The Hemingford Scandal. Mary Nichols

with his dark curls and laughing eyes, had arrived, splendid and proud in his uniform, and had captivated her, won her heart and her hand, and then behaved disgracefully and she ought not to repine over him. It was not fair on the man who rode beside her now. Donald Allworthy was everything that Harry was not: reliable, thoughtful, truthful, correct to the last degree. Everyone told her he was exactly right for her.

      As they entered the park, she turned to smile at him. ‘I am so glad you persuaded me to come. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed riding. It is such an age since I have been on the back of a horse.’

      ‘You could be on the back of one every day if you became Mrs Allworthy. There are horses in the stables and some good rides around Coprise.’

      She smiled mischievously as they trotted past a herd of cows being driven to the gate by milkmaids. ‘Bribery, Mr Allworthy?’

      ‘No, a promise.’ He paused. ‘I collect you are fond of country pursuits.’

      ‘Indeed, I am.’

      ‘Then come to Coprise Manor for a visit. You should all come, Mr Hemingford, Mrs Lane and your maids. There is plenty of room. I have to go home soon, I have been away too long, but the prospect of being parted from you made me reluctant to return.’

      ‘You are leaving London?’ Why that should surprise her, she did not know. ‘I did not know you were contemplating it.’

      ‘I must be back for haymaking. I like to involve myself in the work of the farm; matters run more smoothly when I do. But I could make all ready for your reception. Say you will come.’

      ‘I must consult with Papa and Aunt Lane. It might not be convenient for them.’

      ‘But if it is, you will come?’

      ‘I think I might like that.’

      His little grin of triumph was not lost on her, but surely he had a right to be pleased? She dug her heel into her horse’s flank and set it cantering across the grass, enjoying the feel of the mare’s strong back beneath her, the sound of her hooves as she put her to gallop, laughing because she had taken her escort by surprise and left him behind.

      And then she looked up and saw them, two riders outlined against the skyline, and she knew who they were by the way the young woman brushed a wayward curl from her face, the way the man sat in the saddle with his hands loosely on the reins. Her laughter faded and in that second, in mid-gallop, she thought of wheeling about to avoid them, but that would risk a fall and she would not subject herself to the indignity of being unseated in front of them. She managed to pull up and then stopped. They had surely seen her. Or was this another of her apparitions? What would it take to banish them? Marriage to someone else?

      She looked round at Donald as he rode up beside her. ‘That was good,’ she said, making herself laugh again.

      ‘Foolhardy, my dear, especially when you are so long out of practice. I should never have forgiven myself if you had taken a tumble.’

      ‘Ah, but I did not.’ She leaned forward to pat her horse’s neck, aware that the other two riders were walking their horses towards them. ‘Little Blaze is a goer.’

      She found herself surreptitiously looking at Harry. It was indeed Harry, but so changed she hardly recognised him. In a brown stuff riding jacket and a tall beaver hat, he seemed older than she had expected. He had become broader, more muscled, his features more lined, almost weatherbeaten. And there was a tiny scar running from his mouth towards his cheek. She wondered where he had been in the last two years, but then told herself sternly she did not want to know.

      But she had to acknowledge him for Anne’s sake. ‘Mr Hemingford,’ she said, aware of Donald beside her. ‘How do you do?’ And then, before he could reply, turned to his companion. ‘Anne, isn’t it a lovely morning? I have not enjoyed a ride so much for ages.’ And then she wished she had not spoken because she saw Harry’s mouth twitch in a faint smile and knew he was thinking of days long gone. ‘You are acquainted with Mr Donald Allworthy, I collect.’

      ‘Yes, indeed.’ Anne put on a bright smile, which only Jane knew was forced. ‘Mr Allworthy, may I present my brother, Harry?’

      The two men inclined their heads and bade each other good morning, but Jane could sense their animosity and decided to bring the encounter to an end. ‘Do call on me, Anne,’ she said, turning her mount. ‘But do not make it too long. I am leaving town very soon to stay at Coprise Manor.’ And then, as she drew away, ‘Good-day to you, Mr Hemingford.’

      Donald took a cool leave of the brother and sister and followed her. ‘So that was the scapegrace,’ he said. ‘I thought he was out of the country.’

      ‘So did I.’

      ‘You had no idea he was back?’

      ‘None at all. Why should I have? And it is of no consequence.’

      ‘You are sure?’

      ‘Yes. The man is a stranger to me now. I hardly recognised him.’ She told herself that was true. Her so-called love had been nothing more than the infatuation of youth and youth had flown. ‘Tell me about Coprise Manor.’

      ‘You mean to come, then?’

      She could feel two pairs of eyes boring into her back and sat ramrod straight. ‘Of course, if Papa agrees.’

      ‘Who is that fellow?’ Harry demanded of his sister as they watched them ride away.

      ‘A mushroom,’ she said. ‘A countryman up for the Season in search of a wife.’

      ‘Jane?’

      She nodded. ‘They have been seen about town together every day for the last two weeks and I believe she is about to announce her engagement to him. She would not be going to Coprise otherwise. It is his country home in Norfolk.’

      ‘Oh.’

      ‘Harry, you should have come back sooner.’

      He grimaced as they walked their horses forward, careful not to catch up with the two in front. ‘I was not in a position to come and go as I pleased and what good would it have done? She has not forgiven me. You could see she hardly knew how to be civil, not even to you, and you are her friend. Besides, we have both moved on; there is nothing at all between us now.’

      ‘Liar!’

      ‘Childhood love rarely survives into adulthood, you know.’ He chuckled. ‘And I took rather longer than most to grow up.’

      ‘But you have grown up, Harry. You are not the stripling that went away two years ago.’

      ‘No, thank God.’

      ‘What have you been doing?’ He had turned up on the doorstep two weeks before, soon after Jane’s last visit, bone weary, filthy and recovering from a wound to his thigh that had given him a limp. In that two weeks he had slept and slept, eaten like a hungry wolf, and slowly mended. Today had been his first outing. And they had to run into Jane, of all people.

      He smiled, a crooked kind of smile because of the scar. ‘I told you, fighting for King and Country. There is nothing like a few bullets and cannon balls flying around to make a boy into a man.’

      ‘But you resigned your commission.’

      ‘So I did. But there are other ways to serve. The army is not so particular about those they take into the ranks. I enlisted as a private soldier and was lucky enough to be taken into the 95th. It was a very salutary experience, I can tell you, but I made a good rifleman.’

      ‘It must have been terrible. I cannot think why you did it.’

      ‘I had something to prove, Sis. And it was not so bad. There was hardship, of course, and danger too, but there was also comradeship, a pulling together and sharing whatever you have with each other, rations, clothes, food, jests, even women.’

      ‘Is it not like that among officers?’