Chapter Twelve

G eorgiana always enjoyed the excitement of a hunt, even though she tended to bring up the rear. She had a good seat but not a very good one and, frankly, did not show to best advantage on a horse. Particularly not compared to Olivia.

Their party was supposed to have been increased by the addition of three local men but at breakfast, a message arrived from Mr. Leighton, the curate, with his regrets. Lord Taverston said the Willowsetts would meet them at the stable. The twin sons of a well-to-do squire in the neighboring village, they were frequent visitors to Chaumbers.

Lord Taverston was his usual well-mannered self at breakfast, but Georgiana thought he looked tired.

He had joined them late for tea the previous afternoon and had been out of sorts. She wondered if his correspondence had been troubling, but it was not a question she could ask. Besides, how troubling could correspondence be compared to what he faced here? After tea, he had gone to spend time with his father. His brothers also took their leave. Mr. Taverston had to do some “work,” whatever that meant, and Lieutenant Taverston went to the stables to be sure his hunter—which had taken a stone in his hoof and was being seen to by the grooms—would be sound for the chase. So they said. But the two had set off with an eagerness that didn’t seem appropriate to the tasks. Olivia grumbled that they were up to something, and the ladies retired to Lady Iversley’s sitting room where the girls recounted the doings of the day.

Later, at dinner, Lord Taverston had been polite but distracted. That was reasonable as he had come directly from his father’s sick room. Georgiana was once again seated beside him; however, this time her mother was on her left, so Georgiana found herself making more effort to be engaging. Even so, he seemed less engaged. It was quite dispiriting. If this was courtship, what would marriage be like?

She was glad to find him in better spirits this morning.

They all went down to the stables. Georgiana wore her prettiest riding habit, a dark blue velvet with a very smart matching hat. Lord Taverston paid her the requisite compliments.

The horses led out by the grooms were fresh ones, gorgeous creatures. Lord Taverston helped Georgiana to mount, then signaled to the groom to bring his own hunter. She happened to be nearby Lieutenant Taverston who chuckled and muttered, “Bloody hell.”

She soon saw what he was laughing at. Lord Taverston’s horse was a magnificent chestnut, but upon its back was a dirty, battered saddle that should long ago have been tossed into a bin. To her shock, he swung his leg over as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Lud!” Olivia shrieked. “What is that?”

Lord Taverston smiled. “This? I stumbled upon it where it shouldn’t have been and thought it would suit much better on Skylark than where it was.” He raised his chin. “Are we done now, boys?”

Lieutenant Taverston laughed out loud. Mr. Taverston coughed and said, “Here are Jeffrey and Jeremy.” He doffed his hat and waved it.

Hardly a satisfactory explanation; nevertheless, all attention turned to the newcomers, two pleasant-looking young men, identical in appearance except for the color of their jackets. Jeffrey wore red, Jeremy blue. They were sandy-haired, apple-cheeked, and dressed like dandies. They rode sturdy horses, thankfully not matched. Georgiana had met identical twins before, but none quite so identical.

And they were young. Sixteen? Seventeen? They greeted the Taverston brothers, were introduced to the Taverstons’ guests, and then attached themselves to Olivia with jostling devotion. Olivia treated them as the chums they had likely been, without encouraging any hopes it would be ridiculous of them to have. Their infatuation would have been embarrassing if there had only been one of them. With two, it was comical.

The houndsman brought out the dogs and then they were off.

Lieutenant Taverston and Olivia shot out in front, the Willowsetts in frantic pursuit. Mr. Taverston rode alongside Alice, urging her on. Lord Taverston, bringing up the rear with Georgiana, had a strained look on his face that she could only interpret as frustration with her pace. “Go on,” she laughed. “I am accustomed to straggling. I don’t mind.”

“I daren’t with this saddle,” he grumbled, then quickly amended, “I much prefer riding with you to racing my siblings.”

“What a fudge!” she teased.

His rueful smile was one of his better ones. “We can overtake them. They are going the long route in order to jump the hedge. Olivia feels it doesn’t count as a hunt unless she can jump at least once. The hedge doesn’t extend this far so if we keep straight, then bear right, we should meet up with them on the opposite side. Does Miss Fogbotham jump?”

“How high is the hedge?”

“Two or three feet, but no matter. Reg will ascertain which way to bring her. Or, if she wishes, he’ll lift her over and then jump the horse.”

“You’ve thought of everything.”

“If we don’t, Mother does.” Then he grinned at her. “I can go a little faster.”

“Oh, well, yes, so can I.”

So they picked up their pace and rode to the rendezvous at a loping run that provided less chance for talk. That was fine with Georgiana. They soon came to the hedge and went a short distance alongside it before Lord Taverston drew rein.

“Can you hear them? They’ll come up over that ridge, then take the hedge. The ground is fairly level on either side, but the approach is quick.”

She did hear a cacophony of loud happy shouting and hounds baying.

He said, “We can await them all here. Who do you think will be over the hedge first? Olivia or Crispin?”

