“Elsbeth was interested in me. I never knew. I had never encountered her or been introduced to her,” Duncan explained, “until she fell…”
“From her horse and into your arms,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said in what sounded of a smile in her tone. “It seems on that day in the park, we had a very sincere conversation. We plotted how she might claim your attention, and I told her a tale of how I ‘accidentally’ slid off my horse and into the arms of Colonel Sandstrom Lyon. It wasn’t true, of course, but it sounds romantic enough. She and I decided her doing likewise must occur after church, so it would seem an innocent encounter. She was to return to Scotland at the end of the week, for her father’s time in London and Parliament would be finished by that time.”
Duncan did not know whether to laugh or to be angry. He chose the former. “All this time I thought our meeting was purely from coincidence. Now, you tell me a different tale”
“You are not upset, are you, my lord?” Mrs. Dove-Lyon asked.
“God, no!” he declared. “Your story makes me love Elsbeth more. You are correct in one way, she had seen a future for us before I had yet to set my gaze on the horizon. However, none of what you have shared explains how you came to have this horse.” He clutched it tightly in his hand, fearing to let the memory slip away.
“One day a small box arrived. I suppose Lady Elsbeth figured out who I was. I never told her, and we never met again. Inside the box was this small horse and a note that said, ‘Thank you for the sage advice. His lordship and I were married today. He gave me this horse in remembrance, but I thought you deserved it more than I.’” Mrs. Dove-Lyon sighed heavily. “Each year, on, I supposed, what was your wedding anniversary, I received another carved horse. No card. No name on the package, but I knew, and she knew that we had shared a moment. No matter our class or the cards we had been dealt. I was quite sad when the boxes no longer came. Her life was cut short too soon.”
They sat in companionable silence for several minutes before Mrs. Dove-Lyon rose with the entrance of a gentleman on the other side of the park.
Duncan followed her to her feet. He chuckled. “You had me going for awhile. You might have been able to encounter Elsbeth in and around 1790, which is when she and I first met, but, you, assuredly, did not know Colonel Lyon then. The ‘colonel’ was no ‘colonel’ during those years. I am not confident of his rank at that time, but I am aware that he was away from England and in India, for the British East India Company and many of our regulars were heavily engaged in fighting Tipu Sultan, the ruler of the Kingdom of Mysore. The Third Anglo-Mysore War did not end until after 1792. That was the year that Elsbeth and I married, though I am unclear when you and the colonel married. Would you like to speak to what really occurred?”
The woman laughed the kind of laugh that said she had enjoyed their battle of wits. “The truth is not so whimsical,” she admitted. “When your sons’ wives and Lady Freya were waiting in the women’s dining room at the Lyon’s Den, Titan overheard them talking about the items in the two vitrines in the room. The top shelf of one has little carved horses. Some were items picked up by the colonel in his travels. Others, I purchased. Later, Ichose one to present you for all your assistance this past year. Between your family and the government, the Lyon’s Den has more than a leg to stand on. Lady Emma said that her husband had told her a tale of how Lady Elsbeth always regretted losing the little black carved horse you presented her.
“Nothing personal, my lord, but most gentlemen are not so sentimental as you have proven to be. I thought the idea of returning the horse would be a means of expressing my gratitude.” She shrugged. “I pray I did not insult you, my lord.”
“You have not. Not, in the least,” he assured.
“It is a lovely tale, is it not, my lord?”
“I believe I will hold onto both the tale and the horse. I already have two grandchildren on the way, and I pray more will follow. They should know something tangible of their grandmother. As they grow, they may repeat the tale, and, eventually, it will be part of the family legend. As Euripides said, ‘One loyal friend is better than ten thousand relatives,’ or something along those lines. Farewell, ma’am,” he said with a bow. “Sleep still calls, but now I have something of which to dream and plan.”
~ Finis ~
