“You won’t want to go too far. We’ll have rain before nightfall. Wear your serge riding habit, Marie.”
This advice was not followed. Many of Biddy’s wise counsels were ignored, especially when Sir Henry was absent. Marie arose, cast a withering eye on Sanford, and went for her bonnet and gloves. She did not take him for a sensitive man, nor a feeling one, and was a little surprised when he uttered some words strangely resembling an apology as they walked towards the stable.
“I hope I haven’t forced you out against your will,” he said.
“No, certainly not,” she answered in a controlled voice.
“I can perfectly well go alone if you could point out to me some few facts about the neighborhood.”
“I am going with you,” she replied curtly. She spurned all offers of assistance in mounting her mare, and as they rode across the meadow, she said not a single word.
“It is certainly kind of you to accompany me. Nice to have someone to talk to,” he said after five minutes’ silence.
“I will be happy to tell you anything you wish to know.”
“I would like to know why you are in the boughs.”
“I was referring to your interest in the neighborhood. What is it exactly you wish to see?”
“What I would like to do is get the general lay of the land,” Sanford began, giving up on any effort at conciliation. “Discover where it is possible to dock a ship, and if there are any empty houses or buildings of any sort in the area. Anything that might be used in rescuing Napoleon is what I mean,” he concluded.
“You are undertaking single-handedly to thwart the rescue attempt, are you?”
“It begins to seem I may have to act alone. In any case, I take a strong personal interest, and will certainly do what I can to see he is not stampeded into any foolish attempt at escape that will more likely see him killed.”
“You are determined to save him for your Isle of Wight residence, are you?’
“Just so. One dislikes to envisage the Emperor running from pillar to post, like a chased hare. He is too great a man for that indignity. His retirement must be carried out in a manner befitting his station.”
“His station is that of a prisoner of war! He’s lucky he isn’t to be thrown into Dartmoor Prison with the rest of them.”
“Is that your real feeling, or are you influenced by your father? I had the impression you shared my admiration, this morning at the telescope. You looked enchanted, enthralled, when you were looking out to Billy Ruffian.”
“I was enchanted with the idea that he is captured.”
“You would actually like to see him executed? You would enjoy to see that great man’s head on a spike, or to see him hanging by the roadside?”
“No, Lord Sanford, I think he should be beheaded in the Tower of London, to lend all due dignity to his position as the greatest menace that ever bestrode the world.”
She expected some argument, but he just shrugged indifferently, saying, “It takes all kinds. We’ll go this way.” He pointed eastwards, as they had traveled west in the morning, and his conversation throughout the ride was of a business nature. Sinclair’s Dock was pointed out, a few promontories were given a superficial examination. Every lane and byway had to have its termination explained in detail, and if it featured a building at all, a little jog was made to inspect it.
Just the dull, stupid sort of a ride to fray the nerves. Not a good gallop the whole time. There were no homes standing empty within two miles of Bolt Hall. The closest place of any interest in that respect was a barn, all that remained of a once thriving farm that had burned down three years previously. He displayed some interest in the barn, the more so as there were plentiful signs of traffic leading through the field to it, a regular path beat, and a shiny new lock on the door. Marie knew very well this was the local cockfighting barn, but was so miffed with Lord Sanford that she wouldn’t
This advice was not followed. Many of Biddy’s wise counsels were ignored, especially when Sir Henry was absent. Marie arose, cast a withering eye on Sanford, and went for her bonnet and gloves. She did not take him for a sensitive man, nor a feeling one, and was a little surprised when he uttered some words strangely resembling an apology as they walked towards the stable.
“I hope I haven’t forced you out against your will,” he said.
“No, certainly not,” she answered in a controlled voice.
“I can perfectly well go alone if you could point out to me some few facts about the neighborhood.”
“I am going with you,” she replied curtly. She spurned all offers of assistance in mounting her mare, and as they rode across the meadow, she said not a single word.
“It is certainly kind of you to accompany me. Nice to have someone to talk to,” he said after five minutes’ silence.
“I will be happy to tell you anything you wish to know.”
“I would like to know why you are in the boughs.”
“I was referring to your interest in the neighborhood. What is it exactly you wish to see?”
“What I would like to do is get the general lay of the land,” Sanford began, giving up on any effort at conciliation. “Discover where it is possible to dock a ship, and if there are any empty houses or buildings of any sort in the area. Anything that might be used in rescuing Napoleon is what I mean,” he concluded.
“You are undertaking single-handedly to thwart the rescue attempt, are you?”
“It begins to seem I may have to act alone. In any case, I take a strong personal interest, and will certainly do what I can to see he is not stampeded into any foolish attempt at escape that will more likely see him killed.”
“You are determined to save him for your Isle of Wight residence, are you?’
“Just so. One dislikes to envisage the Emperor running from pillar to post, like a chased hare. He is too great a man for that indignity. His retirement must be carried out in a manner befitting his station.”
“His station is that of a prisoner of war! He’s lucky he isn’t to be thrown into Dartmoor Prison with the rest of them.”
“Is that your real feeling, or are you influenced by your father? I had the impression you shared my admiration, this morning at the telescope. You looked enchanted, enthralled, when you were looking out to Billy Ruffian.”
“I was enchanted with the idea that he is captured.”
“You would actually like to see him executed? You would enjoy to see that great man’s head on a spike, or to see him hanging by the roadside?”
“No, Lord Sanford, I think he should be beheaded in the Tower of London, to lend all due dignity to his position as the greatest menace that ever bestrode the world.”
She expected some argument, but he just shrugged indifferently, saying, “It takes all kinds. We’ll go this way.” He pointed eastwards, as they had traveled west in the morning, and his conversation throughout the ride was of a business nature. Sinclair’s Dock was pointed out, a few promontories were given a superficial examination. Every lane and byway had to have its termination explained in detail, and if it featured a building at all, a little jog was made to inspect it.
Just the dull, stupid sort of a ride to fray the nerves. Not a good gallop the whole time. There were no homes standing empty within two miles of Bolt Hall. The closest place of any interest in that respect was a barn, all that remained of a once thriving farm that had burned down three years previously. He displayed some interest in the barn, the more so as there were plentiful signs of traffic leading through the field to it, a regular path beat, and a shiny new lock on the door. Marie knew very well this was the local cockfighting barn, but was so miffed with Lord Sanford that she wouldn’t
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