previous irritation with the man when Mr Torvald said, to her surprise, that he would appreciate the chance to speak further on such topics, and would Miss Davies like to join him for a carriage ride in Hyde Park that next Tuesday afternoon?
Indeed, Miss Davies would.
* * * *
Isolde was outraged.
“No!”
Carys stared at her. “Why on earth not? If nothing else, it will make our mother happy.”
“The viscountess’s happiness can wait. He’s not right for you.”
“Right for me!” Carys laughed. “We are not becoming engaged, you know. ‘Tis a drive in the park.”
Isa made a rude noise. “That’s always how these things begin. Next he will be holding your hand and talking about ... leeches.”
“He studies the green-winged orchid.”
“As I said. The poet was bad enough, but this—”
“I should think you would be pleased that I have caught the attention of some young man.”
“You could have the attention of any number of young men if you would only attend a ball now and again,” retorted Isolde.
“I should think a young man at a ball and a young man at a lecture are very much the same thing.”
“No,” said Isa. “‘Tis not the same thing at all.”
Chapter 11: An Excellent Listener
And not too long afterwards ...
“His name is Jesse,” said Carys.
“Jesse.” Isolde stared at the animal. Her face was white.
The horse—a stallion, albeit a small one—turned at its name. His eyes were calm and the deepest brown Isa had ever seen. She felt as if the animal recognized her.
That was nonsense, she told herself.
“Talk to him,” said Carys.
“What?”
“You don’t need to go any nearer. Just talk to him. Tell him why you are afraid.”
Isa decided that her sister had finally lost her mind. “It’s all that fresh air,” she said to Carys. “It has unhinged you.”
But Jesse was looking at her, and Isolde could have sworn that his gaze was curious.
“All right,” she said. She sat down on the nearest bale of straw.
* * * *
Isolde and Jesse had several long conversations over the next week. Isa found it strangely easy to talk with the animal, who seemed an excellent listener and to sympathize with everything she said. She started by explaining about horses, how large they were and how intimidating, and what it felt like to be perched so high above the ground.
The stallion’s gaze said he entirely understood.
She told him of her impression that Rose—who was a perfectly lovely animal, please don’t misunderstand—but that Rose was only one twitch away from bolting the entire time she had sat on the mare’s back.
She said that she was sure that he, Jesse, would never do such a thing.
The stallion agreed.
She said that she wanted to ride, and that she had felt guilty for months that Carys did so little of it in London.
“She is bored and restless. If I could only accompany her—”
Ah, yes.
After that the discussion became more general, moving into more of Isolde’s worries about Carys, their mother’s obsession with marriage, and her own opinion of young gentlemen. At one point Jesse snorted at Isa’s description of the Baron Tremontaine, with timing so perfect that she laughed and felt the sudden urge to hug the animal’s neck, but it was so high—
Carys left her sister and the horse completely alone.
Chapter 12: Carriage Ride
Isa’s objections notwithstanding, Carys and Mr Torvald rode out on the following Tuesday. If the gentleman’s handling of his team was not quite up to snuff—Carys’s hands itched for the reins, as she could have done far better herself—he did manage to get them to Hyde Park without mishap.
“Here we are!” said Mr Torvald, evidently in some relief. He was sweating.
“Ah, yes,” said Carys, who was merely glad they were in one piece and that Isolde was nowhere nearby. The sisters were accustomed to their brother’s driving, which was faultless.
“Beautiful, beautiful,” said Mr Torvald.
Indeed, Miss Davies would.
* * * *
Isolde was outraged.
“No!”
Carys stared at her. “Why on earth not? If nothing else, it will make our mother happy.”
“The viscountess’s happiness can wait. He’s not right for you.”
“Right for me!” Carys laughed. “We are not becoming engaged, you know. ‘Tis a drive in the park.”
Isa made a rude noise. “That’s always how these things begin. Next he will be holding your hand and talking about ... leeches.”
“He studies the green-winged orchid.”
“As I said. The poet was bad enough, but this—”
“I should think you would be pleased that I have caught the attention of some young man.”
“You could have the attention of any number of young men if you would only attend a ball now and again,” retorted Isolde.
“I should think a young man at a ball and a young man at a lecture are very much the same thing.”
“No,” said Isa. “‘Tis not the same thing at all.”
Chapter 11: An Excellent Listener
And not too long afterwards ...
“His name is Jesse,” said Carys.
“Jesse.” Isolde stared at the animal. Her face was white.
The horse—a stallion, albeit a small one—turned at its name. His eyes were calm and the deepest brown Isa had ever seen. She felt as if the animal recognized her.
That was nonsense, she told herself.
“Talk to him,” said Carys.
“What?”
“You don’t need to go any nearer. Just talk to him. Tell him why you are afraid.”
Isa decided that her sister had finally lost her mind. “It’s all that fresh air,” she said to Carys. “It has unhinged you.”
But Jesse was looking at her, and Isolde could have sworn that his gaze was curious.
“All right,” she said. She sat down on the nearest bale of straw.
* * * *
Isolde and Jesse had several long conversations over the next week. Isa found it strangely easy to talk with the animal, who seemed an excellent listener and to sympathize with everything she said. She started by explaining about horses, how large they were and how intimidating, and what it felt like to be perched so high above the ground.
The stallion’s gaze said he entirely understood.
She told him of her impression that Rose—who was a perfectly lovely animal, please don’t misunderstand—but that Rose was only one twitch away from bolting the entire time she had sat on the mare’s back.
She said that she was sure that he, Jesse, would never do such a thing.
The stallion agreed.
She said that she wanted to ride, and that she had felt guilty for months that Carys did so little of it in London.
“She is bored and restless. If I could only accompany her—”
Ah, yes.
After that the discussion became more general, moving into more of Isolde’s worries about Carys, their mother’s obsession with marriage, and her own opinion of young gentlemen. At one point Jesse snorted at Isa’s description of the Baron Tremontaine, with timing so perfect that she laughed and felt the sudden urge to hug the animal’s neck, but it was so high—
Carys left her sister and the horse completely alone.
Chapter 12: Carriage Ride
Isa’s objections notwithstanding, Carys and Mr Torvald rode out on the following Tuesday. If the gentleman’s handling of his team was not quite up to snuff—Carys’s hands itched for the reins, as she could have done far better herself—he did manage to get them to Hyde Park without mishap.
“Here we are!” said Mr Torvald, evidently in some relief. He was sweating.
“Ah, yes,” said Carys, who was merely glad they were in one piece and that Isolde was nowhere nearby. The sisters were accustomed to their brother’s driving, which was faultless.
“Beautiful, beautiful,” said Mr Torvald.
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