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Authors: A Clandestine Affair
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shade, until they reached the edge of the woods and clambered over the stile into the road.
“Keep into the bank,” Mary called, hearing the sound of a horse approaching, and the children obeyed her, turning and waiting for her to reach them. She smiled approvingly at them and gave them her hands, just as the horseman drew level and a well-remembered voice addressed her.
“A charming picture, Miss Wyndham,” she heard, and swung round to look up into the laughing eyes of Sir Ingram Leigh.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, astonished. “I thought you would have gone back to London.”
“Then you have been thinking of me?” he asked, and she frowned in annoyance.
“I cannot help wondering about Teresa,” she retorted.
“Oh, what a set down, when I had assumed it was myself you were concerned with. Rest content, she arrived safely and is chained hand and foot in an underground dungeon, fed on bread and water and regularly thrashed twice a day, three times if she complains of ill treatment!”
“Ooh!” came in awed accents from Peter, fascinated by this strange man.
“He is bamming you,” Mary said crossly. “I pray you will not frighten the children, Sir Ingram!”
“They are too big to be afraid. Would you like to ride on my horse?”
Both Peter and Jane clamoured for this treat, and Sir Ingram swung himself out of the saddle and lifted them both up, adjuring Peter to hold on to his sister. Then, looping the reins over his arm, he walked along beside Mary.
“She is sulking, as is my dear Aunt Cecy, but they will both soon find consolation,” he told her, and she did not ask whether this referred to Matthew, or whether Sir Ingram had seen him before leaving Cheltenham.
“It was kind of you to ride over this way and tell me,” she said stiffly, at which he laughed.
“Oh, I have not the slightest interest in them, as long as they cause me no trouble,” he responded lightly. “I came back to stay with the Wards since they very kindly pressed me to extend my visit. I was not acquainted with this part of the country previously, and find it has many attractions. You have lived here all your life, I understand?”
He maintained an easy flow of conversation, and Mary relaxed, responding to his remarks, and scarcely aware of her surroundings until they reached the gates of the manor. Then he halted, and smiled down at her.
“I must leave you here, Miss Wyndham. May I call and talk again with your father one day?”
“I am sure he would welcome it,” she replied, and he smiled again, then turned to lift down the excited children.
He mounted, and with a wave had turned and departed the way they had come. Mary walked once more along the manor drive, but this time, although she did not think of it, her unaccountable dejection had disappeared.
On the following day Caroline was completely better, and she and Mary went for a ride, as they often did. They had just enjoyed a gallop over a stretch of open country and reined in when a hail came from another group of riders who had just appeared from a patch of woodland. It was Paul and Belinda Ward, with Sir Ingram, and they rode over and exchanged greetings.
“We were coming to bring an invitation for you,” Belinda said merrily. She was several years younger than Mary, and had only this year emerged from the schoolroom, so neither Mary nor Caroline knew her as well as they did her brother. Now Mary looked at her with renewed interest. She was small, with a heart-shaped face, honey-gold curls, and laughing blue eyes. The horse she rode was a restive animal, and pranced about as they talked, but she sat him with superb ease, obviously totally in control.
“My mother asks you all to dine tomorrow evening,” Paul explained. “Just a small party. Can you come?”
“We would love to,” Caroline replied. “Mary?”
“Yes, and thank you,” Mary said.
“Then we will bring Mary with us,” Caroline arranged briskly.
After a few more
“Keep into the bank,” Mary called, hearing the sound of a horse approaching, and the children obeyed her, turning and waiting for her to reach them. She smiled approvingly at them and gave them her hands, just as the horseman drew level and a well-remembered voice addressed her.
“A charming picture, Miss Wyndham,” she heard, and swung round to look up into the laughing eyes of Sir Ingram Leigh.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, astonished. “I thought you would have gone back to London.”
“Then you have been thinking of me?” he asked, and she frowned in annoyance.
“I cannot help wondering about Teresa,” she retorted.
“Oh, what a set down, when I had assumed it was myself you were concerned with. Rest content, she arrived safely and is chained hand and foot in an underground dungeon, fed on bread and water and regularly thrashed twice a day, three times if she complains of ill treatment!”
“Ooh!” came in awed accents from Peter, fascinated by this strange man.
“He is bamming you,” Mary said crossly. “I pray you will not frighten the children, Sir Ingram!”
“They are too big to be afraid. Would you like to ride on my horse?”
Both Peter and Jane clamoured for this treat, and Sir Ingram swung himself out of the saddle and lifted them both up, adjuring Peter to hold on to his sister. Then, looping the reins over his arm, he walked along beside Mary.
“She is sulking, as is my dear Aunt Cecy, but they will both soon find consolation,” he told her, and she did not ask whether this referred to Matthew, or whether Sir Ingram had seen him before leaving Cheltenham.
“It was kind of you to ride over this way and tell me,” she said stiffly, at which he laughed.
“Oh, I have not the slightest interest in them, as long as they cause me no trouble,” he responded lightly. “I came back to stay with the Wards since they very kindly pressed me to extend my visit. I was not acquainted with this part of the country previously, and find it has many attractions. You have lived here all your life, I understand?”
He maintained an easy flow of conversation, and Mary relaxed, responding to his remarks, and scarcely aware of her surroundings until they reached the gates of the manor. Then he halted, and smiled down at her.
“I must leave you here, Miss Wyndham. May I call and talk again with your father one day?”
“I am sure he would welcome it,” she replied, and he smiled again, then turned to lift down the excited children.
He mounted, and with a wave had turned and departed the way they had come. Mary walked once more along the manor drive, but this time, although she did not think of it, her unaccountable dejection had disappeared.
On the following day Caroline was completely better, and she and Mary went for a ride, as they often did. They had just enjoyed a gallop over a stretch of open country and reined in when a hail came from another group of riders who had just appeared from a patch of woodland. It was Paul and Belinda Ward, with Sir Ingram, and they rode over and exchanged greetings.
“We were coming to bring an invitation for you,” Belinda said merrily. She was several years younger than Mary, and had only this year emerged from the schoolroom, so neither Mary nor Caroline knew her as well as they did her brother. Now Mary looked at her with renewed interest. She was small, with a heart-shaped face, honey-gold curls, and laughing blue eyes. The horse she rode was a restive animal, and pranced about as they talked, but she sat him with superb ease, obviously totally in control.
“My mother asks you all to dine tomorrow evening,” Paul explained. “Just a small party. Can you come?”
“We would love to,” Caroline replied. “Mary?”
“Yes, and thank you,” Mary said.
“Then we will bring Mary with us,” Caroline arranged briskly.
After a few more
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