Page 11

Corinna turned. ‘Oh, Miss Eliza, come in.’ She looked her up and down, noting she was dressed in her own riding habit, her hat in her hands. ‘That looks even better on you than on me! Did you enjoy your ride?’ Eliza nodded, her mind on how best to raise the subject of her provenance as Corinna motioned her to the chair opposite. ‘Alick’s relation, Mr Flynn, has turned up sooner than expected.’ Corinna continued in a rush, ‘I’ve just been thinking that with this new young man under our roof I must arrange for a proper chaperone for you. Perhaps Polly will be best? I can use one of the housemaids as my own maid for a while.’

Eliza coloured. ‘It may not be necessary, Mrs Wolfe. I have to tell you something that will change everything.’ She was just steeling herself to admit that she had never in fact lost her memory when there was a knock at the door and the tall figure of Alick Wolfe entered, followed by an even larger man.

‘Ah, Miss Eliza, you’re back.’ He turned to the visitor who stood beside him. ‘This is Mr Flynn, from New York.’

Eliza had stood up and the man walked towards her with his hand outstretched. Before Alick could introduce them formally, the newcomer said in an Irish brogue, ‘Good day, Miss Eliza. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.’ His handshake was so firm it was almost painful and she gazed up into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. He still had hold of her hand as he addressed Corinna. ‘Mrs Wolfe, I commend you on your handsome house. So much grander than it appears from the outside.’

Alick laughed at the surprised look on his wife’s face. ‘Zadoc has been telling me how cramped and dingy the houses looked in Falmouth, where he came ashore. How attractive the people, but smoky and mean their cottages.’

Zadoc Flynn released Eliza’s hand to clap Alick on the back. ‘But as I say, the interiors are beautiful and grand.’ Eliza had been examining this surprising stranger while he spoke. He was wearing a large coat with a lustrous sable collar. Underneath she could see his shirt was of pale blue silk, not snowy white linen. His clothes looked expensive but of a more elaborate style than the austere perfection favoured by Lord Purfoy. Most surprising of all to Eliza was the sight of a large emerald on his little finger, and another as a stud in his right ear. This fascinated her. Not even the circus men, who could be flamboyant in their costume, wore gemstones in their ears. He had reddish-brown hair and his face was weather-beaten, whether from his life in America or the sea crossing she could not be sure, but he looked outlandish, and she liked it. She remembered she was still dressed in her riding habit. ‘Excuse me. I must change.’ She walked towards Mr Flynn whose bulk blocked her exit.

‘Do you have to go, Miss Eliza? I like a woman who’s dressed for action.’ His blue eyes were laughing, oblivious of the surprise in the room at his forwardness. Eliza sensed this visitor had unsettled the easy, well-run household. As she dashed up the stairs she looked back and thought she saw the kind, elderly Gibbons give her a wink. She smiled.

Quickly washing in the water that was now cold, Eliza then slipped into a simple aqua-blue muslin dress and re-pinned her hair in a passable bun. She glanced at herself in the looking glass and was secretly rather thrilled by the image. Could this unfamiliar beauty really be her?

As she descended to the hall she almost bumped into a tall, elegant man who was about to pass his hat to Gibbons. He turned and Eliza’s heart missed a beat. Lord Purfoy stood in his immaculate coat, his dark eyes amused at the sight of her. In his languid voice he enquired, ‘How’s that cracked head, Miss Mysterious?’

She involuntarily put a hand to her crown and said, ‘I can barely feel where the wound once was.’

Lord Purfoy’s eyes narrowed. ‘Heads heal well. But may I examine it? I’ve had some dealings with such injuries in the boxing ring and when riders are thrown from their mounts.’ Without waiting for a reply, he walked behind her and slipped his fingertips through her coiled fair hair. In a business-like voice he enquired, ‘Is this still sore?’ His fingers gently probed the line of the wound.

‘No.’ Eliza could barely speak the word, so overwhelmed was she with the reminder of when he last touched her with such sensitivity. She put up her hand to cover his and keep it there, for that delicate gesture conjured up a fragment of memory of herself as a small child; the remembrance of such long-lost tenderness was too precious to relinquish. Eliza turned to face him with tears welling in her eyes. But there was something more than just the painful nostalgia; an unexpected curl of excitement at being touched by a man with such attentive care made her catch her breath.

