Carrie Bebris - Pride and Prescience

“As I said, madam, the ladies were fifty yards or so ahead of me, and they had their heads together pretty close. I couldn’t have listened to their conversation if I tried.”

“Did the two of them seem cordial toward each other?”

“Mrs. Parrish, she seemed more reserved than usual at first. But Miss Kendall appeared very kindly disposed.”

“At any point in the outing, did you see Miss Kendall touch Mrs. Parrish’s mare?”

“She arrived at the park on horseback and never dismounted. The lady did compliment Hecate — called her a beautiful mare — and stroked the horse’s mane. But she held her own reins the whole time they rode together.”

“What about Miss Kendall’s maid?” Darcy asked. “Was she ever near the horse?”

“No, she hung back with me.”

“Has Hecate ever done this before?”

The servant shook his head. “She’s as tame a mount as you’ll ever find. Mrs. Parrish has ridden her a few times and never had any trouble with her ’afore. She did seem a bit skittish this morning, but Mrs. Parrish, she’s a fine rider and had her well in hand. Just don’t know what happened.”

They dismissed the servant and went outside to their waiting coach. The footman’s description of the meeting puzzled her. She’d hardly describe Juliet’s attitude toward Caroline as “kindly disposed” a mere week ago when she’d vowed to see Frederick’s new wife unhappy. What had been her true motive for the outing? Had Miss Kendall in fact caused the horse to bolt in hopes that an accident would ensue?

“What do you make of these events?” she asked Darcy as he handed her into the vehicle.

“A freak occurrence. While I can’t account for Miss Kendall’s interest in meeting with Mrs. Parrish, I think the horse must have been startled by a small animal or something. It does not take much to spook some horses. I do find it surprising that the servant had to check the mare, as Bingley’s sister definitely knows how to handle a mount, but perhaps the animal resisted the commands of an unfamiliar rider.”

“I’m not so sure.” She settled into her seat, suppressing a shiver as she drew her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. Unbidden, the memory of Lady Chatfield’s tea-stained tablecloth flashed across her mind. “Will you require the carriage any more this afternoon?”

“It is yours if you want it.” He sat down beside her and drew her toward his warmth. “Where do you plan to go?”

“I think it’s time I called upon Miss Kendall.”

The Kendalls lived in a well-appointed townhouse just off Hyde Park, with furnishings that revealed their comfortable financial status. As she waited in the parlor for Juliet to receive her, Elizabeth mused that the import business, in which the Kendalls had been in partnership with the Bingleys, certainly had its material advantages when it came to decorating a home. The satin wallpaper, French furniture, and silk-embroidered draperies had no doubt been obtained at a fraction of their usual cost. An Italian marble mantel dominated the room, framing the fireplace with images of Roman deities in high relief. Jupiter and Juno, Diana and Cupid, Janus and Mercury, Vulcan and Vesta kept watch over the parlor, their stony gazes evaluating all who entered.

Darcy had not been pleased with Elizabeth’s decision to call here, and his displeasure had increased when she insisted on coming alone. He objected not on the basis of the riding incident but on the Kendalls’ history with the Bingleys. He’d explained the animosity between them and discouraged her from further developing an acquaintance with a family at odds with their closest friends. Yet Elizabeth could not shake the sense that Miss Kendall was somehow responsible for Caroline’s wild ride. She wanted to speak with Juliet, to see if her instincts would prove reliable. The young woman had been surprisingly candid during their previous conversation about her feelings toward Caroline; perhaps Elizabeth could spur additional revelations — such as the motive behind the strange meeting — simply by providing a sympathetic ear. To do so, however, she needed to approach Juliet alone, not in the company of her often intimidating husband.

Miss Kendall greeted her with the usual polite pleasantries. She was honored by the call, flattered that the new Mrs. Darcy took interest in her, looked forward to calling upon her if she remained in town. But the words held a certain edge to them; in manner and tone, Juliet seemed more the acerbic woman Elizabeth remembered from the Chatfields’ dinner party than the timid miss who’d cowered in the Parrish vestibule that morning. Keen eyes took Elizabeth’s measure, as if assessing her value as an acquaintance. Value toward what purpose? Elizabeth could not guess, but her back straightened in reflex.

At Juliet’s invitation to sit, she chose the chair nearest the fireplace. Though a blaze burned in the hearth, the air held a chill made more frigid by her hostess’s demeanor. She ignored Jupiter’s gaze as she settled in front of him and Juliet perched on the seat opposite. After several minutes of small talk, which seemed to bore both women in equal measure as they danced around the subject hanging unspoken between them, Miss Kendall herself brought the conversation round to the morning’s ride.

“Did you leave Mrs. Parrish in good health?” The benign enquiry, voiced so commonly as part of society’s standard prattle, from Miss Kendall sounded like someone had wrested it out of her.

“Yes. By the time my husband and I departed, she appeared to have recovered from this morning’s events.” Elizabeth paused, debating how best to proceed. Appealing to her vanity seemed the best course; she would make this a conversation about injuries done to Miss Kendall. “And yourself? I hope you were not harmed by the incident?”

“I am perfectly well, thank you.”

“Thank goodness. One of the servants said you were riding fairly close to Mrs. Parrish when her horse bolted, and I feared the proximity might have endangered you. Though you seemed fine when you accompanied her home, I wanted to ascertain for myself that all was well.”

“You are kindness itself, Mrs. Darcy. I assure you, I suffered no physical harm. While Caroline lost control of her horse, I managed to maintain command of mine.”

Outside, a passing cloud darkened the winter afternoon, bathing the room in shadows pierced by the flickering firelight. The unsteady illumination seemed to animate the Roman deities, lending them airs from mysterious to mischievous. Elizabeth ignored the impish look Cupid cast her way and focused on the task at hand. “You must have excellent equestrian skills. I confess, I am no horsewoman. In fact, I’m having trouble understanding what caused Mrs. Parrish’s misadventure.”

Miss Kendall shook her head. “I’ve no idea. Perhaps Hecate objected to Caroline. The mare did seem unusually skittish. No horse is completely predictable, especially in the hands of an unfamiliar rider, but Hecate is well trained. I’ve ridden her myself.”

Her last statement seemed a calculated reminder of her previous relationship with Hecate’s owner. “It must have been difficult for you to see Mr. Parrish’s new bride in a seat you so recently occupied,” Elizabeth said. “I must admit I was all astonishment to hear that the outing took place at your solicitation. Not many women would demonstrate such a generous, forgiving nature.”

Now it was Miss Kendall’s turn to pause. She picked a nonexistent piece of lint off her skirt and stared at her fingers as she rubbed them together slowly. “I thought the sooner I saw her in her new situation, the better.”