73. A Tangled Web Page 8

  “I can well believe that!” Carola said, “but you would certainly be a sensation on an English hunting field!”

  Mary-Lou giggled.

  “If we come back here in the winter, I might try it out just to see their faces!”

  She had a pretty hat that turned back off her face and fitted comfortably over her hair.

  “You make me feel overdressed!” Carola complained, “so just to keep you company, I will not wear a hat.”

  “Then I’ll not wear one either! If the men don’t like it, they can do the other thing!”

  Mary-Lou pulled hers off and threw it down on the bed.

  The maid helped her into her riding boots.

  They were, Carola noticed, like her own and sensible for what they were about to do.

  Mary-Lou then picked up her riding crop.

  “Do you not want some gloves?” Carola asked, conscious that she had the special white string gloves that every woman wore when riding.

  “I like the reins between my fingers,” Mary-Lou asserted.

  “It is what I like too when I am riding alone,” Carola agreed. “At the same time, our audience will think it strange.”

  “Let them!” Mary-Lou retorted. “I am quite certain of one thing – that all the rules and regulations about riding in this country were made by men!”

  “I am sure that is true! And now, Mary-Lou, if you are ready, let’s go downstairs and surprise them.”

  “Shock them, is what you mean!” Mary-Lou laughed, “and it will do them all a lot of good!”

  She walked ahead and, as they reached the top of the stairs, Carola saw that the men had come from the dining room and were waiting in the hall.

  They were all dressed conventionally in perfectly cut white breeches, grey whipcord coats and riding boots that shone like mirrors.

  Because she thought that Mary-Lou’s defiance was amusing, Carola deliberately followed her slowly and, looking over the bannisters, she could see the growing astonishment on their escorts’ faces.

  Only Alton Westwood took his daughter’s appearance as being quite ordinary.

  Mary-Lou reached the hall.

  “Good morning!” she said, “the Marchioness told me you would all be real shocked by my appearance, but I promise you it will not affect my performance.”

  The men laughed and then the Marquis said,

  “You look very attractive, Miss Westwood, as I am sure my horses will tell you.”

  They walked round to the stables, while the men teased Mary-Lou and gazed in surprise at Carola’s red hair glinting in the sunshine.

  The Duke came to her side.

  “Shall I tell you what I think of the way you are dressed?” he asked.

  “I know the answer,” Carola said coldly, “and I hope you have noticed how unconventional it is without a hat or gloves.”

  “Nothing could be lovelier than your hair in the sunshine,” he declared.

  He was speaking in a low voice.

  But Carola was afraid that Alton Westwood might overhear him and she frowned.

  “Now you are frightening me!” the Duke protested, “I am much happier when you smile.”

  She knew that he was enjoying teasing her and making her feel nervous, so she walked quickly over to the Marquis.

  “Have you decided, Alexander,” she asked, “which horses Mary-Lou and I are to ride?”

  “You have a choice,” the Marquis replied, “I have talked to Peter and he suggests Red Rufus and Heron.”

  Carola looked round.

  “Where is my cousin?” she asked. “I have not seen him this morning.”

  “He has been seeing to the jumps,” the Marquis explained. “He said some of them wanted strengthening, but he has not had time to attend to them this last week.”

  Carola knew that this was true.

  When they reached the stables, Peter was there and the horses they were to ride were already saddled.

  “You must choose which one you want,” Carola said to Mary-Lou.

  “I want something real wild and spirited!” Mary-Lou said. “If I had known this was going to happen, I would have brought one or two of Poppa’s horses from the ranch.”

  “We will do that another time,” Alton Westwood promised.

  “Well, come on then, Poppa, you choose which is the best of these two.”

  “It’s a tough choice,” Alton Westwood answered, “and, as I have already told our host, he has some real fine horses I would not mind owning myself.”

  Carola thought secretly that they were all for sale if Mr. Westwood was prepared to pay enough for them.

  Then the Marquis replied,

  “I will take that as a compliment, as I am in fact very proud of my horses.”

  There were certainly enough in the stables for everybody and Carola guessed that the Marquis had brought them from London and Newmarket.

  He must have assembled almost every horse he possessed, but there was only time to have a perfunctory glance at those in the stalls.

  Mary-Lou was obviously eager to go to the paddock, where there were men still working on the fences.

  Carola guessed that Peter had been up very early to make sure that everything was ready.

  She, however, was quite happy when Mary-Lou chose Red Rufus to ride and left her with Heron.

  He was a large horse and was fidgeting to be off and this told Carola that he had not had enough exercise since he came down from London.

  The Marquis mounted a large black stallion, which Carola was certain he would not have allowed them to ride, while the other men each chose a horse they fancied which was quickly saddled for them.

  They set off, clattering over the cobbled yard and then they left by another gate that led onto the flat land.

  The paddock was large and the hedges were a good distance from each other and Carola wondered whether Peter had either raised them or lowered them.

  They were certainly quite high, but not in any way dangerous for a well-trained horse.

  “Now the race,” the Marquis was saying, “is three times round the paddock and the winning post is where I am standing. The starting post is at the same place, so, if you wait for the count of ‘three’, you can be off.”

