Chapter 4 Distressing News #2
I coughed against a thickness in my throat.
“Yes, I know.” Any iota of resentment I may have harboured for him dissipated.
I directed the sole remaining animosity in my breast to Mr. Darcy, a presumptuous man who used his wealth to take whatever he wanted—without regard for how his actions affected anyone else.
Darcy
On the ride back to Springvale, I whistled an old Scottish folk song my mother used to sing to me.
At the house, I bathed, then reviewed my correspondence.
While Winston dressed me for dinner, I shared the news of my new purchase.
My valet expressed his agreement that I had chosen a fine gift for my sister.
In the drawing-room, I took a seat near the Haywards and enquired after my friend’s wellbeing.
Once Hayward assured me that his headache had receded, I related my successful transaction with Mr. Barton.
Yet neither of them offered congratulations.
Rather, my friend grimaced, and the colour drained from his wife’s countenance.
“What is the matter?” My sight darted between them.
Hayward gritted his teeth. “Lily, though she legally belongs to Mr. Barton, is Miss Bennet’s horse. She trained the mare from the time Lily was a foal, so they have developed an extraordinary bond. She will not take the news well.”
Miss Bennet: the customer in the haberdashery. Her fair image thrust to the forepart of my mind. Lily had been her horse? I swallowed. “Who is Miss Bennet, and what is her connexion to the Bartons?”
“She is Mr. Barton’s niece and has been his ward since her parents died sixteen or seventeen years ago of a virulent ague.”
“I do not understand how you could have purchased Lily.” Mrs. Hayward studied me, wearing a marked frown. “I should have averred that Mr. Barton would never agree to sell that horse under any circumstances. How did you convince him to part with her?”
“I…um…offered him one thousand pounds.”
“One thousand pounds?” She shared a quick look with Hayward. “If I may ask, why would you offer so much money for one horse?”
Once I had explained my rationale for purchasing Lily, understanding lightened the expressions of my friend and his wife. Nevertheless, a twinge radiated from deep within my core. “I wish I had known of Miss Bennet’s attachment to Lily. Why do you suppose Mr. Barton agreed to the sale?”
Hayward slanted his head. “Barton has suffered financial difficulties over the years and has been trying to rebuild his coffers. I suspect he could not forgo your offer.”
“Oh, fie!” Mrs. Hayward expelled her breath in a huff.
“This was badly done on Mr. Barton’s part—that horse means the world to Miss Bennet.
And he could have saved a pretty penny by now if he had not indulged Miss Barton’s every wish over the years.
That young lady has an extravagant wardrobe and receives everything else her heart desires while Miss Bennet wears her castoffs! ”
My friend reached out to touch his wife’s arm.
“Now, now, Susan. It is not so difficult to understand that after his wife’s death, Mr. Barton sought to make up for the loss of his daughter’s mother with material goods.
Besides, unlike Miss Barton, Miss Bennet does not covet such finery.
Rather, she is content to have plenty of books to read.
” Mrs. Hayward opened her mouth to respond, but he silenced her with a raised palm.
“Do not misunderstand me. I do not agree with Barton’s treatment of the two ladies.
Furthermore, I hate to see Miss Bennet lose Lily, but what is done is done.
She may take a modicum of comfort from the fact that her horse will have a loving home and will be well cared for.
” His sight drifted to me. “I shall reassure her of this fact when the opportunity arises.”
That might be a small consolation to her at least. Mrs. Hayward changed the subject with a mention of a new tea shop on Minster Street, but Miss Bennet’s image would not budge from my cognisance.
Would she hold my purchase of Lily against me?
And why should I be troubled if she did?
I roused from my rumination with the realisation that Mrs. Hayward had uttered Miss Bennet’s name again.
What had she said? She had already shifted to another topic: tomorrow’s dinner guests, the Ware family. I took advantage of the first pause in her speech. “Excuse me, but I missed what you said a moment ago with regard to Miss Bennet.”
“Oh yes. I thought it best to inform you of the disparity between the two ladies at Knight’s Manor.
Whilst Patrick and I esteem Miss Bennet and deem her to be superior company to her cousin, Miss Barton benefits from a superior situation.
Her father has apportioned fifteen thousand pounds to her.
In contrast, Miss Bennet lacks a dowry.”
