I am seeing places and things for the first time!"
He paused in the midst of chewing a bite of plum to give her an affectionate smile. The enthusiasm of his wife was contagious; Sandhurst felt as if he were exploring England anew because he was seeing it through her eyes.
"I would like to ride with you today!" she exclaimed. "Then we can talk and share the experience together. I am so tired of that stuffy coach."
His brows flicked up. "People would find that quite shocking, my lady," he said with mock severity.
"How exciting for them!" she laughed, coming over to perch on the arm of his chair and lean against him. "You must agree, my lord!"
Sandhurst fed her the rest of his plum, ignoring glances from the other people in the common room, and kissed her neck. "I yield to you, my wife."
After Andrew settled their bill of twenty-four pence for lodging, meals, fodder for the horses, and a fire in their rooms, the group of six rode leisurely out of Stratford-upon-Avon. They kept to the river, which led them straight into the beautiful Cotswold hills, one of the loveliest areas in all of Britain.
Above them the sky was vividly azure, dotted with snowy puffs of clouds, while the air was spring-sweet and warm. There were water meadows all along the River Avon, drenched in violets, wild thyme, and yellow oxlips. The Cotswolds themselves were green hillsides that were shaped, as Sandhurst remarked, "like whales' backs." The light was slightly hazy, almost iridescent, reminding Micheline of the Loire Valley in France.
"I've never seen so many sheep!." she exclaimed at one point, which elicited a chuckle from her husband.
"This is sheep country, sweetheart. The wool merchants are getting rich from them. You see, Cotswold sheep are unique, with lustrous wool that's really quite special."
Before long they turned south from the River Avon.
Micheline delighted in the rolling hills fringed with beech trees, and the secluded valleys lined with pollard willows and threaded with silvery brooks. The Cotswolds exuded charm and a kind of magic that made Micheline feel content on another level from her happiness with Andrew. The softly undulating hills seemed to embrace her, welcoming her home at last.
When they rode into the village of Chipping Campden she was surprised to find all the buildings and houses composed of honey-colored stone. High Street curved ahead of them, tinted golden in the midday light.
"It's Cotswold limestone," Sandhurst explained, anticipating her question. "With time, it mellows from gray to the warm honey color you see here."
They wound their way through the market-day crowds of people, carts, and livestock. Down one of the quieter lanes of town they paused at the Crooked Billet inn for a meal of pigeon pie, asparagus with oil and vinegar, brown bread and honey, and stewed apples. To Micheline's surprise the innkeeper recognized Sandhurst and called his wife and children out to welcome "his lordship" home. When Andrew informed them that the lady at his side was the new Lady Sandhurst, they behaved as if she were royalty.
Later, outside the inn, he told her, "We're still two hours from the village of Sandhurst. For years the villagers there have been pestering me to marry, so there will doubtless be another display of enthusiasm there."
Fortunately they came upon Sandhurst, a hamlet caught in a fold of hills, late in the afternoon, when most people were off the streets having a rest from the labors of the day. To the others who rushed forth to greet Lord Sandhurst, he merely said that he was eager to get home and would return soon for a proper visit. Micheline felt the curious gazes of the townspeople and smiled in return. Some of them wore looks of comprehension, as if they sensed the bond of love that existed between her and Andrew.
Micheline barely had a chance to look at the village, though it seemed much like the others they had passed through that day. The buildings predictably blushed a tawny hue, and there was a magnificent church that struck Micheline as both dignified and primitive.
"It's Norman," Andrew told her succinctly. "No wonder you like it!"
South of the village were more sheep-covered hills as well as fields being plowed by oxen. Occasionally one of the farm laborers caught sight of Sandhurst's proud head and strong silhouette on horseback and called a greeting to him. Micheline's surprise grew when she heard him reply, invariably calling each man by name.