Page 18 of A Sense of Turmoil
‘She never needs me before eleven, even when she hasn’t been down the night before, so I take the opportunity to ride out before commencing my duties, weather permitting.’
‘How sensible. This is first-class riding country.’
‘The reservoir is my favourite destination.’
Archie smiled. ‘I remember it well.’
‘I am glad to see you walking,’ Flora said. ‘It will help.’
‘I wish I could still ride,’ he said, permitting himself a rare moment of self-pity. ‘Sitting astride a horse is one of the things I miss the most. If I could do so, I would be able to keep a personal eye on my estate and not depend upon others to prevent me from being robbed blind.’
Flora stopped walking and canted her head, as though considering his confession. ‘But you can still drive a carriage, can’t you?’
‘Haven’t tried,’ he admitted. ‘Until your intervention, even riding in a carriage was agony. Driving, I’m not sure.’ He shook his head. ‘I would have to brace my legs and…well, I can’t and would probably finish up turning the vehicle over and being thrown. Another fall would likely finish me off.’
She shook her head. ‘Naturally, you see yourself driving a spirited pair that would fight you for control. I would expect nothing less from you, Lord Felsham.’ She sent him another impish grin. ‘Come with me. I have something else in mind, if you are prepared to lower your sights.’
Intrigued, Archie walked with her towards the stables, grateful that she slowed her pace to match his and wishing it was not necessary for allowances to be made.
‘John,’ she addressed the stable boy when they reached their destination. ‘Have Mabel harnessed to the gig, please.’
‘A gig?’ Archie sent her a hesitant look.
‘Know what one is, do you?’ she asked mischievously.
‘Vixen!’
‘I thought you intended to ride Amethyst, miss,’ the groom said, removing his cap and scratching his head in bewilderment. ‘I have him prepared for you.’
‘And so I do. Lord Felsham is going to drive the gig.’ She laughed at Archie’s shocked expression. ‘If it is not beneath his dignity.’
‘A marquess driving a lady’s carriage?’ he said slowly, warming to the idea but unwilling to admit to it. ‘You cut me to the quick, Miss Latimer.’ His smile robbed the words of any offence as a sturdy cob was produced and harnessed to the light vehicle.
‘Mabel might look like a plodder, and she is, but she is also storm-proof. Nothing frightens her and she won’t run away with you. I often take the gig if I need to go into the village on errands for the countess. It saves putting any of Luke’s grooms to the trouble of driving me. You just need to sit on the box seat and steer. Mabel has one pace and one pace only, but since we are not in a hurry, I don’t see why that should matter.’
‘We?’
‘Oh, I thought you might want to accompany me to the reservoir. Your eyes lit up when I mentioned it earlier. The track is smooth and the rain hasn’t been hard enough that the wheels will get stuck in ruts and jolt you about. Anyway, the gig is light and well sprung. I don’t think you will suffer any discomfort, but if you do we can turn back.’
‘I don’t want to curtail your pleasure.’
‘Your company will be compensation enough. Now come along. Shall we do this or would you prefer to stand about dithering?’
‘The countess is right about you,’ he said, smiling. ‘You’re a tyrant.’
She laughed as she sauntered over to the mounting block, where the magnificent grey gelding that Luke had given her for her birthday stood waiting for her, a groom holding his head. She slipped into the side saddle, took up the reins and thanked the groom when he released his hold. Archie eyed the waiting gig which would ordinarily have been beneath his notice; Flora was right about that. She was also right to suggest that it might just be the answer to his transportation problem, and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it himself. Perhaps because he’d been in too much pain until recently to contemplate driving anything, even a simple gig.
He stood beside the vehicle, wondering how to elegantly clamber onto the box seat.
‘Take Mabel to the mounting block, John,’ Flora called from Amethyst’s back. ‘It will be easier for Lord Felsham to get into the gig from that height.’
The girl was a marvel. No problem seemed beyond her, Archie thought, as he followed her suggestion and stepped easily into the flimsy gig using the advantage of the added height provided by the mounting block. He felt the vehicle dip as it took his weight, but it quickly settled on its springs again as soon as he sat down and gathered up the reins. He felt a modicum of optimism filter through his bloodstream. This just might actually work. He turned Mabel onto the track that led away from the stable yard, following in Amethyst’s wake. As soon as the path widened, Flora reined Amethyst back and the gelding fell into step beside the gig.
‘All right so far?’ she asked.
‘Actually, yes,’ he replied cautiously. ‘I’m in control, after a fashion. Thank you for suggesting it. I feel alive in ways that I had forgotten were possible.’
‘Mabel will be delighted to know that she’s been of service.’
