Stay with Me (22 page)

‘I feel I have the advantage - she has inherited an interest in mercantile matters from her father.'

Greta raised an eyebrow. ‘Ah, the plot thickens.' She gave a sly smile. ‘Do you really want me as chaperone?'

‘I think it would look better, but chaperones can sometimes slip away.'

Her eyes twinkled. ‘No doubt. And for my very dear cousin, I expect it will happen.'

 

When everyone was gathered at breakfast, Charles announced there were seven people for carriages, four for one and three for the other; six people, including himself and Marcia, would ride, and the rest would stay at Weaver Hall.

Twenty minutes later Peter was shepherding Greta and Lena into their coach. All around was excitement as others mounted their horses and those staying behind waved them off, wishing them a good day. Alistair remained with the party at the Hall.

‘Follow me!' called Charles, and set a steady pace in consideration for the coaches.

After a mile he turned off the main track and took one that ran round the edge of a large field towards a group of buildings including two small cottages. As they neared them, two men dressed as grooms emerged, one from a cottage, the other from a nearby building that bore all the hallmarks of a stable.

‘Good day, sir,' they called as Charles halted the party and swung down from his horse.

‘And to you, Bob, Jack.' He called to the others. ‘Would you all like to dismount? There's something I'd like to show you in which I think you will be interested.'

Two boys had run from the stable. They and the groomsmen quickly had the horses tethered to a rail provided for the purpose and then followed the group Charles was leading towards the stable.

‘All this has been recently renovated,' commented Peter as he cast his eyes over the buildings. His observation was borne out by conditions inside, which showed a strict observance of neatness and cleanliness. The visitors' remarks of surprise and approval grew in volume when they saw stalls stretching the full length of the building. It was obvious that these animals were special. Those who knew horses realised they were looking at thoroughbreds. Questions began to flow towards Charles, who smiled and held up his hands for quiet. He held out his hand to Marcia, indicating that he wanted her beside him. She slipped her hand into his.

‘This is our new venture . . . well, I know my wife would want me to use the word “our” but it is really her suggestion. I am sure it will prove a wise one and also be profitable. We have sought expert opinion and gained the advice of several well-known figures in the racing world about our stock.'

‘I knew you were both keen riders but I did not know you had an interest in the racing world,' someone said ‘We hadn't. This is something completely new for us.'

‘It looks as if you are going into it in a big way,' came another observation.

‘We don't believe in half-measures,' Charles confirmed. ‘The full hog for us - but within our means, of course! Apart from racing some of these horses, we hope to run a stud. It all stems from the downturn in the corn market because of cheap imports from America. We won't be hit as hard as some; we aren't dependent on corn, though we will continue to grow some. As you know, we have flocks of sheep and some cattle but we wanted something to replace the corn. Marcia came up with the idea of thoroughbred racehorses. So that is what we have done.'

‘You'll be sure to give us the nod when you have a likely winner?' someone called, a suggestion that brought jovial murmurs of agreement from the rest of the party.

‘Maybe you'll have a chance later this year. We have our minds set on a runner at Beverley.'

‘Which one?'

‘Don't really know yet. Look around and take your pick.'

As people spread out along the row of stalls, admiring the animals, Greta found one particular horse captured her attention. Peter led Lena on as he asked, ‘Do you follow racing?'

‘No.'

‘Then that is something else we'll have to put right.'

As they walked though the stable, Lena's thoughts were awhirl. What was Peter offering - racing, sailing, more than that? And then there was Alistair, dear Alistair, a lifelong friend who would bring her stability and standing in the community, respect and every comfort. She could never imagine him sailing or attending a race meeting, though, and he certainly was no passport into the mercantile world.

‘You're deep in thought,' Peter whispered close to her ear.

Lena started. She had not realised how abstracted she had become. ‘I was thinking about what you just said.'

‘Favourably, I hope?'

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘You are too far away to put it right.'

He pursed his lips. ‘Maybe . . . you'll have to let me think about it. In the meantime lesson one begins.' He led her to the next stall and displayed his knowledge of what to look for in a racehorse that might make it a potential winner. Lena found herself rapidly becoming fascinated.

‘I did not know you were such an expert. You must have been around horses a lot.'

He smiled. ‘Not at all! Though I had a number of friends who were. They attended races regularly at Beverley and York and I generally went along. I learned a lot from them.'

‘Everyone!' Charles's voice resounded above the chatter. ‘We'll leave in five minutes.'

The chattering continued as they went back to their horses and carriages. Thanks were passed to the grooms and stable boys, and congratulations and best wishes for the new enterprise were showered on Marcia and Charles.

‘That was most interesting,' mused Greta as she settled down and the carriage got under way. ‘You know, Peter, there's nothing to hold me in Northampton. I think I might consider moving back to Hull.'

‘That would be splendid. It would be good to have you near again. We had some grand times together.' He glanced at Lena. ‘Greta is an only child. When her parents moved to Northampton and were seriously injured in an accident, she felt obliged to leave Hull to look after them. Their injuries did not take their final toll until two years later. Now Greta has been left on her own. Think seriously about a move, Greta.'

‘I believe I already have.'

Lena felt a pang of jealousy and tried to quell it with the thought that Greta had intimated she and Peter were nothing more than close cousins. He was romantically free. Nevertheless alarm bells rang in her mind. It was not too unusual for cousins to marry!

‘There's someone I want to have a word with,' said Greta as they came out of the inn opposite the ruins of Kirkham Priory. ‘I'll see you at the carriage when it's time to leave.'

Peter took his chance. ‘Care to walk by the water?' he asked Lena.

‘That would be pleasant,' she replied.

They strolled towards the water and then along the bank of the river flowing gently through the pleasant Yorkshire countryside, each waiting for the other to speak but feeling content just to be together.

