Being Elizabeth. Barbara Taylor Bradford

‘Was there anything else in these … of importance?’

      ‘No,’ he answered. ‘Just the note I gave you.’

      ‘I’m glad you persevered with your keys.’ Elizabeth laughed unexpectedly. ‘And I’m glad you’re taking me to Waverley Court. When are we going?’

      ‘This evening,’ he answered firmly, laughing with her, adding, ‘And don’t start arguing with me again.’

      When you stay away from a beloved house for a while, you sometimes forget its beauty and what it means to you. And that’s the way it was with me. Earlier this evening, when Robin and I arrived here in Kent, I remembered that Waverley Court has been a special place for me for as long as I can recall. Kat made it into a home for me, and over the years I learned every part of it by heart … all the little corners, and secret places, hidden rooms, and parts of the garden that are mine and mine alone. I love the gazebo, and the stretch of beach that faces towards the English Channel where I used to go as a child with Kat, and she would point out the lights of France, twinkling in the far distance as if they were beckoning to me. Waverley Court is at its best in spring and summer, but even in the autumn and winter the grounds are beautiful. Kat and Blanche, with the help of Toby, used to make the downstairs rooms spectacular at Christmas. There was always a big tree hung with glittering ornaments and tiny fairy lights; sprigs of holly sat atop paintings and a bunch of mistletoe was tied to the chandelier in the front hall. Christmas. It would be upon us in a couple of weeks now. Perhaps we could come down here, Robin and I, and have an old-fashioned Christmas in Kent. I shall suggest it to him. I think he might enjoy that. I know I would. I want to spend Christmas with him. Robin is the only family I have, the closest to me.

      ‘I bet you slept well,’ Robert said, staring at Elizabeth across the breakfast table on Friday morning. ‘Being in a room one knew as a child is always … comforting, wouldn’t you say?’

      ‘I did have a good night’s sleep,’ Elizabeth answered. ‘And naturally I love my old room, but I was just dead tired last night. I could hardly keep my eyes open over supper.’

      Robert grinned. ‘Aren’t you glad I persuaded you to come to Waverley Court?’

      ‘Persuaded me! What a cheek you have, Robin Dunley. Commandeered me would be more like it.’

      ‘Sometimes I have to do that, just as I did in the past,’ he shot back, his grin intact.

      She smiled, made no comment.

      Robert said, after a moment, ‘Shall we go riding this morning?’

      Her head came up with a start, and she seemed puzzled. ‘There aren’t any horses here.’

      He looked at her for a long moment, and then that wicked grin she knew so well spread across his face. ‘Yes, there are. Two. One for me and one for you, Crimson Lass and Straight Arrow. They arrived this morning. I had brother Ambrose send them. So how about it?’

      Surprised and delighted, she laughed and jumped up. ‘I can’t wait. What a clever idea of yours … Come on, let’s go and get changed into our riding togs.’ She gave him a sly look. ‘Since you must have made the arrangements with Ambrose yesterday, I know you brought yours with you.’

      ‘I did.’ He rose, followed her out of the breakfast room, and crossed the entrance hall. Together they climbed the stairs, and when they came to her room, he said, ‘I’ll meet you in the stables in ten minutes.’

      Robert galloped on, chasing Elizabeth, hard on her heels. She was riding hell for leather, approaching the highest fence on the property, and his heart was in his mouth. He was afraid for her, certain she wouldn’t clear the fence properly, that the horse’s hooves would catch against it, and that she would be thrown. And injured.

      Always intrepid and fast, when they were youngsters, he realized she had become an even more fearless rider since those days, and was not against taking risks. Since they had set out, over an hour ago now, she had raced across the fields surrounding Waverley Court, following the trails they had opted for as children.

      Suddenly the fence was there! Right in front of her. Robert held his breath, praying she would clear it. And she did. The young mare, Crimson Lass, sailed over lightly, took it like a dream and landed perfectly. A feeling of absolute relief swept through him, and he took the fence himself, as easily as she had. He galloped on after her, shouting, ‘Elizabeth! Wait! Stop!’

      She did so, finally slowing, and turned around in the saddle. ‘What’s wrong? Are you not all right, Robin?’

      ‘I’m fine. Even though you almost gave me a heart attack a moment ago.’

      ‘I did?’ She looked at him oddly, and frowned. ‘How did I do that?’

      ‘I thought you were pushing Crimson Lass too hard, that she wouldn’t make it, and that you would be thrown.’

      She smiled a trifle smugly. ‘You must trust me, Robin. You see, I’ve become quite a good horsewoman since we last rode out together … so long ago.’

      ‘So I see.’ He looked at his watch, changed the subject. ‘Shall we go back to the house? It’s already twelve-thirty. I’m hungry, aren’t you?’

      ‘We’d better make for home. Myrtle told me lunch would be at one o’clock prompt.’

      They turned their horses and cantered side by side across the meadow in silence. It was a beautiful day, crisp and sunny, and the Kent sky was a soft cerulean blue, intersected with puffy clusters of white clouds. The red-gold leaves had not fallen yet and there was a beautiful, burnished look to the stands of trees which lined the edge of the meadows, and the woods still retained their russet and golden autumnal hues. As they rode on, Robert thought of the times he had spent here when he was a boy, how his father had driven him down to Aldington so he could keep Elizabeth company. He felt a sudden, unexpected yearning for those boyhood years gone by, when the world had been so very different, somehow nicer, better, to his way of thinking. Everything in its proper place … all of his siblings joyful, happy and still alive, and his parents, too. Sorrow struck at him hard, darkened his handsome face, and the pain of his losses made his heart clench.

      After a moment, he straightened in the saddle, and looked ahead. He was clever, determined, ambitious, and an optimist … he must not look back into the past, but ahead … and he must keep on going … going forward …

      Elizabeth interrupted his meandering thoughts when she said, ‘Robin, would you come to Stonehurst Farm with me this afternoon? I want to go over there and have a look around.’

      ‘I’ll come with you, yes, of course. What did Kat have to say about it?’ he asked, his interest sparked.

      ‘That it’s in perfect condition, thanks to the caretaker Briney Meadows. In fact, she went as far as to say she thinks it’s worth a small fortune. The gardens have been kept up by Alison Harden over the years, and it’s still something of a showplace. The gardens were spectacular, Robin, if you remember? We went there constantly to be with Aunt Grace Rose. She did love us so. You said she was a hoot, your favourite adult.’

      ‘She made us laugh with her wry sense of humour, and she let us eat anything we wanted … fruitcake, chocolate mousse and custard tarts, and once you and I ate a whole trifle. She was aghast.’

      ‘Don’t remind me!’ Elizabeth laughed. ‘I was the one who was sick afterwards. Little Greedy Guts, that was me.’

      Robert shook his head and scowled. ‘Not you, Elizabeth, you never ate enough, and Kat was always complaining