My Dear Jenny (18 page)

“Exactly, my dear Prydd. Not everyone is made of the stuff from
which you, for example, are made.” Jenny thought she heard gentle derision in
his voice.

“Certainly not, sir,” she murmured.

“And even you, I fancy, would have a hard time of it in
India, Prydd. Think of a lesser woman!” He encouraged her, unaware that she was
doing her utmost to avoid thinking of just that.

“Are you keeping your uncle waiting, sir?” she asked
desperately.

“Meaning that I am dismissed, yes?” Teverley smiled. “I
apologize if I have been rather abrupt, Jenny; not my intention. I’ll leave you
to your tea.” He seemed as ill at ease as she felt, and as relieved to be
quitting her company as she was to have him go. But at the door he turned to
make his bow, and smiled at her a smile much like the one with which he favored
his uncle.

And probably no differently from the way he smiles at
everyone, Jenny told herself as she poured another cup of tea. No help for it;
as soon as she and Emily returned to London she would have to make her excuses
and go to the Bevans’. “And best not to stay in London too long in any case, or
I shall never be happy at Dumsford again. And I know where I belong. He’s made
that clear enough.” What on earth had possessed her to dream of Teverley? It
was not so much the difference in their fortunes and estates that forced them
apart. “But I am made of different stuff from the sort of woman he would choose—a
woman like Emmy. And the devil is, she’ll drive him mad in no time, for she
simply isn’t up to his weight.”
And you think that you are?
she asked herself
silently. The elation of the morning had gone completely by now, as suddenly as
it had come. “I suppose it is too much to ask that a man admire common sense in
place of beauty and a sweet ninnyhammerish disposition. Even a man like
Teverley.” Well, she had always known what her fortune had been; had never even
been tempted to dream of a different one until she had met Teverley.

“I will simply learn to be contented again,” she stated
firmly to the bottom, of her teacup. But when the thought of how she was to
accomplish this nagged at her, she had no idea even where to start, and she had
only the hope that Emily and Domenic would be able to distract her from these
reflections that kept her from retiring again to her room.

o0o

Despite his father’s predictions, Domenic was not
inordinately late in rising, and by the time Jenny had collected her thoughts
and left the breakfast room, he was up and dressed, anxious to take his guests
for a ride about the estate. He pleaded with Jenny to waken Emily, in the hope
that the three of them might slip away before his mother and the Brickerhams
were abroad. Jenny repressed a shudder at the thought, but he said, “Mamma
would want to do something tedious like walking in the garden, and I want Emmy—and
you too, ma’am—to see Teeve. You do ride, don’t you, ma’am? It’s the best
thing if you are blue-deviled, you know: You can ride the ill temper entirely
out.” He looked at her closely.

“Do I seem so blue-deviled?” Jenny smiled wanly. “But I’ve
no habit, Dom.” She excused herself, ignoring the disastrous lurch that her
stomach gave. “I do ride, of course, but—”

It seemed that Domenic had completely forgotten his guest’s
fear of horses; he waxed on lyrically, thinking to persuade her, and Jenny
found that, despite the fear, the thought of galloping over the fields she had
seen from her window that morning was attractive—if only there was some
way to accomplish it without resorting to a horse!

“Please do fetch Emmy,” he was begging. “And I’m sure Mrs.
Reed will find you something to wear. Please, Jenny?” In any case, she could
not withstand his pleading look, and felt that he deserved a chance to shine
before Emily after his mother’s behavior the night before.

“I’ll fetch her, certainly, Dom,” she replied. Then, after a
moment, she took her heart in her hands: “Nothing too spirited for me, please?”
It was, after all, time she rid herself of this foolish fear, she assured
herself as she went along to wake Emily.

Emily, still soundly asleep, took some effort to waken, and
at first was unable to see why Domenic had to go riding at this horrible hour.

“I think he wants a chance to show you Teeve without his
mamma and the Brickerhams—it’s a compliment to you, love.”

“To be sure,” Emily agreed hazily. An image of Joanna
Brickerham, speaking as she had been to Peter Teverley the night before, passed
through her mind, and she sat up abruptly. “P’raps I
will
go. Where’s
that girl? How can I dress this way?”

“Allow me,” Jenny said dryly.