Raven Purfoy was startled. Why was she so overwhelmed with feeling; why the tears? Was she still in pain, despite her protestations to the contrary? But then he too had been disconcerted. The feel of her fine skull had unexpectedly moved him. Being reminded of the fragility of life was not comfortable and he shuddered. How close he had come to snuffing out this young life too. But to his shame he also found a thrill in the intimacy of that touch. His susceptibility alarmed him. He withdrew his fingers delicately from her hair and struggled to regain his unruffled poise.

Eliza noticed his stricken face. ‘I’m quite recovered, my lord,’ she said quietly.

Lord Purfoy shook his head imperceptibly and his cool, cynical manner was again ascendant. ‘So, tell me, has some miracle yet occurred and your memory returned?’ He offered his arm as they walked towards the breakfast room from where snatches of chatter and laughter could be heard.

Eliza hesitated. She had been about to reveal all but had been sidetracked by the unexpected arrival of Alick’s relation. As they entered the room she felt the muscles in the arm beneath her hand contract. Everyone had looked up and there in Lord Purfoy’s favourite chair sat Mr Flynn, appearing as a hulking interloper in this familiar domestic scene. Alick and his cousin stood up to greet them and Zadoc Flynn became even more of a looming presence, with his unconventional clothes, tanned face and smiling blue eyes.

Alick strode forward to take his old friend by the shoulder. ‘Rav! You’re in time for breakfast. And I see you’ve met up with Miss Eliza on the way. Come in. This is my relation from the Americas, Mr Flynn.’ Both men walked forward to shake each other’s hand as Alick continued with the introduction. ‘And this, Zadoc, is one of Corinna’s and my oldest and best friends, Raven Purfoy, lord of the rolling acres of Hertfordshire.’

‘How many acres, Mr Purfoy?’ Zadoc Flynn asked with interest.

Alick intervened with a laugh, ‘It’s actually Lord Purfoy, but he’ll answer to Purfoy.’

Raven Purfoy was at his iciest. It was infra dig to enquire about a gentleman’s assets at any time, let alone on first meeting. ‘My ancestral estate runs to about five thousand acres.’

‘Oh, I’ve just bought about the same in Kentucky. Farming some cattle and breeding horses there.’

Alick said with a sly gleam, ‘Oh no, Rav doesn’t farm his acres. He leaves that to his tenants.’

Corinna and Eliza watched the meeting of these two opposing masculinities; both were fully aware of their own good fortune and elevated position in the world, beneficiaries of inherited wealth, one from the New World and one from the old. They were both tall, one dark and elegantly dressed with a sardonic cast to his handsome features, the other more brawny, his reddish hair dishevelled, his face beaming.

Everyone turned as Ferdinand Shilton walked into the room, benign and exquisite in his azure coat and pale yellow pantaloons, his blond good looks bright and eager as the day. ‘Did I hear the immortal words “breeding horses”?’ he asked. Alick came towards him and took his arm to introduce him too to Mr Flynn. Ferdy Shilton enquired in his cheerful way, ‘So you too have an eye for a good prancer? Pity you have none of your bloodstock here. The Owners’ Race at Epsom is the one event in the calendar no one misses.’ He turned to his friend. ‘Rav, here, usually wins it. Has the best horses in the country and is a mighty fine rider too.’

Zadoc Flynn laughed. ‘I’m afraid I’m rather too big for the fleetest animal to carry.’ With a cheerful grin he glanced at Eliza and said, ‘I suppose lady riders are not allowed? I must say I approve of the fine habits worn by Englishwomen. What we’d call fine and dandy.’ Lord Purfoy winced at these words then, catching sight of Flynn’s appraising glance lingering on Eliza’s form, he frowned.

Eliza’s response surprised them all. With sparkling eyes she declared, ‘I would very much like to ride in a horse race.’

Raven cast her a dark glance and asked in his droll way, ‘I wonder what this might reveal of your mysterious past, Miss Eliza? I presume you are an accomplished horsewoman? Why would that be, do you think?’

Eliza felt a tremor of anxiety. If Taz and Lord Davenport had recognised her, she felt increasingly sure Lord Purfoy had not been fooled by her ruse. She turned from his all-seeing gaze. Corinna broke into the conversation. ‘Gentlemen, help yourself to breakfast, you can continue your equine conversations then. I have to concern myself with the event of the Season, Lady Bassett’s ball. I presume I must request two more invitations? You will join our party, Mr Flynn?’

Her new guest looked delighted. ‘I’m here for the experience and am grateful to join you in any enterprise, Mrs Wolfe.’

As Corinna turned to go, Eliza followed her and said, ‘I have something I must tell you.’