  Carola moved in beside Mary-Lou.

  She was thinking as she did so that perhaps Mary-Lou riding astride had a slight advantage over her sitting side-saddle.

  At the same time she could not help thinking that the race would really be for the best horse.

  “One - two - three!” the Marquis called.

  He had held up his white handkerchief and, as it fell, they both started forward.

  Carola did not hurry. Her father had taught her to take things easily at first.

  “Hold in your horse,” he had said, “however hard he wants to compete with a rival.”

  Mary-Lou therefore took the first fence ahead of her.

  She had an expertise that Carola recognised as being exceptional and there was no doubt that the American girl was a brilliant horsewoman.

  Carola knew that she would have to ride very hard just to hold her own.

  At the first time round Mary-Lou was almost a jump ahead.

  At the second Carola had caught up with her and they were taking the fences almost side by side.

  It was as they passed the Marquis for the second time Carola that saw that Mary-Lou was using her crop.

  Because her father disliked whips or spurs being used on his horses she had always managed without either.

  Now she settled down to ride in a way that she reckoned he would have appreciated.

  Heron seemed to understand.

  At the eighth fence she was a little ahead of Mary-Lou.

  Then, as the last two fences loomed ahead, it suddenly struck Carola that it would please Alton Westwood if his daughter won.

  It had not occurred to her before that she should be tactful.

  So deliberately she pulled in Heron a little before he reached the ninth
fence.

  It was difficult to hold him as he knew better than she did that he wanted to beat Red Rufus.

  It took all her strength to ensure that Mary-Lou took the last fence a head and shoulders ahead of her.

  She could feel Heron straining as they galloped towards the Marquis and it was with some difficulty that she managed to prevent him from sweeping past Red Rufus.

  A cheer went up from all those who were watching as Mary-Lou passed the Marquis.

  “Well done! Bravo!” they exclaimed.

  Flushed and excited Mary-Lou pulled in Red Rufus and trotted back.

  “I won, Poppa! I won!” she cried to her father.

  “You sure did!” Alton Westwood exclaimed, “and I am real proud of my Li’l Gal. It’s one up for the Stars and Stripes.”

  “Of course it is!” the Marquis agreed, “and we will certainly celebrate this evening. Congratulations, Miss Westwood! You were magnificent!”

  He patted Red Rufus and then turned towards Carola.

  Heron had just come up alongside him. He patted the horse and said to Carola,

  “You are all right, dearest? It was not too much for you?”

  “No, of course not!” Carola replied. “I enjoyed it enormously.”

  He looked up at her and then in a voice that no one else could hear he said,

  “Thank you! That was very diplomatic.”

  Carola looked down into his eyes.

  She was glad that he understood.

  He realised that she could, if she had wanted to, have won the challenge.

  Then the Duke, who was on the other side of her, complimented her on her riding.

  The Marquis turned away.

  It was the men’s turn to jump the fences.

  When they had done that to their satisfaction, they all galloped over some of the Marquis’s flat land.

  And after that they rode home through the woods.

  “What you want on your fields, Marquis,” Alton Westwood was saying, “is some of the new machinery I am using on my ranch in Texas. It does the work in half the time and I am sure these fields, with the right treatment, could produce first class crops.”

  “I am sure they could,” the Marquis answered, “but I am certain that the machinery you are talking about would cost a great deal of money. That is why my estate is neglected.”

  “Then it’s something, Marquis, we will have to alter in the future,” Alton Westwood asserted.

  He spoke so positively that Carola, who was listening, thought the Chairmanship was undoubtedly now the Marquis’s.

  Unless of course something unforeseen happened to prevent it.

  ‘I am so glad for him – so very, very – glad!’ she thought.

  *

  When the party returned to The Hall, it was luncheontime.

  Carola and Mary-Lou changed their riding clothes for elegant pretty gowns.

  “What are we doing this afternoon?” Mary-Lou asked.

  “I am sure my husband has something very exciting planned for us,” Carola answered. “He is so enjoying having your father here.”

  “I am enjoying it too,” Mary-Lou said, “and I am glad I won the jumps.”

  “Another time I shall wear sensible clothes like you had on,” Carola said, “and then perhaps I will have a better chance.”

  Mary-Lou laughed.

  “That would shock the men more than they have been already. I could see they were looking down their noses at me and thought that I was just an ignorant American gal who does not know how to behave.”

  “I am sure they were thinking nothing of the sort,” Carola said.

  “Of course they were,” Mary-Lou insisted, “and if you want the truth, I have a habit something like yours which I wear in New York, but I thought it was good for the English to see that the American view can be different from their own.”

  Carola smiled.

  She thought that Mary-Lou was a great deal more intelligent than most people might have expected her to be and it was surely very brave of her to deliberately dress unconventionally.

  As she went to her own room, she could not help thinking that the Marquis was foolhardy in not considering Mary-Lou as his wife.

  He needed money so badly to keep up his magnificent house and estate and Mary-Lou was not only lovely but also clever enough to adjust herself to a grand position.