‘It would be companionable for you to have Greta near, if she is serious about moving,' Lena broke the silence.

‘It would. I detect from her remark that she has almost made up her mind and whenever she does, she acts quickly so it wouldn't surprise me if a move takes place soon. I look forward to that. It could give you the perfect opportunity to visit Hull.'

Lena looked askance at him. ‘How? What do you mean?'

‘It would look better if an invitation to visit came from Greta rather than me; you would not be staying under a gentleman's roof.'

Lena gave a small smile at the intrigue he was proposing; it sent a certain thrill through her. ‘She could invite you to attend Beverley races or some other function, for example,' Peter continued.

‘You seem to have given this some thought?'

‘No. It has just burst upon me. In affairs of the heart, where you are concerned, I don't believe in missing an opportunity.'

‘You flatter me, Peter, but don't get too many ideas . . .' She laid a hand on his arm.

He stopped and turned to look at her. Their eyes met with an expression that said everything without their needing to utter a word. He drew her to him then and their lips met, gently at first then more firmly in an expression of their deep feeling.

All of a sudden, Lena felt conscience-stricken. Since leaving Weaver Hall she had never given Alistair a thought. And now, here she was, in another man's arms. She drew back from Peter, a startled expression in her eyes.

‘What is it?' he asked in concern as he tried to hold on to her, but as she pushed him away his voice turned sharp. ‘Does the good doctor, the hero of the hour, come between us?' he asked.

Her eyes flared angrily at his tone. She swung on her heel and hurried away.

Bewildered, he took a step after her then stopped himself. To pursue her now might do more harm than good. He watched her go, filled with dismay. What wouldn't he give to turn back the clock to the moment before his unwise words? Dejected, he strolled on, wondering how he could put things right with Lena.

But the opportunity did not arise as other guests engaged them in conversations until their carriage arrived. However hard they tried to act normally, the stilted words they exchanged once sitting inside it were not lost on Greta. A wise head on young shoulders, she realised her scheme to let them be alone had not answered its purpose so, to try to lighten the atmosphere, she talked almost non-stop until they arrived back at Weaver Hall.

Those who had stayed behind came out to meet them when they saw the carriages and riders approaching. Alistair was quickly beside Lena, eager to know if she had enjoyed herself.

‘A splendid day,' she replied, putting all the enthusiasm she could into her voice and embracing him more ardently than she might otherwise have done in public, aware that her every action was closely observed by Peter.

‘I'm so glad,' returned Alistair. He held out his hand to Peter. ‘Thank you for looking after her,' he said with an appreciative handshake. ‘And thanks to you too.' He bowed his head to Greta.

‘It was our pleasure,' said Peter. Turning to Lena he said, ‘Thank you for your pleasant company.' She saw the sorrow and apology in his eyes and inclined her head in acknowledgement, slipping her arm through Alistair's.

 

Greta tapped on her cousin's door and stepped inside the room as soon as he opened it. ‘Now what went wrong at Kirkham?' she demanded. ‘The chaperone left you on your own but it was readily apparent that something had gone amiss.'

‘Was it that obvious?' he asked plaintively.

‘To me it was,' she said impatiently. ‘Others, engrossed in their own affairs, probably didn't notice anything. Tell me what happened?'

‘So, nothing momentous,' she commented when he had finished. ‘But if you are serious about Lena then you had better put things right with her - and quick. There is a very presentable doctor lurking out there who has the crucial advantage over you: he lives in Whitby.'

‘What do I do?'

‘Apologise. Tell her you did not mean any discourtesy. Tell her how you feel about her and that you never meant to hurt her feelings. I've only known her for the few hours we have been here but I think I am a shrewd judge of my sex and I believe Lena thinks highly of you. Whether it goes beyond that I can't tell, but I think she is straightforward and respects people who are straightforward with her. Don't make any excuses; she'll see through them. If I'm not mistaken, she'll admire your honesty. From there on I cannot tell you what to do. Only you can decide. The party breaks up tomorrow, remember, you haven't much time.'

She started for the door but stopped with her hand on the knob to glance back at him. ‘By the way, I came to a decision after you went for your walk. I'm definitely coming back to Hull. That might be of advantage to you.' She did not expand on her meaning. She did not need to.

‘I had already thought of that when you said you might return.'

But Peter was unable to secure a private conversation with Lena that evening or the next day. It was with regret and sadness in his heart that he watched her drive away with Alistair on Sunday before he and Greta mounted their horses to ride back to Hull. The next time he would see Lena would be at the launching of the
John Carnforth
- and who knew what might happen before then?

 

‘You're quiet, Lena, is there something wrong?'

She started; Alistair's expression of concern broke into her confused thoughts. ‘Sorry, I was far away, thinking of the pleasant time we have had at Weaver Hall.'

He glanced at her and smiled. ‘I'm so glad you enjoyed it. I have no doubt we'll be asked again, and we'll have to invite Marcia and Charles to Whitby.'

His use of ‘we' jolted her. Was he taking for granted that they had a future together? She found herself bothered by this supposition. At one time, not so long ago, she would have welcomed such a hint in his words. But since then she had met Peter, and now she recalled with regret the look of sadness in his eyes as her carriage had driven away. She wanted to turn back and ask his forgiveness for her overreaction, but that could not be done. Her next chance would be the launching ceremony.

She tried to talk nonchalantly about what had happened at Weaver Hall and other subjects closer to Alistair's heart. On reaching New Buildings, he was quickly to the ground to help her from the carriage.

‘Hello, you two.' Looking round they saw Olivia hurrying towards them. ‘Have you had a splendid time?' she asked, her eyes full of excited enquiry.