When Emily was hooked into her habit, and the maid finally
arrived to arrange the girl’s hair and place the toque on her head, Jenny was
informed that Mrs. Reed, at Domenic’s request, had found a habit she thought
would fit Miss Prydd, and that it was laid out in her room. With a feeling of
doom that she sternly ignored, Jenny donned the habit, an old-fashioned
garment, lower in the waist than the current fashion allowed, and of a strange,
deep brick color. It fit almost exactly, although it was a little long. Still,
on a sidesaddle that needn’t matter, she told herself. Gathering the graceful
skirts about her, she went to join Emily and Domenic.

“Jenny, do you join us?” Emily asked in surprise.

“Certainly, my love,” Jenny said, for Domenic’s benefit.
Then, somewhat lower, she added, “Your mamma bade me stay by you—in case
someone—you will understand of whom I speak—should appear again.”
Lady Graybarr had said no such thing, but it seemed a better story for Emily’s
benefit than the truth: that she was attempting to ride in order not to think
of other things.

“But Jenny,” Emily hissed. “This is
on
horses.”

“I understand that, Emmy. I’ll be just fine, unless you talk
me into a pother. Time I stopped being so nonsensical about horses, isn’t it?
And Dom has promised me the gentlest mount in the stables. But I do wish that
Dom would hurry.”

“Jenny, you’re
afraid
of horses,” Emily insisted,
lest her companion should have forgotten this fact.

“I know that,” Jenny said bravely. “I am endeavoring to be
less so. And I have no intention to ruin your fun or Domenic’s, or to let Lady
Teeve say that I have let you go off together without a chaperone.”

“Why on earth would she have said that?” Emily quizzed
innocently.

“Good morning, Emmy,” Domenic called before Jenny was forced
to answer this awkward question.

“Morning, Dom.”

Dressed in riding coat and top boots, there was no doubt
that Domenic appeared to advantage. “Come along then, I’ll show you the way to
the stables.”

Once the stables were attained, it was hard for Jenny to
ignore her apprehension. Had they simply mounted and started their ride it
would have been easier, but Domenic, since he had not been reminded of Miss
Prydd’s fear of horses, was lost in detailing the fine points of one of the
three mares being walked in the yard. Emily, assuaged by her friend’s
assurances, was no better, listening raptly to Dandy Dancer’s lineage and
Bluebell’s fine record on the hunt field, and admiring the good hocks and deep
chest on one horse or the other—Jenny was not sure which, as she was
intently examining the view through the stable gate. At last Dom lead her to a
pretty, plump-looking black, introduced to her as Bonnie, and lifted her into
the saddle. Hands clenched and damp in her kid gloves, Jenny was forced to
admit that Bonnie seemed a harmless enough sort of horse and took her seat
properly, if a trifle stiffly. Emily was thrown upon the back of the chestnut,
Dandy, and Dom took his own seat upon the other black, which appeared to be one
of Bonnie’s offspring.

They set off across the yard, Jenny gaining a little
confidence when she realized that in truth this was a gentle and biddable
mount. Smiling a little tremulously, she urged Bonnie ahead to keep pace with
Dom and Emily. Domenic sensed that Jenny was not a confident rider, and at
first kept his pace moderate. Later, he did some flashy riding for Emily’s
benefit, and Emily was gratifyingly appreciative. Although she fancied herself
a notable horsewoman—based mostly upon the fact that she looked to
advantage in her habit—Emily was still a cautious rider, and thought Dom’s
exhibition quite fine.

Dom had called something about the north field, which Jenny
presumed to be their destination. She tried not to feel uneasy as the house
receded into the background.

“There’s the most beautiful view in the world from our north
field,” he explained when he was close enough. “I mean to say, there may be
more beautiful, but this is—the most beautiful in the world. You
understand?” He blushed, but both Emily and Jenny were in sympathy with him.

Emily was certainly more pleased with Domenic this morning,
and raised her long lashes to smile up at him. He was so encouraged by this
sign that he let his horse have her head for a moment, and made a long, dashing
circle, most effective to watch, and returned to Emily’s side.

“Phoo, you think you’re splendid, don’t you,” Emily
countered teasingly. “Then watch.”

Jenny tried not to call out a warning, feeling it was
certainly her own fear which made her want Emily to stop these antics before
they began. The girl was certainly not in Domenic’s league, but would have made
her own sweeping circle in good order had not the streamer from her hat, caught
by the wind, swept about and caught her in the eye. Involuntarily she kicked
Dandy’s side, and the horse needed no further encouragement to take its head.
She let out a shriek as the horse bolted with her.

