AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh, I agree completely,” Ruth said.
Alice frowned, looking from brother to sister. “Yes, of course we will put our…best face to the world. But…is there something we are trying to hide?”
“Of course not, Alice dear,” Ruth said as she buried her face in her tea cup.
“You do talk some nonsense,” Simon said without turning away from the window.
Well, they could not have made that more obvious if they tried. What on earth are they keeping from me? And when will they realize that I am no longer a child?
“Oh, I can’t think what put that thought in my head. I can’t think what we could possibly have that we would want to keep secret,” Alice said, innocently.
That was the literal truth. There was no scandal in the Hathway family history, though there had been much grief in the last ten years. Alice remembered a period in which it seemed the house was in a permanent state of mourning. But there was nothing in that to be ashamed of. Alice told herself that she was reading too much into Simon’s words.
Too much reading of the historical romances of Scott. I seek adventure and mystery in everyday life. It is rarely present. True life is far more mundane.
“Well, whatever it was, best put it out of your mind,” Simon said gruffly.
“Perhaps while we are in London we can visit the British Museum?” Alice asked.
“Not for me, I’m afraid. This little one does not care for extended periods spent walking,” Ruth said, stroking the bump which was her first child, “but I’m sure Simon will take you.”
“I’m sure I am capable of taking myself,” Alice said.
“Newly debuted? I would not have you walking the streets of the capital alone,” Simon replied.
“As you like.” Alice stood. “Well, that is all agreed and all are happy, yes? I think I will go take a stroll while the sun is shining.”
She left the room, smiling. Her debut would go ahead, which made her apprehensive. The tradition in the Hathway family was to find husbands for young debutantes. The women of the Hathway family did not remain unmarried. She had hoped that she would have her freedom for a while longer yet. There was so much that she wanted to experience and she feared that being shackled to a husband would deny her those opportunities forever.
At least she would see London. That would be something. But there was so much more to the world. What about Edinburgh? The highlands of Scotland? The great ports of Liverpool and Bristol with their myriad of faces and languages from across the globe. Rome, Paris, Cairo, or even…India. She walked through the house towards the Long Gallery, a corridor that ran the width of the house, and hung with the art accumulated by Alice’s mother over the years. Tall windows cast golden light over the artwork and Alice stopped, as she always did, in front of the landscapes.
The world lay before her in those oils. Years of standing here had not yet filled her eyes enough that she didn’t want to come back the next day for more.
There must be a way. I will not settle down as Ruth has done, give up my ambitions, and become nothing more than a vehicle for the next generation. I will see these places. I will see the world.
CHAPTER2
Turf flew as powerful hooves dug at the earth. Harold Clauder stood in his stirrups, crouched low over his mount’s neck. The horse was black and its flying mane was echoed by the shoulder-length hair of its rider, which was flung behind him like a banner. Redwood Castle loomed before him, atop the hilltop from which it had dominated the surrounding countryside for almost six hundred years. Before, the castle was a green sward of tall grass, spotted with copses of trees and divided by a sweeping, silver stream.
Harold steered his horse along a wide path of beaten earth. The nose of the horse that chased him was almost level with his knee. He risked a glance back over his shoulder. Max had ruddy skin and blond hair, with blue eyes now wide with the thrill of the race. He grinned as he saw Harold looking back.
“I almost have you this time and I have the inside track!” he roared, pointing at the bend in the path ahead of them.
Harold looked back, gritting his teeth. Max was right, he had maneuvered himself into a position where he would have the shortest route around the coming bend and would take the lead. But, Harold knew the paths of his own park. There was a chance for him to win this race, to put himself so far ahead that Max would never catch up. The need to win gripped him as Max’s white mount drew level with his own.
Ahead, the path bent to follow the path of the silver stream. At the apex of the bend, it widened and the ground fell away, the stream running through a gully at the bottom. As Max began to turn his horse, Harold spurred on for the stream, eyes widening as he approached the drop at breakneck speed. Max saw his intention and cried out in alarm. The beaten earth of the track vanished as Harold left the path and the horse bounded through the long grass beyond.
What am I doing? I could break the poor animal’s legs and my own neck!
Harold leaned back in the saddle and pulled on the reins. Such was the speed of his charge that the horse was practically sitting on the ground before it skidded to a halt, hooves gouging deep furrows in the thick, black earth. Finally, Harold pressed with one knee and pulled the reins with the opposite hand. The horse turned, ears twitching and nostrils wide. It harrumphed its displeasure at the sudden stop, even as its massive heart began to slow. Harold took a deep breath and patted the animal’s neck.
“My friend, what on earth were you doing?” Max demanded, having brought his own horse to a stop.
“A moment of madness, I fear,” Harold replied, lifting his chin, disguising the consternation he was feeling at his own brief recklessness. “I had the bit between my teeth and thought to take a shortcut to secure the win. Foolish.”
“I’ll say. I wouldn’t have chanced that jump. A man could kill himself. You English. Not as crazy as those Americans but still,” Max said, his Austrian accent thick.
Harold smiled thinly. He regarded his companion from the full height of his Roman nose, fixing him with a cold, blue-eyed stare.