  At luncheon she certainly kept the men on either side of her laughing.

  When the meal was over, the Marquis had arranged that they should drive over to see a folly, which one of his ancestors had built many years ago and was about two miles away from the house.

  “It has a marvellous view over four Counties,” he said, “and I want Mr. Westwood to be impressed by it.”

  “What is depressing me,” Mr. Westwood remarked, “is that you keep calling me ‘Mister’! My name is ‘Alton’ to all my friends and, if we are not friends by this time, then all I can say is that we ought to be!”

  “You are quite right,” the Marquis agreed, “and I am delighted to call you Alton. As you know, my name is Alexander.”

  The other men said the same, giving him their Christian names.

  Listening, Carola thought with amusement that this was all very un-English.

  She knew that the gentlemen usually either addressed each other by their surnames or in the case of the Duke, the Marquis and the Earl, by their titles.

  ‘We will all become Americans before we are finished!’ she reflected.

  She felt that the Marquis’s ancestors in their gilt frames were looking down on them with distinct disapproval.

  She and Mary-Lou went upstairs to put on their hats.

  Carola also found a parasol, which she had brought with her in case they sat about in the sun. Her mother had always been very firm that she was not to spoil her white skin by getting sunburnt.

  She was aware, however, that because Mary-Lou had lived on a ranch in America and rode without a hat she had a golden tinge to her clear skin. It was very becoming to her, but then her hair was not red.

  As they went downstairs, there was a variety of vehicles outside.

  The Marquis and Peter had taken them out of the store. They had been there for generations.

  There was a high-perch phaeton that had been the fashion in the reign of King George IV and an early chaise that had been built at the beginning of Queen Victoria’s reign.

  There was also an open Britchka chariot, which had been invented by Count d’Orsay, the lover of Lady Besborough.

  There was a great deal of amusement at their appearance.

  The Marquis insisted on driving the phaeton and taking with him Carola and Peter.

  “I am not leaving my wife to the mercy of any of you!” he told the other men, “and, Duke, I suggest you take Alton in the Britchka chariot, which requires very careful driving. I think that Mary-Lou will be safer in the chaise.”

  Mary-Lou was quite content to sit beside the Earl.

  At the last moment Lord Durrel said he had never been in a phaeton and was longing to ride in one and he therefore changed places with Peter.

  They set off and Carola was thankful that the Marquis drove so well.

  “I have often wondered,” she said, “how they managed the high-perch phaetons on the very bad roads they had then, but I remember reading that the Prince Regent held the record to Brighton in five hours and twenty minutes.”

  “I could easily beat that today with my horses and on better roads!” the Marquis remarked.

  “One day you had better try it,” Lord Durrel suggested, “I am sure that somebody at White’s Club would be prepared to wager you a large sum that they will beat you in a donkey cart or something equally unlikely!”

  The Marquis laughed.

  Carola thought that when the weekend was over she would always remember what fun it was and so very different from what she had expected.

  When they arrived at the folly, Alton Westwood was duly impressed with it.

&n
bsp; Then they all drove home to a large, if late, tea.

  And Carola ate very little, because she did not want to spoil her appetite for dinner.

  When they went upstairs, Mary-Lou entered her bedroom first.

  Then, just as she was going towards her own which was at the end of the corridor, Carola heard Peter calling her.

  She stopped and, as he reached her, he said in a low voice,

  “I must speak to you.”

  She was about to say that he could come into her bedroom when she remembered that the lady’s maid was there.

  Peter knew what she was thinking, so he opened the door of a room opposite which was not being used by any of the guests.

  As he closed the door behind him, Carola asked in a worried voice,

  “What is – it, Peter?”

  “I have just realised,” Peter said, “that although Alton wants to go to Church tomorrow and the Marquis had arranged for us all to accompany him, you cannot go with us!”

  “Whyever not?” Carola asked.

  Then before Peter could reply she knew the answer.

  “You think there might be somebody – ” she began.

  “– who would recognise you!” Peter finished. “Of course they might. After all, other people in the County go to Church and they would certainly be astonished to learn that the Marquis was married and they had never heard anything about it.”

  “Oh – of course!” Carola exclaimed. “Oh, Peter, what a good thing you thought of it!”

  Then she gave a little sigh.

  “All the same, I would like to go to Church on Sunday,” she said, “you know I always do.”

  “You can always say your prayers,” Peter remarked, “and, Heaven knows we all need them, in the Chapel.”

  “In the Chapel?” Carola exclaimed. “I had no idea there was one.”

  “Naturally there is,” Peter said, as if she was being very stupid in not being aware of it. “The trouble is, I have had so much to do that I have not had time to put it in order.”

  “I will certainly go there to say my prayers,” Carola said. “Where is it?”

  “It’s quite easy for you to find,” Peter said. “You pass the Marquis’s door and at the end of this passage you will find a staircase that is not often used.”

  Carola was listening intently as her brother went on,

  “It leads directly to the Chapel which was convenient for the Master of Brox Hall in the old days. I should imagine that they were a good deal more religious than they are today!”