Chapter Two
On that same day, when the sky was filled with heavy clouds and threatening to spit sleet or snow at any moment, Geraldine walked back toward Holly Grange from the stables.
She was grubby, pleasantly exhausted, and smiling to herself as she reviewed her morning’s accomplishments.
The colt had finally accepted the saddle.
Granted, it had stayed on his back for about ten seconds, but he’d given her a look that clearly said, “I know what you want, but you’re going to have to work a bit more before I let you buckle this thing around me.”
She grinned as she neatly sidestepped a large muddy hole in the path.
He was going to be lightning on hooves, she was convinced.
He had that something, that sparkle in his eye, that she knew meant spirit, strength and determination.
He was playful and smarter than most of the other Holly Stables residents – except for Flora, of course.
After she’d finished with the colt, rubbed him down, made a fuss of him and given him an apple as a reward, she’d treated herself to a ride on Flora, both enjoying the winter air and the hard ground.
Truly, riding this special horse was a dream for her; the bonds between human and beast were solid and permanent.
Flora had arrived several years ago, bedraggled, sick, and filthy, sent by a friend of Mr Foster’s who knew of the reputation of their stables. At that time, her breed was in high demand in Europe, even to the point of being seized by Napoleon’s soldiers at his command.
Andalusians were war horses for armies, sturdy, strong, with chests that reflected that power.
Their distinctive grey coats, and all the colour variations that nature had bestowed upon them, were precious in Geraldine’s eyes.
As was Flora herself, nursed back to full health by a girl who was committed to horses.
The black forelock and the dark grey to black shaded mane, the sleek coat that glowed after a good grooming, and the sounds of delight she made whenever Geraldine appeared – it was most definitely love. And it was mutual.
They shared the joy of rides through the forests around Holly Grange, mostly without the need for a saddle, unless their journeys took them anywhere near people. Riding in breeches was sin enough, riding without a saddle? Unpardonable.
But then again, as the daughter of Holly Grange, she was tolerated with gentle amusement by the residents of the village, who understood that precious link between human and animal. After all, they were farmers at heart, and such things were welcomed and applauded.
She’d seen nobody this morning, however, as she’d taken the path into the woods, a ride both she and Flora enjoyed, even though it was slower than a good gallop across the fields.
The birds had been busy, a few squirrels sought food, and she’d heard the cry of a hawk echoing over the wintry landscape.
And now, sadly, it was time for her to return to the land of normalcy, where dresses were required, the smell of horses had to be thoroughly washed away, and once again she had to revert to her role as daughter of the house.
She sighed and pulled the knitted cap further down over her ears.
She’d borrowed it from one of the grooms a while ago, and conveniently forgotten to return it, because it worked much better than any of her girl-bonnets for keeping her ears warm.
The rest of her was warm as well, although wrapped in a disreputable jacket that had seen more than a few years of work in the stables.
She was nearly at the house, when a whim steered her footsteps around to the front. She wanted to see if the little fir trees her Mama had planted in the spring were holding up against their first dose of cold weather.
As she did so, the jangle of harnesses and the thud of hooves permeated the air, and she found herself staring at a very smart carriage with a high-stepping pair of well-matched blacks heading up the gravel drive toward the front door. Curious, she headed the same way.
Both girl and carriage arrived simultaneously.
The driver, smartly dressed in a spotless superfine coat with several capes, nodded at her. “Here, boy. Hold these. There’s sixpence in it for you if you walk ‘em now and again?”
What could she say? She realised that in her muddy breeches, old jacket and borrowed wool cap, she did indeed resemble a lad.
She tapped her forehead respectfully. “Aye, sir. I’ll watch ‘em fer yer.” She approached the two horses, blowing and huffing out clouds of steam into the icy air. “Fine pair, they are.”
“Good lad.”
The driver jumped down and went around to the side, opening the door. “Here we are, sister. Come along now, there’s a dear. We needn’t stay long.”
A lovely young woman stepped down onto the gravel, her coat showing all the signs of having been carefully fitted, and her fur muff probably from some very expensive London shop.
“You should have waited for a groom to drive us, Blaine. It is far too provincial of you to drive yourself.”
Her complaint echoed over the icy ground.
