These Delights (11 page)

She tried to speak lightly.

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“
Yes.” His eyes were abstracted. “Oh, yes, I’m sure. Perhaps we’ve both been asleep, Diana. You, I think, are still asleep. Will you wake, I wonder?”

“Now,” she said in a reasonable voice, “you are talking like a silly novel. The moonlight must have got into you.”

“Yes,” he said a little sadly. “The moonlight’s got into me.
”

He kissed her again, gently this time, and she did not seek to free herself, but stood there, tolerantly patient. They turned then with silent accord, and walked
back
to the stable yard where she had left her car.

The house was quiet when Luke returned, but a lamp still burned in the living-room. He went in to turn it out and found Vicky sitting on the floor, reading.

“Hullo! Why aren’t you in bed?” he said, regarding her absently.

“I’m just going,” she said. “Listen, Luke;

“ ‘Come live with me, and be my love,

And we will all the pleasures prove

That hills and valleys, dales and fields,

Woods, or steepy mountain yields
...
’ ”

“ ‘And we will sit up the rocks,

And see the shepherds feed their flocks
...’ ”

Luke continued. “That’s Marlowe. Do you know Sir Walter Raleigh’s reply?”

“No, find it for me,” she cried instantly, and h
el
d out the book to him.

“It’s not in there,” he said, taking it from her and idly turning the pages.

“Where, then? In the Sixteenth Century Anthology?”

“Not tonight, Vicky, another time.” His voice sounded tired. “Run off to bed now. I’m going to put the lamp out.” She scrambled to her feet and stood watching him while he turned down the wick. In the instant before the light went out, she saw the uncons
ci
ous weariness in his face.

He had left the front door open, and she ran out into the porch and stood for a moment in the moonlight, sniffing in the scent of tobacco plant and the night-scented stock which grew beneath the windows. She was aware of him standing just behind her in the doorway, waiting for her to come in,
and she wished that she could take him by the hand and lead him into the warm June night and ease his troubled spirit
.

“Come, Vicky,” he said, “it’s getting late, and I want to lock up.”

She turned then and her face in the moonlight was strange and wise, her hair like silver.

“Yes, lo
ck
up, lock up,” she said. “Lock up your house and lo
ck
up your heart, Cousin Luke.”

“Come in, you queer child.”

Her arms were round his neck, warm and ardent and, for a moment, he h
el
d her young body
cl
ose.

“Good night, dear Luke,” she said, reaching up to kiss him.

“Good night, Vicky,” he replied, and she slipped past him and run up the stairs in the dark.

CHAPTER SIX

O
n
the day of Lychcombe horse show, Tom looked at the sky and prophesied a storm.

“T’would be like it to break when the hay must be saved next week,” he said, “but we do need rain, sure enough.”

Luke drove the children to the show-ground in the morning. Hester had packed lunch for them, but she remained at home herself. Shows gave her a headache and she thought she would call on old Mrs. Smale in the village and take her some new-laid eggs.

Diana was already at the ring-side, spruce and distinctive in her black coat and well-polished boots. Her father, beside her, was talking to a dark, middle-aged man with very excellent white teeth which he showed constantly, who proved to be the Mr. Tregenna whose hunter Diana was to ride later in the day.

“I hope we’ll get the main events over without a storm,” Luke said, “but Tom thought there’s one coming up.”

“And Tom’s usually right,” said Diana.

“A storm?” Vicky looked alarmed and gazed at the
cl
ear sky with eyes which soon lost their anxiety as she saw no
cl
oud in sight. “Oh, no, it’s a lovely day.”

“It’s oppressive,” remarked Sir Harry. “I shouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t break before the end of the day. Take a look over there, Vicky.”

She looked but could see nothing but the moor rolling away to the horizon, purple in a shimmer of heat. The show-ground itself lay sheltered in a fold of the hills, the grass dried and brown, and no breeze stirring the big marquees.

“There’s plenty of cover,” Sir Harry reassured her. “You won’t get very wet.”

“Vicky doesn’t like storms, do you, Vicky?” said Diana. “They frighten her, so she says.”

“Oh, well, perhaps there won’t be one,” her father replied at once. “Lots of people are afraid of thunder, you know.”

“Such nonsense!” said Diana. “Luke, that’s rather a nice two-year-old being led round now. I prefer it to Northmore’s chestnut, which is obviously going to win.”

She discussed the various exhibits with the three men. She was knowledgeable and had a good eye and they listened to her with interest. The
Jordan
s soon got tired of the led classes and wandered off on their own to inspect other more interesting features of their first horse show. They viewed the Dartmoors in their pens and decided that they preferred
them
wild on the moor, they listened with respect to children d
iscussing
the points of horses with the assurance of veterans, and joined with delight in the pursuit of a foal which had escaped from its mother.

