trot.
‘So,’ she said, clearing her throat, ‘how do you spend your days here at the hall? Writing your poetry, I suppose?’
‘Would that was the reality,’ Julius sighed. ‘Perhaps one day I shall run away to Paris and live in an attic garret somewhere in Montmartre. Sadly, most of my time is taken up helping Uncle Edgar on the estate. He’s grooming me to take over one day but, like a recalcitrant horse, I find it hard to stand still as he does so. Especially the ledgers. Oh God, the ledgers! You know what a ledger is, I presume?’
‘I do, yes. My father spends a lot of his life poring over his ledgers too.’
‘A life without ledgers is sublime, if only one day that life could be mine,’ Julius pronounced with a chuckle. ‘I think dear Uncle Edgar has realised that my maths and business acumen are non-existent, but as I’m all he’s got in terms of an heir, he has no choice but to hope for the best and believe that one day I will suddenly learn to add up. The problem is, I’m simply not interested.’
‘Oh, I rather like sums,’ Cecily smiled.
‘How extraordinary! Goodness, Miss Huntley-Morgan, you become more perfect with every word that falls out of your pretty mouth. I’ve never met a woman who confesses to enjoying mathematics.’
‘Well, even if I sound crazy, I do,’ she said defensively.
‘Please, what I said was certainly not meant as criticism. Rather more a wish that I could find a woman like you to marry. And rather than plighting my troth to her, whatever a troth actually is, I’d hand over the ledgers. Well now,’ he said, pointing to the buildings they were approaching, ‘we’re here and I suggest you go directly to the house, rather than walking back from the stables with me.’
Cecily was about to protest, because any further precious seconds she could spend with her new companion were ones that she would treasure forever, but Julius was already off his horse and looking up at her expectantly. As he helped her to dismount, his hands remained firmly round her waist as her feet touched the floor.
‘You’re such a slender little thing, aren’t you? Can’t feel an ounce of spare flesh around those hips of yours. Now then, hurry back to the house and I’ll be in to check how you’re feeling later on.’
‘Oh, I’m fine really . . .’
But Julius was already back on his horse and catching up the reins of her mare. He gave Cecily a small salute and trotted off with both animals in the direction of the stables.
Cecily was disappointed to find that Julius was not present for luncheon; she and Audrey were alone at the table. As Audrey asked after Dorothea, Cecily’s sisters, plus the friends and acquaintances whom Cecily vaguely knew from her mother’s circle, she could barely swallow the soup that claimed to be vegetable but tasted like warmed-up dishwater.
‘My dear, you’ve hardly touched your lamb,’ Audrey commented as the maid cleared away their plates after the main course. ‘Perhaps you are catching a cold.’
‘Maybe I am,’ Cecily agreed, a piece of fatty, inedible meat still tucked inside her cheek. ‘I’ll go upstairs and have a rest. I can’t understand why I’d be sick; it’s so much colder in Manhattan.’
‘That it may be, but here it’s the damp that gets one, you see,’ Audrey replied in her odd part-American, part-English accent. ‘Julius said you might be sickening for something earlier. I’ll send Doris up with a hot water bottle and some aspirin, and if you prefer a tray in your room tonight, that can easily be arranged. Unfortunately I must attend a meeting at six – I am on the local parish council and those meetings always drag on. As I told you, Edgar is in London and I’ve no idea where Julius is spending the evening . . .’ Audrey raised her eyebrows. ‘Not that that’s unusual. Anyway, I want you fit and well for Sunday – I’m throwing a little cocktail party for your last night. Now then, off you go to rest.’
Upstairs in her room and tucked up in bed, Cecily watched the flames of the fire dance in front of her. She was definitely not sick – at worst, she had a slight chill – but there was something else that had put her off her food. She closed her eyes, desperate to sleep, but all she saw was Julius’s face as he had tenderly mopped her