“Oh my God.” Dom kneed Bluebell furiously and took off after
Emily; Jenny, without time to think of what she did, followed close after,
urging placid Bonnie into an unaccustomed gallop. Emily had gotten halfway across
the meadow when Dom caught up to her and the horses slowed.

“My God, Emily, are you all right? Emmy?” he cried hoarsely.

“Well, of course I am,” Emily said with partial truth. She
was scared and winded, but she had sustained no actual injury except to her
pride. “I would have come aright myself. You needn’t have come tearing after
me.” She pouted.

“Needn’t I?” Relief gave Dom his tone of outrage.

“I would have—” Emily began. Then the sight of Jenny,
riding Bonnie down upon them like a madwoman, interrupted her.

“Hi, Jenny, it’s all right, she’s safe!” Domenic cried out.

“Dom—” Emily whispered, watching Jenny coming toward
them.

“My word, she is a goer, ain’t she?” Dom breathed, all
admiration.

“Dom, she’s not. She can’t be. Remember, she hates horses—she’s
afraid of them, although she can ride, and I don’t think she means to be—”

“Emmy, what the devil are you saying?” But Bonnie, with
Jenny clinging for dear life to the reins, had careened away from Domenic and
Emily, and appeared to be returning to the house, her speed undiminished.

“Dom, I don’t think she can
stop
. Dom, catch her. Oh
my God!” Emily wailed. Domenic swung himself into the saddle and was off like a
shot. Emily, after a moment of shock, began to look for a stump, or a fence, or
something from which she might mount Dandy Dancer; finally in sheer desperation
she scrambled up unassisted, tearing a dreadful rent in her skirt, and, feeling
a mingled sense of ill-use and dread, she began to gallop off in the direction
of Jenny’s flight.

Peter Teverley, finished with his uncle’s business, had gone
out to the stables to check the progress of a young colt he had purchased a few
days before. He was talking to the head groom, arguing genially about the colt’s
merits, when the sound of a horse ridden hard startled him. Looking out the
gate he saw Jenny Prydd, seated on an old black mare going at a panicky gallop,
close on the stable yard, with Domenic only a few dozen yards behind her.

“My God.” He started up, pushing the groom aside. “Come on,
damn it, Dom,” he urged between his teeth. “Come on, boy. You may just catch
her before she falls. Damn it, boy, hurry,” he shouted, louder than he knew.

Just when it looked as if Dom would catch Jenny, and the
black mare began to slacken her pace from exhaustion, Jenny’s old-fashioned
habit, flailing out behind her like a fan, caught an old, rusted bolt in the
stable yard gate, and Jenny, almost in control of the horse again, was yanked
entirely off of Bonnie’s back, to fall in a crumpled heap by the stable gate.

Dom was behind her and off his horse at the same moment that
Teverley reached her. With a black look, the older man motioned his cousin away
and dabbed awkwardly at the cut on Miss Prydd’s forehead with a kerchief.

“Damn it, boy, tell them to fetch a stretcher. And how the
devil did this happen?” He glared at Domenic.

“I’m not unconscious, you know,” Jenny’s voice came faintly
up. “And you needn’t blame Dom for what was no fault of his own—I had no
business to try and ride, and—ooooh.” She broke off and winced. “Now, if
you promise not to read Dom a lecture-ooh dear—I think I shall have to—I’ve
never done this in my life, but—” With a strained smile which became a
grimace, Jenny fainted in Teverley’s arms.

When she awoke, to the fiercest headache she had ever known,
Jenny found herself in her room. The process of fully opening her eyes to the
sunlight that flooded in through the light curtains took her fully five
minutes. Even then it was necessary to take another minute to let her eyes focus
properly. And every second hurt.

“Are you awake?” a cool voice inquired. Moving her head too
quickly for comfort in the direction of the voice, Jenny saw Miss Quare seated
at bedside with a book in her hand.

“Yes, thank you. It was very kind of you to wait with me.”
Jenny began.

“Not at all,” Miss Quare assured her shortly. “Lord Teeve
required that I do so. And it was a chance to do some reading.” The companion
looked down at Miss Prydd with obvious dislike.