When they got back to the ring-side,
the
ponies were being judged and Diana had already left to get ready for the next class. Luke had opened the sunshine roof of the car, and they sat on top, eating ice-cream, and gesticulating wildly at any fresh incident in the ring.

“It’s getting hotter,” observed Sir Harry, mopping his neck. “I envy you youngsters in your cotton frocks. Vicky looks about twelve, Luke, with her hair skinned back like that.”

Vicky laughed and licked up the remains of her ice with care. She had tied her hair back to keep cool, and it stuck out on the nape of her neck in a childish bunch.

The hacks entered the ring and paraded slowly. Comet,
shining l
ike silk, stepped delicately, arching his neck and his tail in two perfect crescents.

“Doesn’t he look proud!” exclaimed Vicky.
“
And isn’t Diana handsome! They are the loveliest there—surely they are the loveliest.”

“They make a striking pair, don’t they?” said Mr. Tregenna with his flashing smile. He clearly admired Diana very much.

“Will they win?”

“Well, that remains to be seen, but I think they stand a good chance, don’t you?”

“Oh,
yes
.”
Vicky’s eyes were rapt at so much beauty. “There can be no question. Is your horse as beautiful as Comet, Mr. Tregenna?
”

He laughed.

“Well, Royal Crown is a different stamp altogether, but I think so, yes. He’s done a lot of winning, you know.” They were cantering now. Comet seemed a little excitable, but he settled down, and it seemed to Vicky that his feet barely touched the ground as the order to gallop was given and Diana let him stretch himself.

“How beautifully she rides,” cried Vicky. “She should always be with horses.”

Luke gave her a passing smile, remembering how he had once told Diana that he always pictured her on a horse, Diana the Huntress...

The
Jordan
s became impatient at the slowness of the judging, the unsaddling, and the endless standing about while the judges went through the exhibits. They waited only for the moment when Diana should ride round the ring with a blue rosette while everybody clapped. At last the final six paraded, Diana third in line.

“Why is she third, why is she third?” cried Vicky. “The two in front aren’t nearly so beautiful.”

“T
h
ey haven’t placed them yet,” said Luke. “Look, they’re pulling them in again and Comet’s gone up. It’ll be between him and Steadman’s grey.”

Both the grey and the black were made to give another display, then were called in to line, Comet in second place.

“Oh, no,
no
!”
said Vicky, nearly crying. “How can they—Luke, how
can
they?”

“Well, that’s just the luck of the day,” said Luke. “Comet’s beaten the grey before and probably will again.”

“I understand Steadman’s judging Chullard next week,” murmured Mr. Tregenna. “Ben has a nice mare he wants to show under him.”

“Ve
r
y likely,” said Sir Harry, then laughed as he caught sight of Vicky’s outraged face. “There are a lot of politics in showing, you know, Vicky, though I must own I quite like thy grey.”

“But it isn’t fair!” exclaimed Vicky. “It isn’t even honest!
“
Oh, Diana, it’s terrible
—”
Diana had handed Comet over
to the groom and had rejoined them. “You were wonderful and should have won.”

“Thank you, Vicky, but better luck next time.” Diana’s voice was composed. She was flushed by the exercise and looked extremely handsome.

“But it was dishonest! Mr. Tregenna said that one of the judges
—”

Diana looked annoyed.

“Please keep your voice down, Vicky,” she said sharply. “Haven’t you learnt, in any case, to be a good loser?”

“But, Diana
—”
Vicky looked bewildered.

“I’m perfectly satisfied. Don’t attract attention,” said Diana.

Her father gave her a sideways look.

“That wasn’t very kind,” he murmured. “The child has been admiring you so whole-heartedly. She doesn’t understand the intricacies of show business.”

“Then it’s time she learnt—that and other simple rules of life,” snapped Diana.

He glanc
ed
at her and realized that she was bitterly disappointed.

“Comet’s a better horse; you at least have that satisfaction,” he said kindly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she drawled. “I quite like the grey, myself. I hope, Frank, I do better for you with Royal Crown.”

Luke raised amused eyebrows. Frank Tregenna had always been Mr. Tregenna, or even just plain Tregenna to Diana before. His ready smile was confident.

“I’m sure you will, Miss Diana,” he said. “If I hadn’t such faith in your showmanship, I should be riding him myself.”

“Well, what about lunch?” Sir Harry suggested. “They’re breaking off now.
”

They spread rugs in the shade and opened the lunch
-
baskets.

“Aren’t you joining us?” asked Luke with surprise as Diana prepared to leave them.

“Frank’s giving me lunch in the marquee. We have some business to discuss—do you mind?” she said.