“I didn’t want to wait, and the stables were busy. At least they harnessed the horses for me. The sun sets early, you know, and I’m not that familiar with the roads.”
A dainty snort followed his words. “Well, I don’t see the point of this visit at all, I really don’t. If you wanted to meet the locals, you could have had them come to us. Besides, we won’t be here that long. I must be back in town in time for the Duke of Erith’s ball, you know.”
The slight whine in the words set Geraldine’s teeth on edge, but she said nothing, just soothed the horses and held the reins as the couple walked up to the front door and knocked.
So that was the new baronet. Sir Blaine Kendall.
She barely had a chance to register that fact when one of the footmen came hurrying around the side of the house.
“Oh heavens, Miss Geraldine. I didn’t know yer were holdin’ them. We wasn’t expectin’ company…” He looked distraught.
“It’s all right, Frank. Here. You can take them now.
” She gave the beautiful boys a last rub.
“Don’t even mention me. As far as anyone knows, you took the reins when they got here.
” She glanced at him. He was cleaner than she was, but about the same size.
On a whim, she pulled off her hat. “Put this on. It’ll keep you warm.
But I want it back, mind you.” She grinned and plopped it on the lad’s head.
“Yes, Miss,” he nodded.
“Excellent. Thank you.” She hurried away, heading for the kitchen door, knowing she could slip up to her room without being seen. If she was exceptionally lucky, the unwelcome visitors would be gone by the time she returned.
Crossing her fingers, she darted into the rear entrance of Holly Grange.
Blaine Kendall was pleasantly surprised to find himself and his sister ushered into a charming parlour where a fire blazed brightly.
The curtains had yet to be drawn, but one or two candles had already been lit, illuminating the lady who rose at their entrance.
“Sir Blaine,” she smiled. “A pleasure to welcome you to Holly Grange, and my sympathies on your recent loss.”
“Thank you.” He bowed over the hand she extended. “May I present my sister? Miss Millicent Kendall.”
“How do you do.” Millicent managed a scant hint of a curtsey, irritating Blaine. He had no patience for the town airs that she had begun to assume, especially to those she considered her inferiors. That list was growing, and he found himself determined to nip it in the bud.
But for now, he merely nodded, and they took the seats offered by Mrs Foster.
“May one assume that you are here to evaluate the property?” The question was phrased politely and accompanied by a noncommittal smile.
“One may indeed,” he smiled back. “You’re probably aware that I’ve not been to Kendall Manor in quite a few years, so it is certainly time for me to see how things are.”
“I trust you found it in reasonably good heart,” Mrs Foster replied. “My husband will join us shortly – he’s just finishing up a session with our head groom – and he’ll have a better idea of enough of the local area that I know he’ll be happy to share.”
“I would like that very much,” Blaine nodded. “I believe we shall be staying for a while longer at least, since there is quite a bit of paperwork to be sorted. As I’m sure you understand.”
“I do indeed. The passing of an estate owner is always a time of confusion and disorganisation, but I’m sure you will be able to bring matters to a satisfactory conclusion.”
“He will be selling, of course.” Millicent’s sharp comment echoed around the room just as another person entered.
He thought at first it might be a maid, but there was no tray in her hands, and she walked directly to Mrs Foster.
“Sorry, Mama,” she murmured. “I didn’t know we had guests.”
The older woman sighed. “Sir Blaine, Miss Kendall, this is my daughter Geraldine.”
Blaine rose and bowed; Millicent merely nodded. Both salutes were returned with a brief bob of a curtsey.
The girl seemed shy, and somewhat unwilling to attract scrutiny. She seated herself in a chair on the far side of the fireplace, shadowed and quiet, her gown dull, eyes lowered, her hair pulled back so fiercely it made Blaine’s forehead ache.
A mouse of a girl, he concluded, and turned his attention to Mrs Foster once more, as the door opened again, this time with the tea tray.
“I shall be sorry to see the estate in new hands, Sir Blaine. But I do understand your decision. To be encumbered with such a burden when one’s heart is not involved – well, the choice is wise.” She poured tea. “I assume the stables will be broken down?”
Blaine accepted the proffered cup with a smile of thanks. “Actually, I have yet to go over that situation. It will take time to evaluate the stock, of course. I believe I will be staying here for a few weeks at least.”
