smile.
“I assure you it will not grow much taller than the garden
walls. And it would give your teahouse some welcome afternoon shade.”
“I know you’ve considered every aspect, Mr. Cabot. But
I do not feel another tree would suit the garden.” She did
not want his gift, which was what this was. She did not
want a unique and thoughtfully appropriate gift from him.
It was best that he know that now.
For a moment his gaze darkened. Then he smiled and
shrugged.
“‘Tis no matter. I shall find a spare little corner at
Brookslea in which to tuck it away. ‘Twill do nicely.”
A spare little corner! He knew how to hurt her as well.
“Honestly, Meggie,” Bertie protested, “balking at a little
tree.”
“Why must you be so mean?” Lucy asked. “It’s not like
you at all!”
Trust Lucy to betray her, Meg thought, catching Cabot’s
considering gaze. She had wanted him to believe there was
nothing unusual in her response.
Her father was studying his dinner plate, with an amusement that Meg could not fathom.
“Would you like me to have the tree, father?” she asked.
“Not at all, my dear. You must do as you wish. Though I
might ask what particular objection you have to an inoffensive twig.”
“It is simply-It is not what I planned.”
“I certainly understand, Sir Eustace,” Cabot said. “One’s
plans can become inviolable.”
Meg looked at Cabot with some impatience. How dare
he defend her!
“Is that what the stakes on the north lawn mean then?
That you plan to plant trees there as well?”
“No.” For a moment he met her challenge with silence.
“I shall be happy to show you what they mean”
She did not want him to show her anything. She wanted
him to leave her in peace.
“Perhaps, Meg,” her father said, “we can take a look at
the plans again after supper-so that there will be no further surprises. After all, Mr. Cabot must be entrusted to decide for us while we are away. We cannot be reduced to
planting and removing the same herbage repeatedly-even
if such activity did line Mr. Cabot’s pockets”
“Papa!” Lucy cried. But the men were laughing. And
Meg felt a stranger to her own family.
She said little as the discussion moved to the arrangements for town. Cabot volunteered that he had just visited,
and Meg looked at him in astonishment. To travel so much
and accomplish so much in such a short time was extraordinary. He did not appear unduly tired, but perhaps the
candlelight was kind.
He caught her gaze, and seemed to address his next
question directly to her.
“Have there been any more uninvited guests?”
“Not a one,” Sir Eustace said with satisfaction.
“No,” Bertram agreed. “And I searched the north woods
just yesterday.”
Meg looked not at Cabot but at the tablecloth.
“There has been a rider in the north woods every morning,” she said softly.
“What?” Her father reached to grab her left hand. “Why
did you not tell me?”
“I did not want you to worry. I … have not acknowledged him. And I have taken the groom with me.”
“Every morning, you say? How close then? How did you
spot him?”
“The first morning I rode-I took Arcturus, on a circuit.
I ran him along the edge of the woods and noticed movement in the trees, at some distance. But then the rider must
have realized it was I, and not Mr. Cabot-on Arcturus.
When he started toward me, I gave Arcturus his head and
raced back to the stables.”
“But what of the groom?” Bertie asked. “This rider ran
at you even with Dobbs along?”
“He wasn’t with me. Not that first morning.”
Her father pressed her hand, hard.
“Margaret,” he admonished. “You had assured me.”
“I know. But it was so early. I stayed within view of the
house, in the open.”
“Father,” Bertie said, “we’ll have everyone out to comb
the woods tomorrow morning. If this fellow thinks us complacent he’s in for a shock”
Cabot had been observing her very
“I assure you it will not grow much taller than the garden
walls. And it would give your teahouse some welcome afternoon shade.”
“I know you’ve considered every aspect, Mr. Cabot. But
I do not feel another tree would suit the garden.” She did
not want his gift, which was what this was. She did not
want a unique and thoughtfully appropriate gift from him.
It was best that he know that now.
For a moment his gaze darkened. Then he smiled and
shrugged.
“‘Tis no matter. I shall find a spare little corner at
Brookslea in which to tuck it away. ‘Twill do nicely.”
A spare little corner! He knew how to hurt her as well.
“Honestly, Meggie,” Bertie protested, “balking at a little
tree.”
“Why must you be so mean?” Lucy asked. “It’s not like
you at all!”
Trust Lucy to betray her, Meg thought, catching Cabot’s
considering gaze. She had wanted him to believe there was
nothing unusual in her response.
Her father was studying his dinner plate, with an amusement that Meg could not fathom.
“Would you like me to have the tree, father?” she asked.
“Not at all, my dear. You must do as you wish. Though I
might ask what particular objection you have to an inoffensive twig.”
“It is simply-It is not what I planned.”
“I certainly understand, Sir Eustace,” Cabot said. “One’s
plans can become inviolable.”
Meg looked at Cabot with some impatience. How dare
he defend her!
“Is that what the stakes on the north lawn mean then?
That you plan to plant trees there as well?”
“No.” For a moment he met her challenge with silence.
“I shall be happy to show you what they mean”
She did not want him to show her anything. She wanted
him to leave her in peace.
“Perhaps, Meg,” her father said, “we can take a look at
the plans again after supper-so that there will be no further surprises. After all, Mr. Cabot must be entrusted to decide for us while we are away. We cannot be reduced to
planting and removing the same herbage repeatedly-even
if such activity did line Mr. Cabot’s pockets”
“Papa!” Lucy cried. But the men were laughing. And
Meg felt a stranger to her own family.
She said little as the discussion moved to the arrangements for town. Cabot volunteered that he had just visited,
and Meg looked at him in astonishment. To travel so much
and accomplish so much in such a short time was extraordinary. He did not appear unduly tired, but perhaps the
candlelight was kind.
He caught her gaze, and seemed to address his next
question directly to her.
“Have there been any more uninvited guests?”
“Not a one,” Sir Eustace said with satisfaction.
“No,” Bertram agreed. “And I searched the north woods
just yesterday.”
Meg looked not at Cabot but at the tablecloth.
“There has been a rider in the north woods every morning,” she said softly.
“What?” Her father reached to grab her left hand. “Why
did you not tell me?”
“I did not want you to worry. I … have not acknowledged him. And I have taken the groom with me.”
“Every morning, you say? How close then? How did you
spot him?”
“The first morning I rode-I took Arcturus, on a circuit.
I ran him along the edge of the woods and noticed movement in the trees, at some distance. But then the rider must
have realized it was I, and not Mr. Cabot-on Arcturus.
When he started toward me, I gave Arcturus his head and
raced back to the stables.”
“But what of the groom?” Bertie asked. “This rider ran
at you even with Dobbs along?”
“He wasn’t with me. Not that first morning.”
Her father pressed her hand, hard.
“Margaret,” he admonished. “You had assured me.”
“I know. But it was so early. I stayed within view of the
house, in the open.”
“Father,” Bertie said, “we’ll have everyone out to comb
the woods tomorrow morning. If this fellow thinks us complacent he’s in for a shock”
Cabot had been observing her very
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