Silverbridge (5 page)

Meg leaned against the old but immaculately clean sink. “I met Tracy Collins. She’s super nice. And she’s even more beautiful than she looks in her films.”

Lord Silverbridge took another bite of chipped beef. “Would you like some of this, Meggie? It’s quite decent.”

She opened a cabinet and took out a glass. “No thanks, I ate with the movie people.”

Behind her back, her brother closed his eyes.

Meg measured out a half a glass of soda and turned to face him. “Was that Gwen Mauley’s horse I saw coming in an hour or so ago?”

“It was.” He took a swallow of beer and produced a grin. “And he’s even more beautiful than he looks in his films.”

Meg giggled, then took a tiny sip of soda. “It’s good to see you smile.”

He shrugged wearily. “There hasn’t been much reason to smile so far this year, Meggie.”

“I know. But landing this film was a good thing, wasn’t it?”

“It will put on a new roof, at least.” He finished the chipped beef and took another swallow of beer.

Meg brought her soda to the table and sat across from her brother. “This house is such an albatross. If you sold off some of the land, Harry, it would make life so much easier. Mr. Mauley’s offer is tremendously generous. You’re not likely to get a better one.”

“We have been through this before, Meg, and I am not selling off my land to some developer,” he replied evenly. “The Olivers have been at Silverbridge for four
centuries. This land is in my charge, and I will do everything humanly possible to keep it.”

Meg looked at his set face and prudently did not reply.

One of the spaniels had already finished dinner and gone to lie on the old corduroy sofa that stood under one of the high windows. Now the second one finished and ambled over to the sofa to join her brother.

Harry got up and carried his plate and beer glass to the sink, where he left them for the housekeeper to deal with in the morning. “I’m going upstairs.”

“I’ll go with you.” Meg followed him, leaving her virtually untouched soda on the table.

The kitchen they had been using was the original and was located in the rustic, or half basement, of the house. The apartment where they lived was upstairs, and brother and sister had to climb two flights of the narrow back stairs that had once been used by servants, to access it.

Their father, the fourteenth earl, had had the apartment built in the west wing when it became prohibitively expensive to live in the original rooms. A sitting room, called the morning room, a drawing room and six bedrooms had been closed off from the rest of the house, and central heating had been installed.

Brother and sister made themselves comfortable in the morning room, which was at the top of the stairs. Three chintz-covered sofas, a number of comfortable- looking chairs, a television set placed incongruously in an eighteenth-century cabinet, two white wood fireplaces, an oil portrait of two teenage boys, and a collection of watercolors depicting the Silverbridge gardens
were the room’s main furnishings. The rug that covered the center of the polished wood floor matched the orange in the chintz fabric that covered the three sofas. The drapes on the tall windows were of simple yellow silk.

“So is this horse of Gwen’s any good?” Meg said from her usual place upon one of the sofas.

A small black cat had leaped into Harry’s lap the moment he sat down in his usual wing chair. She purred loudly as he stroked her. “He’s extremely talented.”

“As talented as Pendleton?” Pendleton was the horse Harry had ridden at the Olympics in Sydney.

“I haven’t ridden him yet, so I can’t say, but his natural gaits are wonderful.”

“He’s a Thoroughbred, right?”

He nodded.

“And Gwen wants to ride him?”

They looked at each other. Both knew that Gwen did fine with a big warmblood who took a lot of pushing and pulling, but she did not deal as well with a more sensitive, hot-blooded horse.

Harry said, “I’m charging her double my usual fee. And there’s rot in the east wing.”

“Uh,” Meg said. “And you like Thoroughbreds.”

He grinned. “T
rue.” He glanced at his watch. “
Time for the news. Then I’m going to let the dogs out and go to bed.”

“I’ll get the telly,” Meg said. “I wouldn’t want you to disturb Ebony.”

A louder purr came from the silky pile of black fur on Harry’s lap.

5

D
u
ring the following three days, Meg followed Tracy around the set like a chick that has imprinted. “I never get a chance to talk to you,” Jon complained, as he and Tracy stood together waiting for a light to be set. “We work from sunup to sundown, and any free time you have is monopolized by that girl.”

“She does seem to have adopted me,” Tracy agreed. She had draped a blue wool sweater over her shoulders to keep warm while she waited and was sipping a cup of tea.

He looked around the set. “Where is she now? She’s always here.”

“I don’t know where she is.”

“Why isn’t she in school? She looks young enough.”

“I think she has an eating disorder,” Tracy returned gravely. “Haven’t you noticed? She’s nothing but skin and bones.”

“That’s how all the young girls look the
s
e days.”

“This is different. I’ve watched her, and she doesn’t eat.” A slight frown creased Tracy’s brow. “She should be in some sort of treatment.”

“Well, I fail to see why you should feel obliged to baby-sit her,” Jon said.

“She just seems so fragile somehow. I don’t want to reject her and perhaps make her problem worse.”

At this point Greg, the assistant director, came up to them and said. “We’re ready to go.”

A costume assistant came running up to take Tracy’s sweater and teacup, and Tracy went to take her place.