Georgiana answered, “Jeremy. Or maybe Jeffrey?”

He laughed. “Don’t lay wager on it.”

The shouting grew louder, and she heard the horses. Twenty yards ahead, the first rider appeared, flying over the ridge: Lieutenant Taverston, going hell-for-leather. Olivia appeared moments after, bonnet fallen to one side, dangling by strings. Lieutenant Taverston soared over the hedge and continued a short distance while he slowed. Olivia followed, chasing her brother, shouting and laughing.

Then came the Willowsetts, their horses neck-and-neck, crowding one another as they approached the hedge. Georgiana cringed.

Lord Taverston muttered, “Idiots! Spread out.”

Just before the jump, Jeremy’s horse shied. Georgiana gasped and Olivia cried out. Jeremy was thrown against Jeffrey’s horse as they both went over the hedge. The horse landed badly. He stumbled a few steps then his forelegs crumpled. Jeffrey, thankfully, slid clear.

Everything next happened at once. Mr. Taverston and Alice stopped on the far side of the hedge. Mr. Taverston dismounted, dropped his reins, and caught Jeremy’s horse. He handed both the reins to Alice and then hurdled the hedge. Lord Taverston and the Lieutenant also dismounted.

All three converged upon the catastrophe.

Jeffrey stumbled toward his brother, aghast, making incoherent apologies, but the Lieutenant had beaten him there and was already kneeling in the grass, tending to the injured boy. Lord Taverston blocked Jeffrey’s approach.

“Take Jeremy’s horse back.” Projecting calm and authority, he seemed every inch an earl. “Tell Mundy to come with the cart.”

Pale and shaking, Jeffrey quieted, staring at him helplessly. He tried to nod.

Lieutenant Taverston called, “Have them bring Adam also. And send for Dr. Haraldsen.”

Georgiana’s attention shifted. The Lieutenant had removed his neckcloth and was pressing it to Jeremy’s head.

“My God!” Jeffrey moaned. “I didn’t mean to crash into him.”

The men were all speaking loudly over the restless whinnying of the horses and one’s frantic squeals of pain. Nevertheless, Lord Taverston sounded calm.

“Of course not. You were both riding like gudgeons. Now go fetch the cart if you want to help.”

Olivia rode closer, calling, “I’ll come with you, Jeffrey.”

Georgiana felt useless. Sickened. It frightened her how still Jeremy was.

Lieutenant Taverston glanced up, looked around, and shouted over the noise, “Georgiana, go to the bag behind my saddle. There are spirits and bandages. Will you bring them?”

A shot rang out. Abruptly, the world became silent. Everyone turned to the downed horse. And Mr. Taverston. Whose pistol now pointed at the ground.

“Right,” Lord Taverston said finally. “Jeffrey, Olivia, go.”

Jeffrey clambered over the hedge to retrieve his brother’s horse from Alice. Olivia jumped hers over neatly. Georgiana slipped from her own saddle to fetch the spirits and bandages. She had to pass close by Mr. Taverston, whose head was lowered and whose expression was wooden. Unthinkingly, she put her hand on his arm for a moment in passing. He did not look up.

What an impressive trio the lords of Iversley were, Georgianna thought. In a crisis, without conferring, without argument, each had leaped to a separate, necessary task as if their assignments had been preordained. And Mr. Taverston undertook the most thankless.

*

Alice peeled off her gloves and dropped them on the bed. Jeanette stood ready to help them change for tea.

“It was horrible. That poor boy. And Georgiana! You were so brave. I don’t know how you did it.” Alice sank onto the bed.

Georgiana did not have gloves to remove. Lieutenant Taverston had demanded them of her before allowing her to remount. They were bloodstained. Very. She hadn’t noticed. He apologized and said he would see to replacing them. She said she had other pairs. It had been a rather inane exchange.

“There is, I think, a bit of blood on my sleeve, Jeanette. And mud on my skirt. If it won’t come out—”

“I will see to it, my lady.”

Jeanette helped her to remove her garments, then produced a bowl of hot water so that she could thoroughly clean her hands and arms and knees.

“Will he be all right?” Alice asked. “He looked horrible. And his brother was so contrite. And Olivia was so upset. They were trying to impress her.”

Georgiana sniffed. A sorry way to go about it.

Alice was not finished. “Whatever made you kneel in the dirt? It was wonderful of you, of course, but I couldn’t have brought myself to do it. I mean, I couldn’t have helped with the bandages. How did you know what to do?”

“I did what Lieutenant Taverston indicated.” She shuddered, picturing the profusely bleeding gash on Jeremy’s head, and his leg, bent at that unnatural angle, also cut and bleeding. “I couldn’t merely fetch for him. He only has two hands and needed at least four.”

“And that strange man who returned with the grooms? Adam? Who is he?”

“Lieutenant Taverston’s valet, apparently.”

Alice’s expression turned incredulous. “Do you believe that? He doesn’t act like a valet.”

