Frances rode from the stables, leading a horse by the rein. “I’ve brought you Coventry, Your Grace. Your horse has lost a shoe.”
Nellie studied the stocky chestnut. She’d never ridden the gelding but was confident she could manage him.
The head groom hoisted her into the saddle.
Some sixty hounds, herded by the huntsman, milled over the carriageway and the lawns.
Coventry pricked up his ears. Nellie, sensing he was a nervous animal, patted his neck. “It’s all right, boy.”
The footman collected the goblets. Then the huntsman, controlling the hounds by voice, rounded them up and blew the piercing horn.
A cacophony of sound erupted as they left the house. The horses’ hooves struck the gravel, the dogs’ barks shrill with anticipation.
Nellie walked Coventry beside Aunt Frances’s mount. Reaching the meadow, they urged their horses into a canter, the hounds scampering, some out of sight.
A shout came from somewhere ahead.
“They have a scent,” Frances said, tightening her hand on the rein.
Another high-pitched blast from the horn, and the hunt was on. The riders broke from a canter into a full gallop and thundered over the grass. Nellie’s mount went with them. The cool breeze whipping around her, she bent over the horse’s neck, distrusting the animal’s awkward gait.
A fence reared up, and she set Coventry over it. The horse cleared it but stumbled. Aunt Frances, riding ahead, whirled her mount around to view her. She nodded approvingly and rode on.
Frances’s horse easily cleared the next hedge. She was a magnificent horsewoman, Nellie had to admit. Nellie followed suit, but Coventry’s hooves clipped the top, sending up a shower of privet leaves into the air. They landed safely and rode on. Ahead, the excited barking reached fever pitch.
Breathless, Nellie kept an eye out for a way to escape the pack and ride back to the house. But Frances remained close. Another fence, and this time, Coventry stumbled badly on the other side. Nellie controlled him and received a yell of approval from Frances.
They rode up a grassy hill. Reaching the crest, the countryside stretched out before them, green and lush. The riders clustered below, the red coat of the master amid the dark coats of others. Barking hysterically, the hounds swarmed around the huntsman, who raised his voice to call them to heel.
It was unendurable. With relief, Nellie found what she’d been searching for, a break in the trees to her left. Frances had finally abandoned her and galloped away down the hill.
Nellie slowed Coventry and turned her horse’s head toward the trees. She had only gone a few yards when a young hound appeared, running full pelt toward her. Frantic to have lost its way, it ran straight in front of Coventry.
With a shrill whinny, her horse reared. Nellie clung on, but Coventry bolted, heading down the hill toward the other riders. Everyone turned to look, and a shout went up.
Unnerved by the noise, Coventry skidded into a sharp turn. Nellie lost her grip on the rein. She was catapulted into the air. The ground rushed up, and she knew no more.
*
Percy’s leg was broken. Charles sent for the local surgeon and stayed until he came.
“He will be all right, won’t he, Your Grace?” Mrs. Hanbury stood clutching her apron with tears in her eyes, the two small children clutching her skirts.
“I think so, Mrs. Hanbury,” Charles said, concerned for the man’s leg. “He’ll have a headache for a few days.”
She wiped her eyes with her apron. “Oh, I am so relieved he’s alive, Your Grace. I thought I’d lost him.”
The bone would have to be set. It seemed a clean break to Charles. Properly treated, he should be up and about on it in a short time, with a pair of crutches. He would stay to watch the procedure. Too many were crippled by bad doctoring.
At least the doctor wasted no time getting here. Jacobs had taken over Chapman’s practice, but Charles knew nothing about him. He only hoped the man wasn’t a wretched saw bone, and Charles wouldn’t have to fight for Percy to keep his leg.
Jacobs examined Percy and made a similar pronouncement as Percy finally came around.
“What happened?” he muttered, a hand to his head.
“You fell off your roof, you foolish fellow,” Jacobs said cheerfully. “You have a broken femur, which I’ll have to set. A knock on the head, too, but as you’re back with us and remember who you are, that’s not too serious. All in all, a lucky man.” He turned to Charles. “Now, Your Grace, if I can ask for your help? I’m afraid this will be uncomfortable, Hanbury.”
The man fainted as his boot was removed. Charles held him steady while the doctor straightened the bone. He went about his work efficiently, impressing Charles.
After it was done, and they left the patient to the care of his wife, Charles praised his methods. “Where did you learn your skills?” he asked.
“The navy,” Dr. Jacobs said. “You have to tackle all sorts of wounds on the sea. And it’s necessary to learn fast while under pressure.”
Charles nodded. “Thank you for coming so swiftly,” he said as the doctor prepared to leap into the trap. “Forward any bills to me.”
With a cheery farewell, the doctor slapped the reins, and the trap clattered off down the rocky road.
Charles went back inside.
“I’ll send over a farmhand to help you until Percy is back on his feet,” he told the worried woman.
She fell into a low curtsey. “Oh, Your Grace. Thank you. You are so very good to us.”
“Send word to me if there is any problem, Mrs. Hanbury.” Charles patted their young boy’s snowy head and left.
He rode back to the house, wondering what his son might be like. If Nellie has a daughter, he hoped she would be like her mother. A man could ask for nothing more.
Arriving home, he found he’d