They shot the scene
five
times and broke for lunch. Jon was needed for the afternoon, but Tracy’s next scene wasn’t until the following day. Her intention was to go back to the Wiltshire Arms, but when she came out of her camper dressed in brown wool slacks and an oatmeal-colored sweater set, she found Meg waiting for her.

All Tracy wanted was to have a peaceful lunch by herself. So she said pleasantly but firmly, “I’m going back to the hotel, Meg. They don’t need me this afternoon.”

Meg smiled timidly. “I know. I was just wondering if you’d care to come with me to see the stables. You said you used to ride, and my brother has some wonderful horses.”

Tracy paused. She had honored Lord Silverbridge’s request that movie personnel stay away from the stables, but she had definitely been disappointed not to see the horses. She had kept a horse at home for years before she went to college, and she still rode whenever she got the chance.

If Meg invites me, then it will be all right,
she thought, and replied, “I’d like that very much.”

Five minutes later, she and Meg were following a footpath that led from the side garden, which was filled with a gorgeous profusion of roses, into the lovely plantation of lime trees that served to screen the stables from the house. Stopping as the stable area first came into view, Tracy took in the splendid sight of stone stable, grassy paddocks, outdoor riding ring, and an unidentifiable building built of the same stone as the stable. Horses were grazing in the paddocks, the May sun shining on the healthy dapples of their glossy coats. A single horse and rider were working in the outdoor ring.

A picture came into her mind of her and Scotty loading Portia into the trailer, she dressed in her show coat, breeches, and boots. It was the summer of Scotty’s senior year and her junior year in high school. She did not yet have her license and he had driven the truck to most of the horse shows she competed in. They had fought companionably the whole time they were in the truck over what kind of music to put on the radio.

Meg took her hand and gave it a tug, like a ve
ry young child. “Come along. Harr
y is schooling Dylan, Gwen Mauley’s horse. Let’s go and watch.”

Tracy came back to the present and accompanied Meg across an expanse of grass to the outdoor ring, which was enclosed by a five-foot, wooden-rail fence. Inside, a horse was cant
ering rhythmically on a twenty-
meter circle. Meg led Tracy to the wooden bench on the outside perimeter of the fence, where two spaniels were snoozing in the sunshine. They stood up as the young
women approached, and one of them went up to Meg, tail wagging.

“Say hello to Marshal and Millie,” Meg said as she stroked a canine head. “It’s okay. You can pet them. They’re very friendly.”

Tracy said, “Hi there, puppies. Aren’t you pretty?” She squatted to pet them with the assurance of one who knows dogs, and the tails wagged faster. “Are they Springer spaniels?” she asked Meg.

“Yes. Brother and sister. They belong to Harry. They follow him everywhere.”

Tracy lifted her head and for the first time looked at the horseman in the ring.

He was not wearing a hat, and his tawny hair shone like a bronze helmet in the brilliant spring sun. He sat deeply into the horse, directly over the animal’s center of balance, so that they almost looked like one creature, not two. His eyes were focused between the horse’s ears, his gloved hands held the reins in a soft, sure grip, and his booted legs hung long and reassuring against the horse’s sides. He was utterly intent on what he was doing and never glanced their way.

Tracy looked at him and everything inside of her went still. Time seemed to stop.

She had no idea how long it was before Meg’s voice came floating to her ears. “Harry is in love with this horse.”

With a supreme effort of will, she made herself look from the man to the horse. It was a tall, bay Thoroughbred gelding, with long elegant legs and small delicate ears. Those ears were tilted back as he cantered, and his
whole expression proclaimed that he was as concentrated on his rider as his rider was on him.

“He’s beautiful,” Tracy said a little breathlessly.

The man in the ring said, “Come along, boy. Just a little more.” The rider didn’t appear to do anything but, as Tracy watched, the horse’s canter became rounder, fuller, bigger. The rider smiled as he followed the horse’s motion, gave the horse’s neck a pat, and said, “You see? I told you you could do it.”

For the next fifteen minutes, Tracy sat in silence, watching the man work with the animal as delicately and respectfully as a gifted nursery school teacher would work with a four-year-old. When the lesson was finally over, and the rider leaned forward to enthusiastically pat and praise his pupil, the expression on the equine face was so full of pride that Tracy had to smile.

The rider dismounted and reached in his pocket for a sugar cube. A man wearing jeans and paddock boots came out of the nearby stable and stepped into the ring. The dogs got up and trotted toward their master.

“
That’s Ned Martin,” Meg said. “He’s in charge of the stables after Harry.” She got to her feet. “Come along and I’ll introduce you.”

Once again Tracy felt that strange stillness as she followed Meg across the sand ring.
What is this?
she thought with a mixture of impatience, bewilderment and trepidation.
Why do I have this crazy feeling that I am walking toward my fate?

She heard Ned Martin say, “I’ll see to him, Harry,” as he led the horse
away in the direction of the barn
. Then Meg and Tracy had reached their destination.

“Hi Harry,” Meg said. “I want you to meet Tracy
Collins. We’ve been watching your session with Dylan.”

He turned to them, and, for the first time, Tracy saw the color of his eyes. They were not blue but brown, wide-set, and intelligent. And at the moment, they looked distinctly annoyed.