My friend caught my gaze. “The two ladies received a fine education at home from a governess, and a music master taught them to play the pianoforte. They are both skilled musicians.”
“Indeed, their duet performances are delightful.” Mrs. Hayward’s forefinger traced her pursed lips.
“Another consideration is Miss Bennet’s uncle, Mr. Gardiner.
He is the younger brother of the late Mrs. Bennet.
Mr. Gardiner is a tradesman in London, and according to Mr. Barton, he is not an honourable man.
In fact, Mr. Barton has taken pains to ensure Miss Bennet is kept far away from him. ”
“That is a shame.” To have such a relation, estranged or not, would hinder her chances of marrying a man of any importance.
She gestured to Hayward. “Patrick met Mr. Gardiner once.”
“Did you?” I regarded my friend.
“Yes, I made his acquaintance when he last stayed with the Bartons. I must have been twelve back then. He seemed amiable at the time.” His mouth twitched to the side.
“There is one more consideration with respect to Miss Bennet that I learnt from my father and shall tell you in confidence. Although Miss Bennet is a gentleman’s daughter, she is not, in actuality, a relation to the Bartons.
Rather, the late Mrs. Rebecca Barton served as her godmother, and Mr. Bennet named her and Mr. Barton as Miss Bennet’s guardians. ”
“I see.” That made Miss Bennet’s situation all the more peculiar.
Mrs. Hayward shifted to a new position and recovered her former sanguine air. “We are invited to Knight’s Manor for dinner on Monday, so you will meet Miss Bennet then.”
“Very well.” In order to alleviate any possible awkwardness between us, I should apologise to the lady for having inadvertently purchased her favourite horse.
Monday, 16 September
Darcy
Hayward and I rode our horses upon a picturesque path along the River Avon that morning. Upon our return to the stables, we parted company: Hayward returned to the house, while I approached the russet-haired groom, Tim, and asked him to saddle Lily.
When he brought the mare to me, I almost admonished him for having made a mistake. This horse bore little resemblance to the spirited steed I had admired and purchased on Saturday. She walked at a sluggish gait, more like a hackney nag than a fine riding horse.
Could Mr. Barton have sold me a sick animal? I stepped around Lily and searched for any signs of disease. “What is wrong with her? She must be ill.”
“No, sir.” Tim brushed his hand along Lily’s nose. “She’s well enough. She ate every scrap of ’er grain and most of ’er ’ay this morning. She’s just a bit down in the mouth.”
“You believe the mare is depressed? Why would that be?”
“She’s pining for ’er mistress.”
Could that be the sole reason for this alteration? “You refer to Miss Bennet.”
“Aye, sir.”
“I suppose she has ridden Lily here in the past.”
“Yes, many times.” A smile lightened Tim’s look. “The lady is a friend to the mistress.”
“You seem to approve of Miss Bennet.”
“Oh yes, sir. She’s like a ray of sunshine. Always has a kind word for anyone she meets.”
His description matched my impression of her from that day at the haberdasher’s shop. “Well, I expect exercise will improve the mare’s temper.”
“Yes, sir.” Tim’s tone, though, did not convey confidence in my statement.
I took the reins from him. When I mounted Lily, her ears moved back, and she stamped a front hoof.
Could she be unaccustomed to carrying the weight of a man?
“Easy, girl. All is well.” I directed her towards the forest path, and she maintained the same tired walk as before.
I urged her into a trot and then a canter.
She obeyed my cues but without a whit of enthusiasm.
When we came adjacent to a tree, I stopped Lily, grabbed a bare, dry twig, and broke it off.
We continued at a walk, and I hit the twig against my boot loud enough to create a cracking sound.
Lily’s ears shot up, but her pace did not improve.
After repeating the effort a few more times without success, I threw the twig away.
We came upon a perpendicular path, and I turned her to the left.
In an instant, she transformed: her head shot higher, her nostrils flared, and her sullen walk became a prance.
“Yes, that is right. Good girl.” I ran my hand along her neck.
She seemed to have acquired the energy of ten horses.
In fact, I had to restrain her from changing to a higher gait on her own.
Soon, I cued her to move into a trot, then a canter and a gallop.
In time, flecks of foam appeared on her neck and upper chest, and I slowed her.
So, my conjecture had been correct: she had needed nothing more than to leave the stables and have a good run.