CHAPTER SIX
The ‘infestation’ of decorators had thankfully completed all the work upon the house, even the upper rooms, by the end of the following week, for the warm September afternoons of golden sunshine were replaced by an October of low cloud and an easterly wind that rustled the browning leaves of the trees, and rattled those that had fallen along the pathways, as though brushed with an invisible broom.
Wyre was sent to cast his eye over the animals that would be coming up for sale, while her ladyship sought out Miss Sinkins, milliner and habit-maker, to arrange for alterations to her riding habit.
Louisa found Wyre awaiting her outside the premises, and he made his report.
There were two horses that he thought might suit her ladyship, a bay mare and a chestnut gelding, both good tempered, from what he had ascertained, and good, sound animals.
If her ladyship would care to view them and make her own choice, he thought that neither looked likely to fetch an exorbitant price.
He led her among the farmers and country gentry who were attending the sale.
The presence of a lady was unusual enough to cause heads to turn, but she was keen to decide which horse she preferred before it appeared in the sale ring.
Thankfully, they were situated very close together.
The gelding was an honest-looking fellow, who lipped at her gloved hand, and, although not as dainty as the mare, had an air of great dependability about him.
‘Oh dear, such a choice,’ she said, voicing her thoughts.
‘Lady Dembleby?’
She turned. Major Barkby was threading his way towards her. She coloured. Was he going to tell her that this was no fit place for her?
‘Major Barkby.’ She held out her hand as he bowed over it.
‘I fear it is rather a squeeze, ma’am, and not a place 80guaranteed to have language fit for a lady’s ears.’ He nodded at the groom. ‘Good to see you, Wyre.’
‘And you too, sir.’ The man touched his forelock, and stepped a pace back.
‘Yes, but I did not want a horse selected for me without having any say whatsoever in the matter,’ sighed Louisa. ‘I will have Josiah bid on my behalf, never fear, and keep out of the press about the ring.’
‘Are you thinking of the chestnut?’ His hand patted the neck.
‘Yes, or the bay mare three pens along. She is the neater, but …’
‘He looks a nice hack, and a dependable sort.’
‘I like “dependable”. I am, or was, a competent rider, but have not had the chance to ride for some years. You have given me the push I needed to make my choice.’ She turned to Josiah Wyre at her elbow. ‘We bid for the gelding, to the sum you suggested.’
‘Yes, my lady.’
‘At which point, I shall retire lest my presence make every horse throw out a splint and the cows run dry. I am evidently shocking.’ She tried to sound merely amused, and failed.
She paused for a moment. ‘I will await the result of our bidding in The George, where I will be in the coffee room. If you are not yourself engaged in purchasing, Major Barkby, I would be honoured if you would join me, should your own business be completed.’ She tried to sound gracious, but in fact sounded slightly shy. He thought it charming.
‘I believe the horse I wish to purchase comes up a little 81before this fellow. I will accompany Wyre when we are done.’
‘And thus be chaperoned, Major?’
‘Indeed, ma’am. I am clearly in need of one.’ His lips twitched. ‘Army officers really ought to only go about in pairs, to prevent it being said they are forward.’ He intentionally misunderstood her. ‘Wish us good luck, Lady Dembleby.’
‘Er, yes indeed.’
‘I will escort your ladyship to The George, afore it all starts.’ The groom was a little embarrassed at the attention they were drawing, a lady and an officer in scarlet regimentals in the midst of farmers and country squires.
‘Thank you, Josiah. Until later, Major Barkby.’ She inclined her head, and followed in her groom’s footsteps.
As she stopped before The George, Mrs Cheddleton, who had been gazing, rather bored, at a display of tippets that she thought overpriced, since she could not afford them, saw the black-garbed figure, with the half-veiled hat.
She was a little shocked, and very curious.
Lady Dembleby spoke to the man with her, who was clearly a groom.
He nodded, touched his brow and returned to the bustle of the livestock market whilst she entered The George alone. Mrs Cheddleton was intrigued.
Major Barkby preceded Josiah Wyre into The George, although they were engaged in amicable conversation.
The major had known the groom since youth, for his father had been coachman to the Barkbys, and besides this, he had learnt the art of conversing with his men without being 82too superior, during cold nights and hot engagements in Portugal and Spain.
Proximity to death had a tendency to ease class distinctions.
