today. If it doesn't rain on the morrow, why then, will you go riding with me?'
'Yes,' she said, 'I will go riding with you, my lord.'
Chapter 7
THEY WEREN'T ABLE to ride for two more days. It rained so hard everyone said that the skies wept. And wept. On the morning of the third day, it was cool and overcast. However, Mr. Hengis has claimed it wouldn't rain anymore, so no one was particularly concerned. The sun would burst from behind those rather gray clouds, and all would be well.
To Meggie, it was a fine day. She loved to ride, to feel the wind, strong off the Channel, tugging at her very eyebrows, flinging many a riding hat to the ground and under her mare's hooves, and the man riding next to her had saved her little brother's life. He'd even come every morning and afternoon to the vicarage to check on Rory's progress since he'd brought the medicine, even in all that dreadful rain.
Meggie was riding Survivor, a lovely bay mare whose name, she told Thomas Malcombe, had been changed early on from Petunia.
'Why was the name changed?' he asked.
Meggie laughed, couldn't help it. 'Well, you see, Petunia just happened to be the first mount for all three of my brothers and me. That's four children she's survived. When Rory is just a bit older, then he will learn to ride on her as well. She's still happy and running, so we all thought Survivor fit her much better.'
'A noble horse,' he said, one of those black eyebrows of his arched, 'with a great deal of stamina. Rory will mount her as well? Surely she has earned retirement by now. That is asking a lot of any of God's creatures, don't you think?'
'Survivor is a natural with children, so don't waste your pity on her,' Meggie said, and laughing again, leaned forward to pat the glossy neck. Survivor slewed her great head around and whinnied softly. Meggie reached into her pocket and pulled out a carrot for her. The mare snagged the carrot and ate it without ever breaking stride.
'She is nearly twelve years old. I believe my cousin Jeremy wanted more than anything to breed her, but she is too old now.'
He heard the slight change in her voice. Something sad or perhaps it was more wistful, he couldn't be certain. He didn't like it. 'Jeremy?' he said carefully. 'Which cousin is he?'
Meggie shrugged, stretched, looked all indifferent as she stared at a maple tree to her left, and said, voice all thin and watery, and that just made him all the more on edge, 'Oh, Jeremy isn't really one of my dratted cousins. He's an almost dratted cousin. There is no blood tie. He's the brother-in-law of my uncle Ryder Sherbrooke.'
She was obviously discomfited. He would let it go for the moment. He said, 'I have heard many tales about your uncle. Is it true that he has sired more bastards than the sheiks in Arabia?'
Meggie reached out and smacked his shoulder. 'That is your punishment for listening to gossip, my lord. Although, you know, there are certainly many wicked stories put out about him, my other uncle as well. However, the bastard story-that's nonsense. My uncle Ryder is one of the most moral men in the entire world.'
'Forgive me,' Thomas said, 'he is your uncle. I shouldn't have said that so starkly. It is as you said-there are many wicked stories told about him. You're saying that he doesn't have a house for his bastards?' Meggie realized the mistake. She patted Survivor's neck, fed her another carrot as she said, 'I haven't heard that in a long time now. You really don't know about my uncle Ryder, my lord?'
'My name is Thomas, and I thought I did.'
'Obviously you don't. My uncle, from a very young age, began saving children he found in back allies, in servitude to cruel masters, beaten and starved by parents, even sold by gin-sodden mothers or fathers, it didn't matter. They are called his Beloved Ones. At my last visit there were at least fifteen children living at Brandon House in the Cotswalds, very close to Chadwyck House where my uncle, my aunt Sophie, and Grayson, one of my dratted cousins, live, although Grayson is now at Oxford. The bastard business-that was all started by one of my uncle's political foes. Because people are people, they wanted to believe it until they realized how silly such a thing would be. Just imagine, installing your bastards in a grand house next to the one where your own family lives. That would require a great deal of gall, don't you think?'
'Yes, a great deal. Beloved Ones?'
'Yes, that is the name my aunt Sinjun gave them when she discovered his secret many years ago. I believe she was around fifteen years old at the time.'
'If this is all true, then why isn't it well known?'
Meggie smiled. 'Because my uncle Ryder is extraordinarily reticent about what he does. He considers it his private business. He gets irritated if anyone tries to praise him for his good deeds. He claims that he takes in the children because they give him great pleasure, and 'it is no one else's bloody damned business.' That was a quote.'
'Who was this political foe? The one who claimed he had his bastards right there under his wife's nose?'
'A Mr. Redfern, the incumbent, spread that ridiculous rumor because he knew he would lose if he didn't. His was not a moral character, and next to my uncle Ryder, he was very paltry indeed. It was quite a brouhaha at the time.' Meggie paused a moment, felt a drop of rain hit the tip of her nose, and said, 'Oh dear. Mr. Hengis must have had a falling out with the weather gods. His fingers must have been tapping incorrectly. It's raining. Again. We will all begin to grow mold if this keeps up.'
'Yes,' he said and raised his face. He had loved the rain since he'd been a small boy, even the grand sheets of rain that had dampened the earth to its core for the past two days. 'No,' he said, frowning after a moment, 'no rain. I'm told that Mr. Hengis is never wrong. It must have been an errant drop, nothing more.'
'Another errant drop just hit me on the chin.'
'Keep your head down.'
She laughed. 'All right, but you see, I don't want to ruin my beautiful riding hat. Oh yes, Uncle Ryder's multitudinous bastards. Actually, he does have one natural child, Jenny, whose mother died birthing her. They love each other very much. Jenny is Oliver's wife, they married this past Christmas. He manages my father's estate, Kildrummy Castle, in Scotland. Oliver was, if I remember correctly, one of the first children my uncle rescued. If you remain in Glenclose-on-Rowan you will meet them, my lord. Oliver usually comes for a visit in the fall. Hopefully, this fall, both he and Jenny will come.'
'Thomas. That's my name.'
'Yes, I know, it's just that I am an unmarried young lady. You know as well as I do that I really shouldn't use your first name, much less be riding alone with you down country lanes.' She looked up to get some rain in her mouth. 'I shall have to tell Mr. Hengis that he must forego his potato sticks since he has blundered. Let's go to the Martins' barn that lies just beyond that rise. It's not much, but it will keep the rain off, if we're careful where we stand.'
Meggie didn't wait, just
She thought she heard Thomas Malcombe's laughter from behind her, but she didn't turn, just smiled as she gave Survivor her head and hugged close to her neck. He had a very nice laugh.
When they reached the barn, Thomas realized that whoever the Martins were who had owned this barn had departed this earth many many years before, probably long before Thomas had been born. Long abandoned, it was small, utterly dilapidated, collapsing in on itself, boards hanging loose, part of the roof caved in-he hoped there would be enough roof overhead for all four of them. The rain was starting to pick up now. He would have a few words for the now-fallible Mr. Hengis.
He watched Meggie dismount, pull Survivor's reins over her head, and lead the mare into the barn. He eyed it again, hoping the wreck wouldn't collapse on them.
'I will try to save you, Pen, if something bad happens,' he said to his big black gelding.
Pen whinnied. He was smart. He didn't want to go into that barn. Thomas couldn't blame him. It took him a good three minutes to convince the horse that the bloody roof wouldn't fall in on him. Thomas got a good soaking in the meantime.
