Page 37 of The Austen Escape
Her compliment surprised me. It wasn’t the words so much as the delivery. Gone were all the sharp edges. In their place, I foundglee—there wasn’t another word. It was bubbly anticipation—it was glee.
“Thank you.”
Isabel clapped her hands together. “I am so glad you are here. What shall we do now?”
Isabel rarely asked me what to do or where to go. Isabel led.
“Didn’t you want to go riding?” I thought back to spring break fifteen years ago. We watched her favorite movies, played her favorite games, ate her favorite foods. And she came back.
“You said you don’t ride.”
“But you love it. You’ve been riding for about twenty years and, honestly, you’re happiest on a horse. Riding is better than Austen for you.”
“Austen?”
I felt my lips part and pressed them shut. They made a soft guppy noise. “Never mind. We can talk about her later.” I opened the door and waved Isabel through.
We walked together down the path, but she skipped ahead at the last bend when the horses came into view. “Tennyson, you’re still here.” She called back to me. “Come meet Tennyson now. I’ll ride him, and Grant said he would saddle another horse named Lady Grey for you. He said she is very gentle. He is going to ride Lord Byron. I hope he’s here and we haven’t missed him.”
Isabel walked inside. “Grant? We’ve come back. May we ride?” No one was there.
She walked back to me and stepped close. “I had so wanted to do this. There are few things I feel I can do, really do, to be on my own.”
“We could go for a walk. We could...” I tried to think of the things Austen ladies did. They walked, painted, drew, drank tea, visited the poor, flirted with officers...
I noted movement and turned.
“Hello again.” A deep voice reached us before the man emerged from shadow. It was the same man who’d held my arm, rigid and stiff. Yet it wasn’t at all. Grant’s stance was relaxed, his smile broad.The sharp lines of his face seemed soft and inviting. He looked at Isabel. “How are you?”
Isabel blushed.
Grant faced me. “When Miss Dwyer was here earlier, I assured her she didn’t need a chaperone, if you’d rather not ride.”
Still the color of roses and cream, Isabel drew me close. “That’s not possible, Mary.”
“I’ll ride, but I haven’t before. I’ve never even been on a horse.”
He held up a finger for us to wait, then disappeared into the stables.
“He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Isabel whispered.
“Very,” I agreed.
Grant reemerged, walking a large gray horse. “This is Lady Grey. Clara has just finished a ride with her.” He looked to Isabel. “Are you planning to ride sidesaddle?”
“Of course.”
I almost laughed at the shock-tinged horror that skittered across her expression and its implications for me.
“Not me?” I ventured. “I think I’ve read it’s dangerous.”
“You’ll be fine.” Grant handed us both riding helmets.
He helped Isabel fasten hers under her chin. I struggled with mine and clicked the fastener just as he turned to assist me. Amused was the best way to describe his eyes. He then held his hand out to me and led me to a small flight of stairs. Lady Grey stood next to them.
“It can be challenging, but I modified the saddle, and Clara was perfectly at ease this morning.”
“Clara has been taking riding lessons,” I reminded him.
