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Authors: Victoria Holt
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beginning to plan a curriculum for the girls and although I intended to have each one at the piano every day, it seemed I should still have time to spare. But there was that suggestion that I was to play for Sir William. What could that entail? All sorts of possibilities presented themselves. I saw myself in that hall, playing on the dais…to a large assembly.
I wandered out of the walled garden and made my way back across a terrace, past the powerful buttresses; and as I looked up at those gray walls at the corbelled oriels and more of those hideous gargoyles, I thought how easy it would be to lose my way.
Trying to find my way back to the courtyards, I came to the stables. As I was passing by the mounting block, which must have been used by the ladies of the house for centuries because the stone was very worn, Napier Stacy came out of the stables leading a horse. I felt embarrassed to be caught wandering about and would have liked to avoid him; but I was too late, he had seen me.
He stood still, looking at me in a puzzled manner, wondering, it seemed, who dared trespass on his domain. Tall, lean, legs apart, bellicose, arrogant. I immediately thought of fragile Edith married to such a man. Poor child, I thought. Poor, poor child. I disliked him. The heavy dark brows were frowning above those startlingly blue eyes. They had no right to be blue, I thought illogically, in such a dark face. His nose was long, slightly prominent; his mouth too thin, as though he were sneering at the world. Oh, certainly I disliked him.
“Good afternoon,” I said defiantly—it was a natural attitude with which to face such a man.
“I don’t think I have the pleasure…” He spoke the last word cynically to imply that he meant the opposite—or perhaps that was my imagination.
“I’m the music teacher. I’ve just arrived.”
“Music teacher?” He raised those black eyebrows. “Oh, I remember now. I’ve heard some talk of this. So…you have come to inspect the stables?”
I felt annoyed. “I had no fixed intention of doing so,” I said sharply. “I came here unintentionally.”
He rocked a little on his heels and his attitude had changed. I was not quite sure whether for the worse or the better.
I added: “I saw no harm in walking through the grounds.”
“Did anyone suggest there might be harm in such an innocent action?”
“I thought perhaps you…” I floundered. He was waiting expectantly, enjoying—yes, enjoying my discomfiture. I went on boldly: “I thought perhaps you objected.”
“I don’t remember saying so.”
“Well, since you don’t object I’ll continue with my walk.”
I moved away; as I did so I passed the back of the horse. In a second Napier Stacy was beside me; he had roughly caught my arm and dragged me violently to one side as the horse kicked out. His blue eyes blazed hotly; his face was tight with contempt. “Good God, don’t you know better than that?”
I looked at him indignantly; he was still gripping my arm and his face was so close to mine that I could see the clear whites of his eyes, the flash of his large white teeth.
“What are you…” I began.
But he silenced me curtly. “My good woman, don’t you know that you should never walk close behind a horse. You could have been kicked to death…or at least badly injured…in a second.”
“I…I had no idea…”
He released his grip on my arm and patted the horse’s head. His expression changed. How gentle he was! How much more attractive he found a horse than an inquisitive music teacher!
Then he turned to me again; “I shouldn’t come to the stables alone if I were you, Miss er…”
“Mrs.,” I said with dignity. “Mrs. Verlaine.” I waited to see the effect my married status would have on him; it was, however, perfectly clear that the fact was of no significance to him whatsoever.
“Well, don’t come to the stables if you’re going to be such a fool, for God’s sake. A horse hears a movement
I wandered out of the walled garden and made my way back across a terrace, past the powerful buttresses; and as I looked up at those gray walls at the corbelled oriels and more of those hideous gargoyles, I thought how easy it would be to lose my way.
Trying to find my way back to the courtyards, I came to the stables. As I was passing by the mounting block, which must have been used by the ladies of the house for centuries because the stone was very worn, Napier Stacy came out of the stables leading a horse. I felt embarrassed to be caught wandering about and would have liked to avoid him; but I was too late, he had seen me.
He stood still, looking at me in a puzzled manner, wondering, it seemed, who dared trespass on his domain. Tall, lean, legs apart, bellicose, arrogant. I immediately thought of fragile Edith married to such a man. Poor child, I thought. Poor, poor child. I disliked him. The heavy dark brows were frowning above those startlingly blue eyes. They had no right to be blue, I thought illogically, in such a dark face. His nose was long, slightly prominent; his mouth too thin, as though he were sneering at the world. Oh, certainly I disliked him.
“Good afternoon,” I said defiantly—it was a natural attitude with which to face such a man.
“I don’t think I have the pleasure…” He spoke the last word cynically to imply that he meant the opposite—or perhaps that was my imagination.
“I’m the music teacher. I’ve just arrived.”
“Music teacher?” He raised those black eyebrows. “Oh, I remember now. I’ve heard some talk of this. So…you have come to inspect the stables?”
I felt annoyed. “I had no fixed intention of doing so,” I said sharply. “I came here unintentionally.”
He rocked a little on his heels and his attitude had changed. I was not quite sure whether for the worse or the better.
I added: “I saw no harm in walking through the grounds.”
“Did anyone suggest there might be harm in such an innocent action?”
“I thought perhaps you…” I floundered. He was waiting expectantly, enjoying—yes, enjoying my discomfiture. I went on boldly: “I thought perhaps you objected.”
“I don’t remember saying so.”
“Well, since you don’t object I’ll continue with my walk.”
I moved away; as I did so I passed the back of the horse. In a second Napier Stacy was beside me; he had roughly caught my arm and dragged me violently to one side as the horse kicked out. His blue eyes blazed hotly; his face was tight with contempt. “Good God, don’t you know better than that?”
I looked at him indignantly; he was still gripping my arm and his face was so close to mine that I could see the clear whites of his eyes, the flash of his large white teeth.
“What are you…” I began.
But he silenced me curtly. “My good woman, don’t you know that you should never walk close behind a horse. You could have been kicked to death…or at least badly injured…in a second.”
“I…I had no idea…”
He released his grip on my arm and patted the horse’s head. His expression changed. How gentle he was! How much more attractive he found a horse than an inquisitive music teacher!
Then he turned to me again; “I shouldn’t come to the stables alone if I were you, Miss er…”
“Mrs.,” I said with dignity. “Mrs. Verlaine.” I waited to see the effect my married status would have on him; it was, however, perfectly clear that the fact was of no significance to him whatsoever.
“Well, don’t come to the stables if you’re going to be such a fool, for God’s sake. A horse hears a movement
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