A Dreadful Splendor (82)

Audra’s diary would shatter his claim to Somerset. He seemed too honorable of a man to ignore its contents. William was the legitimate heir, and everything would be his—including the stables, and even Esmeralda. Once I showed him the truth, everything would change.

So I endeavoured to stretch out these last moments for a little longer. “Actually,” I said, “I was wondering if you could give me a riding lesson.”

His surprise flowed into another smile. He looked at Joseph and said, “Best get Sadie saddled.”

Joseph retreated to another stall. I walked outside with Mr. Pemberton as he led his steed. “When we return to the house,” I said, “I will need to speak with you privately.”

He raised his eyebrows quizzically. “Is this not private enough?”

Before I could answer, Joseph brought out a feeble-looking white horse.

“Here you are, miss,” Joseph said.

I swallowed dryly, examining the mare with a combination of curiosity and dread.

“She’s not the fastest,” Joseph said. “But old Sadie always obeys her rider.” Then he made a foothold with his hands for me to use.

With a hard push off my boot, I landed most ungracefully, with my legs jutting out behind me. After some minor adjustments, I sat upright in the sidesaddle, but I still felt off-kilter. The ground looked much farther away than I’d expected. I determined that I did not enjoy riding.

“You’re a natural,” Mr. Pemberton said.

I cleared my throat as I righted my bonnet. Sadie snorted, startling me. “Whoa!” I clutched her mane.

Joseph squinted up at me, uncertain. He handed me the reins. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Sadie knows the grounds better than anyone. She was Lady Audra’s favourite.”

Mr. Pemberton mounted his own horse with an ease that set off a series of trembles all the way to my toes. He brought his horse alongside mine. “You’re sure about riding, Miss Timmons?” he asked with a teasing curl at his lips.

“Of course,” I huffed. I may have looked silly, but I wanted this last memory of him, of seeing him at his happiest. A moment that I could catalogue away and revisit when I felt most alone.

“Very well,” he said. “All you have to do is hold her reins.” And sure enough, the dear nag was slowly walking toward the forest. I sat stiff as a board, holding the reins for dear life, but with each rhythmic hoofbeat against the ground I found my muscles loosening.

The wind wafted across my face, bringing the taste of salt with it. The rim of my bonnet fell over my eyes.

Mr. Pemberton slowed his horse to match my pace. “How are you enjoying riding Sadie?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call this ‘riding.’ But I haven’t fallen off yet, so I will consider it a success.” I attempted to straighten my bonnet with one hand while the other kept its white-knuckled grip on the reins.

He tipped his head back and laughed—not at my expense, but in appreciation of my attempt at humor. I wanted to make him laugh again. “You confuse me,” I admitted. “I cannot reconcile this jovial version with the man I met in the kitchen that first night. I honestly thought you were the groomsman, covered in mud as you were and surly as could be. You’re all smiles and laughter today.”

As if to prove me wrong, the smile vanished. His blue eyes became twin flames, their glow as warm as any hearth. It was desire—more intensely romantic than any salacious grin. “I was taken off guard,” he began. “When I was informed that Mr. Lockhart was bringing a spiritualist to me, I imagined someone old and grim. I hadn’t expected that she would be beautiful.”

Heat rose in my chest, so intense it made me light-headed. I stared at him dumbly.

Then he clicked his tongue and was off, racing ahead. Rider and horse were both virile specimens, much the opposite of my sweet nag. I was grateful for her slow gait, though, as it allowed me a moment to catch my breath.

The fog bank crawled over the lawn as Mr. Pemberton disappeared into the mist. I believed he was purposely showing off how fine a rider he was. And I’ll admit I was purposely watching.

Sadie stopped on her own. I squirmed and clucked my tongue, but she ignored me. I turned in the saddle to see if Joseph might be around to help, but we’d journeyed farther from the stables than I’d realized. I could barely make out the peak of its roof. I settled forward again, hoping for Mr. Pemberton to return. The mist swirled around me and grew heavier, slowly enveloping the landscape and transforming the world into a white sheet of silence.

Sadie remained perfectly still, only occasionally rotating her ears. What was she listening to? My eyes squinted against the fog, but nothing was discernible. I paused; I could smell roses. Impossible, though, since all the bushes had gone to seed.

Sadie turned her head sharply to one side, nostrils flared.

A faint voice carried on the wind. “Help me.”

“Who’s there?” I turned my body as much as I dared, but could make out no recognizable shapes.

Sadie grunted and pawed at the ground.

“Help me.”

At this, Sadie exploded into a full gallop. I let out a shriek, clutching the reins.

We were moving so fast that my eyes watered. She took us straight into the heart of the fog, plunging us both into the clouds. I pulled on the reins and screamed in her ear, but nothing would stop her. I couldn’t see where we were headed. My body braced, expecting to smash into the forest growth any second.