They parted at the entrance to the inn, since the groom felt uncomfortable about entering the establishment via the front door, and went around the back.
When the groom came into the coffee room, he refused to be seated, and clutched his hat before him.
‘So, do I own a horse, Josiah?’
‘Yes, my lady, and for twenty guineas less than our agreed limit.’ He permitted himself a smile.
‘Then I shall go to the bank and … you can take the money to the auctioneer?’
He looked rather disconcerted at the thought of carrying notes.
‘I can do so, if Wyre here is uncomfortable, ma’am. I have been successful myself, and need to see the auctioneers,’ the major offered. ‘He can await me, and collect the gelding.’
‘Thank you, Major Barkby. And what have you bought? Not a replacement for your old horse that you have promised to show Emily, I hope.’
‘No indeed. But if I am to get back to my regiment, I will need a new horse, and I was not much taken with those in Portugal. I prefer Irish bred.’
‘You will return?’ Her eyes went involuntarily to the black glove. ‘But, how can you hold a sabre and also your reins and …’ She halted.
It was not a question he wanted to answer. Eventually he spoke, but his answer avoided the question, and was very sombre.
83‘My father’s condition may mean that is academic, Lady Dembleby.’
‘I … I am sorry, sir. It was thoughtless of me …’ She looked away, and added without looking at him, ‘It is a cold day. Do take a cup of coffee.’
He accepted a cup from her hand, but there was constraint between them, and when they came out of The George to go to the bank, they were too lost in their own thoughts to notice Mrs Cheddleton.
‘Bold, I say she is, and that is a fact.’ Mrs Cheddleton pursed her lips, which at least meant she stopped talking for the first time in many minutes.
‘Shameless, more like,’ snorted Lady Simmondley, ostensibly taking tea, and in reality exchanging tittle-tattle.
‘You say she actually wandered about the market with all those beasts and rough men? The only women at the market are farmers’ wives selling chickens and geese.
No respectable lady would attend. It is shocking. ’
‘I saw her, saw her cross the street from the market pens to The George, escorted only by a groom, and she went in alone.’
‘Where was her maid? Or her companion, that little round nonentity?’
‘Not there, I am sure. What is more, that same groom escorted A Man to the door a short while afterwards.’
‘Who?’
Mrs Cheddleton was in a quandary. The implication of an assignation was clear, and Lady Dembleby had left the posting inn with Major Barkby, or at least at the same 84time and in the same direction.
They had not been engaged in any conversation, nor had they looked in any way a couple together, and yet …
She would have no qualms about commenting upon the character of Lady Dembleby, but Major Barkby was A Hero, obviously, having suffered for his King and Country, and suggesting he was paying court, if no more, to a woman still in deep mourning was scurrilous.
‘I … I could not say. There may of course be a very respectable reason why he did so.’ Mrs Cheddleton withered under the gaze of Lady Simmondley.
‘Hmm.’
‘Far be it from me to cast aspersions upon the innocent,’ declared Mrs Cheddleton, piously, if mendaciously.
With this, Lady Simmondley had, for the moment, to be content.
In blissful ignorance of her ‘wrongdoing’, once her slightly let out riding habit and a ladies’ side-saddle were delivered, Louisa was able to try out her new mount and begin her explorations of her estate, with Josiah as her guide.
Mr Orslow might show her maps, but seeing the lie of the land was far more useful, and she was able to visit her tenants, including the retired butler, who was, Josiah warned her, very hard of hearing.
‘Him and her late ladyship shouted at each other so loud I am surprised I did not hear ’em in the stables, my lady.
Not that there was anger, you understand, just that they both could not hear a word else.
And then with her ladyship being poor of sight also …
’ Josiah shook his 85head. ‘Mr Poulton ought to have retired years since, but he was devoted to her ladyship. I think he dwindles without her.’
Louisa could only agree that the poor man must have worked far longer than he was fit for service.
He was pathetically honoured to see her, and offered his own chair, which was the only upholstered one in the little room.
He evidently found the idea of actually sitting down in her presence beyond comprehension, and she had to press him, almost order him, to do so.
The cottage was tidy, furnished not meagrely, but without fussiness.
She noted the log basket was filled, and that upon the gate-leg table that served as his dining table there was a pewter tray with a single small glass and a sherry bottle. His eyes saw hers open a little.