Page 35 of Fair as a Star

“I can’t fathom why Mr. Rivenhall would have given you such a creature,” Mama continued, unmollified. “And I shall never understand what prompted you to accept him. If you desired a lapdog, you could have waited for Sir Henry to provide one. A handsome little spaniel, perhaps. Or even a pug. Something more pleasing to the eye.”

Beryl’s arms tightened around Ernest. He was perched in her lap, unaffected by the aspersions cast on his character and appearance. She didn’t exert herself to defend him. She had more important things on her mind at present than Ernest’s unfortunate behavior at the church.

When the carriage stopped at the front steps of the Grange, she was the first one out, making her way upstairs to her bedroom without a word. Once there, she closed the door behind her and dropped Ernest onto the quilt at the foot of her bed.

There was no point in summoning Mary to help her undress. Beryl’s silk bodice and the tapes of her flounced skirts were easy enough to unfasten on her own.

Stripped to her petticoats, chemise, and corset, she crossed the floor to her wardrobe and withdrew a plain cotton day dress. She was just stepping into the skirts when a knock sounded at the door.

Winnifred poked her blond head inside. “May I come in?”

“If you must.” Beryl buttoned her skirts at her waist and slipped her arms into the soft sleeves of her bodice. It was an old garment, a faded green print, something she’d often worn in the months before Aunt Hortensia had whisked her away to Paris.

Winnifred came to lean against the end of Beryl’s bed. She gave Ernest a distracted scratch. “Do you really intend to go back to the church?”

“I believe I must. Unless you have a better idea?”

“Let me go in your place.”

Beryl’s fingers stilled on the hooks of her bodice. She gave her sister a puzzled look. “Whatever for?”

“To clean up after Ernest. I can dispose of the greenery and sponge away any leftover mess.”

“Why on earth would you want to do that? He’s my responsibility.”

“I’ll happily do it, if…if you’ll do something for me in exchange.”

Beryl finished fastening her bodice. “This doesn’t have anything to do with your argument with Henry, does it?”

“I want you to speak with him.”

“About what?” Beryl smoothed her skirts before turning to face her sister. The look on Winnifred’s face brought her up short. She was nearly as pale as Mama had been in the carriage. “What is it, dearest?” Beryl went to her and took her hand. “What’s happened to upset you so?”

“I’m not upset,” Winnifred said. “I’m furious.”

“Come. Sit with me.” Beryl drew her sister down next to her on the edge of the mattress. The heavy velvet curtains of her four-poster bed cast a shadow over the pair of them, giving a sense of privacy. “Tell me what Henry’s done to make you so angry.”

“He’s an autocratic, overbearing blockhead,” Winnifred answered with unexpected heat. “I’ve been working on him for months, trying to endear myself to him so that he would continue to allow me to ride Vesper. I’d hoped that, one day, he might—” She stopped herself. “But that doesn’t matter anymore. It was a stupid dream. I can see that now.”

“What? Tell me.”

“I had a ridiculous idea that, once the two of you were married, Sir Henry might find it within himself to make me a gift of Vesper.”

“Oh, my dear.”

“I said it was ridiculous. He’s no more likely to give me a horse than he is to do anything out of the goodness of his heart. Indeed, I don’t believe he has one.”

“Winnie, really. You mustn’t say such things.”

“What else am I to think? Nothing I’ve done to sweeten him has made any difference. Not the flowers I’ve brought or the pleasant conversation I’ve made with him. I may as well have been conversing with a fence post.”

“What’s prompted all this?”

Winnifred’s mouth trembled. “Yesterday when I went to Rivenhall Park for my ride, the groom said Vesper had been taken out already by Sir Henry. I thought it strange. He usually rides that bay gelding of his. But I wasn’t too troubled by it. I assumed he’d forgotten that I’m accustomed to riding Vesper at that time of day. He’s been so distracted by business of late. And with your marriage approaching…” She gave a bitter laugh. “You see, even then, I was disposed to give him the benefit of the doubt. But after what he said at church…”

Beryl slipped her arm around Winnifred’s shoulders. She stroked her hand up and down her sister’s silk-clad arm.

“Vesper should be mine, Beryl.” Tears glistened in Winnifred’s eyes. “You may think me fanciful, but a rider knows when she’s met the horse that was meant for her. We’re perfectly suited. And he likes me above anyone. And now Sir Henry says that I can’t ride him anymore, simply because I was unseated one dratted time.”