“No, not at all,” replied Luke, wondering what business they could possibly have to discuss. But Tregenna was a useful man to know, both in farming and with regard to
,
horses, and Diana believed in forming serviceable contacts.

When she had gone, Vicky felt free again to discuss Comet’s failure to win.

“I don’t understand, Luke,” she said. “Isn’t the judging honest?”

“Ha!” said Sir Harry, “a nice, but tricky point.”

“Usually, Vicky,” Luke replied. “But sometimes a judge is influenced, perhaps quite unconsciously, by some outside matter, or even a prejudice. For instance, today—Ben may have a bee in his bonnet about greys. I once knew a judge who always put up chestnuts, no matter what faults they had. You see, you get good and bad judging, and a bad judge isn’t necessarily dishonest.”

“Then,” said Vicky severely, “he shouldn’t be allowed to judge at all.”

“Quite right, young women,” laughed Sir Harry, “but you try and stop ‘em!”

“But it is not practical, it is not business,” she insisted. “The ignorant should not be permitted to say that horse, that picture, that book is no good—pouff! That is stupidity.”

“Haven’t you found,” asked Sir Harry with sudden weariness, “that so much in life is governed by stupidity?”

“Yes,” she said with grave gentleness. “But people are stupid because they do not understand. Stupidity is lack of imagination, don’t you think, Sir Harry?”

“Perhaps,” he replied, then gave her an odd look. “I think you must be a very wise young lady. Certainly not one of the stupid ones.”

“Lou, for heaven’s sake!” exclaimed Luke. “You can’t stuff potato salad in your pockets!”

“It is for Bibi,” said Lou, unmoved. “There is carrot in it
.
”

Vicky and Pauline fell upon him, emptying his pockets of the sticky mess, scolding him and
cl
eaning him up with handfuls of grass.

“When do we go home?” he asked, politely bored.

“Judging should finish by tea-time,” Luke told him. “We needn’t wait for the gymkhana events. Another time, Lou, I think we’ll leave you behind.”

“That would be better,” he agreed gravely. “I am not interested in horses.”

T
he judging recommenced and Diana came back alone. She looked well pleased and a little excited, and Luke said with a smile:

“Enjoy your lunch?”

“Yes, all very satisfactory. Frank’s gone to get Royal Crown ready.”

“Frank?”

She laughed.

“Well, it’s so much easier than Mr. Tregenna. He’s not a bad sort, Luke. Mother calls him jumped-up rich, but he’s really quite personable.”

“And a very staunch admirer,” he teased. “Much more suited to your ambitions than me, darling.”

“How absurd you are! I couldn’t make Frank a success. He’s that already.”

Luke’s eyes were quizzical.

“Thank you,” he said mildly.

She slipped a hand through his arm.

“Silly! I didn’t mean it that way. I’m a little excited, that’s all.”

“On account of your lunch with successful Mr. Tregenna?”

“No. I’ll explain later. Pay attention to the judging now.” Diana won her class with Frank Tregenna’s bay, which she rode magnificently, and, later, got the championship, defeating all prize-winners of the day. Vicky was delighted, even although, in her private opinion, Royal Crown was not as beautiful as Comet, and she and Pauline ran through the crowd to congratulate Diana, watching admiringly while she was photographed for the press. The horse was led away and Diana walked back to the others, with the girls hanging on either arm. She bore with them tolerantly, even a little touched by their enthusiasm, and did not shake them off even when she turned eagerly to Luke.

“Did you like him?” she demanded.

“Yes, he’s a fine beast,” Luke replied. “Tregenna ought to show
him
at the bigger shows. I should say he has a future.”

“
We
will show him at the bigger shows,” she said triumphantly.

“We? Are you going to show for him for the season?”

“No, for you. Darling, he’s yours. That was the business I was discussing with Frank at lunch.”

“I see.” Luke’s voice was suddenly expressionless. “You’ve bought him.”

“Providing he passes the vet, and there’s no reason why he shouldn’t.”

“I see,” said Luke again. “Well, you should do very well with him, Diana.”

“
We
will do very well with him,” she said. “Didn’t you hear me, Luke? I said he was yours. I’m giving him to you—as a wedding present, if you like.”

“How much are you paying for the horse?” he asked quietly.

She took off her bowler and smoothed her hot forehead with exploratory fingers. Already it had given her a headache.

“Really, darling, it isn’t usual to enquire the price of a gift,” she said a little nervously.

“I haven’t accepted the gift yet,” he reminded her pleasantly. “How much?”

She shrugged.

“Five hundred.”

He shook his head at her.

“I told you the other day that blood stock is not for me,” he said gently. “What possible use could I find in my stable for a five-hundred-guinea show hunter?”

“He’s worth more after today,” she retorted quickly. “I was clever enough to do my deal before he’d been in the ring.”