effort to estimate the extent of her victory and leapt up in glee to find that she had won by a good forty yards. Unfortunately just at that instant she stumbled over a half-concealed tree stump, tripped over her gown, catapulted into the air and, clutching valiantly at a branch which instantly snapped in two at the unexpected demand suddenly placed upon it, ended by losing her footing entirely and rolling quite sharply down to the bottom of the slope – only to land at the feet of two horsemen who had pulled up on the drive. Both dismounted instantly to help the heap of laughter and blushing confusion from the snow. Julia, finding her way more gingerly than her cousin, negotiated the hillside successfully and lingered behind, much embarrassed by her association with the scheme.

‘I trust, madam, that I find you unhurt?’

The tone was correct, if not solicitous. Lydia, abashed and dishevelled but still giggling, was brought to her feet. She was acutely aware of having displayed rather more of her ankle than she should have done in the height of her confusion (which neither of the two gentlemen was insensitive enough to appear to have noticed) but she was bruised and wet enough at that moment to thrust this embarrassment to the back of her mind.

She hurriedly scrutinised the gentleman before her. His shining top boots looked pristine, despite the somewhat muddy situation in which they currently found themselves. His fawn-coloured breeches and dark green riding coat of perfect cut were spotless and uncreased. The contrast with her wet, crumpled garments and sadly disordered hair was mortifying in the extreme. There was nothing to do but make the best of it, however. She peeped up at his face and was somewhat comforted to find that it did not look implacably shocked. She felt better again when, her eyes now alighting on the second horseman, who had been assuring himself that Julia was unhurt, she recognised Captain Churchman. Edward was looking considerably more amused than his companion, if a little less immaculately dressed.

‘Will someone have the goodness to introduce us?’ demanded Edward’s companion as Julia half co
wered behind her cousin, ‘or are
we all to freeze to death whilst I determine the necessity of introducing myself?’

‘Lord no, Henry, don’t be so disagreeable, for goodness sake,’ recommended Edward. ‘Miss Barrington - my brother, Henry, for whose manners I most humbly apologise. Henry – Miss Barrington, Miss Abdale’s cousin – who now resides at Abdale, to the benefit of us all.’

Henry Churchman made no response other than to divest himself of his coat, which he deftly placed around Lydia’s shoulders almost before she realised what was happening. Then, having collected his horse, he offered Lydia his arm (which indeed she was reluctant to take, but felt it ill mannered to refuse) and proceeded to lead them both towards the entrance to Abdale House. Of little more than medium height, and with thin angular features and sandy hair, he so little resembled his handsome younger brother that, had he not been introduced as such, Lydia would have been hard put to believe in their kinship at all. But, peeping across at his face again in order to confirm her initial impression of him, she could not help but admire the firmness of his mouth and chin – which his younger brother lacked – and the brilliant blue of the eyes which, just at that moment, were turned questioningly upon her.

‘Tell me, Miss Barrington,’ he began. ‘Do you make a habit of rolling down your uncle’s hillside – or was I fortunate enough to witness your debut in such a venture?’

The eyes gave no hint of a laugh. Lydia could hardly tell whether he was amused by her escapade or not.

‘I enjoy a daily ramble, sir – although I endeavour normally to remain on my feet.’

‘The method has more to recommend it, to be sure.’

‘It has indeed – although for speed of descent it could scarcely be beaten.’

‘Unless you were to take to horseback, perhaps?’

Lydia smiled.

‘I have to agree with you there, Mr Churchman. As I have never had the pleasure of taking to horseback in my life I would imagine that I should experience an even speedier – and heavier – descent than the one I have suffered today.’

Mr Churchman emitted what sounded like a slightly choked chuckle.

‘You make little of your abilities, I see, Miss Barrington, although you are probably quite wise. I would certainly not recommend a gallop down a hillside to anyone other than an accomplished rider. The snow, however, would blanket your fall – as doubtless you have discovered today. Should you determine on trying out the exercise you may find that you escape serious injury if you do so in the snow.’

