Page 35 of The Austen Escape
“October is usually full of rain. Yet summer was dry this year and predictions for winter are much the same. So while these days are rare, my hope is that you will have a few of them.”
At the path’s first bend she spoke again. “I feel I’ve tattled on your friend. It wasn’t that I was insulted that she didn’t appear to remember me or the interviews when I mentioned them. If this were a real nineteenth-century house party, she would have no reason to talk with the staff outside her own maid. But it was the sense she didn’t remember she’d met anyone at breakfast before. The Muellers loved it. Helene commented on the authenticity of her character, but that only seemed to upset her. Then Clara’s questions almost frightened her. You could see it in her eyes. There is something very worrying about them.”
At the path’s next turn, the gravel crunch morphed to a mulch squish. It was beautifully maintained, not a wood chip fallingbeyond the low stone border, and it was well positioned, with manicured areas allowing glimpses through the trees into the gardens and fields along its edge. We rounded a corner, and the sight as we passed out of the trees brought us to a halt.
There Isabel stood dressed in a soft blue dress—the thin wool one with the white trim she’d tried on the day before. Her black hair was piled high, spilling in curls down her neck. Her hair was the same color as the horse with whom she was conversing.
“Hey, Isabel... Have you been riding?”
Isabel looked up. She scanned me from head to toe and stepped away.
“I’m sorry. I know I should have dressed. I will.” I closed the distance between us. “But Gertrude was worried. Are you okay?” A memory pricked me. “Isabel? You remember me, right?”
Her eyes morphed from blankness to confusion, then through surprise and recognition, and settled on delight. Delight like I hadn’t seen since we discovered we both liked salsa on our eggs and s’mores with the marshmallow burned almost to disintegration—second-grade, new-best-friend delight.
“Mary. I hadn’t expected to see you.” She pulled me into a tight hug, then pushed me away as abruptly. Her gaze trailed again from the top of my head down to my ballet flats. “What are you wearing? You look dreadful... Did you just arrive?” She waved her question away. “Tell me later. Now we can ride.” She looked around as if searching for someone. “Grant, who is the groom here, said he would take me riding. And while that’s not inappropriate, I wouldn’t want to start talk. But now that you’re here...”
She pulled my hand and stepped toward the stables. “I thought we’d ride to town, but he says we cannot. It’s no matter. This estate covers over thirty acres. Come on... I can accept his invitation forus both.” Isabel spun back and drew me close, whisper-distance apart. “He’s very kind, a perfect gentleman, and so handsome, but he’s only a few years older than we are. Not like home.”
“Home? Texas home or an imaginary home? Are we in character?” Something about her tone kept me quiet, calm, as if trying not to spook her. “Because also, I don’t ride. You know that.” I watched her, waiting for a crack in the charade.
I expected a half-knowing smile or a flash of annoyance; instead she clutched my hand.
“How is that possible? You’ll love it. You simply can’t have tried it and...” She stepped back to the horse and held his long head between both hands, lowering it to look in his eyes. “You aren’t scary, are you, Tennyson? Tell her you’re the dearest thing in the whole world.” She reached for me again. “Pat him. He’s sweet. You will love riding.” She let Tennyson’s head go, then grabbed his bridle with one hand and my hand with the other. She pulled us both toward the stable’s open door.
I glanced back to Gertrude, then I tugged at Isabel and dropped my voice to a whisper. “This isn’t funny. Can you stop for a sec and talk to me?”
Her eyes went wide with confusion, almost a look of panic.
“Isabel?”
“Why... What?” Her voice wobbled. I felt a shadow draw near and twisted toward it. A man emerged behind her. His presence startled me, but pleased her. “Here is Grant. If you hurry and change, we can set off.”
“Stop it, Isabel. I’m not riding with you.” Fear cracked my voice. “Give me a second to catch up. We don’t need to be all Regency for two weeks straight. Please don’t take it that far; it won’t be any fun.”
She shook her head. Black curls bounced about her face. “Why are you yelling? I only wanted you to join me. I was trying to do something nice and fun and—” She took off, running up the path.
I started to follow when a firm hand clamped down on my arm. I looked from the hand to the man. He was tall, made taller by his rigid stance. Clean-shaven, short hair. Military short. He wore a khaki shirt that matched his hazel eyes. He held me so close I could see flecks of gold in them. I tried to step away.
“I’m sorry I startled you, but may I talk to you?” He nodded up the path. “She won’t go far.”
“I need to go talk to her.” I looked to my arm. He still held it within his hand. “Who are you?”
“Grant Chessman.” His focus was not on me, but above my head. I followed his line of sight to Isabel’s retreat. Gertrude followed at a fast walk. “Your friend is hurt.”
“She’s playing some weird game. I just need to talk to her.”
The memory solidified.
“Didn’t you see her eyes? She’s not playing at anything.” Grant dropped his hand the exact moment I stopped struggling. “Serve in combat and you learn who’s afraid, who’s faking, who’s lying. Work with animals and you see the same emotions. Some will deny the pain and fear, some will push it down, and some will run.” He tilted his head back to where Isabel had disappeared. “Miss Dwyer has run to safety. Please be careful with her.”
He hadn’t meant up the path and to the house—but that’s where I needed to go. I took off before he could say more and caught up to Gertrude on the path. She gestured to Isabel in front of us, and I raced on. Upon reaching her, I stretched out to grab her arm, then stopped before contact. We needed privacy. She stiffened as I matched her stride, but would not look at me. So side by side and insilence, we walked around to the house’s front door and proceeded straight up the stairs to our room.
She opened the door and flung herself on her bed. I shut it and leaned against it, watching her. “Can you tell me what’s going on? You have Gertrude worried. Me too now.”
“Why would she worry about me? I have barely spoken to the woman. And why should you worry?” Isabel sat up. “Did you have to be so dreadful? I just wanted to go for a ride, and you embarrassed me in front of Grant. We’re here to have a lovely time and enjoy ourselves. This will be the last party of the season and then we’ll be back home where it is dark and cold and I... Can’t we enjoy ourselves?”
“Texas is never dark or cold.”
