Fenella Miller - A Country Mouse

Sultan danced, snorting, around the corner of the building, arriving at exactly the same time as she did. The horse, startled by her sudden appearance, half reared, and Sebastian swore loudly, expecting to have a fainting female collapse under his horse's massive hooves.

Emily laughed again, stepped sideways, and reached up to take the horse's bit. “Steady, old fellow. Nothing to get so excited about.” She placed her free hand on the stallion's nose and brought it down to her level. “You're a handsome boy, are you not?” She breathed, open mouthed into the horse's flaring nostrils, the odd action establishing an instant rapport with the normally savage beast.

Up to that point she had quite forgotten that the horse had not arrived alone. She had been so occupied making friends she had not heard his rider dismount.

“What the hell do you think you are doing? Do you want to be killed, you stupid girl?”

Emily found herself nose to nose with a furious man with blazing blue eyes. “How dare you speak to me like that? I am not a serving maid.” They glared at each other, her huge hazel eyes glittered with righteous indignation.

Sultan, resenting the attention being taken from himself, lowered his head and nudged Emily firmly on the back. The unexpected push sent her flying into a solid wall of muscle. Sebastian, unprepared was unable to brace himself and he lost his balance and they tumbled backwards on to the ground.

The language he used was quite new to Emily. Her landing had been far softer than his; she was safely cradled in Viscount Yardley's arms, he had taken the full brunt of the hard ground. The situation was ridiculous and Emily laughed.

“I think, sir, that you should moderate your language; my ears are burning.”

Sebastian's swearing ceased instantly. He grinned, quite unrepentant, and suddenly looked much younger and less intimidating. “And I think you, Miss Gibson, should consider your position; it is quite unseemly.”

At his words Emily immediately attempted to roll away but his arms tightened, holding her still. She could feel the heat flood from top to toe and hated her second cousin for causing her so much embarrassment.

“Please, release me, immediately. I wish to stand up.” Her voice was little more than a whisper and Sebastian realized, too late, that he had gone too far. This was no fast London debutante but a shy country girl.

With one lithe move he sat up, placing Emily on the ground beside him as he did so. Before she could attempt to stand he was up and taking her hands pulled her easily to her feet. He stepped back, his expression serious.

“I apologize, Miss Gibson; that was out of order. I treated you with disrespect and you do not deserve that.”

Emily glanced nervously upwards. What she saw reassured her. “I accept your apology, sir. It appears that we are destined to fall out every time we meet”

He smiled, his eyes warm with amusement. “Fall over, on this occasion, I think, Cousin Emily.”

Emily felt herself blush again, but this time it was for quite a different reason. To cover her disquiet she busied herself with the shaking out of her dress, glad she was not wearing either of her new gowns. When she had recovered her composure she answered, the tone as light as his.

“Let us hope our meetings in future are less hazardous, Cousin Sebastian.” For some reason she felt that her words might come to back to haunt her.

Lady Althea opened her eyes and for a moment was not sure where she was. She gazed round the delightful chamber, decorated in the Oriental style. On the bed hangings, and the curtains, dark red poppies and lush green leaves rioted, the colours nearly as fresh as the day they were hung almost thirty years ago.

With a sigh of pleasure she sank back into the pillows, she was home, sleeping in the rooms she had occupied until she had defied her parents and married Peter Gibson. She could remember clearly the day she and her mother had selected the exotic materials still hanging here.

For the first time in two long years she felt contented with her lot. She believed she was finally turning the corner and could start to live her life without the support of her beloved husband. Still smiling, she leant over and gently tugged the bell rope. She would rise and take a bath. Using the bathing room again after so long would be a novelty.

Edwards appeared beside her. “Yes madam? Are you ready to rise?”

“I am, Edwards. But first I would like a bath. I do not intend to go down this evening so lay out an old gown, any will do.”

Her dresser beamed. “The water is on its way. I heard you sit up and sent word down. There is a note come up for you, my lady, will you read it now?”

Lady Althea held out an elegant hand, the veins showing blue through her pale skin. She unfolded the paper and seeing the contents laughed out loud. A sound Edwards had not heard for far too long.

“Excellent! The Earl has arranged for Madame Ducray to come down from town bringing a selection of materials and ready sewed gowns, for us to choose from. She will be staying at Westerham until all four of us have completely renewed our wardrobes. Is that not splendid news?”

Edwards nodded. “Yes, madam. It's high time you all had new gowns.”

The sound of clattering buckets was clearly heard from the adjoining bathing room and Lady Althea got out of bed with enthusiasm.

“I think I shall have my hair washed as well, Edwards. Perhaps you should cut it for me; it has become far too long and straggly, has it not?”

Two hours later Lady Althea was resting comfortably in her sitting-room, her hair freshly styled and her navy blue eyes alert. She was awaiting a visit from her younger daughters. What had become of Emily, she had no idea. Edwards had sent a message with one of the chambermaids to her room but had found it unoccupied.

Serena and Millie were outside in the passageway and she smiled to think that now her precious girls would be able to grow up in the same luxurious surroundings as she had. If she had had any inkling of exactly what her normally sensible and sedate eldest daughter was doing, at that very moment, she would have been horrified.

Sultan stamped his huge hooves impatiently, he was eager to return to his cosy stable. Being ignored again, he snatched his bridle from his master's hand stretching his nose high into the air. It had the desired effect.

“Stand, sir. Enough of that nonsense.” Sebastian said, laughing at his mount's antics.

“I believe he's trying to tell you that he wishes to be in his stable, not standing about here.”

Emily reached up and stroked the velvety nose. She was already in love with this horse. She would dearly love to ride him but knew her cousin would never agree to such a thing. But something prompted her to ask.

“Would you permit me to ride Sultan? He's similar to the stallion I was forced to sell after my father died.”

Sebastian's eyebrows shot up under his hair. “Good God! Are you saying you have ridden such an animal yourself?”

Emily laughed, delighted she had surprised her cousin. “Indeed I have; and I'm not ashamed to say that I always rode astride. I have a habit specially made for that purpose.”

“I do not believe it. No girl alive could ride a horse like Sultan safely.” She bristled and her smile vanished. How dare he call her a liar! Emily threw back her head and challenged him.

“Give me a leg up and you will see just how wrong you are.”

For a moment Sebastian hesitated; it was an outrageous suggestion. Then he saw the fury in her remarkable eyes and decided it would not hurt her to learn a sharp lesson. He would call her bluff.