Tracy’s stomach dropped the way it did on the first steep hill of a roller coaster.

“Meggie, I thought we agreed that the movie people would stay away from the stables.” His voice was clipped, upper-class. Tracy felt a shiver go up her backbone.

Meg said earnestly, “But Tracy knows horses, Harry. She used to own her own horse, actually.”

The earl turned his good-looking face from his sister to the unwelcome visitor she had brought. For the briefest of moments his dark eyes looked directly into hers, and she thought she saw a look of startled recognition in their depths. Then a veil came down.

“How do you do, Miss Collins,” he said. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m sure
you understand my feel
ings in this matter. Horses are easily spooked, and I have some valuable animals stabled here.”

Abruptly the stillness inside Tracy was displaced by a surge of temper. She was not accustomed to being greeted in such a fashion. “You may not mean to be rude, but you most certainly are,” she retorted.

He looked surprised at this comeback, and Tracy thought defian
tl
y,
Your aristocratic title doesn’t mean beans to me, chum.

Meg said earnestl
y,
“
Tracy won’t spook the horses, Harry. Really, she won’t
.
”

He dismissed Tracy from his attention and turned to his sister. “How did your appointment go, Meggie?”

She shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Beth wants you to call her.”

He rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache.

“Please, Harry, can’t I show Tracy around?”

He glanced at Tracy, and said, “Oh, I suppose so.”

Tracy had been a movie star for seven years and a megastar for three of those years. She was outraged and had opened her lips to say something scathing when Meg’s voice intervened. “Did you know that Harry won a bronze medal at the Olympics in Sydney, Tracy?”

Tracy matched Lord Silverbridge’s indifferent manner. “N
o
, I did not have the pleasure of knowing that.” She gave him a condescending look. “Good for you, Lord Silverbridge.”

She was pleased to see that Lord Silverbridge did not appear to appreciate this compliment one bit. Tracy went on, “I would enjoy seeing your Olympic horse. Are you going to ride him today?” She made it sound as if he should give a performance just for her.

The earl scowled at her. He was wearing a well-worn gray sweater, breeches, and high black boots. His thick, silky hair had fallen over his forehead, and he tossed it back with a gesture that looked as if it was habitual. He was quite tall, several inches over six feet He replied in a staccato tone, “No, Pendleton is turned out in one of the paddocks. He is seventeen years old, and I retired him from competition after the Olympics.”

“How lovely.” From her manner she might have been the queen talking to a commoner. “So now all he has to do is eat grass all day.”

Lord Silverbridge turned to face her, and for some reason Tracy once again felt a shiver run down her spine. He said calmly, “I said he was retired from competition, not from all work. He will be an invaluable schoolmaster for me to use with my students. He has never been brilliant, but he is absolutely correct. Anyone who rides him learns more than they could from a thousand books.”

Tracy would adore to ride such a horse, but she would die before she asked this man for anything. She turned her shoulder slightly, and spoke to Meg, “Can we go look at the ba
rn
first?”

Lord Silverbridge said, “It is not a ba
rn
, M
iss Collins, it is a stable. Barn
s are for cows.”

Tracy turned back to confront him. Their gazes met, and a fleeting, puzzled look flickered in his eyes. Then once more the shutters came down.

For some reason, Tracy’s heart was racing. She managed to say evenly, “In Con
necticut, where I come from, barn
s are also for horses, my lord.”

From behind them there was the sound of car wheels on gravel, and Meg turned to look. “Oh dear. Harry, I’m afraid it’s Mr. Mauley.”

Tracy turned in the direction of Meg’s gaze and saw the burly man she had previously seen at the Wiltshire Arms getting out of a gleaming black Jaguar.

“Shit,” Harry said. “If this continues, I’m going to sue him for harassment.”

They stood in silence as the burly real estate mogul came to the gate of the riding ring. When it became clear to him that Harry wasn’t going to move, he reluctantly stepped into the arena dirt

“Good afternoon, my lord.” He stopped in front of them. “Lady Margaret.” He looked at Tracy and smiled, showing oddly small teeth for so large a man. “It needs no introduction for me to know who you are, Miss Collins.”

“I’m afraid I can’t return the compliment,” Tracy replied.

He held out his hand. “Robin Mauley.”

Tracy looked at his hand for a moment before she finally put her own hand into his.

Harry said in a cold voice, “What are you doing here, Mauley?”

“I am here to up my offer substantially, my lord,” Mauley said genially. “I don’t think you’ll want to say no to this.”

“Screw your offer, Mauley,” Harry returned without heat. “You can offer me the moon, but I am not selling any of my land. That is final. Go look elsewhere for a place to put your golf course.” And he strode away, the black-and-white spaniels trotting at his heels.

Robin Mauley set his jaw as he watched Harry’s retreating figure, then he turned to Meg. “Ambrose Percy has agreed to build a five-star hotel adjacent to the golf course, Lady Margaret. We are determined to build
the
premier golf resort in Britain, and we are prepared to pay well for the property upon which to do it. I know that your brother has little income outside what he gets from agriculture and tenant rents. He would be able to invest this money, and your family finances would be secure.”