Page 38 of Sense and Suitability
First, this was a thoroughly mortifying way to die.
Second,but what a marvelous scene it would make in a novel.
Chapter 8
Cleopatra didn’t like Simon.
As one of their oldest mares, she preferred a lighter mount instead of his massive form flanking her. But needs must. He had to find Charlotte before she carried out whatever scheme had taken root in her overactive imagination. His greatest fear? She might truly intend to run off with the gypsies—or worse, the circus. He could still hear her explaining, with unnerving conviction, how her “expert riding skills” would land her a spot in Astley’s circus as a circle rider.God help me.
After handing Fia off to Mrs. Patterson, he had rushed to the stables, only to be intercepted by Will, who pleaded to join the search. Simon couldn’t say no. After all, he wanted to continue to nurture what threadbare relationship he had with the boy. With two horses to ready, a few questions to pose to the stable hand, and some sleuthing around the barn, they were finally ready to ride.
“I don’t think Lottie really means to run away to the circus,” Will offered as Simon gave him a leg up into the saddle.
Simon tightened the boy’s girth with a wry smile. “If that’s meant to be reassuring, Will, it isn’t working.”
Besides, Simon was fairly certain Lottie did all of this to enact some sort of punishment upon him for the tragedies of the past two years. No wonder parents felt so exasperated all of the time.
As he turned to mount Cleopatra, he caught the mare’s balefulglare—or so it seemed. If Simon didn’t know better, he might think she was siding with Lottie in this whole fiasco.
Will’s voice piped up again. “Do you think she does it because she wants to be noticed?”
Simon paused with his hands on the saddle and one foot on the mounting block. He was learning that instead of directives to these children, sometimes they just needed to feel a part, even in ridiculous circumstances with runaway sisters. “What do you think?”
Will frowned, clearly reluctant to elaborate, but after a moment he ventured, “I think Lottie would rather be noticed for misbehaving than not noticed at all.”
The words hollowed Simon. Such honesty, directed with such precision into his already tumbling attempts, did not bode well for any budding confidence. He winced and swung into the saddle, turning to face Will. “Do you really think that?”
Will shrugged, looking away. The boy spoke little but watched everyone—saw things and reactions Simon may have been too busy to notice.
“So many people were... gone all of a sudden,” Will murmured.
Simon pinched his eyes shut for a moment, the declaration a boulder on his chest. First their father, then their mother. Teddy joining the army, Arianna running off on a secret elopement. Peopleweregone suddenly, sending their already disjointed family into deeper chaos and... loneliness? Perhaps Charlotte needed someone to notice her pain just as Will did, craving reassurance that they were still part of a family, still seen and loved.
How was he supposed to focus on finding a bride? He glanced skyward, a mix of frustration and prayers on his lips. Couldn’t the right bride simply appear, fully equipped to help him heal this broken household?
Then, just as they’d turned toward the back pasture, a screamshattered through the afternoon air. A horse’s pained cry followed. Simon exchanged a look with Will, who was as pale as milk, and immediately spurred Cleopatra into a gallop toward the sound. Was Charlotte in danger? Was she hurt—or worse? His stomach clenched as he tore through the trees, breaking into open countryside.
On the opposing hillside, just beyond the pond, a horse and a rider raced toward him... and the horse was at a perilous pace.
But it wasn’t Lottie, nor Zeus.
The rider’s green habit flared dramatically as her mount bolted directly toward the pond. Simon squinted, his mind scrambling to make sense of the spectacle before him. And then he saw it—an unmistakable, flailing appendage clutched against the back of the horse.
Was that a... chicken?
His mind drew completely blank. He looked to Will as if the boy might have an answer, but his brother merely stared with a similar expression as Simon must have worn.
He looked again. Yes, a white chicken clung indignantly to the back of the horse, flapping wildly as the rider—good heavens, was that Emmeline Lockhart?—batted at the bird. Her riding hat dislodged, sending a cascade of golden hair into the wind, stripping all doubt of her identity.
Air jolted from his body. Of course it was Emme. Because who else would be tearing across his land in such an absurd predicament directly toward him when she was the last person he needed to see?
There was no time to ponder why Emme was riding through his back field with a chicken attached to her horse, because her horse suddenly rushed into the shallow of the pond and skidded to a stop.
A stop that Emme hadn’t expected.
Simon watched in horror as she flew forward, a flurry of green skirts and golden hair, landing face-first in the pond’s deeper waters.
He stifled a curse. What was happening to his life?