He did not. A short, doughy man, he had a Greek complexion and wore military clothes that fit so poorly they appeared borrowed. The moment he’d appeared, leaping from the cart, Lieutenant Taverston had yielded to him, gesturing for Georgiana to back away. “Let my valet have a look.” They’d spoken in low tones over the boy, who was no longer in a faint. His bleeding had been staunched. He’d ground his teeth and manfully tried to hold back his moans as Adam lifted the bandages, touched his bent leg, and then murmured questions at him.

Georgiana heard only the end of the discussion when Adam said, “Clean break. The doctor can set it. Brain is bruised. He should be moved as little as possible for a sennight.”

When they finally made it back to the house, they discovered Dr. Haraldsen had been sent for but had not yet arrived. Poor Jeremy was carted off to a guest chamber in a different wing. Jeffrey was sent home to explain things to the Squire.

“I think Adam must have worked with the army surgeons. He appeared to have some knowledge,” Georgiana said. How he’d ended up a valet, she could not guess.

Jeanette held up two dresses. “ Rose ? Ou jaune ?”

Both were reworked from last year. The colors were pale, the fabrics medium-weight, the styles demure, though the ruffled trims had been replaced with braiding and the cut was a bit more daring. They were too similar to choose between.

She sighed. “I don’t care.”

“ Oui. La jaune .” Jeanette placed the pink back into the wardrobe. “And for you, Miss Fogbotham? Would you like your blue muslin? With the green trim?”

“Yes, fine.” Alice sprawled on the bed. “Are you going down straightaway, Georgiana? I can’t face them just yet. Tea won’t be for another hour. I need to lie down. Is that weak of me? I don’t think I’ll ever go on another hunt.”

“I don’t want to see anyone either. But I’m too agitated to lie down.” She bit her lip. “I think I’ll slip off to the library and see what is there.” She hadn’t mentioned finding the Principia earlier. If the books were still there, she would tell Alice about them. She wanted to share her excitement. But if they were gone, it wasn’t worth mentioning.

Jeanette dressed Georgiana first, fixed her hair pins, then let her go and turned her attention to Alice, whose hair always took longer to tame because of the tangle of curls.

Georgiana went downstairs. Passing the open parlor, she saw Lieutenant Taverston inside, pacing. He looked up at the sound of her footsteps and called out, “Lady Georgiana, may I speak with you a moment?”

“Certainly.” She stepped to the door.

“I must apologize.”

“No, please! I was happy to do what little—”

“Not for that. I appreciate your help and thank you for it. I apologize for the liberty I took in addressing you.” His cheeks held a faint flush. She would have thought nothing could embarrass him.

Confused, she asked, “Liberty?”

The pink faded and his lips curled on one side. “I called you ‘Georgiana.’”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake. Well, I didn’t notice.”

“Neither did I. Jasper told me I did.”

“And ordered you to apologize?” How beastly .

“No, that was my own initiative.”

“Well, your apology is accepted of course, but is entirely unnecessary. In fact, I hope you will continue to call me Georgiana. After the day we’ve been through…”

“And you must call me Crispin. Please do. And Miss Fogbotham must as well.”

“Very well.” She smiled at him, thinking she’d been silly to have thought him intimidating. Then she frowned. “Oh, but how awkward.”

Crispin laughed. “Yes, that’s the fun of it. If you are amenable, I’ll let Reg know.”

“Oh!” She bit her lip to keep from laughing as she caught on. “Are you trying to plague Lord Taverston?”

“It’s what we do.” His eyes gleamed. “Or if you prefer, I’ll warn Jasper and then we can plague Reg.”

“No, not him. Not after he had to put down that horse.”

The spark in Crispin’s eyes faded. He scowled. “I’d have sooner shot Jeremy. That horse was innocent.”

“Lieutenant Taverston!” she gasped.

“Crispin.” He reminded her. Then said, “But yes, I’m sure Reg was devastated. Yet you know, there could have been no choice, and acting promptly was merciful.” She nodded. He said, “Our mothers are in the ladies’ parlor, if you’re looking to join them. Olivia has taken to bed. She feels worse than Reg.”

“I…” She hesitated, then plunged ahead. “I was hoping you would have a library I might sit in. Libraries are calming to me.”

He gave her a curious look, then said, “Ours is not. It’s jarring. But it’s at the end of the same hall as the billiard room. You’re welcome to use it, though you might want to bring your own reading material. And you may find Reg there. You have that in common.”

“Oh.” Rot . She would never get another look at his books. “But I shouldn’t disturb him.”

“He won’t mind. I suspect he’s having trouble concentrating on his tasks. You can tell him we have all adopted each other’s Christian names except for Lord Taverston. And ask him what he is sitting on.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Go on. Take his mind off the horse. It’s a game we’re playing.”

She shrugged. “All right. If you say so.” She left the parlor.

Forewarned, she could leave the library door wide open. And they were not meeting in secret if Crispin knew. She wouldn’t stay long, just long enough to peek at the shelf. And involve herself in Crispin’s games. She shook her head, thinking of Mama’s reaction. This was a terrible idea. But at least it was no longer dull.