Kate Morton - The House at Riverton aka The Shifting Fog

Lady Clementine turned to me, her expression one of trepidation. ‘You, girl, have Mrs Townsend send up a packed tea.’ She turned back to Teddy and said, through a thin-lipped smile, ‘I do so love to ride.’

They made an odd procession as they set off for the stables, even odder, Dudley said, once all were on horseback. He had fallen about laughing, he said, watching as they disappeared across the west glade, Lady Clementine paired with Mr Frederick’s ancient mare whose girth exceeded even her rider’s.

They were gone two hours, and when they returned for lunch Teddy was soaking wet, Hannah was awfully quiet and Lady Clementine as smug as a cat with a bowl of cream. What happened on their ride, Hannah told me herself, though not for many months.

From the stable they crossed the west glade then followed the river, walking the horses beneath the row of mighty beeches that lined the reedy bank. The meadows either side of the river wore stark winter coats and there was no sign of the deer that spent the summer grazing on them.

They rode for some way in silence: Hannah up front, Teddy close behind and Lady Clementine bringing up the rear. Wintry twigs snapped under the horses’ feet, the river tripped and burbled on its way to join the Thames, and a distant cyclist pedalled toward the village, spokes whizzing.

Finally, Teddy brought his horse up beside Hannah and said, in a jolly voice, ‘It’s certainly a pleasure to be here, Miss Hartford. I must thank you for your kind invitation.’

Hannah, who had been enjoying the silence, said, ‘It’s my grandmother you’ll have to thank, Mr Luxton. For I had little to do with the whole affair.’

‘Ah…’ Teddy said. ‘I see. I shall have to remember to thank her.’

Pitying Teddy, who, after all, had just been making conversation, Hannah said, ‘What is it you do for a living, Mr Luxton?’

He was quick to answer, relieved perhaps. ‘I’m a collector.’

‘What do you collect?’

‘Objects of beauty.’

‘I thought perhaps you worked with your father.’

Teddy shrugged away a birch leaf that had fallen onto his shoulder. ‘My father and I do not see eye to eye on matters of business, Miss Hartford,’ he said. ‘He sees little of worth in anything not directly related to the gathering of wealth.’

‘And you, Mr Luxton?’

‘I seek wealth of a different sort. A wealth of new experiences. The century is young and so am I. There are too many things to see and do to become bogged down in business.’

Hannah looked at him. ‘Pa said that you were entering politics. Surely that will curtail your plans?’

He shook his head. ‘Politics gives me more reason to broaden my horizons. The best leaders are those who bring perspective to their position, wouldn’t you say?’

They rode on for some time, all the way to the back meadows, stopping every so often that the stragglers might catch up. When finally they reached a clearing, Lady Clementine and her mare were equally relieved to rest their beaten flanks. Teddy helped her to the ground and set out the picnic blanket and travel seats while Hannah arranged the tea.

When they had finished the cucumber sandwiches and sponge fingers, Hannah said, ‘I think I shall take a walk to the bridge.’

‘Bridge?’ Teddy said.

‘Over there beyond the trees,’ Hannah said, standing, ‘where the lake thins and joins the stream.’

‘Would you mind company?’ Teddy said.

‘Not at all,’ Hannah said, but she did.

Lady Clementine, torn between her duty as chaperone and her duty to her aching buttocks, said finally, ‘I’ll stay here and mind the horses. Don’t be too long, now. I shall start to worry. There are many dangers in the woods, you know.’

Hannah smiled slightly at Teddy and headed off in the direction of the bridge. Teddy followed, caught her up and walked beside at a polite distance.

‘I am sorry, Mr Luxton, that Lady Clementine has forced our company on you this morning.’

‘Not at all,’ Teddy said. ‘I’ve enjoyed the company.’ He glanced at her. ‘Some more than others.’

Hannah continued to look directly ahead. ‘When I was younger,’ she said quickly, ‘my brother and sister and I would come down to the lake to play. In the boathouse and on the bridge.’ She sneaked a sidelong glance at him. ‘It’s a magical bridge, you know.’

‘A magical bridge?’ Teddy raised an eyebrow.

‘You’ll understand when you see it,’ Hannah said.

‘And what did you used to play on this magical bridge of yours?’

‘We used to take turns running across.’ She looked at him. ‘Sounds simple enough, I know. But this isn’t any ordinary magical bridge. This one’s governed by a particularly nasty and vengeful lake-demon.’

‘Indeed,’ said Teddy, smiling.

‘Most times we would make it across all right, but every so often one of us would wake him.’

‘What would happen then?’

‘Why then there’d be a duel to the death.’ She smiled at him. ‘His death, of course. We were all excellent swordsmen. Luckily he was immortal or there wouldn’t have been much of a game in it.’

They turned the corner and the rickety bridge was before them, perched astride a narrow reach of the stream.

‘There,’ said Hannah breathlessly.

The bridge, which had long ago fallen into disuse, usurped by a larger one closer to town that motor cars could cross, had lost all but a few flakes of paint and was grown over with moss. The reedy river banks sloped gently toward the water’s edge where wild flowers bloomed in summer.

‘I wonder if the lake-demon’s in today,’ said Teddy.

Hannah smiled. ‘Don’t worry. If he shows up, I have his measure.’

‘You’ve waged your share of battles.’

‘Waged and won,’ said Hannah. ‘We used to play down here whenever we could. We didn’t always fight the lake-demon, though. Sometimes we used to write letters. Make them into boats and throw them over,’ Hannah said.

‘Why?’

‘So they would take our wishes to London.’

‘Of course.’ Teddy smiled. ‘To whom did you write?’

Hannah smoothed the grass with her foot. ‘You’ll think it silly.’

‘Try me.’

She looked up at him, bit back a smile. ‘I wrote to Jane Digby. Every time.’

Teddy frowned.

‘You know,’ Hannah said. ‘Lady Jane, who ran away to Arabia, lived a life of exploration and conquest.’

‘Ah,’ Teddy said, memory dawning. ‘The infamous absconder. Whatever did you have to say to her?’

‘I used to ask her to come and rescue me. I offered her my services as a devoted slave on condition that she took me on her next adventure.’

‘But surely, when you were young, she was already-’

‘Dead? Yes. Of course, she was. Long dead. I didn’t know that then.’ Hannah looked sideways at him. ‘Of course, if she’d been alive, the plan would have been foolproof.’

‘Undoubtedly,’ he said with arch seriousness. ‘She’d have come right down and taken you with her to Arabia.’

‘Disguised as a Bedouin sheikh, I always thought.’

‘Your father wouldn’t have minded a bit.’

Hannah laughed. ‘I’m afraid he would. And did.’

Teddy raised an eyebrow. ‘Did?’

‘One of the tenant farmers found a letter once and returned it to Pa. The farmer couldn’t read it himself, but I’d drawn the family crest and he thought it must have been important. I dare say he expected a reward for his efforts.’

‘I’m guessing he didn’t get one.’

‘He certainly did not. Pa was livid. I was never sure whether it was my desire to join such scandalous company or the impertinence of my letter that he objected to more. I suspect his main concern was that Grandmamma might find out. She always thought me an imprudent child.’