‘You have formed a strange view of my activities, sir. I am not much in the habit of undertaking hare-brained schemes, I assure you.’

‘You disappoint me. I had thought to find the sportswoman in you.’

‘I am afraid not. It is difficult for a lady to be sporting, after all – although I must admit that, had the ice on the pond been ever such a little thicker
,
I daresay I should have attempted some exercise there.’

‘Ha, I thought as much. It is a pity you do not ride – although to one who spends her leisure time in clambering about hills and skating on thin ice the pastime would doubtless appear tame.’

Edward, following close behind with Julia, picked up his brother’s last words.

‘Riding is an excellent exercise, Miss Barrington,’ he said eagerly, attempting to pat his mount whilst leading it by the reins at the same time. ‘I cannot imagine why Miss Abdale has never taken to it, especially as Mr Abdale keeps such an excellent stable. It cannot, after all, be thought difficult – why, even a poor one-armed fellow like myself can manage a beast with no great problem. I am convinced that you would both benefit greatly from the activity.’

‘Lord, Captain Churchman, I have always lacked both the permission and the inclination to learn. Mama expressly forbade it when I was young. I was rather delicate as a child and mama felt that riding would give me the headache.’

‘And I, too, was not able to learn, Captain Churchman,’ added Lydia. ‘Papa was unable to provide me with a mount and as we lived quite in the middle of Bradbury there was very little need. Nevertheless, I should very much have liked the opportunity to learn how to ride.’

‘Then we must rectify the omission immediately – it is never too late to learn, after all. Why, I for one would be only too pleased to give you the benefit of my instruction (poor though it might be). I feel persuaded that, between your stables at Abdale and those at Grantham, we should find a mount quite suitable for a lady to begin – come,’ he urged, as Lydia hesitated. ‘Promise an old soldier that you will make use of him and I shall be a very happy man indeed.’

Lydia looked desperately to Julia for help.

‘I should be delighted to accept your offer,’ she began, Julia offering her no assistance whatsoever. ‘But I feel that my aunt and uncle would not approve of the plan. My aunt forbids me to be away from her for long in case she is in need of some service that I can perform for her, while my uncle may have need of his horses and there could be no question of being allowed to use yours.’

Edward was not impressed.

‘Why, as for your uncle – I daresay you will bring him round easily enough – who could resist those soft brown eyes? Surely he can have need of no more than a quarter of his horses at any one time – and we shall not tire them out, you know – the lessons will be perfectly easy and need not take long. I guarantee to make a horsewoman of you by the new year, Miss Barrington – aye, and Miss Abdale, too, if she will let me. So let us have no more excuses and obstacles and agree to the plan straight away.’

‘I am afraid that it is a little early to consider the matter settled,’ protested Lydia, a little desperately. ‘Mr Abdale may have other plans for the use of his stable and we have heard already of my aunt’s abhorrence of the exercise. Young ladies are not always to have their own way, you know – why, I am persuaded that you should be the first to complain, if we did.’

‘You do me an injustice, Miss Barrington, indeed you do. There is no-one more sensitive to the demands of your sex than I.’

‘I almost believe you, Captain Churchman, though I would need more evidence than you have provided so far to be totally convinced.’

It seemed that Mrs Abdale was so far recovered from the backache, which was plaguing her at the time, that no sooner had the party reached the front door than she was able to appear in the great hall, smiling profusely, to usher them inside. She scarcely gave Lydia a second glance, despite her extraordinary appearance in Mr Churchman’s coat (which by now appeared to be wilting somewhat under the dampening influence of the snow), while her concern over Julia was so mild that it was the work of only a very few minutes (during which she constantly behove Mr Churchman to agree that her daughter was a wicked puss to wet her feet so, and to put her poor dear mama in such a worry for her, to which Mr Churchman made no reply whatsoever) before both girls were allowed upstairs to repair the damage and return to the drawing room in a state more fit to be seen.