His sister’s head jerked up and her teacup rattled on its saucer. “What?”
He grinned. “You will be returning to town, love. I doubt you’d enjoy the business end of all this, and I know you have engagements to keep over Christmas.”
Millicent subsided, but not without shooting him a rather angry look.
He turned to Mrs Foster once more. “And of course there is the Mistletoe Cup to consider. I understand from my head groom that it is still a tradition for Kendall Manor to host the event on Boxing Day?”
Mrs Foster nodded and glanced at her daughter. “Indeed yes. But you must ask Geraldine about it. She is a staunch supporter and has been since she was a child.”
“Ah.” Blaine sighed inwardly. There it was. The let-me-show-you-my-eligible-daughter moment. Having had plenty of experience with such things, he merely turned his head toward the figure in the shadows. “Is there anyone else who might host the race, Miss Foster?”
“No.”
The answer was short and sharp, rather surprising him. He’d expected at least a titter or two, but apparently this young woman had her mind made up.
“Why not?” He pursued.
Her shoulders rose and fell in an annoyingly casual shrug.
“The Mistletoe Cup is a race for horses that enjoy a good gallop and the challenge of jumping. It tests the strength of the mount and the dexterity of the rider. The course is about three miles or so, and the Kendall property offers the best route in the area.”
Her voice was level, but the tone behind it held a hint of something else. Anger, perhaps? Although why she should be angry with him, he had no idea at all.
“Gates? Jumps?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “Anything else?”
“Geraldine, dear, do help Sir Blaine. Remember, it’s been many years since he was last at Kendall Manor. I’m sure the grounds have changed a bit in the meantime.”
Mrs Foster’s gentle scold seemed to have the desired effect as the young woman nodded.
“The start and finish lines are in the first paddock behind the stables. The fence is removed for the race and the track goes through the wood, over the first hedge, and across two fields, with another hedge jump in between. Then there are the water hazards…” She went on to describe the rest of the course clearly and accurately, painting a picture for him that was both complete and interesting.
A sigh and a minute fidget from his side reminded him that Millicent was getting bored.
But he waited until Miss Geraldine had concluded her description of the Mistletoe Cup course.
“Thank you. That was just the information I needed.” He was about to ask another question when she forestalled him.
“I believe you would be best served by talking to either your head groom, or ours – Jepson. His knowledge of horses, and the racecourse, exceeds everyone else in the area.” She subsided back into the shadows.
“In that case, I will indeed do so.” He nodded. Then he returned his teacup to the table beside him and heard Millicent’s grateful sigh of relief as the two of them rose to take their leave.
Both the Foster women stood.
“I apologise again for my husband being absent, Sir Blaine,” Mrs Foster smiled. “If I might suggest he visit Kendall Manor during your stay to extend his apologies in person, would that find favour?”
“I would be happy to welcome him any time. I know his counsel would be most advantageous.” Blaine bowed and grasped his sister’s elbow, giving it a quick squeeze.
Obedient to his signal, she curtseyed. “Thank you for allowing us to visit, Ma’am,” she said. Then turned to Geraldine. “Miss Foster.” The nod was frosty.
“Miss Kendall.” An equally frosty response, accompanied by a very brief curtsey.
Blaine sighed, more than ready to get back to the study in Kendall Manor. He had a lot of work to do, first amongst which was the business of shipping his dear sister back to London. Once that was accomplished, he could really begin the business that needed to be attended to.
Once outside the house, muffled against the cold, he escorted Millicent to the carriage. “You’ll be on your way in the morning and back in town this time tomorrow.”
“Oh, Blaine. You are the best of brothers.” She hugged him before entering the carriage.
Rolling his eyes, he glanced at the lad holding the horses.
“Thank you,” he murmured, mindful of his promise. “Here, lad. Go and warm yourself.” He tossed a sixpence into waiting hands.
Then paused. The hat was the same, but the clothes were different. This was a sturdy fellow, good solid legs and shoulders. Not at all like the slim lines of the lad who had taken his horses when they’d arrived.
A puzzle indeed, he reflected as he climbed onto the box. But with all the other puzzles and problems on his plate, he set this one aside and thought no more about it.