of Darwell’s final words to them—she and Cecilia would be riding in the morning. Beatrice fell asleep trying to devise a way to excuse herself from an exercise that she abhorred and her twin loved.
CECILIA SMOOTHED HER dark green habit and raised her face to the sky, risking freckles to be one with nature for just a minute. What was that bit of Wordsworth that Bitsy so favored? “All that we behold is full of blessings.” Today was such a day.
The storm of the previous night had made for a clear sky and it was the perfect morning for a ride. She looked around for her sister and saw that she had not moved from the head of the trail.
“Oh, do come on, Bitsy. That horse is the most placid animal, but surely she can move faster than that. She can eat later.” Cecilia’s much livelier mount jiggled his bridle in agreement. She soothed him with a hand to his neck and watched her sister.
“I do not care to ride in the wood. It’s too easy for a horse to stumble.”
“Calling this a wood is like calling your horse a champion.” Cecilia considered the copse of trees. There was a wood beyond and a river which she hoped to reach sometime before noon.
“You go on ahead, Ceci. I’ll catch up, or maybe you can stop and collect me on the way back.”
“Why did you even come? You could have read or spent time in the gallery.”
“I keep thinking that if I ride more I will grow to like it better.”
“Like it? I would be pleased if you didn’t look like you were facing a death sentence every time you mounted.”
“It could be a death sentence for someone my size. I’m too small to have any control at all.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when the sound of hooves moving at an alarming rate caught Cecilia’s attention. She shifted her horse closer to Beatrice and the sweet slug that was her mount for the day as a man on a great black horse came over the first rise beyond the stables and went thundering by them.
The red scarf around his neck announced the rider as Marquis Destry, but he was moving so fast there was no time to exchange greetings. In fact he did not even acknowledge their presence.
“You see, Bitsy, size has nothing to do with the ability to control a horse. Or enjoy a rousing gallop.” Despite Destry’s lack of manners, Cecilia could not resist making the point.
“Go join him, Ceci. Please. I will go back to the stable soon and the groom can accompany you.”
Cecilia desperately wanted to ride off, but she could not leave her sister alone. She rode back to the groom who was waiting just out of hearing distance.
“My sister has remembered an invitation she does not wish to be late for. Would you escort her back to the stable? She is not sure of the way.” With a look of complete understanding, the groom nodded and followed her back to where Beatrice was waiting.
“Dearest,” she began, and explained the lie to her sister. Beatrice did not even attempt to disagree. Cecilia thought she saw some relief on her sister’s face, but that might have been her imagination.
Cecilia headed out at a sedate walk, moving into a more satisfying canter as Beatrice and the groom vanished from sight.
When she was into the deeper wood, she slowed her horse. Determined to avoid Marquis Destry so she could enjoy the flora and fauna, Cecilia watched the ground and moved away from the trail he’d left. She identified the trees as she rode and delighted in the ferns that grew at the edge of the path.
If she could choose to be a plant she thought it would be a fern, with elegant fronds that opened themselves to the gentle sun that filtered through the trees, which sheltered them from the harshest of weather. Her father would be an oak, she was sure, and Beatrice a violet. Small and delicate, but with its roots digging in everywhere to make itself known and felt.
Lord Destry would be a thistle or some other irritating plant.
Her meditation was cut short by the sound of water. She returned to the well-traveled trail, heading toward the gurgle of water over rock, and found something bigger than a stream but smaller than a river.
There was a ford across it but she was not about to attempt that alone, though her horse showed no