In Distant Fields by Charlotte Bingham Page B

the window. ‘We could go skating now, if you would like. We could be the first. Come on.’
    Well muffled up against the bitter wind, the two young women hurried happily out into the parkland.
    â€˜Awful thing is, they get stuck in the ice.’ Partita nodded towards some bewildered-looking ducks and swans, as the girls sat on a frozen bench to put on their skates. ‘Papa won’t have it. Sends Jossy out on a ladder to pull the wretched birds out. Ice cracked one year and Papa thought he’d lost his head lad. That would not have done, I can tell you.’
    â€˜Who’s that skating over there?’ Kitty wondered, pointing to the figure of a young manwho had appeared from the boat-house on the other side of the lake and, hands held firmly behind him, was now skating expertly in ever-increasing circles.
    â€˜That …’ Partita replied, looking up and shielding her eyes against the winter sun. ‘Oh, that. That is young Mr Harry Wavell – and would it not just be?’
    They watched him in silence for a minute.
    â€˜He’s a very good skater.’
    â€˜Oh, Harry is good at most things.’
    â€˜Will he follow Wavell into service?’
    â€˜Harry? Good gracious, no!’ Partita laughed. ‘Wavell would not want him to become a butler. Besides, Harry would be hopeless. No, Harry wants to be a poet, among many other things.’
    â€˜Writing poetry?’ Kitty enquired. ‘Do you mean poetry as in Lord Byron, and Mr Wordsworth and daffodils waving in the wind?’
    â€˜I’m afraid so. It makes Wavell despair, apparently.’ Partita smiled and, having finished lacing up her skating boots, she stood up. ‘Ready?’
    At Violet’s insistence, Kitty had learned all the accomplishments required of a young lady, from playing the piano to skating, a skill she had acquired at the fashionable Niagra skating rink in London.
    â€˜Heavens!’ Partita called, as she whizzed past her friend. ‘You are really more than a skater, you are an ice dancer!’
    Partita was certainly no match for Kitty, whose natural grace made her a delight to watch. Partitaslowed down to idle along on the ice just so that she could watch her friend executing a perfect spin.
    â€˜Oh, bravo!’ Partita called out in genuine appreciation.
    Partita began to try to skate a little more quickly, longing to join Kitty, not just because she loved her, but because she knew that skating with Kitty would enhance her own performance. As the two young women skated alongside they were passed by Harry, hands clasped behind his back, long legs pushing him to ever greater speed.
    â€˜That’s Harry cutting it too fine as always,’ Partita sighed, as they were passed within inches for the third time. ‘Good morning, Harry!’
    Harry wheeled round sharply, sped back to them and, braking hard, pulled up amid a cloud of ice.
    â€˜Forgive me, Lady Partita,’ he said, taking off his cap but, to Partita’s amusement, not looking at her, but at Kitty. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude. I was just trying out something new and my manners went a little blind. Good morning, miss?’ he added, still looking at Kitty.
    â€˜This is a friend of mine from London, Harry. Miss Rolfe. Kitty, this is Harry Wavell. How was France, Harry? I haven’t really seen you since your return. Harry went to France to write .’ Partita turned to Kitty, eyebrows raised.
    â€˜France was excellent good, thank you, Lady Partita,’ Harry replied, skating along slowlybeside them. ‘I was fortunate to find a professor after my own heart.’
    â€˜And he is a poet too, by all accounts. Whatever next!’ Partita skated on, turning round and then skating backwards in front of Harry and Kitty.
    â€˜Oh, look!’ she cried happily, pointing to something only she could now see. ‘There seems to be a drama!’
    The other two turned on their skates and