Chapter Eight #3
Her downcast expression touched Geraldine.
“I know you have my best interests at heart, Mama. Truly I do. But perhaps the wisest course right now is to go on as we are, live our lives here at Holly Grange, and let the future take care of itself. I’m very happy right now, and with Christmas drawing closer, I’d be even happier to set all this husband nonsense to one side for a bit. ”
“I expect you’re right,” sighed the older woman. “We should be focussing on the party.” She straightened her lace cap. “Now, have you decided on a gown?”
Geraldine prayed for patience, knowing that her Mama loved her, and only wanted the very best for her. Somewhere, though, their interests had diverged. To her mother, the very best was a husband and children. And sufficient income to ensure that all were well cared for in a comfortable style.
To her? The future contained horses, funds for the upkeep of an excellent stable, and possibly a husband whose interests matched hers.
Her mind flew back to that moment in Blaine’s library when his lips had found hers. Hmm. There was also the not-trivial matter of compatibility. Physical compatibility.
The notion of someone like Rovington kissing her was abhorrent. The notion of more kisses from Blaine? Oh yes. She folded her hands together in an effort to control the shiver of pleasure such a thought incurred.
“I think we should use Mrs Todd’s apples, don’t you? They’re always so crisp, and Cook says they make the best pies out of all the available fruit.”
Recalled to her surroundings, Geraldine nodded. “Yes indeed, Mama.” She glanced at the clock. “I believe you’ll have everything completely in hand. You always do, everybody says so.”
“Well,” Mrs Foster blushed. “I like to think we offer a delightful party where everyone enjoys themselves.”
Her daughter stood. “Stop fishing for compliments,” she chuckled, crossing the room and dropping a light kiss on her Mama’s cheek. “It will be quite wonderful, and you know it.”
“Where are you off to?”
“Upstairs. I am still in my riding habit, in case you hadn’t noticed, and it’s getting a bit uncomfortable. So I’m going to change, then drop in to the stables and make sure Flora is well settled for the night. By then it’ll be time for dinner.”
“Do dress warmly, dear,” admonished Mrs Foster. “I think we’re in for snow tonight.”
“I will, I promise.”
Accepting the sensible advice, Geraldine changed into a warm woollen gown, thick stockings, and a pair of ungainly, disreputable boots.
They were snug, and quite ugly, and she’d have done anything at all to keep them, since they were her preferred winter footwear.
She enjoyed a good tramp through the forests, and they served her well.
Adding another shawl, she returned to the hall and found her cloak, wrapping it over everything and lifting the hood to cover her hair and ears.
Within moments she was outside, taking deep breaths of the crisp air, delighted to find little snowflakes already drifting down. They were harbingers of a good solid snowfall tonight, she thought as she walked from the Grange to the stables.
Lights burned brightly, smoke came from one of the chimneys, and she happily stepped into the warmth and the smells of horses – a familiar and favourite fragrance – nodding to the grooms finishing up their day’s work.
A loud neigh sounded from one end of the stable, and she hurried down to it, knowing her sweet girl wanted attention.
Jepson was adding hay to the net bag on the wall. “She’s been a’waitin’ fer yer, Miss Gerry.”
Geraldine grinned. “She knew I’d come to make sure she is settled for the night.”
“Aye, that she did.” He took the pitchfork out of the stall. “Go on, then. Tell ‘er g’night.” He looked across the stable to the window. “In for a good ‘un, I reckon. Get us a few inches at least.”
“Everyone inside? All tucked up safely?”
Jepson nodded. “Aye.” He strolled away.
“Always a man of few words isn’t he, my darling.” Geraldine grinned at Flora as she rubbed the soft nose. “I forgot your apple, love. But never mind. You shall have one for breakfast.”
Flora snuffled with pleasure as her mistress laid a cheek against hers. “He kissed me, Flora.” She whispered the words. “And I liked it very much.”
There was no response, of course, but then she hadn’t really expected one. However, it felt good to get her confession off her chest. Especially to someone who could be relied upon not to divulge a secret under any circumstances.
Picking up a brush, Geraldine ran it idly through Flora’s mane, something they both enjoyed.
Her movements brought a happy whicker from the horse, and a murmur of pleasure from herself.
“Such a lovely girl you are,” she murmured.
“I wonder if he thinks I’m pretty, Flora?
Is that why he kissed me?” She thought about it.
“I’m sure there are many prettier girls in London, of course.
There must be. So why did he kiss me?” She considered the question as she tidied Flora’s mane.
“Probably just amusing himself,” she sighed. “After all, he’s not said if he’s staying here, selling Kendall Manor, or what his plans are. I shouldn’t allow myself to get too involved with him. Right?”
Flora remained silent.
“Ah well. At least I shall have something to look back on.”
At that, Flora nodded her head.
“You agree with that, do you?” Geraldine chuckled to herself. “People think horses are stupid. I’m convinced horses think people are stupid. I just hope you don’t think that of me, darling girl.”
“Yer gonna rip ’er mane right out if’n yer keep that up, Missy.”
Geraldine jumped as Jepson passed the stall with his acerbic comment. She looked at the perfectly groomed black and grey strands of hair. “You’re probably correct, but you know she enjoys it.”
“Time yer get inside. Snow’s thickenin’.”
She replaced the brush and dropped a kiss on Flora’s nose. “Yes, of course. Good night, sweetheart. Stay warm and cosy.”
Leaving the stall, she glanced at Jepson. “And that goes for you too, you old curmudgeon.”
“I’ll do, right enough, Miss Cheeky,” he grinned back. “Now get.” He made shooing motions with his hands.
Geraldine, ever obedient, got.